A Midwinter Snack, Piping-Hot Salmon Bread (3)
The mood of the procession could not, even by the most generous stretch, be called good.
Karem looked over the adventurers trailing along the sides of the column. They grumbled and spat curses without pause.
The moment they began to leave Coldon behind, tension settled over everyone like a frost. Sharp eyes swept the surroundings without rest, weapons gripped tight. They still grumbled and cursed, of course.
Honestly, he could not understand it.
Even setting aside non-combatants like himself and the laborers, the knights, soldiers, and adventurers escorting the carts had to number at least forty by rough count. There were mages among the adventurers, and more than a few others who gave off an uncommon air. How did he know? Lessons from Gordon and Iona had, without him meaning to, sharpened his eye. He could tell at a glance.
And Karem realized that every last person in the procession—even the beasts hauling the carriages and carts—was tense.
No. That made sense. The beasts and monsters that prowled Iceland in the dead of winter were vicious things; being on edge was only natural.
This is all Catherine and Gordon’s fault.
Whenever he stepped outside, an archmage or a Sword Master was always at his side. Against any ordinary threat, that was absurd overkill. No wonder his sense of danger had gone soft.
Before long, the tension detonated.
The procession ran straight into a pack of Jack Frosts.
Honestly speaking, they were cute. Heads and bodies like snowmen a little larger than watermelons, short doll-like arms and legs stuck on, and ice-cream-cone hats perched on top. A dozen-odd of those adorable creatures swarming in looked for all the world like something out of Pokémon.
Crrrack—heeeeheehee—
For a moment, that is.
Smiles split their heads clean in half, and an eerie laugh rang out. The Jack Frosts charged the column.
"Ssssss—"
"Siiiiissss—"
"Kiiiiiii—!!!"
"They said these things only just appeared! Only just appeared!"
"Protect the snow runners and horses first!"
"Shields to the front! Javelins! Javelins!"
The instant the Jack Frosts came into view, adventurers and soldiers went into a frenzy—loosing arrows, flinging daggers and javelins, hurling magic. It was more than enough threat to drop any ordinary person or monster.
The Jack Frosts did not care. Even as their kin died right beside them, they never fled; instead they wore those splitting smiles as if the whole thing were pure delight. With a charge that ignored their own lives, a dozen of them finally slammed into the ranks.
"Damn it! They’re closing in! Watch the flanks! Whatever the hell they try to—whoaaa!?"
"Close the blind spots! Backs together!"
"My feet! I can’t lift my feet!"
"Ssssssssss—!"
"Hikkiiiiiii—!!!"
Bundles of razor ice shards came shrieking in. Ice boulders shot forward at terrifying speed. But something worse waited underneath.
Karem finally understood why Jack Frosts, fairies though they were, were treated as monsters and wiped out on sight.
"Whoaaa!?"
"W-wait, my sword! The sword won’t come free!"
"Under the midwinter sun that—crrrack—ghhk. Ulp… cough, hack."
"Th-this armor cost a fortune…!!!"
Swords freezing solid inside their scabbards and leaving knights flustered was only the beginning. Soldiers went sprawling on sudden sheets of ice. Mages whose mouths had frozen mid-incantation coughed blood from the rebound. Cheap leather armor froze brittle as biscuit and shattered.
Ignoring even mortal wounds, the Jack Frosts threw their own lives and their kin’s away without a second thought, pouring every effort into making the procession’s day miserable.
Clatter-clatter—! Thud!
"Kueeeeeek—!"
"Prurrrrrk—hihihihihing!?"
"Hiiiihihihing!?"
"Whoa!? Wait!? Aagh!"
The cart jolted hard enough that Karem cracked his head. He scrambled up inside the rocking bed and saw the reason at once.
"Kweeeeeek!?"
A Jack Frost had just kicked the snow runner hitched right behind them square in the rump, dodged the bird’s retaliatory kick with oily speed, then yanked out a fistful of feathers and sank its teeth into the neck.
That was the answer to the sudden shaking.
These are… Jack Frosts?
They bore no resemblance at all to the countless characters of the same name or motif he had seen in media in his previous life.
While the column dissolved into chaos, Karem clung to the basket, held his breath, and watched the pandemonium a few Jack Frosts had unleashed. Vicious temperament in inverse proportion to that adorable exterior. The unrestrained mischief of a child mixed with a midwinter blizzard that cut to the bone. These things were not living creatures that matched their looks.
No—better to call them what they were.
Chaos. Living embodiments of pure chaos.
"Yahooho~?"
"Oh, shit."
His eyes met those of an avatar of chaos. The Jack Frost that had been tormenting the thrashing snow runner behind them turned, split its face into that smile again, and lunged.
"Stay back!"
Karem reflexively pulled up holy power; ice sheathed his empty fist in a thick gauntlet. The frost-wrapped iron fist smashed into the Jack Frost.
"Dechaaaaaa!!!"
Bwaaaang—! The creature’s head burst. Impact hurled it backward; the instant it hit the ground it scattered in every direction. One down.
"Sssssssss—!"
But plenty more remained. Whether reacting to a kin’s death or not, another came flying straight at Karem. Compared with Iona or Gordon it was endlessly slow, yet Karem still could not answer it properly.
"Whoa!?"
The moment he tried to set his feet he skidded clean. A sheet of ice had already formed across the cart floor. He barely kept hold of the basket with both arms, but the gourmet’s lid rattled and one salmon bread made a break for freedom.
The Jack Frost diving at him with that vicious grin suddenly stopped dead in midair. Then it dropped straight down and snatched the salmon bread out of the air.
The Jack Frost was confused.
"Ya…hoho?"
What on earth was this thing? It tilted its head this way and that, yet could not grasp the object’s nature. A salmon bread was far too high-dimensional a concept for a monster-fairy that had not even been alive a full day.
But instinct spoke.
This had to be eaten.
How could it know that when it did not even know what the thing was? Yet fairy instinct was insisting: eat it right now.
"Sssik—"
Crunch— munch—
So it ate.
In that instant the Jack Frost went crack! and froze solid in midair.
When a person takes in more information than the mind can handle, the spirit simply stops. That was exactly what had happened to this Jack Frost.
A texture so crisp it shook the soul. A soft, enveloping mouthfeel that began on the tongue and wrapped the insides. A rich, sweet bean paste that stroked the spirit itself. A warmth that felt as if it had only just left the griddle.
A freshly baked, piping-hot salmon bread eaten in the dead of winter had the power to make even people who claimed to dislike them stop and wonder whether they ought to buy just one. Taken separately the sensations might have been manageable, but for a Jack Frost less than a day old the combination was not merely excessive—it was outright violence.
"You bastard sons of bitches! Die already!"
Crunch—!
It never even noticed the enraged adventurer swinging a weapon right behind it. Yet the Jack Frost that split in half and scattered went out satisfied.
"Yahoohohohohoho—!"
—It was a short but magnificent life!!!
With that ringing death cry and a bang—! the Jack Frost exploded into nothing.
The remaining Jack Frosts were bewildered. What the hell did that mean? I don’t know. You? Life? What’s that supposed to be?
"Now! Smash them!"
"Y-you! Soldier! Hand over that spear this instant!"
"Kueeeeeek—!!!"
Enraged adventurers smashed them, knights skewered them, snow runners and horses bit and kicked—more than enough. Having been burned once, the procession thereafter pulverized every Jack Frost the moment they appeared, long before the creatures could pull any more pranks.
After several more hours the column finally halted. They had reached the village that seemed to be their destination.
"Haha. What a mess."
Outside the village was pure chaos. The clang of metal, rupturing cracks, and explosive bursts rang across the snowfields. The people who had been dragged this far were fighting the culprits to the death. Or not quite to the death—only the humans were furious. Even as they died, the Jack Frosts still wore those splitting smiles as if they were having the time of their lives.
Wait. Then what about that one?
The one that had been charging, then suddenly snatched a salmon bread, ate it, and locked up. The reason was actually easy enough to guess.
"Completely different from Mary or Flora, but still a fairy, I guess?"
In all his dealings with fairies so far, Karem had noticed a shared trait: they went absolutely mad for white wheat bread, dairy, and sweet confections.
…No, wait a second. Going crazy for flour, dairy, and desserts was Mary’s thing—Mary the brownie. So what about Flora? She just had a bottomless appetite, didn’t she?
Unaware that the creature had simply short-circuited from information overload, Karem asked the soldiers and knights who had arrived earlier for directions and headed for the inn being used as a temporary command post, where Catherine was waiting.
While the snowfields outside the village and the command post itself seethed with the Jack Frost subjugation, Catherine looked remarkably idle at a glance.
"Aren’t you here to assist with this Jack Frost purge?"
"That is the purpose I came for, yes."
"Then is it all right for you to be sitting around this leisurely?"
Catherine, who had been reading a book, gave him a look that said, And what of it? What do you mean, what of it? Hadn’t she come to work?
"Even if I’m assisting, do you really think someone of my stature needs to be running around the field over mere fairies like Jack Frosts?"
"I figured you’d at least be busy with paperwork."
"That is for the clerks and staff dispatched from Winterhome and the guild to handle."
By guild she meant the Adventurers’ Guild.
"All I have to do is stamp a few documents that climb all the way up to me and sit here looking imposing. Honestly, any high-ranking official could do the job."
In short, she was a figurehead. That raised another question for Karem.
"Then why is it specifically Lady Athanitas?"
"Because of the Great Sword Noble’s visit, I was the only high-ranking person free to move."
"What about Lord Olivier?"
"The old man is probably off inspecting magic tools and facilities with his subordinates."
Conclusion: for a hastily assembled subjugation force that needed a responsible authority figure to sit in the chair, Catherine had been the only available choice.
"Well, if that’s how it is. While I was at it, I brought a snack."
"Where’s Mary?"
"She said she was too busy clearing snow to make snacks for the tower mages."
Karem answered casually, set the basket in front of Catherine, and opened the lid at once. A pure white plume of steam shot skyward. Catherine looked at the salmon breads standing packed inside and gave a small murmur of admiration.
"Ooh. So this is the thing you made with that mold you ordered a little while ago, kid?"
"Yes. Green-pea paste, custard cream, and one with a secret ingredient—three kinds total."
"Hm? Secret ingredient?"
"Well, that’s for later enjoyment."
Karem brushed off Catherine’s narrowed gaze, scanned the basket quickly, and picked one up. The weight in his hand told him it was the green-pea paste.
"You’ll eat one right away, right?"
"Well. It’s a bit past the usual time, and no one else is coming by, so it shouldn’t matter."
"Then may I ask one last important question?"
"Hm? Important?"
Of course it was important. When eating salmon bread, no question mattered more.
"Would you like to start from the head, or from the tail?"
A picture ChatGPT drew for me.