Trial of the Northern Cold
CRAAAAASH!
Isaac could scarcely believe his own two eyes.
What in the world had just happened…?
That bastard… When did he climb to that level…?
The Turak tribesman—yes, the convict called Kamarkan. The aura that had crashed down over his head had lasted only a single instant.
…You’ve reached an absurd realm, Arteon.
It had been a display of phenomenal aura control. The force had split the ground for dozens of paces, yet it had precisely spared the exact spot where Kamarkan stood, diverting cleanly to either side.
One might dismiss it as nothing remarkable, but to make such a thing possible required mastery of aura control that defied ordinary effort. For a common man, thirty years… Even for one of talent, more than a decade of frenzied, near-mad training would be the minimum.
And yet a youth who had not even turned twenty had done it.
Tremble-tremble-tremble-tremble.
Kamarkan shook from head to toe, still ignorant of what had just occurred. The only certainty he possessed was this:
…I died just now.
Something razor-sharp—no, something impossibly heavy—had pierced straight through his heart and passed on. No other explanation mattered. Had Arteon intended to kill him, his life would already have been snuffed out before he could even register the blow.
RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE!
The ground around Kamarkan vibrated with savage intensity. Even the soldiers standing some twenty meters away felt the tremor climbing through the soles of their boots and said nothing.
In the chill that settled over the assembly, Arteon casually swept his gaze across the surroundings and spoke.
“Is there anyone else who wishes to step forward?”
“…”
A silence heavier than the cold pressed down upon every shoulder. Not a single man answered. Kamarkan was no different. All he could manage was to remain upright without collapsing where he stood.
“…No one, then.”
Arteon muttered softly and returned to the platform before him. Silence still crushed the grounds, yet a restless atmosphere was inevitable. Looking out at the soldiers, he said,
“The supplies scheduled for distribution today will be postponed until tomorrow. In addition, every man here will share responsibility for the disturbance that took place.”
He turned to the instructors.
“Hand them only the temporary tents and have them spend the night right here.”
“Sir? Here?”
“C-Commanding instructor. Temporary tents are little more than tools to keep off the wind. If they put up only those in this place…”
Arteon knew full well what the other instructors meant to say. It did not matter. That had been his intention from the start.
With a cold gaze fixed upon the soldiers, he said,
“Let them feel just how vicious the cold of the North can be.”
Those of weaker constitution might well lose their lives in the course of a single day. But what they would gain from this would be far greater.
…If they survive.
Arteon turned on his heel without another word. Confirming there was no room for reconsideration, the instructors hurriedly distributed the temporary tents and shouted.
“The instructors will demonstrate! Hurry and pitch your tents!”
“Move it! If you can’t even put up a tent properly, you’ll all freeze to death!”
After Arteon departed, the remaining instructors, together with the regular soldiers, began supplying and hastily erecting the temporary shelters. As they had warned, if the men failed to complete even those makeshift tents, they would be clearing frozen corpses by morning.
As Arteon moved away, Luokal, commander of the 1st Battalion, approached Isaac.
“You came out in person, sir?”
“I assigned him a difficult task. Hardly something I could simply sit back and watch.”
Luokal’s gaze following Arteon settled heavily. Yet contrary to his eyes, one corner of his lips curled slightly upward.
“Seems I judged the man correctly after all. He brought those beasts to heel in a single stroke, did he not?”
“…The start was certainly excellent, but we may still see fatalities.”
“No matter. I am already accounting for the possibility that as many as half of them may die.”
“…”
Half meant he was prepared to write off some two hundred fifty men. But Isaac soon accepted it. Even that many, properly forged, would make a formidable force.
Still…
“He will… drag every last one of them along with him. That man.”
Judging by the methods Arteon had shown so far, the likelihood was high. Luokal merely shrugged.
“Whether those fellows are worth that much effort remains to be seen.”
Then, turning away,
“I’ve left it to the lieutenant, so for now we watch.”
“He won’t disappoint you.”
Isaac saluted the departing Luokal, lowered his fist, and turned his gaze in the direction Arteon had gone. Somehow he felt that tonight would be colder than usual.
WHIIIIIIISH—!
Once the sun had fully set, a cold beyond any comparison with daylight came pouring in.
Flap-flap-flap-flap!
The temporary tents shuddered violently, and the freezing air seeped straight through. They were no proper windproof hides, only thin cloth layered with scraps of leather; they could not keep the cold at bay. The men inside curled into themselves, yet nothing could stop their bodies from shaking.
“Ch-ch-ch-chatter…”
Tremble-tremble-tremble-tremble.
Only now did they understand why the instructors had raised such a furor when told that nothing but temporary tents would be issued.
W-we’re… actually going to die.
Their minds went white; thought itself froze. They had heard countless tales of the North, but none of them had prepared them for this.
“Hey! Hey! Stay with me! If you fall asleep like this you’ll die!”
One man who had already gone still was shaken and shouted at by the others sharing his tent. They had only just met here; no real affection bound them. It was simply that the terror of watching one of their number die made each man feel he would be next.
And then—
Flap.
The flap at the tent entrance was lifted, and a blast of colder air rushed in. One of the men twisted his face and roared,
“Which bastard—!”
The words died unfinished. The bastard who had flung open the entrance was the monster they had seen that afternoon.
“H-hup!”
“Holding up?”
“I-I’m fine, but this one…”
“Aside.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
The men inside scrambled out of the way. Arteon laid a hand upon the body of the man collapsed on the floor. Cold had invaded his core; his body temperature was plummeting. Another hour like this and his life would simply stop.
But—
HMMMMMMM!
The instant Arteon forced mana into the man’s body,
“H-huck!”
The unconscious convict jerked as though struck by lightning, eyes flying open as he cried out. Arteon glanced at the soldier who had followed him and tossed something.
Thud.
“Blankets. Huddle together under them and you should keep your lives. If you want to survive this hell, do everything you can.”
His eyes were colder than the wind outside. The four men inside the tent swallowed hard without realizing it. Once Arteon was gone,
“F-fuck. Never thought I’d be cuddling other bastards with dicks.”
“You reek, so shut it. From now on keep your mouths closed and don’t even breathe, you sons of bitches.”
No one ordered them, yet they wrapped themselves in the blanket and clung to one another. The cold still made their bodies shake, but it was far better than before. And in every mind only one thought remained:
Just tonight… hold on for this one night.
That single resolve ruled their entire bodies.
So the night of hellish cold swept past, and the sun slowly began to rise.
“Hmm… no fatalities?”
“It’s remarkable. That was not a cold any man should have survived with nothing but temporary tents.”
Moreover, not a single piece of the winter gear that was supposed to have been issued had gone out. Yet when the tents were checked at dawn to confirm the survivors, several of them contained men clutching rough, rag-like blankets.
“Lieutenant Arteon and the men of the 4th Platoon appear to have watched over them through the night.”
“…I see.”
Luokal nodded at the report from his adjutant, Brenon.
So that was what he meant.
—He will… drag every last one of them along with him. That man.
In a single day Luokal understood the meaning behind Captain Isaac’s words. He had never imagined the lieutenant would go tent to tent all night checking on that many men.
Luokal closed the documents he had been reading and looked at Brenon.
“Continue reporting any unusual developments. I already said we would support him to the fullest—if there are requests, do not hesitate to fulfill them.”
“Understood.”
Brenon then made his way to where the convict soldiers were gathered. They had survived the cold, yet their condition was appalling. Countless men could not even stand properly, and even those who looked halfway intact were half out of their minds.
“…Have every instructor classify them into those who can still move and those who cannot. Send every man still able to walk to the Second Training Ground at the rear.”
“Yes, sir!”
The instructors suddenly had a great deal of work. They had to reissue supplies and move those who had endured the night to the Second Training Ground. Of course, the number who actually moved was small—of the five hundred, fewer than fifty reached the Second Training Ground.
Even so, it was certain that those with superior will or physical resilience had been sifted out.
Arteon regarded them.
“Just the right number for squad leaders.”
Of course, turning them into proper soldiers would first require breaking them a little more thoroughly.
Arteon spoke.
“All of you, form three ranks.”
“Three ranks!”
“F-form up!”
Whether it was fear of Arteon or awe, some unnameable emotion showed plainly on their faces.
Then Arteon said,
“Eyes right.”
Snap!
At a single word the fifty-odd convicts moved with surprising speed.
First…
I need to drain their stamina.
Arteon ordered,
“In step—run!”
The training of these men was only just beginning.
“…So the Imperial army is gathering at Helikel Canyon.”
In Belikezel—the Kar lands that abutted Helikel Canyon—Krelmuk, the long-standing master of the place, muttered low.
They had raised an unbreakable fortress in that brutal canyon, and now—
“Instead of simply holding it, they mean to crawl onto this land.”
They had long coveted territory that had always been the Kar’s. Before him, his subordinate Kortzan spoke.
“We should prepare, should we not? Once they cross the canyon it is open plain. The Imperials will be able to bring their full strength to bear.”
“Word of this will already have reached the place where the Supreme Taman resides. Some decision will come down soon enough, whatever form it takes.”
Still…
“They may be preparing a northern advance, yet this place will still be new ground to them as well.”
He could not stand the sight of such vermin swaggering about in his own front yard.
“There are already those strutting about under the pretense of reconnaissance.”
“…Kill them all, cut off their heads, and hang them at the entrance to the canyon.”
An example had to be made clear. Fools who dared covet territory they ought never to touch.
“If they do not yet know that this place will be their grave, then we shall teach them.”
Krelmuk’s eyes began to blaze with a blood-red light.