Contracts in Ice, Duels in Blood
I mean, if you're handing out perks like this, what's left for anyone else? I'd been appointed as the captain of the Edelgard family's personal guard, tasked with defending the frozen tundra. In terms of the Theodor Holy Empire, that was like being a sworn knight who'd signed a direct vassal contract with a feudal lord.
Sworn knight. A trusted confidant who basked in the lord's favor. On the battlefield, they served as generals or chiefs of staff. And if the lord was absent, they could even handle some of those duties in their stead.
Who would've thought I'd get treatment this lavish right after betraying the Holy Empire and defecting to the Colonial Empire? It was enough to make me question my own life, after eight years of rolling in the shit like a mangy dog on the Empire's frontlines, getting nothing but petty injustices.
One stint as a sucker was plenty. No more pointless exploitation.
With that iron resolve burning in my chest, I dove into salary negotiations.
"We'll pay you 12,000 credits per month."
"...Pardon?"
"That includes special duty pay for deployments to the barricades and other hotspots, performance bonuses for slaying barbarians and monsters, and various allowances starting with stipends for maintaining the dignity of your position and administrative costs. Refer to the contract for the details."
"......"
12,000 credits?
Fuck me. That was ten times what I'd gotten from the Holy Empire. And there, we hardly ever saw overtime pay.
I'd once witnessed a green rookie knight get pummeled day and night like a training dummy just for bringing up special duty pay to his superior. It was common sense to compensate soldiers thrown into harsh, dangerous frontlines—but not in the Holy Empire.
Pure passion pay. How dare you expect compensation for your patriotism? A knight sworn to loyalty putting greed first? They'd trot out patriotism and loyalty as excuses for endless exploitation.
Muttering about the pittance I'd scraped together on the frontlines—barely minimum wage—I stepped forward. Worried the Executor of the Tundra might change her mind with a "On second thought, that's too generous for a traitorous divorcee," I signed the contract at near light speed.
"I'll offer the same contracts to the Holy Empire knights and soldiers now under your command. From here on, serve as the Edelgard family's direct guard unit under me. It'll be a string of hair-raising missions... but as the lord overseeing the tundra, I promise rewards befitting the peril."
"Any mission is fine by me."
Throw anything at me. I won't balk at any ordeal.
Steady wealth breeds steady hearts. Gold doesn't betray. A full granary wins hearts. The ancestors' sayings never missed the mark.
The moment the contract was sealed, I felt infinite loyalty toward my beautiful silver-haired direct superior.
"This isn't an order, but... may I make a proposal? Even if you refuse, there won't be any penalties."
"Of course."
What kind of proposal? I could guess.
The rolling stone versus the embedded one. Friction from reverse discrimination.
The silver-haired beauty flashed a mischievous smile as she proposed a "fight."
The Edelgard family boasted a history of guarding the Colonial Empire's northernmost frontier against savage barbarians and monsters. And under them, countless nobles of the tundra had built their influence and fame.
Now, the rolling stones had kicked the embedded ones aside. Or worse—the rolling stones had smashed them over the head.
She'd formed a new personal guard unit from Holy Empire stragglers captured on the battlefield, granting them independent command.
The boisterous nobles who'd heard the news vented their rage and sense of deprivation over the reverse discrimination.
"They should be showing up any minute now..."
"Pardon?"
After ordering individual training for my men, I stared at the entrance to the training grounds.
Was the rumor spreading too slowly? Or were they just prepping their excuses?
Leonora's additional orders should've spread across all of Nilfheim by now...
"Is Valtenstein there?!"
"To obey the lady's command... I challenge you to a duel, you bastard!"
Thunderous roars shook the training grounds as young men in pristine white formal attire stormed in like lone wolves, fury in their steps. They looked like knights from prestigious families loyal to the Edelgards.
Always tangling with these spoiled noble brats.
Twisted ugly faces. Hands gripping sword hilts like they might draw any second.
The noble knights flooding the grounds radiated open hostility. Spotting it, my Holy Empire knights raised their wooden swords.
I held back my men and accepted the duel challenges.
"I accept the duels. Who's going first?"
Along with naming me personal guard captain, Leonora had proclaimed this radical, provocative measure.
Duels. They separated winners from losers. Victors claimed honor and status; losers got obedience and submission.
It was brutal logic that only worked in this white hell, where the law of the jungle reigned.
Those who refuse to accept this decision must challenge Kailun von Valtenstein within three days.
The one who defeats Kailun von Valtenstein shall be appointed the new captain of the Edelgard family's personal guard.
All knights, prove your strength.
Was there a more primal command than this? Simple. Straightforward. Crystal clear.
Gripping my wooden sword's hilt, I approached the fuming young masters.
"Taktus von Julian! Second son of the Julian family, serving as a centurion on the Forea Fortress frontline! On the honor and fame of the Julians... I'll crush you in a proper duel and claim the captain's position!"
"Sure."
Fight for three days and nights. Prove your strength and skill to every knight in the tundra.
It was insane. Utterly beyond common sense.
And the only way to secure the captaincy and the guard unit's creation in one go.
The Edelgard family prided itself on rational inclusivity, recruiting powerhouses from all backgrounds. True to that, Nilfheim's defenders were forged like alloy from a melting pot of races and origins.
Bloodlines and pedigrees meant nothing—swallowed by the savage blizzards.
Savage barbarian raids. Massive monster waves threatening the barricades every year. In this white hell of howling storms, death rained down relentlessly.
If it were just about bolstering the barricades with Holy Empire knights, they'd have welcomed it with open arms. The tundra's frontlines, notorious for abysmal survival rates, were chronically short on manpower.
"I can't accept this! You as the lady's guard captain?!"
"We've heard plenty of details... now back off already? You're holding up the line."
The blond youth bellowed furiously. Taktus von Julian—the first to challenge me.
His nose crumpled, blood dripping steadily. It screamed that his cocky duel had ended in swift, one-sided defeat.
But Taktus refused to acknowledge it, raging until his comrades dragged him away in humiliation.
"Lucas von Guire, serving at Seabird Ridge!"
"Codevalt von Pendala of Nilfheim."
Maybe it was the tundra's nature, juggling countless frontlines? Forea Fortress. Seabird Ridge. Nilfheim.
Each challenging knight named their assigned frontline and garrison.
Once the noble brats dropped like flies—too big for their britches—veteran frontline knights stepped up, highlighting the tundra's character even more.
Seasoned bone-crushers. From green pups to grizzled vets.
With every sword swap, the weight of honed skill and experience pulsed through my grip.
Stripped of bloodlines and backgrounds... seizing status and honor through raw power and technique alone. Is that the Edelgard way in the tundra? Brains off, settle it with duels—a true warriors' world.
And every knight here genuinely revered Leonora.
The noble lady. War heroine guarding the tundra. Head of the Edelgard house and judge of the War Council.
Every challenger burned with competitive fury over victory and jealous hunger for her trust and favor. That filled the grounds with unyielding battle spirit.
"I concede the defeat."
"Urgh...! That 'Mad Dog' moniker isn't hype."
How much time had passed? The training grounds overflowed with sprawled, unconscious knights.
Only a few admitted defeat outright. Most had eyes rolled back, foaming at the mouth.
Those brutally bruised by wooden swords were carted off on stretchers—a pitiful sight.
Yet despite the carnage unfolding before them, the tundra knights charged in without hesitation. With the grit to fill three days and nights, I couldn't help feeling a primal chill of dread.