The Simplest Question
Salat stood there blankly, unable to answer what was, in truth, an incredibly simple question. Come to think of it, she had never asked him. And he had never asked for her name either.
'Does he really see someone like me as nothing but a burden?'
That thought filled her with unease. Feeling her self-esteem slowly crumbling, she took a step back.
"Hey, answer the ques—"
Instead of responding to Ash's question, she chose to run. She bolted into the forest that Ifrit had pointed out, breathing heavily as she scanned around desperately for any sign of him. At last, she pinpointed the direction of his voice.
"I see."
Pushing through the thick trees, she emerged into a clearing and spotted Loki not far away. Yeah, that's right. I'll just ask him directly. It's not too late to find out now! Even if we've only traveled together briefly... I want to know more about him.
He was the only one who had saved her and shown her kindness while she wandered alone across this continent.
Her expression brightening, she started toward him—
"Who... are... you...?"
Someone was at Loki's side. From a distance, the figure appeared to be wearing a ragged leather hood, not worn and tattered from age but deliberately torn and holed.
The being knelt as if cradling Loki aloft, accepting a tightly rolled scroll from his outstretched hand.
What? Who would act like that...?
It was strikingly similar to how the palace retainers had behaved toward her father.
"Deliver this to Aum Linia."
The figure bowed its head and backed away. Its body turned transparent, then it exhaled a stream of black mist and vanished.
'It disappeared?!'
For Salat, who had never seen a stealth-specialized undead like a skeleton assassin before, it was a shocking sight.
"...What is it?"
Loki turned his head and spoke. Snapping out of her daze, Salat frantically looked around before coming up with an excuse.
"Ah... um, they asked where the human you handed over yesterday was..."
Elves can't lie? That was just a rumor from the continent. Reality was different.
"Is that so? We'll head back soon."
Loki approached her.
"How much herb do you have left?"
At his question, Salat opened the leather pouch slung over her back. Unlike the others, this one was a plain leather bag with no special functions—he had given it to her, though.
"Well... a little... no, plenty left."
It was what Alex had given her, plus what she'd gathered in her spare time.
"How's your leg?"
"Huh? Oh... yeah!"
Salat was delighted by his concern. She nodded vigorously.
"If you have no use for the remaining herbs, could I borrow them?"
"...Doesn't matter. It was yours to begin with."
"Thanks."
"......"
Was it her imagination, or did her chest swell with pride at his words? Maybe she could be of some help to him, even if just a little.
"We need supplies anyway, so let's head to the nearest territory. I'll pose as a herb gatherer there."
"...Pose as a herb gatherer?"
"It's easier with some kind of fake identity."
Anything was better than being mistaken for just another Nord.
"Ah, got it."
As Loki started to walk away, Salat grabbed the hem of his clothes.
"......?"
"Your name."
Salat swallowed dryly and mustered her courage.
"What's your name?"
"...Right, I never asked. My name is Loki."
Loki...
Salat repeated the name in her mind.
"And what is yours?"
"I'm Salat."
Loki patted her head once and headed back to the campsite.
"...Heading to Harma Territory?"
Ash stared at Loki. Harma Territory currently had no lord—it was land without an owner. Knights managed it in the interim.
The reason was simple: the previous lord had died, and civil war broke out before a successor could be named.
With no lord, it was nominally neutral territory. But to First Prince Ash, it could become a 'danger zone.'
'Can I trust the knights there?'
Knights were often blinded by thoughts of merit. Harma Territory's location made it worse: at the kingdom's edge, adjacent to the frozen wastes. The Celt Mountains flanked one side, and the frozen tundra lay above, bringing frequent monster incursions and harsh cold.
It wasn't ideal for honor-seeking knights. Most wanted to rack up achievements to escape that remote corner.
The best path to promotion? Establishing merit. That meant a high chance of capturing 'rebels,' especially the central figure—a 'prince.'
Ash knew this, which was why he couldn't recklessly enter other regions to seek aid.
So...
"Won't you go somewhere else?"
He wanted to take a long detour to Roden Territory.
But...
"This is the fastest way to Roden—through Harma Territory."
The quickest route was via that very pass.
"......"
Ash wanted to reach Roden faster than anyone. Besides, unable to reveal his identity, he had no standing to give Loki orders.
'As long as my identity doesn't leak... it should be fine.'
"A-alright."
"Then, to Harma Territory it is."
He decided to follow Loki's lead.
The frozen wastes of the north. The new nation of Asgard had been established for over three years.
Uniting the tribal Nords had brought many changes. For national stability, they had to control, regulate, and manage the Nords.
They enacted laws for control, assigned administrators for oversight, and built administrative systems for cities in each region.
And more: with a new nation born, they created a new class system.
Asgard's hierarchy differed from the continent's standard.
At the top sat the Constellation of Sin, Loki.
Below him: Healer Hoon, the Nords' proxy Shaman, Aum Linia, and Hans.
Next: Kudan Raguna and Per Linia, plus former tribal chiefs as 'Elders' on equal footing.
Unofficially, Kankun belonged to the top echelon too.
This unique power structure was possible due to Loki's absolute might, the sparse Nord population in the frozen wastes, and their high loyalty to him.
New nations' local lords typically corrupted upon seizing power, enthralled by it, oppressing the weak to flaunt authority.
Early Asgard was no different. Hot-blooded and quick-tempered by nature, many twisted by greed once granted power and nationhood.
Combined with tribal tendencies to flaunt strength, unofficial brawls erupted often.
But the result? A single word from the 'Constellation' meant even 'Elders'—former chiefs—lost their heads instantly, hung somewhere, or faced harsh punishment: a month or more exposed on the frozen wastes, surviving on water alone.
Before such brutal penalties and divine authority, they were properly controlled. Major conflicts ceased.
A nation with little corruption and friction was profoundly peaceful.
But even so... running a country was no easy task.
"...More work incoming?"
Shaman unrolled the parchment. It brimmed with tasks. On the jade throne, playing proxy, Aum's eye twitched.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes; his hair was long dry and frizzy.
"...How much is left?"
A quill pen gripped in his left hand, a special dwarf-made seal in his right. Substituting for absent Loki at the top, he endured hell: 20 hours work, 4 hours sleep, repeat.
Unlike Loki, who needed no sleep and accumulated no fatigue, Aum was human—Nord, but without Kudan's monstrous stamina. He felt his limits.
"......"
Silently, Shaman pointed to the hall's entrance with a finger.
A mountain of documents piled there.
Aum burst into laughter.
Ha, hahaha!
Is this a challenge?!
"You think the great Aum Linia will fall to mere paperwork? Huh?!"
As he cackled madly, the hall doors opened. Kudan and Per entered carrying the next load on a plank.
"...And letters from the tribes. Please review."
Aum's quill snapped in his grip.
"...What about Hans?"
"Forgot? Collapsed from overwork yesterday. Magic healed him, but he's still out. A bit more rest, and he'll wake."
"Too much work—help out, Shaman."
"...I can't see."
A lie. Definitely! Otherwise, how could he point precisely at that pile without looking away?!
Aum eyed Kudan and Per; they averted their gazes too.
"I'm not that smart, especially with politics or economics..."
Kudan's words.
"...Brother, you know. I just learned to read."
Per's excuse.
Aum clutched his throbbing head.
'This is the Nord problem!'
This frozen waste, newborn Asgard, boasted elite warriors, artisans surpassing any on the continent, vast resources and wealth—things any nation would envy.
But the flaw: a dire lack of intellectuals.
What use in mighty national power, master smiths, riches if unmanaged? Better none at all!
Most Nords had lived as raiders or starved; education was scarce. Thus, few to administer the nation.
Refugees from the continent taught literacy to Elders, but it fell far short for governance.
Personnel shortages plagued them.
'Can't just hand it to random continentals, though. Later, ask Loki to select literate refugees. Risky, but ditching this workload invites greater chaos!'
As Aum shook his head, black mist swirled beside him. A hooded undead appeared.
"......?"
Loki's servant. A skeleton missing from Valhalla Palace since Loki's departure.
Its sudden arrival puzzled Aum.
Unlike with Loki, it ignored Aum—no need for human courtesy absent its master.
The skeleton proffered a parchment.
"This is...?"
It conveyed meaning via sign language.
"From Loki?"
The skeleton nodded and vanished.
Overjoyed at news of Loki's whereabouts, Aum read eagerly.
His bright face hardened; he crumpled the letter.
'...Still wandering the continent. Found some leads? Darkweb... heard of them. They'd have better intel than us... Destination Roden Territory, now heading to Harma?'
He read on. It ended: 'Send any info on the plague you've uncovered.'
"If you've uncovered any information on the Worm Pest, send it."
"...Hah, seriously."
No intention to return.
"Asks for findings when we have none."
As Aum crossed his arms, the hall doors opened. A Nord soldier bowed.
"...I see Proxy Shaman and Aum Linia!"
"What is it?"
"A letter from the continent."
This one from a Nord Loki dispatched to gather intel.
Aum read it. Nothing notable.
Except one eye-catching line.
[Worm Pest infectees, estimated 1,500, currently heading toward Harma Territory.]