Chapter 57: A Letter Stained with Fatigue
Loki recalled the final task Yuan had wanted to accomplish and tucked the letter into his bosom as he spoke.
"Send it to Asgard. But only if they choose to go of their own accord."
"Really?!"
She clapped her hands in delight.
"I knew you'd say that, Hoon-nim. You're so kind, after all!"
Loki shook his head as he looked at Kankun. This was one of Asgard's rules—a measure to accept refugees and bolster their population.
"But we have no intention of protecting them all the way to Asgard."
Kankun looked disappointed but nodded. They weren't a charity organization. They couldn't save every refugee they came across. The best they could do was urge them to head to their homeland.
"Then, if you'll excuse me...!"
With permission granted, Kankun approached the refugees. She returned soon after, her face crestfallen.
"...Most of them refused to go to Asgard."
Loki glanced at the refugees. They had no hope left. They'd lost their homes, their possessions, their families. With nothing and no one to protect or rely on, all that remained was despair.
So why had they refused?
"The reason?"
"...They're afraid of us."
The refugees had accepted help from the Berserk Warriors, yet they feared them all the same.
"Then there's nothing to be done. We give up."
"Yes..."
Kankun nodded. Ash had been watching the two of them closely, deep in thought about how to persuade these people to aid him.
"Hey."
The sudden voice made Ash turn his head. Salat was looking up at him, holding out a medicine bag. It contained no potions, only bandages and wooden splints.
"There are a lot of injured people. I'm going to treat them—help me out."
"...Why should I?"
"Aren't these your kingdom's people?"
Salat pointed at the refugees.
"W-Well, they are, but... it has nothing to do with me. This isn't even my territory to begin with... Commoners dying is just everyday life. No need to fuss over every single one—"
This was neutral territory anyway. It wasn't Ash's concern.
Salat frowned at his attitude and glared at him.
"Trash."
"...!"
"I just asked you to help with treatment. You won't even do that? For your own kind? Typical humans."
As Salat turned away in disappointment, Ash hurried after her.
"N-No, I'll help."
"You said no earlier."
"I didn't... say no."
Salat stopped and nodded in satisfaction at his words. She handed him the medicine bag, and Ash took it.
"They're all saying they won't leave here... What do you think we should do?"
Salat spoke worriedly as she tended to the patients. She'd overheard Kankun's report. Having lost her own home to war, she felt sympathy for the refugees' plight.
"Wh-What do you mean?"
Ash, standing nearby, mustered his courage to speak to her.
Salat pointed at the refugees.
"Those people. They have nowhere to go. If no one takes them in, what'll happen to them...?"
"Takes them in?"
Ash looked at the refugees. They'd lost their homes. Even their families. Nothing remained.
It applied to him too.
'They're like me.'
But Ash hesitated. The same?
His clenched fist tightened. Blood trickled from his palm where his nails dug in.
"Y-You okay? Your hand...!"
Salat recoiled in surprise at his expression.
'No, no...'
He relaxed his grip and met Salat's gaze as she stared at his numb hand.
"If I arrange a place for them to stay, would that satisfy you?"
"What?"
Salat, lost for words, stared at him blankly.
"I see. Then..."
Ash approached the refugees. They regarded him warily, puzzled by his presence. The fine fabric peeking through his rags suggested he was someone important.
"I have a question."
His dignified tone made them shrink back instinctively.
"Speak, my lord."
"Tell me—do you have any hope left?"
"..."
Their faces twisted in anguish. Was he seriously asking that now?!
"What remains to you?"
"M-My lord, what is this all of a sudden...?"
"If you stay here, you'll die. Starve to death, or get hunted by slavers."
Even Salat frowned this time. She judged Ash's words wrong—not offering hope, just emphasizing despair.
"How can you say that?!"
One refugee with nothing left to lose exploded in anger and grabbed Ash by the collar.
"I'm telling you your situation as it is."
Ash stared straight at the man gripping his collar and continued.
"You have no hope."
"...!"
"But I can give you hope!"
"What do you...?"
Ash felt the gazes upon him. Everyone in the territory was watching—from the mythical warriors who'd slain monsters, to the Nod king who'd belittled him. Salat's eyes too.
Feeling those eyes, he declared:
"I, Ash Ronia, swear on the honor of the royal bloodline! I shall give you homes, nests for your families—everything! When the war ends in my victory, your glory shall shine with mine! Even if I fail and die, I vow to ensure you survive!"
"..."
The refugees' eyes widened in shock.
A royal!
"P-Prince?"
"No way..."
"I-Is it true?!"
There was no reason for a noble to lie here.
"We pay our respects to His Highness the Crown Prince!"
The refugees prostrated themselves one by one. The one who'd grabbed his collar hastily let go and collapsed.
"I'll take you to Roden Territory! I'll prepare homes there! What say you? Will you follow me?!"
Not the frozen wasteland teeming with strangers and monsters, but another city in their own nation. It was their last hope.
"Th-Thank you...!"
"We shall follow His Highness the Crown Prince."
"We will too!"
The refugees voiced their agreement one after another. Their numbers grew. Even those planning to head to the frozen north changed their minds—all but a few—and chose to follow him over the enigmatic strangers. They picked their prince over the unknown.
Watching Ash, Loki smacked his lips and muttered softly.
"Putting on a show."
Aum nearly burst out laughing.
"...You're too harsh. It was clumsy, but he mustered some courage. He's a new comrade, isn't he?"
"Comrade?"
"He must trust you to act like that."
Revealing his status here was highly risky. Doing so meant he trusted Loki's group that much.
"You think he revealed himself because he trusts me?"
"Pardon? Ah, yes. Isn't that it?"
"He doesn't trust me."
Unlike at first, Ash's true nature was showing more with time. He was unconsciously looking down on not just Loki, but even Salat.
"Want me to tell you my impression of that guy? He's..."
Loki grinned slyly as he eyed Ash.
"A pest."
"Is that enough?"
Salat had no idea what he meant. But recalling his earlier words, she fidgeted and put some distance between them, sensing something off.
"Uh, y-yeah..."
Ash smiled at her response. The dignified figure from moments ago was gone. Now there was only a haughty prince reveling in his own charm before a girl.
Ash checked Loki and Aum's reactions. Revealing his name and status was partly calculated. As royalty, this enigmatic force wouldn't treat him lightly. Loki would grow cautious, apologize for past rudeness.
But that was Ash's delusion.
"Looks like you hooked a big one. Royalty makes for fine diplomatic leverage."
Loki perked up at Aum's words.
"Leverage? For what purpose?"
"Exchange with Ronia Kingdom, and the trust of the Holy Church."
"Oh ho! And why do you think that?"
Loki shared Aum Linia's view. As a prince, Ash had plenty of uses.
"Hand that prince over to western Ronia."
Treating him not as a comrade, Aum spoke bluntly.
End the civil war by delivering Ash to western Ronia. Eastern Ronia would lose its center, the rebels crumble easily. And word of the new nation Asgard would spread.
"The problem is perceptions of our Asgard."
Aum readily agreed with Loki.
"Indeed. At best, they'd see us as an armed band turning in a traitor to declare statehood—laughable. Once they learn it's a Nod nation, they'd call us raiders at worst. No alliances, just mockery. The Holy Church would brand us heretics."
And war would follow. For Loki and Aum, that was just 'a hassle.'
"So what should we do?"
Aum smiled benignly.
"Show overwhelming force."
A clear answer from Aum.
Just then, Ash approached Loki and Aum, eyes full of expectation.
"I wish to speak."
Aum glanced at Loki.
"Handle it yourself."
The words carried layers: 'I don't want to deal with him, so you do it.' Also, capture and sell the prince here, or negotiate another path.
"But don't drop the underworld inquiry."
It even implied torture if needed.
Loki turned away, and Aum greeted Ash with a light bow.
"I had no idea you were royalty."
Not kneeling, just a casual nod. Ash frowned instinctively but took a deep breath and composed himself.
"May I speak with him?"
"The king of the Nods is quite fatigued. Speak with me."
Seeing Aum's smile, Ash was convinced. They're wary of me now. Plotting how to make up for their rudeness!
...In his absurd delusion.
"First, thanks for saving me and my people."
"Not at all. We merely did what needed doing."
"Is that so? Then... I'd like to repay you for saving me?"
Ash switched to casual speech, scrutinizing Aum's face for any micro-reaction.
"Repay?"
"Yes! I'd like to invite you to Roden Territory."
Aum smiled outwardly, thinking inwardly: 'This foolish prince is digging his own grave.'
Ash's 'invitation' was really a plea for protection.
'But he thinks strategically enough. Royalty after all?'
An invitation meant no escort duty. Even if Berserk Warriors intel leaked, aiding eastern Ronia wouldn't provoke western backlash, easing entry to the territory. If war broke out in Roden, the Berserkers would inevitably join Ronia's conflict.
Ash was banking on that.
'Of course, he hasn't considered we might side with the west.'
They could seize him by force mid-war and hand him over, but optics mattered.
'Better to observe. An invitation... Even as guests, they won't treat us properly in Roden.'
They'd meet key eastern nobles, who would naturally belittle Loki's group.
Imagining the scene, Aum chuckled inwardly. Bragging without confirming power superiority? Perfect pretext to seize eastern prince Ash.
"What an honor that would be."