Faster Than Expected
Standing at the prow of the ship, Loki gazed at the distant horizon where the island came into view.
"Fast. I thought it'd take about two weeks, but it's only around ten days?"
"Ooh! Land!"
"This feels just like discovering the New World!"
"Oh, you brute actually said something that sounds halfway decent?"
Were the Nords simply weary from the long voyage? They were all cheering in their own ways. Some among them had suffered terribly from seasickness at first.
'I've learned a fair bit about sailing myself.'
He'd picked up how to steer, how to read the wind's direction, even how to row. If he used that knowledge to generate a skillbook now, he could extend his influence into maritime affairs as well.
"This... this can't be real... can it?"
Torsen clamped a hand over his mouth. He was a man of the sea himself, yet the massive shock he'd just received left him reeling.
They'd all claimed the ocean was uncharted territory for them. When they'd plunged into the death swamp without a clue, he'd thought it was all over.
Yet these madmen had harpooned a kraken, chained it up, and dragged it all the way to the waters off the Nodrian Kingdom.
'...And they even tamed the kraken.'
Not that it was truly tamed, by any stretch. The kraken was still thrashing wildly in a desperate bid to escape, only to get harpooned, doused in oil, and set ablaze each time, writhing in agony. They stopped the torture only when its resistance began to wane.
The voyage had been the same. If it veered off course, the Nodrian King would slash it with his sword, and the beast would wail in torment before swimming precisely in the right direction to bring them here.
'And...'
When their food supplies started running low, they'd even sliced off and eaten its tentacles. Torsen couldn't shake the growing dread that these monsters might have unwittingly invited ruin upon his kingdom.
'If we can't offer them satisfactory rewards, they might turn around and invade us instead!'
These were Nords, after all—warriors who'd built their lives on pillage. There was no guarantee they wouldn't loot his own kingdom.
'At the very least... I need to warn them ahead of time and prepare a response!'
Torsen approached Loki and bowed his head.
"King of the Nords. I have a request."
"What is it?"
"Allow me to go ahead to the kingdom and deliver the joyous news that Asgard has accepted our call for reinforcements. At the same time, I'd like to prepare a feast in their honor. So... if I may be excused first..."
Torsen kept his head lowered, stealing glances at Loki's face.
"Very well. Lend this one a small boat."
"Thank you." Torsen had to hurry and inform his kingdom. That monsters—the warriors of the Nords—had arrived.
Torsen set off toward the island in a small sloop. Loki watched him go, then turned his head.
Atop the central deck, Reran was gazing at Loki. He soon bowed his head silently and retreated into the ship's hold.
"......"
Loki followed suit, stepping after him. The place they entered was a modest lounge.
Reran watched Loki enter the room, confirmed the door was shut, then pulled a letter from his bosom and offered it.
"What's this?"
"The restoration you requested earlier just finished. But... I'm not sure how to interpret the contents here..."
At Reran's words, Loki drew out the letter from its envelope and read it.
[The letter's contents, now restored, reveal a dire prophecy: great chaos will engulf the continent soon. The Pope's character will be exposed, leading to upheaval among the faithful and powers that be.]
Loki stroked his chin with interest at the letter's contents.
"Who knows of this?"
"Only the letter's original owner, myself who restored it, and now you, my lord."
"I see."
Loki sat in a nearby chair, placed the letter on the table, and cracked his knuckles. He fidgeted with his fingers, deep in thought.
"If this letter's contents hold true... then immense chaos will descend upon the continent."
"That chaos will be our opportunity."
"...Will you make it public?"
"Can you make a copy of this letter?"
"A copy... you mean?"
"Impossible?"
"...I can mimic the handwriting. The seal's no issue either. Without a magical imprint, it's feasible."
"The moment we return to Asgard, send the original back to its rightful owner."
"Is that wise?"
"If the contents ring true, and the 'Pope' is a man of character—"
Loki neatly folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope.
"—then something truly entertaining will unfold."
"You must prepare a feast for them at once, Father!"
Torsen knelt and bowed his head low.
In the wooden audience chamber, a throne sat in the vast hall, where the Nodrian King was seated. Flanking him in a circle on the floor were the kingdom's nobles—mostly elderly Nords.
"Is that true? Frankly... it's hard to believe, Torsen."
The Nodrian King caressed his wrinkled face. In his thirties, he'd been a young chieftain who set sail in search of warmer lands, only to drift here to this unfamiliar island.
The Nords who set foot here came to love the land. Warm climate. Fertile soil. Verdant mountains and valleys, dense forests, abundant game. Resources aplenty.
But with riches came monsters aplenty, and the native inhabitants who already claimed the land. Conquering them had been necessary to settle.
'It took countless years.'
After a decade or so, he'd gained influence and founded a kingdom in his name. More years passed, age crept in, and invasions from neighboring states began.
Farmers outside the walls or those foraging herbs in the mountains turned up as corpses time and again. Sometimes, fur-clad raiders were sighted overlooking the kingdom from the highlands.
He'd dispatched ten Nord warriors and three hundred militiamen, only for exactly 310 heads to return.
—......!
The kingdom echoed with ceaseless wails day and night. Enraged, the Nodrian King mustered another force and prepared to lead it himself.
But then the Nodrian Kingdom found itself surrounded by thousands of warriors from the Forman Kingdom.
—Surrender to Forman, Nodrian King, and offer tribute and slaves every three months! Refuse, and every soul in this kingdom becomes a slave!
Outmatched in numbers and quality alike, it was a foregone defeat. If only they had more brave fighters... If only he and the elders were in their prime...!
Thus the plea for aid to the north. Torsen had successfully brought back soldiers from Asgard.
Though he raved about Asgard like a man possessed.
"So... how many Nords did they send?"
"Three hundred!"
"Three... three hundred?"
The Nodrian King and elders couldn't hide their shock. Three hundred?! Even setting aside Torsen's fanciful tales, this was hope incarnate. Torsen might exaggerate, but he never falsified facts. So three hundred elite warriors were surely waiting aboard warships. They couldn't defeat Forman outright, but it would balance the scales enough for a non-aggression pact.
"You asked to prepare a feast for them?"
"Yes! That's right, Father. And... you'll need to prepare separate rewards for their support in this war."
"......"
At the mention of rewards, the Nodrian King fell silent. The best he could offer was fine horses, furs, and livestock. Anything more would strain them.
"No, it's fine."
"Pardon?"
"I have no intention of sending them into battle."
"Wh-what do you...?"
"Forman will learn of the three hundred Nord warriors' arrival soon enough. That alone will halt their invasion and force negotiations."
No need to pay dearly to deploy them. Trade alone sufficed. Throwing them into the fray would cost the Nodrian Kingdom more economically than it gained.
'Their mere presence here fulfills their role.'
Still, a welcome was in order since they'd come this far.
"Father, but they crossed vast seas for our sake. Please don't treat them lightly..."
"Don't let personal sentiments cloud your judgment. You're too soft-hearted, just like Karen."
"......"
"A feast will repay their journey here. No more is needed."
"But..."
The Nodrian King rose and declared:
"Perfect timing!"
The people trembled in fear of war. It was time to open the granaries and ease their anxieties.
"Hold a festival! Elders, escort the Nords here. Torsen, prepare to receive them at the harbor."
"...Understood, Father!"
Torsen left the chamber in unease. The Nodrian elders hurriedly boarded ships to greet Asgard's warships off the coast.
"G-Good heavens... I've never seen warships this massive in my life!"
The elders boarding the deck beheld Nords radiating intimidation. Young Nord warriors made their shoulders hunch instinctively, honorifics spilling from their lips.
"W-Welcome to Nodrian! Uh... where is the King of the Nords?"
A Nord warrior tidying the deck glanced at them.
"Him? If it's him..."
He pointed toward the distant, brightly lit Nodrian Kingdom.
"He went ahead."
"...By ship?"
Ahead already? Soldiers guarded the harbor. If preparations lagged, a suspicious vessel might provoke hostility.
But the Nord warrior dispelled their worries with an enigmatic reply.
"No."
"He walked."
"......??"
Late at night, lights flickered across the Nodrian Kingdom, nestled amid rugged mountains.
"What's all this commotion?"
"The Nodrian King declared a festival."
"What? Now, of all times? Why suddenly...?"
The guards chatting by the shore fell silent as footsteps echoed.
Thud... thud...
Someone tread upon the waves. Water rippled outward calmly with each step, yet he walked as naturally as on ice or solid ground.
Was it the veil of night obscuring their sight? Or had they never dreamed a man could walk on water? The sentries failed to spot him.
The figure on the sea was Loki, masked as a crow. He'd secretly set foot in Nodrian's harbor by 'walking' across the ocean.
'So this is the Nodrian Kingdom? Much smaller than I imagined.'
Loki proceeded, concealing his presence. A man in a crow mask strode openly down the main road, yet no one batted an eye.
The kingdom's people had donned beast masks of their own to prepare for the festival.
'I see. With a Nord as king, their culture has taken root here.'
The markets buzzed with life, logs piled in the plazas.
'Houses are all log cabins. Solid construction. Plenty of livestock too.'
Worth trading horses and furs, indeed.
'They look uneasy, but the people's faces aren't too bad.'
Happiness levels seemed decent. They trusted and relied on their king.
Loki bought a skewer from a stall.
"Oh! Delicious! Truly superb! A flavor all its own, different from northern meats."
No trace of mutton's gaminess—pure delight.
'Prime quality meat. The people of Asgard will love it.'
As he strolled the streets, sampling food and sights:
'But...'
Someone was watching him.
'They noticed me?'
Despite his suppressed presence, they tailed him deftly through the crowd.
Loki savored the foreign land's tourism while staying alert to the gaze.
'No hostility. Just surveillance?'
As he walked, the shadow matched his pace nimbly.
'And their skill's top-notch too.'
Then:
"W-Wait a moment!"
Loki halted. He'd expected mere tailing, not a direct approach. Perhaps confrontation was the intent all along.
Turning, he saw a panting woman. Raven-black hair like the dead of night, piercing blue eyes.
'Half-breed?'
A Nord half-breed. Specifically, with 'beastkin' blood. Beast ears atop her head, a long tail swaying behind.
"Wh-why are you walking so fast?!"
A beastkin. Feline, no less.