Back to the North (6)
On the road back north. We'd hurried on the way here because every second wasted on the path felt too precious. But this time, we couldn't move that fast.
The fresh-faced aspiring knights were mostly former squires, so they could handle it, but with a substantial number of non-combat personnel, that kind of mobility was out of the question. Plus, our lineup looked so much like a mercenary company that anyone mistaking us for one wouldn't think twice.
I turned in the saddle, glancing back. A long column snaked behind me.
"The return trip will take about a month."
No helping it. It was frustrating to crawl along at this pace, but large-scale columns always matched the speed of the slowest members. Especially these people—they were exactly the talent the north needed.
If they hadn't had reasons to abandon their homes and head north, most of them could have made a fine living in the capital. Top-tier personnel you couldn't find just anywhere. Just looking at them made me feel full.
Once back, I'd assign them to the right spots and use them as the foundation for the duchy’s growth.
With that resolve, I turned to the other high-value asset walking beside me.
"Hm?"
Perky wolf ears twitched upright, and the black-haired wolf beastman turned to meet my gaze.
"You stare sudden. Grand Duke have words. For me?"
"You said you were a great warrior of the Silver Mane tribe."
"Yes. I strong. Strongest in tribe."
"Where's the Silver Mane tribe located?"
"Very far from here. Go south long way. Seasons change once on road."
Billaine nodded vigorously.
Silver Mane tribe great warrior, Billaine. In the original story his sister wrote, he was a sub-male lead. And now, the outsider Chun-sik planning to work under me for pay. Wait, but since his race was different, was "foreigner" not right? Should it be something like "einoja"—different-race laborer?
"You weren't carrying any weapons. What do you use?"
"Know all. But not use well. Sharp. My claws."
Billaine answered proudly, spreading his hand. In an instant, his ordinary nails sharpened and extended like claws.
Whoa, wolves aren't even felines, but they grow like that. Neat.
Setting aside the novelty, the aura emanating from Billaine was no joke.
"Indeed, it seems calling yourself the tribe's strongest wasn't empty talk."
"Yes. But weak compared to Grand Duke. You too strong."
Billaine scratched his head.
His grammar was rough, pronunciation awkward. But unlike that clumsy demeanor, in the original story, Billaine was seriously powerful. Romance fantasy male leads always had one or two standout traits, after all. Good looks were a given, then high status or martial prowess, or some special edge.
Even male-oriented stories were like that. Heroine beauty was baseline; it was the unique flavor that hooked people.
Switch it to male-oriented terms, and he's like a retriever-type heroine?
That was my rough take on Billaine. Good-natured, clumsy in action but capable, wagging his tail only for the heroine? Yeah. Filter it through a male lens and swap genders, and it clicked. Characters like that always had demand.
"Grand Duke?"
"Ah, sorry. Was lost in thought for a moment."
"Fine. Then I ask. What work when arrive."
"Your job? Simple. Fight monsters when they come. That's it."
"Really simple?"
"I hired you purely for combat, as fighting manpower. We'll formalize the contract when we get back, but hazard pay will be generous."
"Thank Grand Duke. Need much money, actually."
In debt or something? Why so much cash? Curiosity piqued, I probed gently.
"Need quick funds?"
"No. Save much for home return. Promised that."
"I see. Saving up for a triumphant return, then."
I nodded. Anyone might want to go home loaded with glory. With his skills, he wouldn't get hurt fighting monsters, and there weren't big money sinks up north anyway.
"No worries, then. Work under me a few years, and you'll earn enough to live comfortably forever."
"Trust only Grand Duke. I strong. Hunt strong monsters. Order anything."
"Will do."
Before, ogre raids meant either knights charging with lances at risk or me handling it personally. Now we had another option. Good thing I'd run that ad. If talents like him came walking, it was worth it.
Thanks, Shackleton!
This world I'd reincarnated—er, possessed—into defied pinning to any single era for direct historical comparison. As his sister said, it was deliberately mixed from various periods out of necessity.
So my full-body-twist reforms had to adapt pragmatically, importing what was needed when needed. Like if you time-traveled to Joseon and said, "Mass-produce matchlocks and cannons, sweep the barbarians with modern firepower, north conquest go brrr?"—it'd be meaningless. Joseon couldn't afford it even if gutted. And gunpowder basics? Sailing to India to mine saltpeter? No wonder Great Lord Kim Chun-sik fattened Joseon up pursuing private gain. Visionary exploiter.
Anyway, over the month, I'd pondered plenty. Back home, I'd be swamped clearing the backlog, but reforms must continue. I was dead set on conquering the monster-spewing Snow Mountains come hell or high water, then coasting forever.
Speaking of Snow Mountains, Hannibal probably brute-forced the Alps past the midpoint, gritting his teeth as precious elephants tumbled down slopes. Somehow crossing winter Alps, my ass. With that Hannibal mindset, day and night for a month, I'd schemed ways to advance the territory and army.
And finally.
"We've arrived."
The long journey ended. Home: bitterly cold, blizzard-whipped.
Screeech.
The gates opened. Wolfgang approached, knelt on one knee, and offered his ceremonial sword two-handed.
"We awaited Your Highness's return. As of now, command of all Berg forces returns to its rightful lord."
"Good work in my absence, Sir Wolfgang. Any incidents?"
"Three raids. All small-scale under a thousand each. Two fatalities across three defenses. No critical wounds; minor injuries mostly recovered."
"Cause?"
"Falls."
"Minimal losses. Shows how well you've handled military affairs."
"My thanks, Your Highness."
I took the sword, sheathing it.
A thousand-ish was small-scale, but three battles? Zero deaths would be greedy. Not combat losses, but falls—acts of god. Unavoidable, but bitter since they were my men.
I turned back. Exhaustion etched their faces after the trek, but eyes darted curiously at the new land.
These were the subjects I'd protect and nurture from now on.
To Roena, always at my back as usual:
"Sir Roena. Arrange lodging for the northern migrants. They'll need temporary quarters—tell the steward to use empty spaces in the castle and my residence first."
"A few vacant houses might turn up, but using Your Highness's residence too?"
"Arranging one by one is a hassle. You're worn from the trip too—need rest. Just relay to the steward and take it easy yourself."
"……Thank you, Your Highness."
Roena hesitated, then nodded. She'd toiled to the capital; time for her vacation. Or she'd think me a shitty boss who only worked her.
Back to Wolfgang:
"Anything else?"
"No, Your Highness. Nothing else you need know."
"You handled my absence superbly. Good work—rest up, then resume duties."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Good. Freshly back, so light day tomorrow for backlog and capital hauls. Leave that to tomorrow-me; today, I rest.
One thing first.
"Was about to head off and rest, but apologies—can you spare a moment?"
"M-me……? Your Highness."
"Yes, you. Aisha."
Caught off-guard, Aisha's eyes widened, asking back. She'd been gawking curiously; now she pointed at herself.
"Nothing major. Promised it'll be quick. Won't steal much of your time."
"Y-yes……!"
"Thanks. Follow me."
With that, I turned toward my office.
Spirit mage. Jackpot confirmed, but hard to gauge now, this rare breed. Needed a talk with Aisha.
Chat first, offer help awakening powers if possible. Above all, hear what she wanted to do.
She'd spent life caged and abused.
Problem was.
"……."
Her footsteps trembled faintly as she trailed silently.
……This paints a weird picture. Like I'm about to do something sinister.
Romance fantasy heroines needed guts: making soap to sell, running a tea-house guild, boldly proposing fake marriages to strangers.
Come to think, his sister griped medieval folk weren't primitives clueless on soap, so heroines skipped that nowadays.
Anyway, to ease tense Aisha, I spoke.
"No need to tense up. Just want a simple talk."
"Your Highness has…… something to say to me……?"
"Nothing big. Call it a planning interview for the future."
"Interview…… an interview……."
Aisha murmured, her steps trembling harder.