Chapter 57

In the only pub in Isberg, the shout of Pickelt—leader of the Snow-Play Unit and their immovable fourth batter—echoed among the drinking youths.

“What?! You’re saying that aiming for the left was a total bluff?!”

“Yeah. You couldn’t see it from your side, but I was secretly sending hand signals behind my back to aim for the right.”

“But the snowball flew to the left! What was that about?!”

“Oh, I figured that since you were all glued to the snow pillars, a direct hit was unlikely. So, I threw my snowball to the left before Calme did, and then Calme aimed for the right with a slight delay.”

“Wow, that’s dirty! Was that what the announcer meant by ‘extremely underhanded’?”

In all honesty, I had been quite panicked when the DD started playing it safe. I’d thrown out a sloppy feint on impulse, but it wasn’t because I had a guaranteed path to victory. I just did the first thing that came to mind, and it happened to work out.

Of course, saying that out loud would be the height of uncool, so I kept a cool face as if everything had gone according to plan. The other members of the DD looked pretty shocked, but since it was a trick play, it probably wouldn’t work a second time now that the cat was out of the bag.

Having learned the truth, Pickelt looked less angry and more like he’d been betrayed by some fundamental truth of the world.

“I thought knights were a bunch of fair and square types! Don’t you guys have any pride?!”

“We fed our excess pride to the Orcs to make up for the budget cuts. If throwing away our pride lets us slaughter every last Orc, we’d gladly toss it in the trash.”

“I hate this… his face looks dead serious… Are the rest of you like this too?”

As Pickelt looked around, the other members of the Order all wore dry smiles and serene expressions, looking like they had reached a state of spiritual enlightenment.

“Yeah, our Order is pretty much like that. Actually, I feel like I’ve already lost my freedom, my chances with women, and a lot of other things…”

“No matter how much I fight, the war never gets easier; I just stare down at the palms of my hands…”

“…”

“…”

“…Want a drink?”

“…Let’s drink. There’s still some Berg Vodka left, right?”

Alcohol washes away anxiety and resentment. To put it another way, those who can’t wash it away with a drink tend to drop out of the Order, but that’s too sad to say out loud. My old classmates were like that. I wonder where they are and what they’re doing under this same cold sky. If they’re still in prison, they can’t even see the sun.

Since some people didn’t care for vodka or had finished after just one glass, there was still a decent amount of the high-end Berg Vodka left. A few of us poured the vodka into shot glasses and downed them in one go with a “Cheers!”

A hot sting raced down my throat, and my body warmed up instantly.

For the record, I’d added some lime juice to my shot glass, but others were drinking it in various ways—some over ice, others mixed with juice.

“Still, you guys are knights, right? It’s a bit late to ask, but are you even allowed to drink?”

“We’re under strict orders not to let it affect tomorrow. Besides, the personnel who are actually moving out tomorrow aren’t drinking. There’s a very ‘helpful’ lesson from our predecessors: if you drink without discretion, you might just die on tomorrow’s mission.”

Just as I said that, Senior Rock walked past, clutching a hoard of bottles and chugging a small flask of vodka. It looked like he had once again spent his meager salary like water to buy up booze. It was rare to see him carrying juice; maybe he was planning to make cocktails.

“Y’know, high-quality booze doesn’t circulate much in the North! What a haul, what a hau—whoa! Heheh, close one, close one. Why is it that every pub I go to has such bouncy floors?♪”

“I think the problem is with your legs, not the floor, Senior.”

“Phew!♪ You’ve got a mouth on you… but I’ve never once fallen while holding my booze!♪ If I trip, the bottle breaks! I’ve got no alcohol to spare for the floor!♪”

Pickelt and the others watched in a daze, pointing at the disgrace to the Order as he stumbled out of the pub with his bottles clinking.

“Hey Varna-kun, no matter how you look at it, that’s ‘affecting tomorrow’ levels of drinking!?”

“Oh, he’s fine. He can fight even when he’s loaded. It’s just that no matter what else he threw away, he couldn’t give up the booze.”

“Dirty tricks in a fight, and drunks behind the scenes! Is there something wrong with this country’s Knight Order?!”

“If you ask me, the fact that we’re the only ones fighting the Orcs appearing across nearly the entire country is what’s wrong. Our actual combat force is less than a fifth of the knights in this kingdom. I’d like to know what the rest of them are doing.”

“The pay is low, there are no vacations, and the compensation clearly doesn’t match the quality of the labor. We’re at our wit’s end. If Varna-kun doesn’t win the Imperial Matches, our Order is seriously going to perish.”

“I mean, the Royal Council knows way too little about what’s happening on the ground. How on earth do the Holy Boot Knights—the ones with the most free time—get the biggest budget? It’s filthy how they just pour bribes back into the Council.”

“Ah, I see. So they route the money from the national treasury to the Holy Boot Knights, and then aim for the kickbacks that flow back to them. Wow, I’ve been a knight for five years and I’m just now realizing this… Varna-kun, did you know?”

“I’ve heard things from Senior Rock. He’s surprisingly well-informed about that kind of stuff.”

“The current state of the Order’s corruption being exposed in a corner of the kingdom… what even is this situation?”

The members of the Snow-Play Unit DD felt a cold sweat breaking out that had nothing to do with the alcohol, as the conversation turned increasingly chaotic.

The darkness held by the Kingdom was seemingly shallow, yet incredibly deep.

“In the end, I wonder what that white thing in the mountains really is.”

On the way back from the drinks, Calme murmured the question, his breath coming out in white puffs.

I’d tried to check during the drinking session—even while the main topic shifted to complaining about the Order—but it seemed only a tiny handful of Isberg residents had actually seen the unidentified white creature. However, the traces of destroyed mountain huts and traps supposedly weren’t the work of any human, so it probably wasn’t a lame punchline like “someone wearing a polar bear pelt.”

“Depends on the scouting results, but it’s probably a monster. Bending iron cages is a bit much for a regular bear.”

“In that case, maybe it came across from the continent on a piece of drift ice?”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that… drift ice reaching our Kingdom is incredibly rare. Even in the records of the Holy Vessel Knights, there are only a few mentions of it ever happening.”

I didn’t know the specifics, but back when I was in the Royal Capital, I’d secretly asked an old classmate who handled the Order’s paperwork, and they confirmed that drift ice was truly a rarity.

Since there wasn’t a dedicated observation department, it’s possible more of it washed up than was reported, but the timing of when drift ice would likely hit the Kingdom didn’t quite line up with the sightings of this white monster, so we couldn’t count on that theory.

“Besides, things that ride drift ice are usually sea beasts, right? It’s hard to imagine a humanoid hitching a ride on one.”

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right… Oh, then maybe a smuggled monster went feral?”

“It’s not impossible. We’ve had a few scares like that before.”

Monsters that are trained to obey humans are called “Tamed.” In our Kingdom, where monsters don’t naturally exist, there are heavy restrictions in place to prevent the risks of them going feral. In fact, the only officially permitted ones were the Tamed Wyverns of the Holy Heaven Knights; regulations on Tamed animals kept as pets were extremely strict.

It was still fresh in my memory how a smuggled Al-mi’raj—a horned, rabbit-like monster—caused a huge scene in the Royal Capital last year after injuring several people. The situation was eventually brought under control thanks to the life-risking efforts of the Holy Shield Knights, but it inadvertently proved that even if they’re “Tamed,” a monster is still a monster.

Since then, crackdowns and regulations had become even tougher, but criminal methods always seemed to evolve faster than the rest of society. It was entirely possible that some eccentric member of the privileged class was smuggling such creatures even now.

“If it really is a monster… will we have to kill it?”

“If we could talk it out, there might be another way, but I doubt the thing lurking in the mountains has the same level of intelligence as Veera.”

“Brought here for human convenience, only to be killed for human convenience. It just feels… wrong,” Calme muttered.

On the road covered in white snow, where the only sound was the crunch of our boots, Calme looked down, sounding somewhat mournful.

Except for the Orcs, every monster problem within the Kingdom was something humans had brought upon themselves.

Situations born from the arrogance of a “civilized” humanity. Decisions that toyed with lives.

In a sense, you could say these creatures were just caught in the crossfire of human greed. Even among “Foreign Hazardous Species,” the only ones who probably came to this land by choice were the Orcs.

“No matter the logic, what we have to do remains the same. We stand on the front lines and fight for the powerless citizens of the Kingdom… But sometimes, I feel like the people we’re protecting just push their troubles onto us and watch from a distance like it’s someone else’s problem.”

“Are you losing sight of why you’re fighting?”

“No, it’s not that! It’s just… I wish the public knew a bit more about our struggle… Sorry, I’m being out of line.”

“Don’t make a face like that. I think I understand how you feel, more or less.”

I placed a hand gently on Calme’s head as he apologized in a small voice, giving it a light pat.

I certainly shared the feeling of being stuck cleaning up the mess of people who did things as heartless as smuggling monsters. As long as those who won’t take responsibility for their own actions keep getting away with it, the same mistakes will likely be repeated over and over.

“…But listen, Calme. Commander Luger is worried about that exact thing, which is why he’s scurrying around with those ‘image improvement’ strategies. As long as we keep producing results—no, that’s not it.”

In this world, there are very few certainties.

However, if you lose your will to fight before the battle even begins just because the outlook is grim, your steps will falter and the possibilities will only drift further away. Success or failure is something that only reveals itself afterward.

“If we give up, this world is truly doomed. It’s okay to complain or show weakness, but never doubt the heart that believed your choice was the right one.”

“…Yes, sir.”

Calme’s reply was quiet, but firm. When I took my hand off his head, he looked a little reluctant for a split second, but he quickly turned his gaze forward and started walking again. I was reminded once more that, at his core, this junior of mine was incredibly strong-willed.

Back in my first year with the Order, I used to get naive thinking about these things too, and I received plenty of advice from my seniors. I didn’t expect to be passing that baton so soon in my second year, but I wondered if I’d handed it over properly.

‘Walk with your head held high so you can pass on what needs to be told to the juniors—who I’m sure will be quite a handful. Though, maybe that’s just me meddling.’

Eventually, he would be the one passing the baton.

Or perhaps, that time would come as early as next year.

To make sure he doesn’t have a reason to laugh at me then, I wanted to make sure we settled this mission perfectly.