77

A ritual was performed on the curse laid upon Rupert.

He had not killed his beloved father with his own hands, nor was he despised by the man he admired, Hamel.

Above all, Rupert himself was alive and well.

‘This should settle it.’

Hamel breathed a sigh of relief.

He had untangled the knotted thread of fate and returned it to its rightful place.

The disturbance at the castle was announced to the people as the work of a demon.

Although the damage had been great, those affected were limited to the knights.

Raikard had also kept his life.

His body was greatly weakened and his skill was at best half of what it had been, but surviving such wounds at all was near miraculous.

Hamel’s Azure Flame had grown stronger and helped, but the North’s mightiest warrior was still a man of iron constitution.

Though he had no trouble moving about, he still did not retract his statement that he would hand the lord’s position to Rupert.

It was to take responsibility for his words.

Of course, it did not mean he had handed over full authority.

Raikard would still stand with him as a deputy to help the one who was not yet ready.

The problem was….

“I can’t. I am not worthy.”

It was that Rupert had no intention of taking it on.

“….”

Raikard let out a deep sigh.

He had unburdened feelings he’d kept pent up for a long time.

Many of those knots must have loosened.

Because of that, it was clear.

Rupert was speaking firmly and sincerely.

“If you truly care for me, send me to the front. I cannot be the steward now.”

Rupert could not forgive himself for his sins.

Not only for the sin he had just committed, but also for the guilt of having abandoned his younger brother long ago.

He wanted to wander the battlefield and atone.

Until the day he closed his eyes.

Hesitating, Raikard spoke with difficulty as if he truly did not want to.

“Must it really be so?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, then….”

Just as Raikard was about to say something.

Hamel, who had been watching intently, spoke up.

“There’s one thing that has puzzled me for some time.”

“…?”

Raikard and Rupert both turned their heads toward Hamel.

Both wore expressions of puzzlement at what Hamel might be saying.

Hamel continued without concern.

“There was a room in the dungeon we cleared that confronted us with memories of the past. Do you remember?”

“…Yes. I remember.”

Rupert slowly nodded at Hamel’s words.

Although it had happened not long ago, it felt like a memory from a distant past.

Hamel asked Rupert calmly.

“But why did your brother not appear in that memory, Mr. Rupert?”

“…!”

“Is it true that you did absolutely nothing at that time?”

For a moment, Rupert’s eyes widened.

He found Hamel’s words strange.

It was a trial that confronted the most helpless moment of his life.

If it were true that Rupert had failed to save his brother, that situation would have been replayed as his most helpless moment.

‘Then why….’

Rupert clutched his head.

Alongside the sharp pain, a vague memory welled up, as if something had burst forth.

---

A large, black hound approached, drooling.

Slobber.

The creature did not bark at all.

Instead, it slowly closed the distance to Rupert and his brother.

Rupert intuited it.

That thing would soon attack them.

His body trembled.

At that moment, his brother drew a practice sword.

The boy turned his head, forcing a faint smile as he spoke.

“If we’re together, it’s fine. Right, brother?”

“….”

“…Brother?”

“Yes.”

Rupert unconsciously stopped retreating and drew his sword.

“Of course we’re fine.”

At Rupert’s answer, his brother grinned broadly.

Rupert smiled back as if returning that grin.

The next moment.

The black hound lunged.

“Eek!”

The hound’s speed far exceeded expectation and cut through the air where Rupert’s sword swung.

And the result was dreadful.

The hound bit into Rupert’s arm.

Then it shook its head until his arm was torn off.

In terrible pain, Rupert shouted.

“Now!”

If it had been while he was bitten, he could have cut the dog down.

Rupert urgently called to his brother.

“….”

But there was no answer.

Despite his reputation as a sword prodigy, his brother froze from lack of real combat experience.

“Ah.”

Rupert let out a hollow exhale for a moment, then gritted his teeth.

Believing they would both die like this, he steeled himself and shouted.

“Run! Quick! Go and fetch the guards!”

“…O-okay!”

But Rupert did not know.

Beasts have the instinct to chase fleeing prey.

“…Huh?”

That was the end.

His brother, fleeing with his back turned, could not resist, and his throat was torn open.

He writhed in agony, dropped his sword, screamed, and began to wail.

“You damned dog!”

Rupert, his eyes wild, lunged at the dog clinging to his brother.

He gouged the dog’s eyes and tore its throat open.

He split its belly and pulled out its entrails.

“Die! You mad mutt!”

Rupert swung his sword like a madman.

When he came to his senses, the hound was already dead.

The dog, as if possessed, had not released his brother from its jaws even as it died.

What on earth was happening?

His head went white, but there was no time to hesitate.

‘I must call for help from anyone….’

As he looked around.

“…Brother.”

He heard his brother’s weak voice calling him.

“Y-yeah, I’m here.”

Rupert crawled over and grabbed his brother’s hand in a hurry.

A gush of blood poured from his brother’s ripped throat.

He could feel it instinctively.

Only a little time remained.

“Can I ask you one thing?”

“Anything. Tell me. Tell me I’m right here.”

Rupert clenched his teeth.

He resolved to accomplish it even if it took his whole life.

At that reply, his brother smiled with relief and murmured.

“Tell them… that I fought bravely… and died… that would be… good.”

“Alright. I’ll say just that.”

Rupert lifted his sword and pressed it firmly into his brother’s hand.

“You were truly brave, my little brother.”

Rupert stroked his brother’s head and kissed his forehead.

“….”

There was no answer.

There was no breath either.

His brother simply smiled quietly and closed his eyes.

Rupert stood frozen there for a long time, as though the boy might suddenly move again.

“I must go.”

It was a long time before Rupert rose.

He had to fulfill his brother’s final request.

He staggered and walked for a long while.

Misstep.

Rupert tumbled down into the valley.

His head ached.

Blood kept flowing from his arm.

It felt as if his leg was broken too.

But Rupert kept walking.

And at the end of it.

“…Young master?”

He came across a guard who was horrified at Rupert’s appearance.

“What on earth happened…?!”

“West of Blackwood. My brother is by Wolf Rock.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“My brother fought a hound… so go and save him quickly.”

Rupert spoke the words he’d been repeating in his head with all his strength.

And then he collapsed.

---

“Prepare to die. The opportunity was given not by me but by the estate’s people.”

“Yes. My life already belongs to them.”

Rupert bowed his head and answered.

Rupert, who had been groaning from his headache, suddenly changed his mind and accepted Raikard’s proposal.

‘It seems something came to his mind.’

Hamel watched him quietly.

A little while ago, Rupert had trembled in anguish and, shedding tears, muttered ‘thank goodness’.

Those were surely tears mixed with relief and mourning.

He never spoke aloud what memory it was, but it was clearly not a bad one.

Raikard did not press for details either.

That evening.

A light drinking gathering was held.

In the North, it’s customary to celebrate after completing a hard task.

They even hold drinking parties at funerals, so this was no exception.

“Lord Hamel, have a drink as well.”

“It is an honor.”

Raikard, who had poured for Rupert, came over to Hamel and handed him a drink.

Hamel took it and downed it in one.

The North’s characteristic strong liquor hit his throat.

But afterward a gentle sweetness lingered in his mouth.

It was a distilled spirit, perhaps.

A very different drink from the wine and ale common in the southern regions.

“Haha! Lord Hamel drinks like a true man of valor.”

Raikard smiled approvingly, apparently pleased by the sight.

The knights and retainers at the gathering laughed along.

Hamel laughed with them.

‘Is this the Northern way?’

Those retainers and knights had lost comrades today.

Raikard had also lost men he cared for.

Those who had been somber while handling the bodies and holding funerals were now laughing.

It was hard to adapt to, but Hamel somehow understood their mood.

The North was harsher and its land more barren than the South.

Life in the North was a struggle for survival.

Someone you saw yesterday could return as a corpse today.

They mourn death briefly, then wash away sorrow with drink and laughter.

It was then.

Raikard spoke to Hamel once more, sincerely.

“Thank you.”

“I only did my duty.”

When Hamel demurred, Raikard’s expression grew even more pleased.

“You are truly an example to warriors. You are more Northern than any Northerner.”

“…That praise is excessive.”

Hamel, uncomfortable with the praise, raised his cup to drink.

Raikard hurriedly stopped him and said.

“Ah, before you drink, I have something to say to you.”

“…?”

“You defended our domain and kept the North safe. No amount of thanks will be enough.”

The banquet hall fell silent at Raikard’s words.

Everyone looked at Hamel with heated gazes.

“I do not yet know how to reward you for this. But I promise one thing: from today you are the benefactor of the Glenval house, and all here will be witnesses to that.”

““Aye!””

Everyone in the hall cried out as if to carry the castle away.

After a moment, Raikard nodded and continued.

“And at the same time, you are the brother of us Northerners. Is that not so?”

““Aye!””

“The day you need us, we will gladly stake our lives and stand with you.”

Raikard stamped his foot loudly.

“Untarnished glory to the North’s benefactor!”

““Glory!””

At Raikard’s cry, everyone raised their cups.

All in the hall stood, stamped, and lifted their cups.

Hamel too belatedly raised his cup and downed it in one.

Cheers erupted from all around.

For some reason, he felt embarrassed and wanted to get thoroughly drunk.

Hamel moved aside and approached his companions who were enjoying the feast.

“How are you all doing?”

“I like this place. The drink is good.”

Daniel said with a smile.

By contrast, Ono, sitting beside him, grimaced after dipping a bit of the drink and tasting it following Daniel’s praise.

“What on earth is this taste… what do people see in drinking this…?”

After that he didn’t touch the alcohol and just ate the side dishes.

He’d long abstained as a priestly virtue, but now it seemed he simply disliked the flavor.

Rena was already drunk, nodding off with a flushed face.

“Lady Rena should go get some rest.”

“I’m not drunk.”

At Hamel’s remark, Rena shook her head firmly.

Wasn’t she asleep?

“No, but….”

“I said I’m not drunk.”

‘…She’s properly drunk.’

Hamel shook his head.

Daniel burst into laughter watching him.

“She probably suffered mana depletion from today’s battle. She’s not in good shape. I’ll move her to the bed.”

“Please.”

As Hamel nodded, at that moment.

Bang!

Someone flung open the banquet hall door violently.

“Who goes there?”

Raikard scowled and glared at the person who entered.

But his expression quickly turned urgent.

“…What’s the matter, Commander?”

Russell.

The estate’s commander was out of breath as he hurriedly handed over a small note.

Judging by its size, it was clearly a dispatch delivered by courier or raven.

Raikard strode forward and took it.

As he caught his breath, Russell called out hoarsely so the entire hall could hear.

“N-Notice from Northwatch. Wild men are moving south in large numbers. Urgent request for support.”

“….”

“It’s an attack, my lord!”

The North’s ordeal was not yet over.

---

“Open the gates!”

Sturnhelm’s castle was bright as midday.

Shouts of soldiers, the clang of metal, and the creak of wagons echoed everywhere.

Servants and squire boys busied themselves about.

Rattle.

The drawbridge rose and the castle gate opened.

Then the mounted riders waiting began to ride out of the castle.

At their head were Hamel, Daniel, and Rupert.

Thundering hooves!

Though it was still the dark hours of dawn, the horses charged forth without hesitation.

The roads here were well maintained, so as long as they stayed on the path, there would be no problem.

Rupert rode behind Hamel and shouted.

“Don’t be afraid! When the road grows rough the sun will rise, so increase your speed!”

“Aye!”

A hundred mounted soldiers.

They were a vanguard formed for rapid support to Northwatch.

---

A short while before.

Hastily ending the banquet, Raikard gathered people to make plans.

The letter from Northwatch was so brief that the details of the situation were hard to know.

One thing was certain: Northwatch’s garrison alone could not handle such a large number of wild men.

“We must dispatch troops immediately!”

“There’s not enough time! Even if we depart now, we won’t be able to save Northwatch.”

“Are you suggesting we abandon the townsfolk and soldiers there?”

The knights, their faces reddening, argued loudly with veins bulging in their necks.

Raikard fell silent at the split opinions.

Neither side was entirely wrong.

They could not give up on the people of Northwatch.

But if they forced an advance, they would suffer heavy losses.

Therefore the ideal was to stop them at a castle south of Northwatch.

As they were at an impasse.

“Um.”

Hamel, who had been quiet in the meeting, raised his hand and spoke.

“Couldn’t we organize a separate detachment apart from the main force?”

“…But.”

The knights avoided his gaze at Hamel’s suggestion.

Most of the knights were drunk from the banquet.

Moreover, the deaths of senior knights had thrown the chain of command into disarray.

There was no suitable person to lead a detachment at once.

At that moment, Rupert raised his hand.

“…I’ll go.”

“No.”

Raikard refused firmly.

It was not a matter of resolve.

It was a matter of qualification now.

Not even the soldiers, let alone the knights, trusted Rupert yet.

Indeed, some knights openly grimaced at the sight of Rupert’s severed hand.

Hamel, watching this, raised his hand.

“Then how about I lead the detachment?”

“Hamel, Lord?”

Raikard asked, visibly delighted.

He had to lead the estate’s main force.

If Hamel took the vanguard position, nothing could better raise their morale.

“But… why would you help? The enemies are not demons, after all.”

“…There are suspicious elements.”

Hamel withheld unnecessary words.

He need not bring up the suspicious man they had met in Snowglium.

Fortunately, Raikard did not press further and nodded.

“Very well… it’s shameless perhaps, but if you help there is nothing better.”

“They don’t all need to be knights. Gather a hundred who can ride well.”

“Understood. Captains here, prepare the men within half an hour.”

“Yes.”

The knights rose and thumped their chests.

Raikard took Hamel’s hand and said.

“I’m asking once more.”

“You may ask as many times as you like.”

Hamel merely nodded calmly.

Half an hour later.

“Open the gates!”

A group of mounted riders rode out of the dark castle without hesitation.

At the head of the party was once more the silver-haired man.

The light that could not be hidden even in darkness became a lantern for the soldiers racing through the night.

The lantern moved forward without hesitation or wavering.

---

“Do not fall back. We must buy as much time as possible!”

Caesar, the veteran ranger of Northwatch, nocked an arrow and shouted.

Nock.

Draw.

Release.

It took only three seconds to spot a target and loose an arrow.

Thud.

“Guh!”

A charging wild man collapsed into the snow, foaming at the mouth with an axe in hand.

Yet the situation did not improve at all.

If anything, it worsened.

“Kill them!”

“If we don’t kill them, we’ll all die!”

At this point their enemies, who should have faltered, did not retreat in the least.

Twang.

The sound of bowstrings snapped repeatedly.

But those sounds came far less often than before.

The twenty-strong ranger unit now numbered fewer than ten.

Of course they had buried many wild men in the snow.

Caesar himself had killed at least ten wild men.

Nevertheless, they were the ones driven into a corner.

“Aaaaargh!”

A lagging rookie ranger screamed.

Because they had given ground, an axe flew and lodged in his leg.

“Damn.”

Caesar gritted his teeth and drew his bow.

He knew it was a lost cause, but there was nothing to be done.

He loosed an arrow at the wild man charging the rookie.

One fell, but more continued to charge.

Thump.

‘Huh?’

Caesar reached to his quiver to draw another arrow.

But his hand grasped only air.

‘The arrows are gone.’

Caesar’s eyes trembled.

The same was true for the other men in the unit.

They had risked their lives to buy time and stop the raiders from attacking the refugees.

But now that too was over.

Their strength was spent, their mouths tasted of iron, and their arrows were gone.

There was no way to hold out any longer.

At the moment they fell into despair.

Whoosh.

A spinning dagger flew from somewhere and lodged in the throat of the wild man who was about to strike the rookie.

Startled by the unexpected attack, the wild men froze and glared at the rangers.

The blizzard had ruined their sense of direction.

Even looking back, they couldn’t tell who had thrown it.

Had any of their men been so skilled at throwing?

As that question crossed their minds.

Thud.

Someone tapped Caesar on the shoulder and stepped forward.

He wore attire they’d never seen before.

A hood masked him, but beneath it silver-white hair flashed.

Surprised by the unusual hair color, Caesar spoke with difficulty.

“Who are you…?”

The man turned to him and said.

“You’ve done well.”

Only then did they sense the presence hidden by the wind and snow.

One.

Two.

No.

At least dozens. Perhaps a hundred.

Armored Northern knights passed Caesar and advanced toward the wild men.

The hooded man calmly drew his sword and said.

“I have come from Sturnhelm.”

“Ah.”

Caesar could only let out a short exclamation.

He realized that the long-awaited reinforcements had arrived.