Chapter 64
As a rule, Watchmen were extremely reluctant to go outside the Great Wall.
Not only was it bitterly cold, but the presence of Barbarians who could attack at any time was pure terror itself.
But even with that, the attitude differed from member to member.
"You know, Frederick, I've been noticing this—whenever you go outside the Wall, you seem to be in a good mood."
"Is that so? Heheh, well, I suppose so."
Frederick answered, rubbing the corner of his mouth.
"Out here, you can beat up anyone you want and no one knows."
"...."
"Don't worry. I only beat up my superiors if they're weaker than me."
As Erich's face soured, the leader of the supply convoy, who had been quietly observing from behind, instinctively shrugged his shoulders.
When Erich glanced at him, Frederick hastily insisted it was just a joke—but nobody actually believed it was a joke.
Barnes, observing quietly from the side, seemed almost convinced. Maybe it was for the best that Barnes was lower ranked than Frederick.
'Barnes is at least somewhat normal...'
The supply convoy was transporting goods to the 6th Fortress.
Following Commander August's orders, Erich was to investigate the 6th Fortress.
This convoy had been newly reorganized to serve as a means for him to investigate the fortress legally.
But if one moved alone, there was the risk that reports could be missed in case anything happened, so it was compulsory to bring others along.
The men Erich chose for this role were Frederick and Barnes.
Looking back, it seemed he hadn't thought things through enough and he regretted it now, but anyway—
'First, I need to observe the situation at the 6th Fortress. Judging from what I remember from before the regression, there must be a problem somewhere.'
The commander's suspicions about the fortress began from something simple: they requested an extremely excessive amount of supplies, disproportionate to their personnel.
Yet, regular reports and updates were not being properly delivered either.
A lesser commander might have just let it go, but Commander August wasn't one to overlook such warning signs.
'Who was the garrison commander at the 6th Fortress again?'
The garrison commander was the highest rank in the Watch after the commander himself. That made sense, as the fortress commanders answered directly to the main commander.
Erich searched his memory. There were twelve fortresses in the Watch.
'The 6th Fortress... I think his name was Richter.'
Erich recalled the fleeting impression he had of the man.
Richter.
His memory was faint, but he remembered that the man left a strong impression.
In the far northern part beyond the Great Wall, the consensus was that it was hard to survive even three days.
Yet, before his disappearance, richter had served at that fortress for over ten years.
He couldn't remember having met Richter properly, but the man was intriguing. If someone of his caliber could lend a hand in the great war against the dead, even a little, humanity's chances of victory might increase just the tiniest bit.
However, as Erich was deep in thought—
"Wait a moment, please!"
Someone came running toward the supply convoy, shouting.
'A horse?'
Riding a horse this deep in the snowy wilderness? Erich guessed this person probably wasn't a member of the Watch.
His guess was proven right as the man drew near and Erich realized he recognized the face.
"Milon...?"
"My lord. Where are you heading in such a hurry?"
Milon hurriedly dismounted and knelt before Erich.
Erich silently looked him over. Milon's horse, though they hadn't run far, was already shivering and near collapse.
"... Who rides a horse through snowfields? Are you out of your mind? Couldn't expect anything less from a southern country bumpkin."
"... You could have at least given me a heads-up, sir. I just thought it would be, you know, regular winter weather."
"Ugh. Enough. So what is it?"
Milon pulled a sword from his coat and offered it to Erich. Erich recognized the sword instantly.
'Dragon Fang? If this guy is carrying it...'
Unless Grand Duke Krupp permitted it, this sword would never leave the family. For this guy to bring it out so openly...
"So I'm to take this and return to the family?"
"He didn't say that, sir. He just said you'd understand once you saw it."
"So that's that, then. The grand duke must have thought I'd obviously accept his offer."
"... Are you saying you won't accept this sword, sir?"
Milon's pupils trembled in confusion. To accept this sword was to receive the grand duke's recognition.
It hadn't even occurred to Milon that there was the option to refuse it.
"Don't you know what Dragon Fang means?"
"I do. But if I take it, I won't die a natural death."
Erich turned his gaze to the elegant embellishments on Dragon Fang.
It was true—a swordsman could hardly help but covet a famous blade like this. And this wasn't just any sword; it was a masterpiece crafted from oramite.
'Having something like this would really make life easier...'
It took a long time to forge a sword from oramite.
On top of that, oramite was such a difficult metal to handle that if an amateur tried, the result was duller than a stone knife.
Only expert smiths could produce anything worthwhile.
But when oramite went through the proper process in a master's hands, masterpieces like this were sometimes born.
'Still...'
If he accepted Dragon Fang, there would be too many sacrifices—that is, a lot of annoying things to deal with.
The moment he accepted it, he'd be signaling that he accepted the grand duke's overtures, and he'd have to put up with his half-brothers' endless interference.
Even if he was bound to the Watch, the Dragon Fang—legendary sword of Krupp's first swordmaster—carried immense weight in the family.
With a lifeless face, Milon asked,
"Then, does this mean Dragon Fang is just going back to the family?"
"Is that so? Then do you want it?"
"M-me, how could I dare..."
Milon's eyes darted everywhere. It would be a tough spot for anyone carrying out orders. Noticing Milon's confusion, Erich spoke.
"Tell the grand duke this: there are better swords in the North than Dragon Fang. I don't need the family treasure."
"There's a sword better than Dragon Fang?"
"That's what I said. Now, go on."
After a moment's hesitation, Milon retrieved the sword and returned toward the Wall.
Watching him leave, Frederick commented,
"But really, is there such a sword? I've never heard of one."
"Well, any sword in my hand becomes a masterpiece."
"...? So you were lying?"
"No, it's true. Want me to test and see if there's a head that doesn't get cut if I swing?"
"Damn, today's one of those days I just itch to commit insubordination. If I was just a little stronger..."
Frederick's eyes glinted. Completely mad. When Erich first heard that Frederick waited endlessly for his return, it seemed admirable, but now he was always talking about insubordination...
'Madman.'
Anyway, on their way north, as Erich grew bored, he glanced at Frederick out of the corner of his eye.
'Should check on his background or something.'
Frederick—certainly useful and loyal, but Erich hadn't really known him in his previous life.
"By the way, Frederick, where are you from originally?"
"The North."
"Is all the North your home? So, what crime did you get taken in for?"
Erich recalled Frederick's coarse language and candid behavior. He was a typical northern man. But then Frederick's next words made Erich stutter.
"Killed my father. Beat him to death."
"Damn it, that's..."
He lost his words. If the guy could commit parricide, maybe beating up his superior was no big deal either.
They ought to just be grateful to have survived. But Frederick, indifferent, laughed heartily.
"Heheh, what do you think is the biggest problem in the North?"
"The North's biggest problem?"
Erich pondered.
"... That you guys are always killing each other?"
In his memory, the North was a land of fratricide. Fathers siding with the duke, sons with the marquis, killing each other—it was an accepted part of life.
But Frederick shook his head.
"That's a problem, but not the biggest one."
With that, Frederick fell silent. Why not finish his thought?
"So, what is the biggest problem?"
But Frederick just laughed. Erich considered beating him up to make him talk, but in the end, decided it was more trouble than it was worth.
Anyhow.
Their destination was the remote North. Along the way, they stopped at outposts to stock up on supplies and kept an eye out for Barbarians who could attack at any time.
It was while traveling that something caught Erich's eye—a dark silhouette, so distant that to others it probably looked just like a pile of rocks.
"That is...."
Erich's eyes narrowed, and soon, a crimson light leaked through.
"Looks like Barbarians...."
"Barbarians?!"
The supply troopers sitting quietly in the wagon turned pale. Trying to reassure them, Erich said,
"Relax. There's a guy here who's as good at beating up Barbarians as he is at beating up his superiors."
Although he joked, Erich instinctively tensed his body. This was definitely not a normal situation.
'Barbarians, in the middle of the snowfields... during the day? And not in an ambush?'
With Frederick and Barnes, Erich got out of the wagon and slowly approached the remnants of the Barbarians.
As they drew near, all three of them stopped in their tracks.
"... Shit."
Frederick swore. They'd discovered something so repulsive it made them recoil.
There lay a group of emaciated Barbarians, abandoned. All of them seemed too weak to even move. Erich signaled the others to be cautious.
Erich approached to check their condition.
"They're done for."
They weren't simply thin. More precisely, something had drained them from within. Erich turned over a Barbarian's wrist to examine it.
"... Their blood was drained. The marks are quite precise."
Each one had a sharp knife wound at every spot where the veins connected.
Frederick frowned.
"Is there anything to do for them?"
"There's no replacing lost blood. They'll all be dead soon."
"Bastards... Who the hell would do something like this?"
"Hmmm..."
Even Barnes, quietly observing, grimaced.
"Horrible. Who could do such a thing..."
Erich went over every possibility in his head. But he couldn't think of any likely suspects. If anything, maybe a mythical vampire?
"A tribal skirmish, maybe... There are some with nasty customs, after all."
"Blood...? Well, I suppose that's possible."
Though those groaning in agony were Barbarians, not Imperials from south of the Wall...
Even so, they were still people, with dignity worthy of respect—as Erich knew.
Silently, Erich drew his sword and ended their suffering.
― Squelch.
He finished off the rest as well, then Erich, Barnes, and Frederick returned to the supply convoy. The soldiers, watching from afar, looked pale as ghosts.
"You there, in the supply convoy. How much further to the fortress?"
"A-about two days left, sir."
Erich hesitated briefly. Should he leave this matter and proceed to his destination as planned? Or investigate immediately? Frederick soon spoke in a low voice.
"... Let's just go."
"Doesn't this bother you?"
"This is just the way the North is. Weird things happen all the time, and all you can do is accept them."
After a moment of thought, Erich accepted Frederick's words and turned away.
But as he climbed back into the wagon, passing the Barbarians' corpses, he shot them a glance and had a sudden thought.
'... For this to happen so close to the fortress?'
A subtle but unmistakable sense of foreboding began to creep over him.
-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】