Even in the Snowy Winter
Ehrim Kiringer dared not intervene in such a terrible battle. There was the problem of the wounded Ogre, a maddened beast that lashed out in its anger. Then there was the problem of the man and woman, their insane blades appearing to be even more lethal than the rampaging monster.
With each swipe of her golden blade, Adelia tore into the armor-like hide of the Ogre. Her attacks followed one upon the other, and she gave no heed as to her own defense. The bloodied beast pulled a punch, and after having taken a swing at it, Adelia was caught off-balance and vulnerable. Its meaty fist did not pulp her head, though, for the First Prince interceded himself between the woman and the blow as his sword glowed with a new type of brilliance.
Sword met fist, and the blade cleaved deeply through the Ogre’s fingers. The Ogre grabbed his head and bellowed in pain as the blood slowly dripped from his ravaged hand. The First Prince had vaulted through the air and rolled onto his legs to once more stand before the Ogre. Adelia had recovered by then and struck once more, her sword cleaving clean through the Ogre’s wrist. The beast now moaned in fear and in suffering as it swung at her with its remaining hand. She easily dodged its desperate attempt.
Where and how did the First Prince meet this woman?
The humans simultaneously dodged another attack, both jumping up at the same time as they charged once more at their foe.
Ehrim felt nothing but admiration and awe as he watched the scene unfold before him. Adelia’s initial attacks had been powerful, yet now it was the Prince who truly carried the battle. Adelia struck like a maniac, while the Prince had to defend both himself and her from the Ogre’s assaults. At first glance, one would assume it had been a pre-arranged strategy, yet Ehrim knew just how spontaneous and chaotic their tactics truly were. The woman’s strikes were as blind as those of the Ogre, she cared little whether someone fought at her side. She had drawn her sword and attacked; that was the only reasoning that had gone through her mind. Not only did she neglect her own defense, but she also disrupted any attempt at predicting her movements.
The Ogre could not focus on her.
Adrian supported her selfish and blind offensive exquisitely. To one untutored in the ways of war, it would seem as if the woman pulled the punches in the battle. The truth, however, was that the First Prince and his tactics carried the day, for without his keen application of them, Adelia would have been sprawled out onto the ground, her corpse cooling on the snow.
How many battles had the First Prince fought since his arrival at Winter Castle? Had it truly been just a year since Adrian had taken up the sword?
His skill had truly evolved beyond comparison to his past inadequacies, yet he was not the only one whose prowess had increased at an exponential rate.
There was also Arwen Kirgayen.
The woman who had once aspired to become a Wire Knight now served as a skilled knight in service of the First Prince. While Ehrim and Dunham circled the Ogre, seeking a gap where they could lend their aid, Arwen had taken it upon herself to command the Rangers. She had ordered them to kill off the remaining Orcs, who, despite their exhaustion, still posed a threat. Her judgment had been sound, and soon the Orcs fell by the arrow and by the blade.
She raised her hand as the Rangers prepared to fire once more.
The triple-chain knight then unleashed the mana from her rings. The Orcs stepped back, cautious, yet did not yet flee, for their fierce leader had other plans.
“Kugurk krahakduk!” One of the Orcs shouted as he lazily rubbed his neck. Ehrim knew that the First Prince spoke Orcish, so he looked towards him. The fight with the Ogre was reaching its end, with the beast sitting in a pool of its own blood. Both its feet had been severed, and one of its hands had been cut off to a nub. The beast was confusedly touching the ground with its severed hand while lashing out with the other in all directions. The site was a grisly one, yet pitiful all the same.
The human warriors who had bested the beast now seemed truly vicious. Adelia, drenched in blood, slashed into the Ogre’s back in an upward arc. So great was the ferocity behind her strike that she severed its entire shoulder. Terrible was its tortured wailing as it struggled and writhed on the ground. She climbed onto its back and cackled as her eyes sparkled with red and yellow energies. At long last, she pierced her golden blade through the nape of the monster’s neck. The Ogre coughed up a bloody, bubbling froth as she pulled her blade out, and pierced his throat once more, and again and again. The terrible sound was like a butcher chopping up a tough slab of meat. The sight of it was nightmarish, and Ehrim could no longer bear to watch as he averted his gaze.
The First Prince now started to stride towards the Orcs, his body not as covered with the Ogre’s blood as much as Adelia’s. Adrian stretched his muscles, his bones crackling as they once more prepared for battle.
A strange sound came from the First Prince’s lips, and Ehrim realized that he was speaking the vile language of the Orcs. Adrian chatted for a while with the Orc Noble, yet Ehrim could not guess as to the topic of their conversation. It all just sounded like growls without any nuance or linguistic structure. In the next moment, the First Prince placed his hand upon a Ranger’s crossbow.
“Get back,” came Adrian’s order. Arwen immediately responded to the order. She bowed, slid her sword back into its scabbard, and stepped a few paces back. The Rangers lowered their crossbows to a man. Ehrim frowned at this.
As he understood things, the First Prince and the Orc, who faced each other with crossed arms, were to engage in a duel. Was that truly what was happening?
The Orc Noble once more grunted out its words, and Adrian’s voice crackled with a response. This seemed to be an introduction between the two before the duel proper. Ehrim was amazed, for he was about to witness a duel between an Orc and a human. For him, this was unheard of.
Ehrim recalled how well this Orc had fought against the Ogre, and decided that it was at least as strong as a triple-chain knight. It was pure recklessness, facing such a strong foe after the fierce battle with the Ogre.
Even if he would be rebuked for it, Ehrim decided he could not allow the eldest son of the Leonberger dynasty to become monster food. He placed his hand upon the pommel of his sword and prepared himself to intercede in the duel. In the end, however, his worries came to naught.
The level of skill that the First Prince showed was unbelievable if one considered that he only had a year in which he had developed them. His movements were economical and agile as if he had walked upon countless battlefields over many decades. Even if his breathing came out in short rasps, he could stabilize it in the fierce clamor of battle.
He also employed his mana only when absolutely necessary. Adrian was only sixteen, not yet of age for the unity of Geomgi-sin (劍氣身). However, in Ehrim’s eyes, His Majesty seemed to have already reached that point.
When he had visited Wire Castle a scant few months ago, the boy had still been a clumsy person. His growth rate has been so tremendous that only by seeing it with one’s own eyes could it be believed. A deathly cry echoed through the clearing, shaking Ehrim from his thoughts. Had the battle already reached a conclusion?
Ehrim saw that the Orc Noble had been pierced through its heart with Adrian’s sword, blood hemorrhaging from the wound. The First Prince kicked the dying Orc backward as he wrenched his blade free from its chest. The Orc convulsed as it fell forward, bowing to the Prince.
“Krugark kuhu krak,” it said.
His Majesty, the First Prince, replied in the Orcish tongue: “Krugdar krah krug.”
The Orc Noble then closed its eyes with a contented expression, and those eyes never opened again. Ehrim guessed that Adrian had thanked the Orc for a good duel by a good warrior.
The First Prince sank to the ground. “Aaah, it feels like I’m dying,” he said as he sat there with his eyes closed. Arwen and the Rangers came running up, causing the Prince to jump to his feet.
“Adelia!” Adrian shouted to his comrade, who raised herself up from the pool of the Ogre’s blood.
“Your Majesty…” Adelia managed to say before breaking into tears. Adrian always hated the moment when she regained her senses. She cried and cried, her tears washing the blood from her face. Ehrim and the Rangers trembled at her grotesque appearance.
They deemed it best not to look at her at all.
* * *
After camping for a day and tending their wounds, the party headed further into the mountains, hunting for more game.
The Rangers now almost ran through the snow, no sign to be seen of their earlier stealth and prudence. Their reasoning was sound, for they reckoned that so strong was the stench of an Ogre that most monsters had fled the moment they had smelled it.
“Aren’t the Orcs hunting ogres?” Ehrim asked Adrian.
“I wonder if there are other groups of Orcs who would hunt as the others did yesterday. Normally, Orcs would never dare come near an Ogre,” the First Prince replied, his expression dour and gloomy.
“I think any sane being would run from an ogre,” Ehrim muttered.
The lead Ranger suddenly gave a hand signal.
“Based on his signal, the threat is another ogre, or something akin to it,” Adrian explained to his companions in a whisper.
“Keeeeh keeh eh eh! Keeeeh keeeh eh!”
From some distance away, a sharp roar came slamming into everyone’s ears.
“Damn, so soon?” one the mercenaries muttered as the sound of heavy footsteps came crashing their way. Their new foe had appeared.
It had moldy skin and a hawk’s bill from which sprouted four vicious tusks, much like that of a wild boar. Hundreds of shambling corpses came upon them as well, their stench too terrible to describe.
“It’s a troll,” Adrian said as he once more drew his sword. Trolls were the inheritors of the cunning of Giants, as well as their resilience. Trolls constantly regenerated their bodies, even if they took grievous amounts of damage.
The First Prince hated battling trolls, so he gave the butcher woman the chance to battle it alone. After half a day’s fighting, with the party hacking through many bloated zombie corpses, they resumed their journey. Wherever they went, red bruises remained upon the pure white snow.
Bloodflowers bloomed throughout canyons and upon slopes.
The seed the Prince had planted in his handmaiden began to blossom.
『[Poetry of Dominace] reacts to a change in one of your comrades. 』
『Adelia Bayern has gained a new characteristic.』
Adrian was amazed at this message. He was also terrified of what other changes could have come to her trait column. Before he could analyze the change in his handmaiden, though, another message came before him:
『Adelia Bayern has created a new dance poem.』
『The one who has sworn fealty pays tribute to their master by bolstering his karma and martial arts.』
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