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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Black-Haired Knight King 10
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The early winter in the North is short.
Conversely, late winter is long and tenacious.
It's because the Northern Mother, who embraces us all, favors this frigid winter.
But at a time when every human had to huddle up and wait for spring, we were moving busier than ever.
The primal instinct to survive had granted us the burning desire to conquer even this winter.
'No time to think.'
'Water that doesn't flow will freeze.'
First, we built houses for the settlers.
Of course, lacking time and manpower, all we managed was a single communal log cabin, but at least no one froze to death in this bitter cold.
No, on the contrary, having everyone live in the same space actually made them safer from accidents.
Second, we began division of labor.
We found tasks each settler could handle to secure basic firewood and food supplies, assigning them work that would aid the community.
Thanks to that, I could step away from foraging and hunting to focus on teaching Snow-Covered.
Finally, we put weapons in people's hands.
Of course, the only weapons we could supply were rough oak shields and short spears.
But that was plenty for forming the basic tactic known as the Shield Wall, and the sturdy Northern folk came through the harsh training unscathed.
We selected personnel by physique,
weeding out those who couldn't adapt,
and in the end, our carefully picked group numbered five adult men and two adult women.
It might seem a paltry few, but seeing them hold the same weapons and form ranks gave them a proper soldierly air.
If I trained them further from here, I'd finally be able to roam the surroundings without worry.
Chiiiiiik!
While I was lost in thought, Red Iron finished forging and began quenching.
He must have hammered with all his might—his whole body was drenched in sweat.
The sweltering heat filling the smithy was purely the passion forged by this blacksmith, Red Iron.
"...Done."
Its blade was narrower and shorter than those used by other knights.
But the exquisite balance and its sharp contours perfectly compensated for the user's small frame.
It felt like a blade crafted specially for someone.
Red Iron, who had just witnessed the birth of a fine sword, gave a satisfied smile.
"A perfect match for Snow-Covered."
Red Iron is a master smith.
Beyond simply working steel well, his genius lay in tailoring weapons to their wielder for maximum effect.
So the sword could bolster its user's skill, even just a little.
So a candidate could awaken Aura that much sooner in their training.
In that sense, this blade was a true masterpiece, fulfilling every criterion.
"Snow-Covered's hands and feet get cold, so I'll wrap the hilt in deer leather."
"...Thanks for looking out for her."
"Tch, this is the last of the cloud iron too. Won't be able to care like this next time."
Cloud iron is a precious ore sent from the heavens.
It's used only for special blades like the king's sword or those of candidates.
Even hoarding it as best he could, Red Iron's stock was now utterly depleted after Snow-Covered's sword.
I exchanged a grin with him.
It was a sentiment toward the passage of time we couldn't quite hide behind our wry smiles.
Red Iron asked me,
"By the way, where'd she go? On a moment like this."
"She was here just a bit ago..."
Snow-Covered's sword was complete.
But the protagonist who ought to be here had vanished ages ago.
She'd come with me right after training ended—where had she slipped off to in the meantime?
With Snow-Covered darting here and there like a rabbit lately, my nerves were frayed to the bone.
I let out a small sigh and picked up the finished sword to head outside.
But just then, Red Iron—wiping his sweat—turned to me with a worried look.
"So, tomorrow then?"
"Yeah."
No matter how we rushed, all these preparations had taken considerable time.
Any more delay, and other villages would be wiped out before we could even talk cooperation.
Preparations were done—it was time to move.
I was set to make contact with other settler villages alongside the old village woman who used to be a hunter.
But Red Iron, still uneasy, pressed me again.
"You sure it'll be fine?"
We had raised the candidates under strict protection and utmost secrecy all this time.
All in the name of shielding them from potential external threats.
But in Snow-Covered's case, her unstable foundations had turned everything on its head.
Rather than building an independent force after rearing her, it had gone the other way around.
Still, I believed.
In the potential I'd seen in her that day, and the selfless drive with such clear direction.
That girl possessed a special gift for leading others.
Only time would bring that flower to bloom.
I left the smithy, its heat still lingering, and stepped outside.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
'Light, yet heavy.'
The subtleties of Northern Swordsmanship that her master taught were always ambiguous and abstract.
But with every swing, Snow-Covered felt those teachings drawing nearer.
'Swing light, cut heavy.'
Whoosh——!
Snow-Covered understood.
Her forebears and master had passed down only what they'd felt for themselves—she was now at the threshold of the path they'd carved.
It was like the primal yearning of a child taking its first steps.
Shiiiik——!
She swung again.
Her muscles screamed, her already ragged breaths catching in her throat.
Yet amid the searing strain, her master's advice circled her mind.
'Nothing is set in stone. What moves, changes.'
It wasn't mere mimicry of form.
Don't confine yourself to a mold.
Her First Form unfolded from the basics in endlessly varied, razor-sharp flows.
Impossible to believe it came from a novice candidate fresh to swordplay.
Whooooosh————!
Snow swirled,
and Snow-Covered truly became snow-covered.
"Haa, haa..."
Her breath came hot, her face flushed.
Her palms were torn raw, the leather grip stained with sweat and blood.
But Snow-Covered, having finally mastered the First Form through her ordeal, collapsed with a joyful expression.
A feeble beginning.
Utterly shabby next to the Knight King himself—a genius incarnate—or her master.
Yet Snow-Covered, who had snuck to this clearing without her master's knowledge, felt no disappointment or loneliness.
'Look, Snow-Covered.'
Closing her eyes brought afterimages.
The twenty sword forms her master had first demonstrated shimmered before her like a heat haze.
Sword arts meant for slaying.
Yet somehow like sorrow, like joy, a blend of warmth and chill coexisting.
Her master's blade, mirroring humanity's own evolution, lingered indelibly in memory.
She would follow it.
She would become the king she'd so longed for.
Snow-Covered made her vow before nature and winter, standing in for her busy master.
'Mother North.'
'My name is Snow-Covered.'
Words overwhelming just to hear.
She quietly sheathed her sword and gazed up at the lofty sky.
The cold winter wind and bite of frost washed away the stains and pain that had dirtied her.
'I'm not alone.'
Unbeknownst to all,
a golden transformation, known only to the era itself, was quietly beginning.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Sabak, sabak, sabak.
The snow that fell overnight had frozen just right.
Our hastily made snowshoes served their purpose perfectly, leaving only faint tracks.
A fine omen blessing our start.
I asked the old woman on my back,
"Around here?"
"Y-yes..."
This village's eldest, the old woman had been a skilled hunter in her youth.
She knew the local terrain well, including the locations of other villages out of contact for some time.
I turned to those following—Snow-Covered and the two recruits I'd pulled along.
"Let's keep going."
"Y-yes!"
There were three human settlements nearby that could properly be called 'villages.'
One was confirmed wiped out, another too small and pushed back in priority.
Which left only this one, the first we'd come to.
Sabak, sabak, sabak.
We followed the uphill path she indicated for another ten minutes or so.
A footpath came into view, along with the occasional stumps of chopped trees scattered about.
Not a natural occurrence—clear signs of deliberate logging.
I set the old woman down and ruthlessly hacked away the branches blocking our view.
"Ah...!"
One of the recruits gasped in admiration.
With the obstructed sightline cleared, a wooden palisade hidden amid the trees revealed itself.
They'd said it was a fairly large village, and that proved entirely true.
I turned to Snow-Covered and the recruits, who looked tense as could be.
"Lower your weapons. Snow-Covered, wear your sheath at the front. Don't provoke them needlessly."
To erect a palisade this size would take at least 150 to 200 people.
Needless provocation could spark a conflict—and put us in danger.
I locked eyes with the old woman, then slowly approached the palisade gate.
Kikikik, thunk!
"Halt!"
An arrow thudded into the ground not far off.
A sharp shout rang out from atop the palisade at the same time; the old woman and I raised both hands.
The shooter was a watchman posted on the surveillance tower overlooking the surroundings.
Facing defenses stricter than expected, I felt relieved.
Proof they hadn't fallen to the barbarians—or submitted to them.
The old woman cleared her throat and shouted,
"Don't shoot! We're not barbarians!"
"Doesn't matter—get lost! We're not taking any more from other villages!"
Barbarians were easy enough to distinguish by appearance alone.
That they showed hostility anyway meant refugees from nearby settler villages had flooded in here.
But we had the old woman, who'd traded with local villages for years.
She replied with an indignant look.
"Don't you recognize my face? Arrow Feather! Arrow Feather, I say!"
Settlers form tight-knit groups.
But the flip side is fierce loyalty to kin and longtime contacts.
Retirement couldn't erase decades of history whole cloth.
"What? Arrow Feather?"
As I'd anticipated, the watchman drawing his bow eased his tone.
He released the string and murmured the familiar name.
"Hunter Arrow Feather?"
"That's right! The village elders will know me!"
Good—they recognized her.
Not what I'd planned, but who knew saving those settlers would pay off here.
"——————."
The watchman signaled to those behind him.
Other watchmen gathered, and they began conferring with grave expressions.
Debating whether to let us in, no doubt.
But it was brief; they wrapped up quickly, and the watchman called out to us.
"No weapons inside."
"We'll leave them with you—easy now!"
I swiftly slung my sheath upward.
Snow-Covered and the recruits followed suit, disarming to set them at ease.
Now all that remained was making contact.
With the creak of ropes being hauled, the gate at the center of the palisade began to swing open.