Chapter 141

Chapter 141
## Chapter 141

“Repeat what you just said.”

The intense stares of the leaders locked onto Otar.

The weight of four battle-hardened veterans’ glares was enough to make even the most courageous soldier flinch. Yet, in the face of their scrutiny, Otar simply let out a derisive snort.

“I told you that you’re chasing delusions. You ought to stop filling your minds with such nonsense before the reality of it breaks you.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Assigning the right person to the right role? It’s a fine sentiment, but it only holds weight if our capabilities exceed those of the people living past the frozen wastes. If their level of advancement dwarfs ours, why would they ever bother sorting through our specific talents?”

Hit by the bluntness of his logic, the leaders fell into a stunned silence.

As he pointed out, if the technological sophistication of those beyond the tundra was superior to that of the Sons of the Snowfield, there would be no incentive to categorize them. It would be far more efficient to take anyone at all and train them from the ground up.

Skal, who had originally proposed the idea, recognized the validity of this point. However, unable to completely abandon his optimism, he muttered a few words in protest.

“It doesn’t necessarily follow that way. We have no true grasp of what kind of advancements the people beyond the frost possess. We might actually be more skilled in certain trades.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“For a man attempting to play the role of a tactician, you are remarkably dense.”

“What did you say!?”

Skal’s complexion turned crimson at the blunt remark. The mood grew volatile in heartbeat, but Otar only gave a heavy sigh, looking as though he were dealing with slow-witted children.

“Answer me this. Between a fighter who has swung a blade a hundred times and one who has swung it a thousand times, which one is the master of the weapon?”

“Are you trying to make a fool of me!?”

“Just answer. A hundred or a thousand—which one?”

“Barring a massive gap in natural talent, it’s obviously the latter! What point are you trying to make!?”

“Then, between a smith who has struck the anvil a hundred times and one who has struck it a thousand, who will forge the superior blade?”

“Why are you—!”

Skal, who had been on the verge of an angry outburst, suddenly went still. The realization of Otar’s point finally dawned on him.

Otar clicked his tongue softly and glanced at the other leaders who were still struggling to follow the thread.

“I don’t have much knowledge regarding the lands past the snowfields either, but I have gathered a few facts. One of them is that their wealth of resources and their population size are immensely greater than ours.”

“What impact does that have on individual skill?”

“Think. Whose expertise would be sharper: a smith who works through piles of ore every single day, or a smith who only ever touches the same handful of iron and tools he’s had for years?”

“…!”

Following Otar’s explanation, the leaders finally grasped the reality they had been ignoring.

Because the frozen lands supported a small population and held meager resources, craftsmen were few and far between. Since those craftsmen had so few patrons, they had even fewer chances to perfect their trade. How could the artisans of the frost hope to compete with those from beyond, who could burn through materials at will and serve an endless stream of customers?

“This isn’t just about blacksmithing. From what I’ve been told, that land lacks for nothing when compared to ours. What possible craft could the Sons of the Snowfield offer that would surpass theirs?”

“…”

“This is merely my intuition, but I doubt the King will bother hand-picking artisans in the first place. What he requires from us are soldiers who are steadfast in their loyalty, not our technical expertise.”

In a brutal environment, the only thing that truly flourishes is human endurance.

If Otar’s assessment was accurate, Lucian would want nothing but hardy infantry. And if he sought soldiers, he wouldn’t need a complex screening process. Since every member of the Sons of the Snowfield was inherently strong, he could simply select anyone.

“Th-then, what is to happen to us?”

“I can’t say for certain, but won’t we simply be folded into the ranks as common warriors? At the very least, we won’t keep the same status we held as chieftains.”

“Is there no way to preserve our standing as leaders…?”

“If such a path existed, I’d be the first one walking it.”

As the final glimmer of hope they had held onto flickered out, the leaders’ expressions turned grim once more. Otar shook his head, exhaling another sigh.

“The cards have been dealt, so what else can we do? We have to face the truth. At the very least, we have the background of governing tribes, so they might seek our counsel on occasion. If we cooperate willingly then, we might be granted some respectable honorary titles.”

Naturally, they wouldn’t be granted any actual authority. Handing power back to former sovereigns would only invite rebellions for independence. For the chieftains, it was a staggering loss of status, but it was unavoidable.

The beat of a great bird’s wings was enough to scatter many in its path. Those unable to find a place on the creature’s back were fated to be overwhelmed by the pressure and cast down. That was the fundamental nature of power, remaining constant from the dawn of time to the present day.

—

The following morning, Lucian assembled the five leaders and the entirety of the tribes at the location that had once served as the sacred ground for the Blue Dragon Tribe. The purpose was to bring an end to the relentless storm using the relic and the Dragon’s Heart.

“They say the King is going to quell the blizzard today.”

“Is this bitter cold finally going to break?”

“Quiet, keep your thoughts to yourself so you don’t bring bad luck.”

Lucian steadied his breathing as he stood amidst the sea of curious faces watching him from every direction. The public scrutiny wasn’t what weighed on him; it was the object in his hands. Even for someone of Lucian’s caliber, it was impossible not to feel a sense of dread while handling a relic that could plunge the entire North into catastrophe with a single slip.

‘Activate and Deactivate. He warned me not to interfere with anything else.’

Lucian thought back to the caution Marius had provided incessantly until the previous evening.

—I grasp the fundamental mechanics, but I haven’t performed any live tests. There’s no telling what ruin might follow if you experiment with it carelessly.

Halting the storm wasn’t an overly complex task, as it was essentially just the act of stopping a process already in motion. However, attempting to shift the climate again was a far riskier endeavor. Marius had cautioned that, in the worst case, a disaster far exceeding the Veil of the Snowfields could be unleashed.

‘I was hoping to test its limits slightly, like the defensive systems of the White Castle… but I should probably abandon that thought.’

Suppressing his curiosity, Lucian set the artifact upon the frozen ground and reattached the separate Dragon’s Heart. Though the heart had already been drained of nearly half its energy, it appeared to have more than enough power to fuel the device.

He cautiously rotated the spherical control dial several times, focusing intensely to ensure his grip remained steady.

*Whirrrrrr—*

‘It’s working!’

Once the process was complete, Lucian stepped back from the pulsing, brilliant artifact. A heartbeat later, the emerald light concentrated within the Dragon’s Heart surged upward and pierced the heavens.

The startled crowds began to murmur, but the column of light lasted only a fleeting moment. The radiance that had shot into the sky quickly dissolved into nothingness, leaving behind a heavy silence.

“Wh-what was that?”

“Is it over already?”

A sense of letdown touched the faces of the whispering tribespeople. They had anticipated a grand spectacle similar to when Lucian had been chosen by the dragon, but the event had concluded with nothing more than a quick flash.

However, regardless of their initial disappointment, the shift triggered by that brief light was anything but minor.

“The sky! Look up!”

“The clouds are breaking!”

“The snow… it’s stopped!”

At the frantic shouts, everyone—including Lucian’s inner circle—turned their eyes skyward. The heavy, dark clouds, which usually only parted for a few days each year, were dissolving as if being scrubbed away. As a result, the falling snow and the howling winds vanished instantly, and the biting cold began to give way to rising warmth.

While the others stood in wonder, Lucian’s brow furrowed slightly.

‘This is terrifying. This change is only this drastic because I’m returning things to their natural state, but if I had intended to weaponize the weather…’

The thought alone made him shudder. If someone were dedicated to using this relic for war, they could effectively erase the majority of a region’s population. Though he felt a fresh wave of unease at the artifact’s potential, Lucian masked his concern and spoke with a calm, commanding voice.

“The way forward is clear! We will begin our journey beyond the snowfields in fifteen days, so everyone, get ready! The land of promise is waiting for you!”

—*Waaaaaaaah!*

At Lucian’s announcement, a thunderous cheer rolled across the frozen plains. It marked the exact moment the barrier that had isolated the snowfields from the Empire for a millennium was finally torn down.

—

The tribes’ preparations for the great move went forward with incredible speed. Because food was always a luxury and the weather was so volatile, they were accustomed to keeping two weeks’ worth of supplies ready, and their belongings were so minimal that packing was a simple task.

The only real worry was whether the women and children could survive the grueling trek, but that concern was quickly proven groundless.

“There is an old proverb here: a fit child can cross two peaks in a day, and a frail one can cross one. You cannot judge the endurance of these people by the standards of those in the Empire.”

“Are you suggesting I should view women and children as the equals of grown men?”

“They will exceed them. It isn’t rare for a woman who was confined to her bed to go out and take down a beast for a bit of movement once she feels better.”

“…You’re pulling my leg, surely?”

“It is the simple truth. To be more accurate, animals that would be considered monsters in the Empire are viewed as little more than rabbits here.”

Marius clarified that because the population was so physically capable and food was so difficult to find, most dangerous creatures were merely regarded as dinner. This was the case because, while they had a culture of shielding women from unnecessary harm, they simply didn’t perceive the local wildlife as a genuine threat.

“Did you think I suggested using them as an auxiliary force for no reason? Your Highness has only seen the warriors in combat so far, but the people here—even the women—are of a resilient stock that could easily overpower an average man.”

Lucian was stunned by Marius’s explanation. He was aware that, physically speaking, every inhabitant possessed the strength of a knight, but he hadn’t realized that hunting was a universal survival skill. At this rate, if he had to call upon them in a crisis, he would have a terrifying army at his disposal instantly.

‘Even if I don’t organize them into a formal military, they’ll be capable of defending themselves against almost any threat.’

The fact that the common citizenry held such combat potential was a massive risk for any ruler, but Lucian wasn’t worried. He had already demonstrated far too much to these people. As long as he was viewed as the King of Prophecy and their deliverer, they wouldn’t dream of turning against him, provided he kept them fed.

‘Conversely, they will be incredibly hostile toward any other authority that hasn’t earned their respect. If I play this correctly, they might even volunteer for service without me needing to ask.’

If he had taken the easy route, Lucian would have been viewed as just another conqueror, and he wouldn’t have been able to hope for such loyalty. Just as he was allowing himself a satisfied grin, thinking the trials of the snowfields had been worth the effort…

“My Lord!”

Einar, who had been overseeing the logistics of the move, came sprinting toward Lucian with a frantic look. Lucian looked confused by Einar’s uncharacteristic panic.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

He had set a demanding pace, but there were no laggards or anyone too weak to make the trip. Things had been going perfectly for ten days, so had a crisis finally arrived?

“No, sir. The migration itself is proceeding without a hitch. However…”

“However?”

“Foreigners dressed in white steel armor have arrived. They are demanding to see ‘His Highness.’ If I recall correctly, that is the title you were addressed by, my Lord.”

“…!?”