Risou no Himo Seikatsu - Volume 13 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 — The Windhammer

“Summon Völundr!” echoed the king’s roar across the room.

“At once.”

None of his confidants or advisors in the room warned him over the yell. If anything, they wanted to join him. No one in the kingdom would laugh at someone losing their cool over the news they had just heard.

That was just how big it was. In a certain sense, it could be even more important than Freya marrying Zenjirou. After all, while her marrying so far afield was unexpected, she was practically guaranteed to be marrying abroad at some point.

Meanwhile, Völundr was so skilled a smith as to be considered one of the country’s treasures. Hearing that someone of his stature would be leaving with Freya was a complete shock to the system.

The king and his confidants waited impatiently for a while.

There was a quiet sound and then the door opened.

“You called, King? I am rather busy, so let’s keep this brief.”

The words came from Völundr himself.

He looked in his early sixties. His hair and facial hair were thick for his age. It had once been brown but was now completely white. He probably counted as short considering the Sveans averaged a hundred and eighty centimeters. He had a slight hunch, but even standing straight, he would be slightly shorter than Zenjirou at a hundred and seventy-two centimeters.

However, his body had been trained by working as a smith, and his muscle-bound frame spoke volumes about him still being active.

The man stalked in front of the king and sat down without so much as a “by your leave.” It would be unthinkable for a normal person, but neither the king nor the others in the room particularly reacted. While he was relatively hale and hearty, his long time in the smithy made his back and legs ache.

Uppasala saw the injuries sustained in smithing in the same way as a warrior’s wounds on the battlefield. Warriors who were unable to remain standing or move without pain had the right to sit wherever and whenever they liked. Besides, the king was beyond caring about such trifles at the moment and launched right into the main reason for the meeting.

“I have heard you wish to leave for Capua. Is that true?!”

The old man gave a tired snort to his king and answered. “I certainly don’t remember saying that,” he said with a puzzled look. Before Gustav could breathe a sigh of relief, he continued talking nonchalantly. “I do not wish to leave for Capua. I will be leaving for Capua. This I have decided.”

The king held his head in his hands and let out a sigh. That was precisely the kind of man this smith was. That fact had been brought home to him yet again, and he had half given up but still tried to reason with him.

“That is not something to decide on a whim. Did you think I would readily allow one of your stature to leave for other lands?”

“Oh? I am owed quite a bit and would forgive it with this payment, Your Majesty.”

The king made a noise of consideration at the nerve he had struck. The smith had been the head smith since the prior king’s reign. His works had been given to successful warriors and used as valuable trade goods with other countries.

Of course, the royal family had technically purchased them, but it was at a rate that was so much lower than the market cost that it was almost impossible to not feel the pricklings of guilt. Then again, the name of Völundr had gained such fame that the extra value was part of it, so it would be another matter entirely to call the deal unfair.

“No. While the debt we owe exists, even so, there is no reason for us to lose you.”

“Don’t be a miser. You’re already ‘losing’ the princess. An old man like me is practically just a bonus.”

“Unthinkable. Losing someone of your skills due to only your selfishness is out of the question.”

The man gave a sour look at that. “It’s not selfishness. I’m not explaining here, though.” The smith gave a blatantly hostile look at the various others in the room.

Gustav let out yet another sigh. “Fine. You may leave,” he directed to the people around him.

They did not refuse him. They had known the smith for just as long as the king and had no concerns about the two of them being unaccompanied. Conversely, that long association also meant they knew he would say nothing until they left.

“At once, sir,” they said before doing so.

When they had gone, the king spoke up again. “Fine, now talk.”

“’Course. Sorry for worrying you, Your Majesty. I do have a reason, but it sounds rather bad, so I’d rather others not hear it,” the man said, cracking his neck.

The king silently urged him on.

Völundr gave a sad smile before saying completely bluntly, “Tell me honestly, I’m in the way, aren’t I?”

Gustav shifted suddenly at the question.

Certain his meaning had gotten across, he continued unreservedly. “My head’s full of iron. I know nothing about the international situation or the economy. I know what there is to know about smithing, though. A furnace that can use a waterwheel to push air inside would send iron production skyward. You’re not thick enough to miss that. It might still be in testing, but you’re already building it, aren’t you?”

Blast furnaces using waterwheels were one of the revolutionary advances on the Northern Continent. There would be an order of magnitude in production quantity before and after. It was literal fuel for a revolution.

Völundr cared nothing for that, though. It was not a matter of sentiment but of technique. “We will have piles of iron. That’s a good thing, but I won’t use that trash. You think a sword, axe, and shield all use the same metal? You think too little of us.”

Völundr was a rather old-school smith. His work began with collecting the stones for his furnace and firing his own bricks. He even used to get his own iron ore from the mountains. With age weakening him, he had the furnaces actually built with assistance from apprentices and mostly bought his metal. Still, he would never lump it all together like that. He maintained that there was a difference in metal suited for weapons and armor, for example.

That was the source of his confidence as he made his declaration. “I won’t falter. I can swear that much. As long as I still draw breath, the weapons those furnaces churn out will not measure up to mine. That’s no lie. The warriors will ask me what I think of those weapons, and I’ll tell you what I’ll say: ‘They’re shit.’”

Völundr was impressive even compared to the others who had held the name, and his influence was nothing to sneeze at. Trust in those new weapons from the warriors would plummet. They might be worthless in his eyes, but they would still be more than sufficient for battle, but that wouldn’t get through to them.

“I understand that, but weapons and armor are not the only things we need iron for. If you look around, the number of things the metal is used for is rising in leaps and bounds. We could simply maintain the status quo for weapons and use the new blast furnaces for the other metal items. We need Völundr for that.”

“That won’t fly in this country. You should know that far better than I, in your position.”

Gustav had no retort to offer the blunt dismissal. The man was entirely correct. Uppasala was not a large country. Their economy was on the level of a middling country and their population was on the lower end of that. Naturally, they also had a commensurate number of smiths.

Despite that, they were leading the continent in the adoption of waterwheel-driven blast furnaces. Unsurprisingly, this required a reasonable investment of both funds and personnel. Gathering up outsiders and adding them to the project had little purpose, so most of them were smiths.

Inevitably, the number of smiths doing things traditionally dropped, and so did the number of items produced similarly. With the number of warriors remaining unchanging, only a small portion of them could obtain the traditionally made weapons.

“While I’m at it, in your position, surely you’d want a young, skilled smith heading up the new furnaces? Ah, that’s the look of someone hit right on target. Any of them confident in their skill would bend over backwards for it.”

Uppasala was, for better or worse, a country of warriors. Their values would place warriors on top no matter what. Because of that, those same warriors had always desired smiths to make their weapons. If the weapons made in the new furnaces were considered useless, then traditional smiths would be revered and those using the new techniques would be looked down on.

“I doubt you want that. Those of us stuck in our ways should just pack it in. We don’t have the money, do we?”

The traditional forges were kept by the royal family at the same time as the new furnaces were being developed. Uppasala didn’t have the budget to do both at once. Intercontinental trade, and the technology for it in the form of Naglfar and the Glasir’s Leaf had put a heavy burden on their treasury. They had gambled such that they had to put their all behind the trade passing, and failure would see the country suffer greatly. Continuing both the new and old methods of smithing in the midst of that would weigh even more heavily on their coffers.

“And your solution?” the king asked, pained. Simply asking the question was tantamount to agreeing with the smith.

“Nothing all that difficult. Just put all the smiths on the new furnaces and let those that don’t want to out into the streets, even if they happen to have the name Völundr.”

“You swine...” Gustav frowned as the smith grinned. “Doing that will have both the smiths and the warriors pushing back.”

“And that’s on the king. I see those new furnaces as being worth the pushback.”

“That is a surprise. I thought you hated them?”

Völundr snorted. “I do. Oh, how I do. Asking me to use them would just be a joke. As much as I loathe it, though, I can see no choice but to admit I would never beat their production. Besides, I can understand wanting quantity rather than quality.”

“Völundr...”

The king had to admit he had underestimated his resolve. The man was a genuine smith, with no interest in anything else. Still, he had felt the changing of an era through the metal and understood his skills were a matter of the past. Or more accurately, that a country that didn’t let those skills fade into the past would be left behind in this new era.

Those thoughts and feelings were all tied up in his first question of the private meeting. The country’s future was dark if they didn’t adopt the new technology. Völundr’s influence was enough that he could stop that transition. Therefore, he was going to leave.

“You are that certain?”

The older man offered up another grin. The king felt a sense of déjà vu looking at his face and figured out where it was coming from after a period of thought. The smile was the same as that on his daughter’s face when she had obtained the captaincy of the Glasir’s Leaf.

“If you would go so far, then I will have to permit it. However, answer me one thing truly or I will not allow you to leave the country regardless of anything else.”

“Oh?”

“What is the real reason you want to go to Capua?”

“What? I just told you. Do you think I’m lying?”

The man looked displeased and angry, but the king had known him long enough to see it for the facade it was.

“I said nothing of the like. Your earlier reasons are likely true. If you dislike me calling it the ‘real’ reason then I will rephrase. What is the biggest reason you wish to go?”

“Guh...” he grunted, glaring uncomfortably at the king before shifting his gaze away. Eventually, he let out a deep sigh. “There are drakes on the Southern Continent. Not the sentient ones the church fawns over, but drakes are just a normal part of life there. There are even those of such strength that countries cannot lay claim to their territory.”

“And?”

“There are dragons and warriors, so there are dragon slayers. I can forge a dragon slayer with my own hands. I can think of no finer goal for my final objective in life.”

The man’s smile, still on his face, was practically sparkling. The king let out yet another sigh but internally understood and was relieved by the answer. It was just like him, and an awfully forward-facing reason.

“You’d survive anywhere.”

It might have sounded like a careless comment, but it was practically permission to leave the country.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Several days later, the time came—earlier than expected. Zenjirou was in the trees, covered in furs purposefully dirtied with mud and fallen leaves as he looked out. He had scattered a lot of acorns around the cliff’s edge. Standing over them and devouring the pile was a large boar.

“What will you do, Your Majesty?” Victor asked. “Honestly, it is a rather difficult opponent.”

Zenjirou considered the lead warrior’s words. Boars were tough. While they were fundamentally herbivores, as they got bigger, their disposition could get awfully close to that of a bear. If they decided to run, that was one thing, but they charged with a terrifying lack of hesitation if they decided to attack.

A charge with their two tusks was more than enough to kill. In the worst case, their height meant that the tusks could easily tear the femoral artery. Even in modern Japan, someone with such an injury was very likely to die if they were away from population centers. In a world like this, with medical science as far behind as it was, death through blood loss was a near certainty.

“Perhaps I should have used something other than acorns,” Zenjirou mused quietly. It was too late now, though. While deer and reindeer both ate them, they were also a favorite for boars and bears. Victor had even warned him of the possibility when he had made his choice.

“Perhaps, but perhaps not. I do not think the choice was a mistake. Moss and sprouts would not have been so effective,” Victor said consolingly.

It was true. The plants that were currently growing and that the deer and reindeer ate were much less sought after by boars and bears. However, those would have been far harder to deal with than the acorns. Despite taking care not to touch them directly, they would pick up the scents of humans and iron and alert the prey. Also, unlike acorns, they were actively growing, so an amateur would easily see them wilting as they moved the plants to use as bait, making them even less effective.

Therefore, for an amateur like Zenjirou, acorns were definitely the best choice. The issue was the possibility of luring in the more dangerous prey. That side effect was well and truly showing itself here.

However, Zenjirou reconsidered things. An aggressive boar was certainly dangerous, but the greater possibility of it attacking meant that it was less likely to run than a deer or reindeer might. While there was a risk to him, the warriors would likely deal with it before it could harm him.

That would be a failure and he would have to retrieve Eric, but he now knew from his earlier visit that Eric was no longer against the marriage. He might be feeling overoptimistic, but he hoped that the warriors’ loyalty to Eric would mean that the prince’s approval would see them carrying out their duty regardless of him no longer being a...hostage in Capua.

He let out a breath. “I’m going for it,” he decided, standing.

“Fortune be with you.”

“Take care.”

“If it gets dicey, we’ll step in.”

“Use this to finish it off.”

“I wanna go home.”

The warriors followed suit, standing as well. While they were aiding in cutting it off, they would be unable to protect him otherwise considering how fast a boar could charge. There was no way the boar wouldn’t notice six people all standing up at once, even with some distance between them.

The boar looked away from its acorns and let out an aggressive bellow as it saw them.

“Be careful—it’s about to charge!” Victor warned.

Indeed, the boar pivoted to face them immediately and rushed them. The phrase “headlong rush” flashed through Zenjirou’s mind.

He had already made his decision, and he knew what he needed to do here. He had practiced over and over. Even so, he was terrified enough that he wanted to run away now it came time to perform.

His legs and hands were shaking and his throat was dry. It was hard to even manage to speak a word. Still, he managed to win over the fear and point the flat of his right hand, the one adorned with a bracelet, towards the oncoming animal and speak a single word in the language of magic.

“Shun.”

In the next instant, there was a sudden gale of wind between Zenjirou and the boar.

The boar likely weighed at least a hundred and fifty kilos and was already running at over forty kilometers an hour. Still, the Windhammer around his arm had been introduced as “strong enough to push back even a mounted knight.” The boar’s body was naught but paper in the face of it.

It let out a confused bellow as it spun up into the air like a motorcyclist failing at a wheelie and fell with a heavy thud onto its back. It was a few meters behind where it had started to run from. He had pushed its massive frame farther away.

This could work. The magic tool proving its worth in active service relieved him and his legs stopped shaking. Zenjirou jogged forward before the boar could stand. He put his hand up again and activated the tool again.

“Shun.”

The boar bellowed again, unable to even rise. This time it went back nearly a dozen meters. It was right at the edge of the cliff.

It squealed pitifully, understanding the danger it was in. Zenjirou moved faster than it could recover, though.

“Shun.”

The third attack sent its body sailing over the cliff.

The warriors had been watching from behind. Every one of them was lost for words and pale.

“What the?” There was clear fear in the youngest warrior’s voice.

That was no shock, though. A warrior would easily be able to see what this meant. Zenjirou had created a gale with a single word. Additionally, the gale was strong enough to push back a charging boar by several meters. No human would be able to withstand that. He had just done it three times consecutively, and there was no guarantee that was the limit. What was the limit? Ten? Fifty? Maybe even a hundred?

Whatever the case, there was one thing they knew for sure. In a one-on-one fight from in front, none of them could beat that attack. There was nothing a human could do against a blast of wind strong enough to send a boar into the air. If they couldn’t get close, their bodies, their strength, their technique...all of it was meaningless. Additionally, whatever bow they used would be unable to send arrows through that wind.

In other words, taking Zenjirou down would require an ambush that didn’t give him time to use the tool. That was how the weak fought the strong.

“Magic can do that?”

“Lady Skaji could never have done that.”

“That’s royalty from the Southern Continent... South for magic indeed.”

The Northern Continent tended to view magic with less reverence than the Southern Continent, but even that was not enough to discount it. A warrior within the inner circle of royalty would have knowledge of magic and how to deal with it—whether they could use it themselves or not.

However, that knowledge would be in terms of the Northern Continent’s standards. The warriors didn’t know of enchanting, so they mistook the consecutive blasts of wind for Zenjirou’s own abilities. While you could say that was overestimating Zenjirou’s skills, considering he wore the Windhammer constantly, it was also correct.

Either way, the warriors—particularly the youngest who had been so disdainful initially—were all looking at him with new eyes now.

Zenjirou had successfully sent the boar plunging into the ravine with the help of the Windhammer, but the real challenge was yet to come. The Rite of Age was—as the name implied—something you had to accomplish to be seen as an independent man. Therefore, while it required a show of strength to bring down your prey, you also needed to be able to obtain sustenance from it.

In other words, it was not over when he defeated the boar; it would be over, and he could call himself an adult by their norms, when he took edible meat or sellable materials from it back to civilization.

That meant he would have to go down the same cliff he had sent the boar over. Part of the rite was that he had to move under his own power for the duration. Therefore, the rope he carried needed to be tied to a sturdy tree by his own hands alone.

Of course, Victor and the other warriors had given him detailed instructions and advice. Like “that knot will slip undone easily,” or “if you take the rope from there, the rocks will sever it partway through your descent.” It was all rather bad for his nerves, so his teeth were chattering for a completely different reason than the cold now.

Still, after he had spent dozens of times longer than the warriors did, they finally gave him the green light. He felt like it was over at that point, but it was still yet to finish.

“Very well. We shall send two down to begin with. When they give the signal, you should descend. The three remaining will protect you from above.”

Zenjirou firmed his resolve once Victor explained it. “V-Very well. Thank you.”

Two of the warriors used their own ropes—long since tied—to smoothly rappel down the cliff. It was a dizzying height for Zenjirou, but it seemed like it didn’t unnerve them at all. The two reached the bottom in practically a blink of an eye and spent some time checking the area. Then, they turned back and waved their hands grandly.

It was Zenjirou’s turn next. He knew that, but he didn’t have the courage to immediately start down.

“Your Majesty. I am not rushing you in the slightest, but if you spend too long, the scent of the boar will draw other carnivores.”

The advice from Victor served as a final push.

“Got it. I’m going.”

He took his own rope in his hands and set out towards the bottom of the cliff. The following minutes were the most Zenjirou had ever felt at risk of dying.

He headed along the hanging rope to the valley floor. Naturally, he would be unable to support his own weight with just his grip for so long, so he had prepared ahead of time. He had talked with Skaji and was using tools that let even an amateur have the time to make their way down a rope. It was a pair and passed over his wrists, then over the rope.

The objects were akin to a solved wire puzzle. They used the principle of leverage to stop their movement, so even those with weak grips could have a strong fix on the rope. Additionally, there were big knots tied roughly every two meters. Even if Zenjirou happened to lose his grip with the tools, they would catch on one of those and stop him from falling all the way down. It made climbing down past the knots more difficult, but the extra ease wasn’t worth his life.

Thanks to those precautions, he managed to safely reach the valley floor. In exchange, his hands were reddened and bruised under his gloves.

“Level ground...is wonderful...to stand on...” he managed.

With no regard for how he looked, Zenjirou collapsed back to sit on a flat rock, gasping for breath. He was drenched in sweat but internally chilled from the nerves and fear.

“Still, looking up like this, there’s just no contest,” he muttered.

He was looking at the remaining three soldiers briskly making their way down their own ropes. Simply comparing the technique to Zenjirou’s would be an insult. They were moving smoothly and surely, making their way down in moments. What had seemed like his life hanging by a thread was nothing to even remark on for them.

Victor arrived last and stepped onto the ground with light feet, swiftly removing his lifeline and making his way to Zenjirou.

“Your Majesty. As I said above, the boar’s corpse will begin to attract wolves and bears if you take too long. Protecting your prey is part of the rite, so while we can warn you, we cannot assist you.”

Even as he spoke, Victor felt like the warning was rather pointless. Even a pack of wolves or a group of bears could be easily driven off, if not taken down, with repeated blasts of wind as Zenjirou had done earlier.

In contrast to his assumptions, the warning was greatly appreciated by Zenjirou. While the Windhammer would certainly let him ward off wolves or bears, he would still rather not fight over a meal with wild animals.

“Understood, I will go now. Rendering is outside of my skill set, so I would appreciate your advice.”

As he spoke, he mustered up the remnants of his energy to stand.

Fortunately, the boar had already breathed its last. Wild animals could be startlingly hardy, so it was entirely possible for them to survive—or at least not immediately die from—a fall of that height. Zenjirou would have had to finish it off himself if that had been the case. He understood that an animal could be at its most dangerous in its last moments, so from both a physical safety and mental distaste standpoint, he felt rather fortunate that it would not be needed. Now all he had to do was retrieve edible meat or something that could be sold from the boar. It sounded simple but was rather difficult for an amateur.

Victor’s first piece of advice was to give up on the hide. The local boars had thick, hardy skin that could be used for armor and leather in general, but it was difficult to remove without damage unless you had experience.

Either way, returning with the entire animal would be impossible, so all he had to do was bring back enough to pass the rite. With Victor’s advice, Zenjirou had chosen to go for a leg and both tusks.

“To just remove a leg, you can simply use a knife to make two slices in the surrounding skin and peel it back. Right, just like that. A saw is best to get through the gristle. Breaking through the bone itself is difficult, so despite the difficulty, you should pop the joint out. You should be able to feel it out if you push your hand in. It’s the point where it drops drastically. Get the saw blade there.”

Zenjirou had his mouth half open, making sure to not breathe through his nose at all. He was grunting as he worked, practically wrestling with the boar’s bloody corpse. The scent of blood was filling the area and he wanted to avoid throwing up from the stench. According to the warriors, what he was doing still smelled considerably less than normal butchery.

No one but Zenjirou could lay their hands on the boar if it was to count for his rite. There was no way he could get a boar weighing roughly 150 kilos hanging in the air on his own, so he had taken Victor’s advice to slit the back of its neck and rotate it onto its back so the smallest amount of blood possible remained in the limbs.

Normally the stench of blood was far stronger and even veteran hunters could find themselves vomiting if they managed to break the animal’s guts. They were rather lucky it was spring. In summer, although the country was comparatively cool, the weather still accelerated the decay of corpses. In winter, the corpse would have already started to freeze by now, and a weak amateur like Zenjirou would have found it impossible to get any purchase with a knife.

His bout with the corpse lasted another hour. As far as he was concerned, the boar was a far tougher opponent in death than it had been in life. The knife glistened with blood and fat, but he managed to remove a rear leg and both of the animal’s tusks. His nose had already numbed to the scent, so he took a full breath in relief.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty. Those tusks are magnificent. They should certainly be accepted as proof in your Rite of Age.”

The others joined in with their own congratulations, none of them hiding their joy. There was definitely the selfish motivation of finally being able to go home now, but unlike when they first set out, they were now willing to praise Zenjirou for his accomplishments. After taking down the boar with magic the likes of which they had never seen, a complete amateur had conquered his fear and made his way down the cliff under his own power before getting covered in blood and fat to emerge victorious from his rite. It was inevitable that their opinion of him would change.

Even Zenjirou felt the change in atmosphere. There was the relief of finally completing the rite, and he showed his appreciation for the warriors who had protected him thus far.

“While it may have taken quite a while, your presence enabled me to complete the rite. You have my thanks. As part of that, do as you wish with the rest of the boar that I cannot return with.”

“Thank you!”

“We can finally eat meat again!”

The warriors’ joy increased at his generosity. Zenjirou had taken too long to remove the leg and tusks for the rest of it to be good-quality meat, but the warriors set about butchering the remains briskly to get the best meal possible. Slightly overly bloody or not, boar meat would be a feast for the warriors who had been forced to stay in the forest for over a month.

While they were joyously rendering the boar down, Zenjirou was tying his spoils together and lifting them onto his back. Even those three items were rather heavy for him, so much so that the way the leather straps were digging into his back made him feel like he might fail to cast the spell to teleport away. He started divesting himself of everything he would no longer need.

“Victor, I’m leaving my supplies here, so if there is anything that may be of use, you can feel free to take it.”

The only things he absolutely had to return with were the Windhammer and his teleportation tool. Everything else, he could leave there. That included his waterskin, the salt, and the bread he had not yet eaten. They were just excess weight to him, but precious supplies for the warriors, given how long it had been since they had left home.

“We shall do so gratefully,” Victor said, thanking him on the group’s behalf. The other four didn’t stop their work, though.

Once he saw them finish, Zenjirou offered them a farewell. “I will be on my way, then. You were all of great help, and I will be certain to convey my satisfaction with your performance to Prince Eric.”

Considering how loyal they were to the prince, it was more of an emotional and practical reward than a monetary one. There was little doubt that if Zenjirou told Eric that, they would be well rewarded by him.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“We could ask for no greater praise.”

“That makes all our efforts worth it.”

“You have our thanks as well.”

“Please do!”

The overjoyed warriors watched him as Zenjirou cast his teleportation spell back to the palace.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

While Zenjirou was gaining proof of his success, the master of the palace was wrestling with stomach and heart pain from a flurry of issues.

The first and biggest issue was also the least influential on Uppasala itself, but the war between the knights and commonwealth had begun and concluded far quicker than expected.

Gustav fixed the messenger with a harsh stare. “So the clash between the two ended in victory for the commonwealth. And you are sure it took place in Tannenwald?” he demanded.

“Yes, sir. There is no mistaking it. The knights numbered roughly twenty-five thousand and the commonwealth eighteen thousand. They clashed in Tannenwald.”

There would be no carrier pigeons sent across the waves, so the information had been passed on in written form via couriers on ships. Naturally, that led to a rather significant lag in the flow of information. Gustav read over the report again before summarizing it for himself.

“While we cannot move due to a lack of information on the scale of both the victory and defeat, we seem to have avoided the worst outcome.”

The “worst” went without saying: an all-out victory for the knights. While the permanently snowy mountains may have blocked the border, the northern regions that Uppasala inhabited did border their territory. The animistic minorities such as Uppasala would by no means want the unbending zealots that the knights represented to be even stronger.

He inspected the rather sparse report again before inclining his head. “Still, for staking everything on success, there are fewer men than I would have expected from both sides. The commonwealth was attacked, and I can understand the size of their country making it difficult to gather troops. However, the knights were the aggressors here.”

Perhaps it was the influence of Anna getting Freya onside? Maybe it would be a good idea to scout their coastline. If they had encampments there that split their forces, Uppasala could gain no small measure of favor with the commonwealth.

After considering all of that silently, the king spoke. “Do we have leeway with our agents? If so, send at least one to the coast of the knights’ territory.”

Two large powers in the western area of the continent had clashed. It was not a matter of victory or defeat, but of how victory was obtained and what could be gained from the result. Depending on that, it could have a great influence on the region. While they could not shirk the responsibility of gathering information to predict how things would progress, the fact remained that there was nothing they could do but gather information right now.

“You can leave.”

“Excuse me,” the messenger said before exiting the room.

Once he had left, the king shook his head firmly to dispel his thoughts. His position was not so simple that he could afford to be solely focused on a single issue. There were other things he had to consider too.

Gustav let his gaze fall to the two implements on the table in front of him. One was made up of two stones connected by a long chain, while the other was a metal cup attached to a vise. These were the magic tools for water purification and static flame.

Additionally, there were testimonies from Freya, Skaji, and even Magnus for the Lulled Sea installed on the Glasir’s Leaf.

“Magic tools created through enchantment... Yet another unthinkable topic.”

Gustav rested his head in his hands. This problem was not one he could consult with anyone on. The legend of the White Empire had been passed down in Uppasala from king to king. With Eric having the right to succession in a neighboring country, he couldn’t be told, and neither could Gustav tell Yngvi, who was not officially to be the next king yet.

“The Twin Kingdoms of Sharou-Gilbelle? The family names are different, but I feel like the fourth and tenth royal families—the Shulepovs and Demichevs—had the same lineal magics.”

The two royal families did not hail from the Southern Continent, but had migrated there from the North. Too much of it fit together, and Gustav couldn’t hold in a sigh.

His worries were because he knew the empire had once existed due to the information passed through the king’s line. However, that information was not especially detailed. While there was a theory that some members of the empire had escaped to the Southern Continent, the truth of it had not been passed down. That made it rather hard to determine whether the Twin Kingdoms truly was inhabited by descendants of the White Empire. To investigate in more detail would mean contacting Utgard. He wanted that to be a last resort, though.

Once he had worked through all of his thoughts, he finally spoke to himself. “That makes Freya’s concerns and judgments rather typical.”

She had said that while the empire was a fairy tale, she worried about the church using it as a reason to interfere. Even with that concern, she had found dealing with the Twin Kingdoms to be too alluring to pass up. It was something she could only say because the majority of the world considered the White Empire to be nothing but a myth.

“It truly is alluring, though,” he said, running a finger along the static flame tool. While the majority of the lake, unfortunately, froze during the winter, Logfort and other ports remained free. That meant that while the number of ships dropped, they could have some coming and going.

Even when the seas didn’t freeze, Uppasala was still cold in the winter. So much so that not taking precautions could quickly result in death by exposure. A flame—however slight—that could be used on ships for that slight amount of extra safety was by no means a small matter. It also went without saying how big a role water purification would play on longer voyages as well.

“I wonder how the church would react to these. I would prefer to draw conclusions based on their reactions to His Majesty’s, but it would likely be an exercise in futility.”

There were two main reasons behind the near resignation in his voice. One of them was that hiding a magic tool with the abilities of the Lulled Sea would be close to impossible. Concealing it in other countries would be hard. However, getting rid of it would be even more difficult. Doing so would likely earn rebellion from the sailors. While it would not be impossible to remove a safety device for the dangerous business of sea travel, it would cause a decent degree of friction.

The second reason was more simple. Trade between Uppasala and Capua was practically a done deal at this point. Capua currently had a prince and princess from the Twin Kingdoms staying within their palace, and there was an unofficial envoy from the country itself on the voyage. They were inextricably connected with the matter.

It would therefore be rather difficult to negotiate a position as allied nations with married families between Uppasala and Capua while also being estranged from the Twin Kingdoms—to say nothing of the fact that from the church’s influential point of view, they were both simply animistic countries. There was a strong possibility they would all be lumped together into the category of “enemy.” Overturning that would require quite a lot of concessions.

“Yngvi may be taking up the throne sooner.”

The second prince had no scruples about clashing against the church’s influence. Of course, that was not to say he was willing to wage all-out war, just that he would not weaken foreign policy by avoiding friction with them.

If it was impossible to avoid antagonizing them regardless, it could be entirely appropriate to have Yngvi on the throne, considering his unwavering nature. Fortunately, they were on good terms, so he would still be able to offer “advice” even after he gave up the throne.

“The trade with Capua, diplomatic alliances shifting, the transition of smithing to waterwheel-powered furnaces. Perhaps finalizing them all with a change of king would minimize the chaos?”

He considered it all. With Yngvi’s values, there was little chance he would be against transitioning to newer technology. New trade agreements, new diplomacy, and new technology. Yngvi could lead all of that, and Gustav—having abdicated the throne—could at least somewhat maintain the old diplomatic routes and blacksmithing. Leaving the throne would mean the influence and money he could bring to bear would be less, so he would only be able to save some of it. Still, it was better than losing everything at once.

It was common within a country for there to be people both for and against any change in diplomatic relations or the adoption of technology. With diplomacy in particular, it was common for those against the public policies to be used in secret when predictions fell through. Then, when there was upheaval, the direction of policy could be quickly changed by taking those who had been visible backstage and bringing those who had worked in secret out into the public eye.

“I must say, His Majesty certainly brings about change at an astonishing rate despite being so relaxed himself,” the king sighed, a mix of humor and exasperation in his voice.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Zenjirou had returned. In and of itself, this was not an unusual thing. Outside of the day he had spent in Capua to literally recharge his batteries, he had come and gone between the forest and the palace. It was practically routine at this point.

However, while he usually returned during the evening, this time it was still the morning. He also had a large pair of tusks and a leg from a boar on his back, so things were a completely different matter.

Zenjirou had finally passed the Rite of Age. The news spread through the palace in the blink of an eye.

After he had arranged for his proof to be dealt with, Zenjirou warmed up in the sauna and washed himself up. Contrary to the exultation and sense of accomplishment, there was an all-pervading sense of exhaustion in his bones now that he was finally released from the tension of his goal.

Once he left the sauna and headed back to his room, he changed into loungewear and threw himself onto the sofa.

“I want to sleep for a week.”

Ines’s soft voice responded to his instinctive comment. “Now that you have finished the rite, you will need to head to Capua to retrieve Prince Eric. Perhaps you could rest there for a day or two since you will be there regardless?”

The suggestion was intensely alluring to him as he realized how tired he was.

“Right. I should be able to do that at least.”

Frankly, he was utterly exhausted at the moment. While he may have used the Windhammer, he had still brought down a boar, rappelled down a cliff, and pseudo-butchered the beast. The boar had charged at him clearly ready to kill. If the rope had snapped, that would have been the end of him. The peril made things feel even more tiring. The tension had fortunately taken his mind off it. Now those nerves had been exchanged for accomplishment, though, it was impossible to ignore the fatigue permeating his body. Remaining in that state would easily result in him making a critical mistake in the coming negotiations.

He should definitely relax. Making that decision gave him a little more energy. There was a silver lining as well, as the way he would use that energy had already been decided.

“Sir Zenjirou, Princess Freya has requested an audience.”

“Show her through,” he replied after a pause, using the energy he had only just regained to respond to the expected statement.

“Congratulations on your success, Your Majesty. I offer my thanks as well. You have my deepest gratitude for undergoing such hardships, and for such a long period, for my sake,” Freya said once the meeting had begun.

“I offer my own thanks,” Skaji added. “Truly, thank you.”

Skaji usually put her all into her position as Freya’s bodyguard, but even she had expressed her gratitude here.

“It was something I did for my own marriage, of my own will, so I do not think it would usually warrant thanks. However, I am pleased that both of you would offer it regardless, and will happily accept your thanks,” Zenjirou replied, gesturing Freya towards the sofa as he did.

She sat down and Skaji stood behind her. Once they were both in position, Zenjirou sat down opposite them. They faced each other, and when Freya had calmed, she spoke.

“I have received word from my father. His decree is that henceforth, Prince Consort Zenjirou Bilbo Capua of Capua be allowed to ask for First Princess Freya Uppasala of Uppasala’s hand.”

Originally, undergoing the Rite of Age had been solely to have his request be worthy of consideration, but there was an unofficial agreement for the marriage itself now. That was due to multiple things: the secret agreement between Zenjirou and Gustav to damage his escort’s views as warriors, and it becoming clear that the whole thing had started with a public request from Freya. Furthermore, progress on the Northern Continent was faster than expected, so Gustav wanted to hurry the intercontinental trade agreement along.

With that said, there would soon be an official ceremony held within the palace for their marriage.

“I see,” Zenjirou replied. “It honestly does not yet feel real. I hope we can make things work, Your Highness.” Indeed, his tone was entirely like he was talking about someone else rather than himself.

Freya offered a rolling laugh of amusement. “Likewise, Your Majesty. As you are aware, I am a rather active person and would wager it will take quite some time for that to change, even after marriage. I would be grateful if you could take a long-term view of things.”

The warrior behind her had wide eyes and was about to scold Freya for so openly declaring she would not be some quiet bride. But Zenjirou offered a genuine smile.

“That is one of your charms. I would say there is no need to stifle yourself. As long as your words and actions are not to the detriment of Capua, the Capuan royal family, or Her Majesty Queen Aura, I shall endorse all of them.”

While Zenjirou had mentioned country, family, and monarch, the last of them was all he really wanted to cover. As long as it didn’t disadvantage his beloved wife, he truly wanted to accommodate Freya as much as possible as she married across the continents. That was how well-disposed and respectful he was of her.

He would respect her actions and deeds, guaranteeing her freedom into their marriage. That was what Freya had wanted more than anything, and what she had half given up on before.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, smiling with slightly watery blue eyes.