Chapter 22
“Eek?!”
Dyke jumped up in fright.
He stared at me with the face of someone who had just seen a ghost.
“Uh, uh, uh, wha—?!”
“Wow, it’s really nice to see you again.”
I clamped a hand over his mouth before he could scream and dragged him to the back of the wagon where there was no one around.
At Ronan’s signal, the others closed in around us, forming a wall.
“Phew!”
When I released him, Dyke gasped for breath.
“How have you been? Seeing as you’re still alive, you must’ve done what I told you, huh?”
“H-how… how are you even alive?!”
“What do you mean, ‘how’? You’re the one who brought me here. What kind of question is that?”
“No, I mean—how are you still alive…!”
Dyke cut himself off, clapping a hand over his mouth.
“I see. So you were hoping I’d be dead? That’s disappointing.”
“N-no, th-that’s not what I meant…”
I slung an arm over his trembling shoulders and whispered in a low voice.
“Have you already forgotten how your comrades died?”
Dyke shook his head violently, like he was convulsing.
“Good, good. Anyway, glad to see you again. So…”
I leaned in close, smiling.
“How’ve you been since then?”
“There’s not much I can offer in the way of hospitality. I trust you’ll understand.”
Siruela said this as she received Marken.
“I understand,” Marken replied with his usual swagger.
“But how did it happen? The Mage Unit’s vice-captain—Barnard is dead?”
“Killed by snow worms. Out here, what else could it possibly be?”
“I don’t understand. He always stayed in the rear, didn’t he? How does a man who isn’t even a knight end up dead?”
“This winter, the worms came in greater numbers than ever. The rear isn’t always safe on a battlefield. You’d understand better if you experienced it yourself. How about spending next winter here? Then you’ll know. Of course, you’d have to survive to tell the tale.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll decline.”
“As expected.”
So that’s how you want to play it?
Marken sneered inwardly.
No one knew better than Siruela that Barnard was not the self-sacrificing type. And yet here she was, boldly claiming he’d died fighting for Ice Rock.
That confirmed it—something was going on.
“I’ll conduct the inspection over the course of a day,” Marken announced pompously.
“This is the authority of Ice Maker, the lord of the North. You cannot refuse—”
“Do as you like.”
Siruela’s dark green eyes pierced him calmly.
“Thank you. Then let’s begin with the wall.”
Marken curled his lips.
“And I’ll need to see where Vice-Captain Barnard died.”
“I-I really appreciate it! Truly!”
“Oh? Then why were you acting like I should be dead?”
“No, no, it’s just… this place is so dangerous…”
Dyke stammered.
He had done exactly as I told him.
He lied to the broker who’d contracted the mercenary band, claiming I’d been killed, and collected the success fee.
The fact that nothing had happened afterward meant he’d successfully deceived Xeras Grimm’s eyes.
With the money, Dyke repaired his wagon and started working as a coachman.
“Ice Maker always needs supplies moved. Honestly, it pays better than mercenary work ever did.”
The harsh climate meant few natural resources.
That forced them to bring in more supplies from outside, which in turn meant a constant demand for wagons.
“So why follow us all the way to a place this dangerous?”
“They said the pay was double…”
“Blinded by money, huh?”
“N-not just the money! Ice Maker selects wagons for long-term contracts. I figured if I proved reliable, it might help…”
“That’s still about money in the end, isn’t it?”
“Well… I guess it is, huh?”
I laughed with him.
And then—
Snap!
I seized his wrist.
“Wh-what, what are you doing…?”
“<Scorched mark, color of falsehood, linger deep.>”
Instead of answering his panic, I chanted a spell.
Dyke’s face went pale as death—he had seen my magic once before.
He tried to scream, but I clamped my other hand over his mouth and spoke the trigger.
“<Burned.>”
Heat flared from my grip.
Dyke howled in pain, though the sound went no further than my palm.
“It doesn’t even hurt that much. Don’t be such a baby.”
I released him.
He instantly checked his wrist.
“What—what did you do to me?!”
A blackened scorch mark marred his skin.
“A curse.”
“W-what?!”
The blood drained from his face.
“From now on, you’ll do something for me.”
“Why not just ask?! Why curse me—!”
“How could I trust you? You tried to kill me.”
“That was just a job!”
“I know. And now I’m giving you a job. The payment is…”
I grinned.
“Your life.”
“Damn it!”
“If the Ice Maker family does anything suspicious, you’ll report it. Not too hard, right?”
“I’m just a lowly coachman! Even if I found something out, how would I tell you? I can’t just come here whenever I want!”
“Even rumors among the coachmen are fine. Stories about what you haul, too. You’ll find more than you think. As for telling me—don’t worry. I’ll show you how.”
“…And if I refuse?”
Dyke glared at me, eyes wet with tears.
Not exactly intimidating.
“Then the curse will burn you to ashes, not a trace left.”
I leaned close.
“If you blab about it, the curse will burn you.”
My voice dropped lower.
“If you ignore me, the curse will burn you.”
His defiance melted away into submission.
“So you’ll listen, won’t you?”
“S… shit…”
Dyke trembled, then finally nodded in resignation.
“What… what do you want me to do?”
Afterward—
“He was almost crying,” Ronan muttered as he came over.
“Did you have to go that far? Outside information isn’t even that important.”
“It is, idiot.”
I explained to the puzzled Ronan.
“No matter what, once we leave this place we’ll clash with the Guards. Better to be prepared.”
“Still, putting a curse on him was a bit much.”
“I didn’t.”
“…What?”
“That spell just leaves a mark. Strong one—it’ll last a few years. But no other effect.”
“You mean… you lied?”
“I like lying.”
I smirked.
“A lie.”
A mage’s battles are fought with deception.
Which spell, how it’s cast—
Even unique incantations exist just to stop others from realizing what spell is coming.
So mages must become masters of lying.
Those who don’t, don’t survive long.
“…You’re a devil.”
“Rude. Lying is more like a mage’s virtue.”
Behind Ronan, who was shaking his head in disgust—
“Captain! Captain!”
Hagen came running, panting.
He pointed urgently.
“They went to the wall!”
“Yeah?”
Watching him huff, I tapped Ronan’s shoulder.
“Let’s go tell some lies.”
The wall looked pristine.
Hard to believe a battle had been fought here.
Its height was uniform, and not a scratch could be seen.
“You repaired it?”
“Yeah. Got smashed up pretty bad.”
Gardner shrugged at Marken’s sharp question.
“In so little time?”
“Our boys are good workers.”
“If they fought as well as they worked, half of them wouldn’t be dead.”
Marken sneered.
Gardner didn’t answer. He just walked toward a watchtower.
“Here.”
“What about here?”
“This is where Vice-Captain Barnard died.”
“Here? In this watchtower?”
“Yeah.”
“How the hell do you die here? It’s far from the wall! Don’t tell me those worms got this far—”
“They did.”
“…Wh-what?”
“They pushed all the way in. The tower collapsed, and Barnard fell into them. That’s how he died.”
“B-bullshit!”
Marken had never seen a snow worm flood.
But he knew what snow worms were.
He had fought strays that wandered down near the Guards’ outposts.
And those things breached the wall and pushed all the way here?
The entire garrison should’ve been wiped out.
“Believe it or not, that’s the truth. We rebuilt this tower when we repaired the wall. Go up and see for yourself.”
“I will—without your permission!”
Marken stormed up the ladder.
Sure enough, the wood looked freshly cut.
From the tower, he had a clear view past the wall.
They’d pushed all the way from there to here?
Ridiculous.
He snorted.
And then—
“…Huh?”
Snow swirled down from the mountain pass.
The sky was cold and gray, but it wasn’t snowing.
Marken frowned and peered harder.
Rrrumble…
“W-what the—?!”
An avalanche was thundering down from the gorge.
“An avalanche!”
“What?!”
Gardner leapt up to the tower at Marken’s cry.
“It—it won’t reach us, right?”
“Idiot! The avalanche isn’t the problem!”
Gardner barked, his face grim.
“The worms can ride the snow down here!”
“Wh-what?! Why—”
“You don’t even know snow worms move on avalanches? Tch!”
He grabbed the alarm bell above Marken’s head and rang it furiously.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
“Avalanche! All units, battle stations!”
At once, soldiers scrambled up onto the wall.
Marken stared at the torrent of snow, voice trembling.
“I-I’ve never heard of two floods happening back-to-back!”
“Maybe not a flood, but they could still come—damn it, look there!”
Gardner seized Marken’s head and forced him to look.
His other hand pointed past the wall.
“Don’t you see?!”
“S-see what?!”
Even as his head was yanked, Marken couldn’t get angry.
He didn’t have the luxury.
Because right then—
“S-snow… worms…!”
Countless worms writhed through the avalanche.
“Snow worms?!”
Marken screamed, flinging Gardner’s hand off.
Then he scrambled down the ladder as if running for his life.
“T-the inspection is over! Withdraw! Withdraw!”
His entourage of inspectors burst out from all corners of the fortress, their faces pale.
“Where’s my horse?!”
Watching Marken flee without a backward glance—
“Still a coward, I see.”
Gardner chuckled on the tower.
He turned slightly.
On the next tower over stood Esric.
They exchanged glances and grinned.
“Hog!”
Esric waved toward the snowy gorge.
“That’s enough!”
At once, the blizzard settled.
Out stepped a massive man hefting a hammer as big as himself.
“H-how was it?”
Hog approached the wall, smiling brightly.
“Did it look like a real avalanche?”
