Chapter 216 |
Krika opened his eyes. The back of his neck throbbed, and his stomach felt hot as if it was churning.
"Dammit," Krika cursed after surveying the situation.
'They came to kidnap Bilker from the start. Crafty bastards.'
Krika was carried while lying on his stomach behind a horse. His arms were tightly bound behind his back, leaving him helpless.
Bilker, riding the horse, saw that Krika had woken up and spoke to him.
"Are you awake?"
"You shut up, you are a dumbass."
Krika cursed. It was already over. He had failed in his mission, and even if he made it back to the northern encampment by himself, he wouldn't be able to avoid reprimand.
The northern warriors had gone to great lengths to find Mijorn's descendant. They wouldn't let Krika off easily for failing to protect Bilker.
Krika said to Bilker without a hint of respect. Bilker averted his gaze, looking fearful.
"You shut your mouth, you brat. This esteemed gentleman is scared because of you," Urich said, slapping Krika's back.
"You son of a bitch!"
Krika glared at Urich and struggled until he fell off the horse.
"Not a dog, a human. You and I both," Urich chuckled as he kicked Krika. Krika trembled with humiliation.
"Kill me if you want. I'm not afraid of anything!"
"Of course, you're not afraid. Because Ulgaro is waiting for you, right? On the famous Field of Swords."
Urich dragged Krika by the rope tied to his wrists.
‘What the hell is this strength...?'
Krika, who was resisting, decided to let himself be pulled after realizing that Urich’s force could dislocate his wrist if he resisted further. Even with one hand, Urich pulled with immense strength. It felt like being dragged by a horse.
"I'm not going to kill you. Killing a crybaby who is asking for death would only give me nightmares.”
Urich’s words completely destroyed Krika’s pride.
'And if I did kill him, Bilker would throw a fit, and that would be an annoying problem in its own way.'
In any case, Urich needed to get on Bilker’s good side. Even though they started off with kidnapping, if their talks went well, it would benefit both sides.
'Considering he was being used because of his lineage as Mijorn's descendant, anyway, being used by our side wouldn't change things all that much.'
Just as Urich thought, Bilker obediently followed him, only sighing while pondering his predicament.
'I only recently learned that I was Mijorn's descendant...'
Bilker gazed wistfully at the snowy horizon. His mother was the daughter of Mijorn.
Bilker's mother had disliked being swept into the world's turmoil, so she kept her bloodline hidden. However, she ended up falling ill before Bilker had grown into a man, forcing her to reveal the lineage to the northern warriors in order to send Bilker away with them.
'At least you won't go hungry. Go with them and eat all you want, Bilker.'
Bilker recalled his mother's parting words. After confirming Bilker’s lineage with Mijorn's daughter, the warriors treated him with respect. The north needed a strong symbol. The descendent of Ulgaro had the authority to replace the dying Ulgaro.
'That tubby boy is supposed to be the symbol that shakes the north...? The world really is a strange place.'
Urich chuckled by himself. This was a boy who had gained power he never wanted.
"I think it's best to take a break here, Urich. We’re on top of a hill, so it should be easier to respond if anyone attacks.”
One of the warriors leading the group suggested. Urich nodded, and the warriors built a campfire and brought out food.
'Usually, we'd just fill ourselves with jerky, but the cold weather is making everyone want warm food.'
The warriors didn’t care what the food was—they just wanted it to be warm. To the western warriors, the northern climate was brutally harsh. It felt like they were staying in the highlands of the Sky Mountains for an entire year.
Clank.
The warriors pulled out a pot and placed it over the campfire. When the pot became hot enough, Georg filled it with snow to melt, then shredded some jerky into it.
Bilker, who had been observing, approached.
"U-uhmm, sorry, but i-if you add this, it should help with the taste."
Bilker collected some wild herbs from the area, cleaned them, and brought them over.
"You're not trying to kill us with some poisonous herbs, are you?"
Urich chuckled and tapped his tongue with the herbs Bilker brought. They had a sharp, pungent aroma.
"I don't mess with food.”
Bilker spoke firmly. Urich shrugged and placed the wild herbs into the pot. The herbs mixed with the jerky emitted a pleasant aroma.
"This is actually pretty decent. Don’t just sit there, come over here and have some, Brother Bilker.”
Urich poured the finished stew into a bowl and slurped it up. As the warm soup entered the bellies of the warriors, their faces smoothened out with a sense of calm.
"The jerky's salty and smoky, so it turned out nicely as I expected. If you let it simmer longer, the flavors would deepen and the meat would get tender, but we probably don't have that much time, do we?" Bilker said after tasting it.
"What is happening right now? Are you a chef?" Urich's question startled Bilker.
"N-no, I just happen to like eating. Oh, shoot, Krika!"
Bilker hurriedly scooped some stew into a bowl and brought it to Krika. Since Krika's hands were tied behind his back, it was hard for him to eat by himself.
'I'd rather starve to death than eat like a dog on my belly.'
Krika held his head high.
"If you don't eat, your recovery will be slower."
Bilker brought the bowl to Krika's mouth. As he tilted the bowl, Krika reluctantly opened his mouth and took in the food.
"Dammit, go get a knife or something and cut this rope around my hands, Bilker," Krika said, chewing on the meat in his mouth.
Bilker's expression turned gloomy.
"That’s easier said than done... I don’t think you’ll be able to escape even if I cut your rope for you."
"So you’re just going to be dragged along like this? Do you even have a dick between those legs?"
Krika was annoyed by Bilker's feeble attitude. Bilker, seemingly also getting fed up with Krika's attitude, snapped back.
"Calm down a little, would you? I could've left you behind, but I brought you along."
"Hah? Are you saying I should be thanking you? You think you’re so nice, huh? That’s not it. You're just a coward. You can't say no to anyone because you hate being disliked, so you just let everyone push you around. You are a pathetic, spineless fool!"
Krika's verbal abuse made Bilker frown. He went back to the campfire with the bowl.
"I just wanted to bring him some food..."
Bilker grumbled, sighing as Krika's attitude grated on him.
"Don't let something like that affect you. You're going to be a king, Bilker. King of the north. I’ll have you know that I'm good at making people kings," Urich said, patting his belly after finishing his meal.
"A king..."
Bilker muttered with uncertainty. People have been telling him that he would be king, but it never really felt real to him.
"You're succeeding because you had a fantastic grandfather. You should be happy about it. This Urich will make you a king," Urich laughed. If a northern kingdom was really established, Bilker would become its king.
'Of course, he wouldn't be a great king. He'll be a weak one, easily pushed around by others.'
But Urich didn't care about that. The future of the north was never any of his concerns.
Krika, who was in the back watching Urich and the warriors who had finished their meal, curled his lips in disdain.
"Now's not the time to be so relaxed, is it? The pursuers will come and tear you to pieces."
Urich ignored Krika's threats and packed up the stuff. After finishing their meal, the group resumed trekking through the snowy land. With winter just setting in, the weather grew even harsher.
"The harsh weather might be a blessing in disguise. The snowstorm will cover our tracks quickly," Georg said as he looked behind. Their footprints were fading away in the snowstorm.
Urich didn’t have the same optimism as Georg.
"These guys are warriors and hunters who have spent their entire lives in the north. They've probably tracked prey through snowstorms like this countless times. They'll chase us down no matter what. We'll probably have to fight them at least once."
Urich was anticipating the battle. His heart raced.
'The strong warriors of the north.'
Urich would feel the fine line between life and death when he eventually clashes with the northern warriors. The thought of crossing swords with warriors who wouldn't back down in the face of death made him smile. His heart was already pounding with excitement.
"If it’s a fight we can’t avoid, we might as well enjoy it."
Urich said in the western language, making the warriors chuckle.
'This group doesn't seem to respond to threats, as expected.'
Krika's provoking meant nothing to them.
After walking for another half a day, Urich's group set up camp.
Bilker was busy helping with the cooking this time as well, adding different herbs and winter berries to the pot.
"This will make it tastier."
"Doesn't look very appetizing."
"I’m telling you it will be."
Bilker was resolute. He added the prepared wild herbs and berries to the pot even before Urich gave him his approval. The juices quickly spread, changing the color of the broth. The dark hue wasn't exactly appetizing.
Urich crossed his arms and gestured with his chin, signaling Georg to take a sip of the broth.
"Eh? It's not bad at all. The sourness brings a unique balance," Georg remarked.
"Are you sure?" Urich asked.
"Of course. I’ll have you know that as a scribe slave, I grew up eating some good food. Consider me sort of a critique.”
The warriors also tasted the broth, and their eyes widened with surprise. It had an unfamiliar yet distinct flavor.
"I used to forage for wild herbs with my mom. I know my way around them. Back then, we didn't have meat, though."
Bilker had lost his father early, so he couldn't learn fighting and hunting skills. Instead, he lived by foraging various wild herbs with his mother to make ends meet.
"Oho, well, it seems like we can entrust you with the cooking."
Urich acknowledged Bilker's culinary skills. It wasn't common for someone to create such a taste with hastily gathered ingredients.
The night deepened. The warriors took turns standing guard while keeping an eye on Bilker and Krika.
Bilker glanced at the warriors with wary eyes. At night, the warriors' eyes were menacing.
'They're probably taking me to the northerners who follow Lou.’
Bilker had an idea of what was happening. The western plunderers had already made contact with the northern Solarists. To secure Bilker, who was the key to the northern expansion, Urich had risked approaching the warriors of Ulgaro.
"Sigh."
The air was cold, and his breath clouded in the chilly air with wavering steam.
Before sleeping, Bilker clasped his hands in prayer. The western warriors paid little attention to Bilker's actions.
"Oh, Lou, the almighty Sun, thank you for not letting me go hungry today. Please provide us with food and drink tomorrow as well..."
Bilker's prayer was directed to the Sun God Lou. The western warriors on guard didn’t seem interested in the prayer. Urich and Georg had already fallen asleep.
The descendant of Mijorn believed in the Sun god Lou. This was Bilker's secret, one that the northern warriors must never discover.
'Bilker, we must keep our faith in Solarism a secret.'
His mother's warning echoed in his mind. But this situation was hard to endure without praying. The anxiety was overwhelming, and it felt like it was choking him.
"Please, protect me.”
After finishing his prayer, Bilker looked around nervously. Then, he forced an awkward smile with a pale face.
"Oh, Krika..."
One person with glaring eyes was watching the spectacle of Bilker's prayer. Krika, with bound hands, jumped up and shouted.
"You son of a biiiiiitch!"
Krika threw himself and headbutted Bilker. They tumbled to the ground in a chaotic scuffle.
Even though Krika was the one who had his hands bound, it looked like Bilker was the one on the losing side.
Thump!
Krika stomped on Bilker's stomach with both legs.
"And you call yourself Mijorn’s descendent? You crazy son of a bitch! You couldn’t find any other god to believe in, so you chose the enemy’s? The very religion of those who killed your grandfather!"
Krika yelled enraged as if he was trying to showcase the spirit of the north. The warriors who were on guard ran in and separated the two northern boys.
Thud!
Krika's head was smashed into the ground, but he still glared at Bilker with his eyes wide open.
Bilker clutched his bruised stomach and mumbled weakly, "Why are you doing this to me…? I didn't do anything wrong to you."
"Your very existence is wrong! You damned little shit!"
Krika screamed with a reddened face, struggling even as his broken left arm was being twisted.
