The Border Fortress 9

Before Gild, who had spoken his former name, the "northern immigrants" took a defensive stance. The younger ones, like Yeori and Innyeboli, had initially watched their comrades’ attitude in bewilderment, but they quickly judged Gild to be a threat and got into a defensive stance. But there was one man who broke the tense atmosphere.

The oldest man among them, judging by his appearance, seemed to be around the same age as Gild. When he raised a hand, all those who had been openly hostile to Gild relaxed their tension slightly, though their expressions remained anxious. Still, they did not forget to prepare themselves to fight back immediately if anything happened. The oldest man then looked at Gild intently and his cheeks relaxed slightly.

“I never thought I would meet the son of the great Hroðvitnir-sama here.”

His words were so polite they were out of place. The knights’ confusion grew. But Gild, who was addressed, had initially been suspicious, but then his eyes widened. He stared at the man as if he couldn't believe it. The man gave a wry smile and shrugged.

“I thought you would have forgotten, since we met before you could even remember much, but it seems your special ability is also high, isn’t it? Garmr.”

Gild was speechless at the nostalgic nickname. But the next moment, his expression softened in a way that was rare for him.

“—Torsten!”

“Yes, it’s been a long time, Garmr. I’m glad to see you’re well.”

“What’s with that form? Even I didn’t recognize you. But your eyes and your spiritual power don’t seem to have changed much.”

“That’s my line. I wasn’t sure myself until you said your former name.”

The two shook hands firmly and embraced tightly. The others were speechless at a greeting that was only performed between very close relatives such as family or best friends. But neither Gild nor Torsten paid them any mind. Reminiscing about their old friendship, the two briefly updated each other on their recent situations.

“I see, both your parents are—”

Gild’s parents were no longer of this world. Learning this, Torsten looked down, his face filled with regret. As if to encourage him, Gild patted his old friend’s shoulder.

“It can’t be helped. My old man’s special ability was taken from him when he was exiled from that land, and my mom was weakened by the stress. Especially since my mom loved that place, it couldn’t be helped.”

Torsten gave a wry smile at his old friend’s clumsy kindness. He then lowered his voice and whispered in Gild’s ear.

“My father regretted it until the end. Your father was not the traitor, yet he couldn’t prove it, and in the end, he fell for his wicked scheme. Your family was supposed to be the one to protect our people.”

“It’s not your fault. Your dad and mom were good to me.”

Don’t worry about it, Gild patted Torsten’s shoulder. Torsten looked slightly relieved, but then tilted his head in confusion. He knew from experience that those who were exiled from their homeland struggled in a foreign land. Torsten had been lucky enough to reach the Kennys Border Margravate, where he was able to spend his days to the fullest in the knightly order led by his beloved margrave, but the vast majority were not so fortunate.

“What are you doing now? You said you were a mercenary.”

“I have a benefactor who saved my life, and I’m serving as their bodyguard.”

“Yours!? That is—I would very much like to meet them and thank them.”

Gild didn’t answer Torsten, who was staring in surprise, and looked at the descendants of Alvaldi who were staring at them from behind Torsten. Torsten noticed this and looked back at his comrades over his shoulder. When Torsten tilted his head at his bewildered-looking comrades, one of them timidly opened his mouth.

“Um—Torsten, is this man an acquaintance of yours?”

“Yes, an old friend. You can trust him.”

Torsten declared it readily. Gild, who had been thinking of forcing his way through, gave a wry smile at the unexpected helping hand. And Torsten, looking at his wide-eyed comrades, gave a wry smile and looked up at Gild as if he were looking at something dazzling.

“—When we were little, I wished you were my master. Your spiritual power is the same as it was then, the air of a conqueror. My father always said so too.”

Gild’s expression immediately soured and he spat, “Don’t be ridiculous, don’t say such disgusting things, stop it. This is just an emergency measure, I have no choice.”

Don’t get it wrong, Gild warned him, and Torsten shrugged and nodded with a wry smile.

“Alright. Alright, so don’t get all bent out of shape here.”

“Shut up.”

Torsten smiled at the blunt Gild, who had his mouth set in a thin line, and turned to his comrades and nodded. Then they all relaxed their defensive posture and began to look at Gild with what seemed to be goodwill. It seemed they would readily obey whatever their eldest said. Gild shivered theatrically, as if he were disgusted. Torsten laughed happily, as if to say, 'You haven't changed,' but his expression quickly turned serious.

“Garmr. The ceremony of the oath.”

“—Alright. Are you ready?”

The descendants of Alvaldi who were asked nodded with solemn expressions. Seeing this, Gild began to weave the ancient language of their clan, which was no longer in use. It was a language used in the age of the gods, a beautiful and powerful melody with a song-like scale.

When the series of chants was over, an overwhelming aura flowed from Gild’s body. At its strength, all those present, without exception, trembled. But among them, only Torsten could not hide his flushed cheeks and exhilarated feelings—he could not suppress his joy at finally reaching this moment he had dreamed of.

From a young age, Torsten had believed that Gild would become the leader of the descendants of Alvaldi. His father had too. But that had ultimately become a dream that would never come true. A homeland without Gild and his parents was no longer of any importance to Torsten. All that concerned him were the comrades who remained.

Gild asked in a low, clear voice.

“Do you have the key of the ash tree?”

Torsten answered.

“The divine horse created by the green key has already withered.”

When he had rescued Yeori and Innyeboli from the human traffickers, he had used the name Gild, which he was using now. But now, he needed a greater power than then. So Gild spoke the name he had long since stopped using.

“I ask my brethren, my name is Managarmr, son of Hroðvitnir. What is your name?”

“My name is Torsten, son of Hugo.”

Torsten made a hand sign in the shadow of his clothes. It was a gesture passed down among the descendants of Alvaldi, different for each family. The sign, which was never to be shown to outsiders, was only used during the ceremony of the oath.

Starting with him, everyone began to introduce themselves one after another. After the last person had finished, a dense spiritual power filled the place. Torsten and the others were speechless. That presence was something that should only be felt in the land at the northern end of the world, where the descendants of Alvaldi lived. Gild, seeing their surprise, grinned.

And—the words that brought the ceremony of the oath to a close reached everyone’s ears clearly.

“I pray to the great tree of the gods that protects the nine worlds created from scorching heat and glaciers, grant power to my soul.”

At that moment, the bodies of everyone present glowed blue. The light instantly vanished into their bodies. They stared wide-eyed, but then they felt a sense of unease and looked at their hands and bodies suspiciously. The first to look up with a surprised face was Torsten.

“Hey, Garmr. Does the ceremony of the oath also restore stamina?”

“It’s not stamina recovery. It restores an abnormal state to a normal one. It’s like a panacea for us descendants of Alvaldi.”

Gild answered calmly. To the blinking Torsten and the others, Gild added, “And as long as this oath is valid, we cannot betray each other. If one of us is in danger, we can draw out our special abilities to the maximum. But be careful, there’s a recoil after that and you’ll be bedridden.”

“How long can we fight with our special abilities at their maximum?”

The one who asked was Yeori. Gild glanced at him and answered stoically.

“That depends on the person.”

“Understood.”

Gild, who had nodded at the solemnly nodding Yeori, looked around at everyone’s faces and asked, “Any other questions?” But no hands were raised. It seemed everyone knew about the ceremony of the oath to some extent. Then there should be no problem, Gild was convinced. And finally, as if he had just remembered, he added, “By the way, if the enemy burns the bark of the ash tree and sends the smoke our way, our physical abilities will still drop a little even in this state. Be prepared.”

“Can we participate in the battle?”

A wide-eyed knight asked.

The moment they heard they were being targeted, everyone had given up on participating in the battle. But from Gild’s words, it sounded as if their participation had been decided. Gild, who turned his face to the knight who had asked, answered, “No.”

“We’ll gather in one place and wait. But they’ll probably come after us. Not the regular knights, but the ones who know of our existence and want us so badly they’d do anything. They’ll come themselves.”

“And among them, there may be someone who uses the bark of the ash tree.”

“That’s right. Listen, don’t do anything reckless. That guy’s special ability is probably on par with mine.”

At Gild’s quiet words, the knights gasped. Even without knowing the specifics of how high Gild’s special ability was, they could fully feel its strength from Torsten’s attitude and the aura that overflowed from Gild’s body. Gild was stronger than any of the descendants of Alvaldi belonging to the Kennys Knights present. Everyone present had thought that even Torsten was strong among the descendants of Alvaldi, but Gild probably surpassed even him. The fact that the center of the ceremony of the oath was Gild and not Torsten made that clear.

It was difficult to even imagine what kind of special ability user an opponent whom that Gild said was his “equal” would be, and how strong they would be. Before his comrades, who had fallen silent with grim expressions, Gild let a small smile escape. Seeing that, Torsten turned to his comrades and spoke cheerfully.

“The ceremony is over, so shall we head back?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. And then we’ll get plenty of rest.”

Encouraged by Gild’s words, everyone turned on their heels and walked through the dark forest without hesitation. Their steps were lighter on the way back than on the way there. The fact that they had learned Gild’s true identity and concluded that he could be trusted, that they had performed the ceremony of the oath, that their stamina had recovered—all of these things had lightened their hearts.

Walking at the rear, Gild watched the backs of his comrades as they walked, his expression grim.

“Garmr?”

Torsten, who had noticed Gild’s atmosphere, called his name in a low, small voice. He asked what was wrong without words, and Gild shook his head.

“It’s nothin’.”

But it was certain that Torsten didn’t believe him. Still, knowing that Gild wouldn’t talk, Torsten didn’t press any further.

Gild continued to walk in silence. They came out of the forest and the fortress came into view. The moon appeared from between the clouds, and at that moment, Gild looked back at the place far behind them—where the enemy camp was. He stood there for a while, his eyes narrowed as if in thought. After glaring at the enemy camp, which was submerged in the darkness of the night and invisible, Gild began to walk towards the fortress again.

A single suspicion had risen in his chest.

“—No way.”

Who was this enemy who knew about the descendants of Alvaldi?

Why did they know of their weakness, which was supposed to have been hidden?

The answer was simple. It was solely because that enemy was a descendant of Alvaldi or someone related to them.

But then, another question remained. Who was it who, despite being a descendant of Alvaldi, had sold out their own people?

The descendants of Alvaldi had long lived apart from the world, wandering the northern lands with only their own people. The number of those who left had begun to increase around the time Gild’s father was exiled, and the number of defectors had been increasing year by year since then. But still, the descendants of Alvaldi were not that numerous. In particular, the secrets of their people were strictly guarded and known only to a limited number of people, so the number of those who could have leaked information to the enemy was limited.

Gild had only lived with his people during his childhood, so he was not very familiar with their relationships or power dynamics. It might be meaningless to look for a “traitor” among them, but he couldn't help but think about it.

“Torsten.”

Gild called out to his old friend, waiting for a moment when the others were away. To his friend who had turned around, Gild asked in a low voice.

“I have something to ask you.”

“—Alright.”

Torsten nodded. He beckoned Gild and led him to a small room in the fortress where they could be alone. Gild, who had lit a candle and sat down on a small chair, looked straight at his friend and asked bluntly.

“Who among the elder’s relatives has left?”

Torsten seemed to have understood Gild’s true intentions at once. He asked back with a serious expression.

“Do you include those who have temporarily left on the elder’s orders, not just a complete departure?”

Gild’s eyes widened. The comrades he knew would never have let a comrade “leave.” Despite that, the fact that the elder had let them “temporarily leave”—in other words, had allowed their return from the beginning—was hard to believe.

But Gild quickly recovered. He nodded to Torsten and answered, “Include them.” Torsten let out a deep, long breath and answered quietly.

“There are quite a few. First, those who left on their own—”

The family name and the person’s name, and as far as Torsten knew, the reason for leaving. Gild listened as they were stated one after another. Among those who had left on their own was Uht, the son of the man who had once falsely accused Gild’s father.

“It seems he left in rebellion against his father’s stance. Since he left when he was young, it’s unknown what his special ability is. I heard a rumor that it was the ability to manipulate dreams, but I’m not sure if it’s true.”

Gild’s expression soured upon hearing Torsten’s explanation. If he didn’t know the special ability, their response would be delayed. It was not a very welcome thing. But Torsten’s explanation continued.

“And then, there are two who have temporarily left on the elder’s orders. One is currently staying in the Yunatian Empire and is said to be trying to negotiate for them to become a backer for the descendants of Alvaldi. The other is studying abroad in a northern country.”

Gild grimaced. Negotiating with the Yunatian Empire seemed nothing but reckless. Especially since the descendants of Alvaldi were originally a group that did not have the concept of a country. Even if they tried to make a deal with the battle-hardened empire, they would just have all the good parts sucked out of them and then be thrown away. He wanted to hold his head in his hands and ask if they didn’t understand that, but now was not the time to discuss that point.

Gild asked Torsten sharply.

“Who is the one staying in the Yunatian Empire?”

“He is staying as a diplomat. It is Orvar, son of Åke. His ability is to distinguish between spiritual power and special ability. We can also distinguish spiritual power, but in his case, the accuracy is abnormally high.”

Understood, Gild nodded.

He probably didn't have to think about the one studying abroad in a northern country for now, but Uht, who had left on his own, and Orvar, who was staying in the empire as a diplomat, should be suspected. Gild quietly wrote down the two names in his heart.

“And then, the plan for tomorrow and onwards. For that, we first need to know their special abilities. You probably don't know all of them, do you?”

Torsten, who was asked by Gild, gave a wry smile. Special abilities were a very delicate topic for them. There were some who didn't mind at all if they were known, but most only told their family or close friends. Even if they were devoted to Margrave Kennys and had joined the knightly order, he didn't think they would have revealed their special abilities to anyone other than their own people, and they probably hadn't told the details to their own people either.

Torsten nodded, but said, “But, to you.”

“There are probably some who still don't trust you, but you are the one they made an oath to. If you order them, they cannot remain silent.”

“I don't want to force them. I told you, the ceremony of the oath is for this time only.”

Torsten smiled at the bitter-toned Gild and shrugged.

“You could try asking them one-on-one. If they don’t want to, they should refuse. By the way, I won’t refuse.”

“—I don’t want to hear your ability, though.”

Torsten, looking at the genuinely disgusted Gild with amusement, spoke his special ability without waiting for an answer. To the sighing Gild, he asked, “Can my ability be used?” but Gild shook his head with a genuinely tone that says it's bothersome.

“Nah, it’s so convenient it’ll bring tears to my eyes.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Torsten let out a cheerful laugh and patted Gild’s shoulder, then left the room to call his comrades. Gild, who had watched him go, ran his fingers through his hair roughly.

—-

Toc

Chapter 174