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A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles Chapter 141

Chapter 141

“What​‌⁠ did you just⁠‍ say?”

The‍‍ sharp gazes of⁠‍‍ the tribal chiefs‍‌‌ pierced Otar.

The‌ pressure radiating from‍ the eyes of‌‌⁠ four warriors hardened‍‌ by years of‍ battle was enough‍⁠‍ to intimidate even‍⁠ a seasoned fighter.⁠‌⁠

However,​‍ despite those hostile‌ looks, Otar let‌‌ out a dry,​‌ almost provocative laugh.‍

“I‍‌‍ said you’re dreaming.⁠​ Before you get⁠‍‍ your hopes up‌ for nothing and⁠ end up disappointed,‍‌‌ it’d be better​‍‍ to stop thinking‌‍ nonsense.”

“What‍ are you saying?”‍‌

“Using‌ people in the⁠‍​ right roles? Sounds‌‍‌ nice, but that‌‍ only works if​‍⁠ we have superior‍‌ skills compared to⁠‍​ the people beyond‌‌ the tundra. If‌ their technology is⁠‍ more advanced, why‌⁠ bother identifying talent?”⁠

The​ blow struck right​‍‍ at the weak‌​ point. The tribal⁠‍​ chiefs were left‌​ speechless.

Just‌ as Otar said,⁠‍ if the technology⁠‍‌ of those who⁠‍ lived beyond the‌‌ tundra surpassed that‌ of the tundra⁠⁠ folk, there would‌‌ be no reason‍‌ to handpick specialists.‌⁠​

It‌⁠​ would be quicker‌‌​ to train anyone‌‍‍ from scratch.

Skal,‍​​ who had been‍ the first to‍‌‍ speak, realized that​​ too, but unable​‌​ to let go‌ of hope, he​‍​ snapped back bitterly.⁠⁠⁠

“It​​ doesn’t have to‍ be that way.​⁠​ We don’t know‌‍​ what kind of​‍‍ skills the people​⁠ beyond have. Maybe‌ we’re better in‍​ some areas.”

“Do‌‌​ you really believe​ that?”

“Why‌ not?”

“For⁠​ someone trying to​‌ act like a strategist, you’re pretty​​‍ naive.”

“What⁠⁠ did you say?”‌

Skal’s​​‌ face turned red​‍ from the sudden‍ humiliation.

The⁠‍ atmosphere turned tense‌‌ immediately, but Otar​⁠ just let out‍​ a long sigh,⁠ as if they​ weren’t understanding something‌​‍ obvious.

“Let’s‍‌ ask just one⁠​‌ question. Between a warrior who has⁠‍ swung an axe‍ a hundred times‍​⁠ and one who’s‍‍⁠ swung it a thousand times, who​ do you think‌ wields it better?”⁠‌

“Are⁠‍ you mocking me?”​

“Just​‌‌ answer. A hundred​ or a thousand?”‌‍‌

“A​‍ thousand, if there’s‍ no difference in​​​ talent! So what?”⁠

“Then,‍​‍ between a blacksmith‌‍ who has hammered⁠ iron a hundred⁠‌‌ times and another⁠ who’s done it‌ a thousand times,⁠‌​ who’ll craft better‍‍​ items?”

“What‍​ the hell are‍‍‌ you…?”

Skal​​ stopped mid-sentence. He‌⁠ finally understood where​ Otar was going.​

Otar‌‍‌ clicked his tongue‍ and looked around‍ at the other⁠ chiefs, who still‍ didn’t fully grasp‍ it.

“I‍‍ don’t know much⁠ about what’s beyond‌⁠⁠ the tundra, but​‍ I’ve heard a few things. One‌ of them is‌ that compared to​‌ us, they have‌⁠⁠ far more resources‍ and people.”

“And‌ what does that‌‌ have to do⁠​ with technique?”

“Think​‌ about it. Who‌ do you think‌​‌ has more skill—a​ blacksmith who can​​ strike metal all⁠⁠‌ day without pause,‍ or one who​​ always works with⁠‌ the same iron‌‍​ and the same⁠ weapons?”

“…!”⁠‌⁠

With⁠⁠‌ those words, the​⁠​ chiefs realized something‌​‍ they had overlooked.‍

The⁠⁠ tundra had a small population and‌ scarce resources, so‍‌‍ there were also​ few artisans.

And⁠​​ with so few⁠‍‍ clients, they had​⁠ even fewer opportunities⁠ to refine their​ craft.

Could‌‍‍ those tundra artisans⁠ really compete with⁠‌ the ones beyond,‌ who had endless‍ materials and served‌​​ countless people?

“It’s​​ not just blacksmiths.⁠‌​ From what I’ve‌⁠ heard, it’s a land that lacks⁠⁠⁠ nothing compared to​ the tundra. So​‍ then, with what⁠‌ skills are the⁠ tundra folk supposed‌ to surpass them?”‍⁠

“…”​​

“In‍‍​ my opinion, the‌⁠​ king won’t even‍‍ bother selecting skilled​⁠​ workers one by‌​​ one. What he‌‌‌ needs from us‍​⁠ isn’t technical ability,​⁠‍ but loyal warriors.”‌‍

In⁠​ such a brutal‍ environment, the only​‍ thing that toughens‌‍​ is human resilience.​

If‌ Otar’s assumption was‌​⁠ right, Lucian wouldn’t​​ ask for anything‍‍​ more than sturdy‌​ soldiers.

And​ if soldiers were⁠‍ all he wanted,⁠ there was no⁠ need for complex​⁠ selection—all tundra folk⁠​ were strong; he​‍ could pick them​⁠ at random.

“T-then…⁠⁠‍ what’s going to‍ happen to us⁠⁠ now?”

“I‌‍​ don’t know for‍‌ sure, but we’ll‍‍ probably be demoted‌ to mere warriors.‍‌ At the very‌​ least, we won’t‌​ retain the authority⁠ we had as​⁠​ chiefs.”

“There’s‌ no way to​ even keep our​⁠ dignity as chiefs…?”⁠

“If⁠‌‌ there is, I’d‍‍‍ be the first⁠‌ to want to⁠⁠‌ know it.”

As⁠⁠‍ the last hope​ they had clung‍​ to vanished, the‌​ chiefs’ faces darkened‌​ once more.

Otar​ shook his head​ and let out‌‌‍ yet another sigh—he’d‍ lost count of‍ how many by⁠‌ now.

“It’s‍‌ come to this.‍ What else can​​ we do? We⁠​‌ just have to⁠‍​ accept reality. At‍ least we have​ experience ruling tribes,​⁠⁠ so maybe from‌​‍ time to time,‌ they’ll come to‌‌ us for advice.​‍ If we cooperate,​ maybe we’ll get‌⁠ some honorary post.”‌

Of​‍⁠ course, they wouldn’t⁠​ be granted real⁠‌‌ power.

Giving​‍ authority to former⁠‍ rulers would only⁠‌ plant seeds of‌‍ rebellion. For the‌‌⁠ chiefs, it was⁠‌ an absurd but⁠ inevitable downfall.

The‍​⁠ flap of a giant bird’s wings⁠ drags countless people‍⁠​ along with it.‌⁠⁠

Those⁠ who can’t ride​‍⁠ on its back​‌‌ end up crushed⁠‌⁠ by the pressure⁠​ and fall.

That’s‌‌‍ how power had‍‍‌ always worked.

***‌​⁠

The⁠ next day, Lucian​‌ gathered the five⁠‍​ chiefs and all‍‍⁠ the tribe members​ at what had⁠‍​ once been the​ sacred sanctuary of‍​ the Blue Dragon⁠‍⁠ Tribe.

He⁠⁠⁠ would use the‍ artifact and the​ dragon heart to‍ stop, once and⁠⁠⁠ for all, that‍‌ damned snowstorm.

“They‍​​ say the king’s​​⁠ going to stop​​‍ the storm today.”​

“Is‌‌‍ this infernal cold​ really going to‍​ end at last?”​‌⁠

“Shh,​⁠‌ shut your mouth.​‍ Don’t jinx it.”‌

Under​‍‍ the curious gazes⁠​ falling from all‌⁠ directions, Lucian regulated‍⁠ his breathing.

The​⁠⁠ stares didn’t bother‌​ him, but what‌​‍ he held in‍ his hands wasn’t​ just anything—it was‍⁠⁠ an artifact capable⁠⁠ of bringing ruin⁠⁠​ to the entire⁠⁠ North if misused.​⁠

Even⁠ Lucian couldn’t help‍⁠ but feel tense​‌⁠ handling such a relic.

‘He‍​ told me not​⁠ to touch anything‍‌ except stop and‌‍​ activate it.’

Lucian‌ recalled the warnings⁠⁠ Marius had repeated⁠​‌ endlessly the day⁠⁠‌ before.

— I understand the⁠ basic workings, but‌ I haven’t tested​‌‍ it even once.​‌‍ If handled carelessly,‍ we don’t know​‌⁠ what kind of‍‍ disaster could occur.‍​ Stopping the storm​ is just returning‌ something already activated‍⁠ to its original⁠⁠‍ state, so it’s​⁠​ not difficult. But‍‌ altering the environment‍ again artificially is‌ another matter.

According‌⁠ to Marius, in‍‌ the worst case,⁠‍​ it could unleash⁠ a disaster even⁠ worse than the‌ tundra barrier.

‘I‌‌ would’ve liked to⁠ test it slightly,‌ like the White​ Castle’s defense systems…​‌⁠ but better forget​ it.’

Swallowing⁠‌ his regret, Lucian⁠ placed the artifact‌ on the snow‌⁠ and reconnected the‌​ separated dragon heart.⁠

Though‌ it had already‌ lost about half​ of its magical‌​‌ energy, it didn’t​ seem to have​‍ any problems activating⁠‌ the artifact.

Carefully⁠ ensuring his hands‍​ didn’t slip, he‌ rotated the spherical​‌ control mechanism several⁠ times.

Whirr.‍‍⁠

‘Done!’⁠⁠

After​‌ completing the activation,‍‍ Lucian took a few steps back‌‍‌ from the now‌ brightly glowing artifact.⁠⁠‍

A moment later, the⁠ green light gathered​‌ in the dragon‍⁠⁠ heart burst upward⁠⁠ toward the sky.‌

The‍‍ crowd murmured in‍‍​ surprise, but the⁠‌⁠ flash was brief.‌ The beam of‌‍ light dissipated into⁠‌​ the air, leaving‌⁠⁠ only silence.

“W-was‍ that it?”

“Is‍‌ it over already?”‌

Disappointment‍⁠​ showed on the‍ faces of the‍‍⁠ tribespeople.

They​ had expected something​ as spectacular as​​‌ when Lucian was‌‌‍ chosen by the‌‌ dragon, not just‍‌⁠ a fleeting flash.⁠⁠‌

But,⁠‌ unlike their disappointment,‍‍ the effects of‌​ that brief glow⁠​ were anything but‌ small.

“L-look‌ at the sky!⁠‌‌ Look at the‍‌⁠ sky!”

“The‌​ clouds are clearing!”​‍

“The⁠ snow’s stopping!”

At​ the near-hysterical cries,​⁠⁠ all eyes—including Lucian’s‍​‌ group—turned to the​‍ sky.

The​‍⁠ dense clouds, which‌‍ only cleared about​⁠ ten days a year, were disappearing‍‍⁠ as if washed‌‍​ away with water.‍‍

The‌​ snow and blizzard‌ halted instantly, and‌ the temperature began‍⁠⁠ rising rapidly.

While‍​‍ everyone watched in‌⁠ stunned silence, Lucian⁠​⁠ slightly raised an⁠‌​ eyebrow.

‘This⁠‌‌ is insane. All​‍​ I did was​⁠‍ return the temperature⁠​‌ to its original⁠‍‍ state. If I had manipulated the‍ weather with ill‌‌ intent…’

Just‌⁠‍ imagining it made‍‌⁠ his skin crawl.‍ If used offensively,‍​‍ that artifact could​‍‍ wipe out nine​‍‍ out of ten‌ people in a region.

Still⁠ shaken by its‍ power, Lucian hid​‌ his thoughts and​ proclaimed calmly.

“The‍⁠ path is open!‍​ In fifteen days,​‌‌ we march beyond⁠‍‌ the tundra—so prepare​ yourselves! The land​ of salvation awaits!”⁠⁠‌

— Uooooooh!

A roar of joy‌‍ erupted and shook‌⁠⁠ the entire tundra.‍​‍

It​ was the moment‌ when the wall‍‍ that had separated⁠​ the tundra from​‍ the Empire for‍‌‍ over a thousand​‍ years finally vanished.⁠‍⁠

***​

Preparations‍ for the migration‍​ of the tribes‍ progressed at full‍ speed.

Since​​​ they lived in⁠ a tundra with‌​​ scarce food and⁠‌ extreme blizzards, they‍​​ always had provisions⁠‌ for about fifteen​ days, and since​ their household goods‍ were simple, there‍‍ was almost nothing​‌ to pack.

The​‍​ only concern was​⁠​ the women and‌‍ children, who might‍ struggle with such⁠ a long journey—but‌ even that turned​⁠ out to be​‌‌ unnecessary worry.

“There’s‌⁠⁠ a saying in⁠ the tundra—a healthy‌ child crosses two‍ mountains a day,‌​ and a weak⁠⁠​ one, at least⁠‌ one. You can’t​ compare the endurance‌⁠ of the people⁠ here to that‌ of Empire folk.”⁠‌

“You​​ mean even the‌‍​ women and children​​‍ should be treated‌⁠‍ like sturdy adults?”‌‌

“More​⁠ than that. It’s‍‍‍ not unusual for⁠⁠ a woman who⁠‍ was bedridden to‌⁠ go out and⁠ hunt a wild​ beast as warm-up⁠ the moment she​ recovers.”

“…Are​ you joking?”

“No.‌‍​ To be precise,‌‌ the animals considered‍ fierce beasts in⁠ the Empire are⁠‍ treated here as‍⁠⁠ little more than‌​ mountain rabbits.”

Marius​​ explained that, given‍​ how resilient the​‍ people were and‍ how scarce the‌‍⁠ food was, any‍​ regular fierce beast​‍ was simply considered‌⁠‍ prey.

Despite‍ the tradition of⁠‍​ protecting women strictly​ from danger, they‌​ didn’t see those‌⁠‌ beasts as real⁠ threats.

“You‌ think I said‍‍⁠ they could be‌‌ used as an‌​⁠ army for nothing?‍ Until now, Your​​‍ Highness has only‌ seen the warriors,‍ but even the‌‍ women here are​​⁠ strong enough to⁠ snap a grown​ man’s neck with​‍⁠ ease.”

At​‌ Marius’ smile, Lucian⁠⁠⁠ clicked his tongue.⁠‌

He​ already knew each⁠ inhabitant had strength‌‍​ comparable to a knight, but he‌ didn’t expect that‍ hunting was also⁠ a basic skill.​

At‌​ this level, even‌​ if they recruited‌​⁠ anyone in an‍‍‌ emergency without distinction,⁠​⁠ they could form​‌​ a fairly solid​‌ army on the‌ spot.

‘Even‌⁠ without a standing‍ army, they could‌‌ repel most common‍​​ forces on their​ own.’

That‍‍‍ the inhabitants of​⁠⁠ his territory possessed‍​ such military power​ would normally be‍ a huge risk‍ for any feudal‍ lord, but Lucian⁠ had no reason⁠​ to worry.

He‍​​ had already shown​ too much to⁠ the tundra tribes.‌‌⁠

As‌ long as they⁠ saw him as​‍⁠ the prophesied king‌​⁠ and their savior—as‌‌⁠ long as he‍ didn’t let them​ starve—they wouldn’t dare​ rebel.

‘On⁠ the contrary, they’ll‌ fiercely reject any‌‍⁠ ruler who can’t​‌‍ prove their worth.‌ If handled right,‍ they might become‍‍ a volunteer militia‌ without me lifting‌⁠​ a finger.’

If​‌ he had returned​ by the easy⁠​ path, Lucian would⁠⁠⁠ have been seen​ as just another​‌ invader, and hopes⁠‍ like this wouldn’t​ have even crossed‍​‍ his mind.

He​ smiled in satisfaction,‌⁠ thinking all the‍​ suffering in the‍‌‍ tundra had been‌‌⁠ worth it.

It‍ was then—

“My‍⁠ lord!”

Ainar,​‌ who had been​⁠ overseeing the tribes’⁠‍ migration, came running⁠ toward Lucian out‍‍​ of breath.

Seeing‌ him so flustered—something‍ quite unlike him—Lucian‍​ wore a confused⁠ expression.

“What’s‍ wrong? Did something​‍​ happen?”

Though​⁠​ he’d given a rather tight deadline,⁠‌‌ there was no‍ one emotionally tied‍‌ to this land,⁠⁠‌ nor anyone so​ frail they couldn’t‌‍​ endure the migration.​

Preparations‌‌‍ had gone smoothly‍‌‍ for ten days‍ straight, and Lucian⁠ had begun to⁠‍ relax, thinking everything‌⁠ was under control.⁠‌​

Had‌ something finally gone‍​ wrong?

“No.⁠⁠ There’s no issue‍ with the migration.‌​​ But…”

“But?”⁠

“Some​​‌ outsiders have arrived—dressed⁠⁠⁠ in white iron‍ armor, shouting that‌‍‌ they’ve come to‍​ see Your Highness.⁠ If I’m not‍‍ mistaken, that’s how​‌​ they refer to⁠ you.”

“…!?”‍⁠​

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