Sword Pilgrim

Hwiiing.

The northern winter wind struck at the skin like knives.

A chilly dawn breeze that seeps into your bones till you hunch over, and evokes an unfounded nostalgia.

I feel so cold, I wonder if somebody else is too. That kind of thought naturally leads to a bitter longing.

That somebody may be a lover. Or family.

Or someone else…

Tock, tock.

Under the starless morning sky.

A middle-aged man stood on the walls of Jevarsch enduring the cutting wind.

At his waist was a sword in its scabbard, adorned with a gray jewel that resembled the eyes of Jervain, not losing its shine even in the north wind.

The sword hilt appeared engraved with the mark of Jervain, signifying it as a sword passed down from generation to generation.

The guardian sword that protected the North, which could only be inherited by a new Patriarch from the previous one.

Callis, the North Wind.

The man who grabbed its hilt –

No, Elburton, the Patriarch of the Jervain family, waved his hand.

The wind that flew through his thick fingers was quickly caught in his hand.

Hooo.

In an instant, that strong north wind descended gently into his palm like a tamed beast.

The calming north wind did not make him quail.

But there was the slightest trace of cherished nostalgia.

"Callius…"

The Supreme Ruler of the North, Elburton von Jervain.

His gray pupils trembled faintly.

Kullok, kullok.

There was a wet coughing sound. It disappeared in the strong wind, and the smell of blood also quickly dissipated.

"Count Jervain."

It was Bernard.

He looked bitterly at the handkerchief in Elburton's hand.

"… You look awful. Forget it."

Elburton von Jervain.

Count Jervain, head of the House of Jervain, hid the blood-stained handkerchief that was in his hand, and looked down from the castle walls.

Even in this late dawn, refugees continued to knock at the gates.

From here and there, many a territorial resident continued their constant journey towards Jevarsch, the home of the Sword of the North.

"Sir Bernard. What do you think?"

"Isn't this something you foresaw already?"

"To some extent."

However, the situation was more serious than expected.

"The signal from the scouts has arrived. The Orc corps from the North are said to be on the move."

"They've been quiet for a long time. They were gathering their strength all the time, to finally reclaim the northern areas."

Something that would have happened someday.

A natural occurrence.

"But this is not a good time."

"That's not wrong."

But the timing was not good.

Winters in the North were harsh.

This severe cold was a bad time to suffer from food shortages, and the war that suddenly broke out would quickly dry up the stockpiled food.

"It would be nice if this wind quickly passed by."

The North was facing serious problems this time.

"How many are there?"

"Almost seven thousand, they say. The more time passes, the more it will become."

Seven thousand Orcs.

"Our army…"

"A thousand Knights of Jervain."

And three thousand soldiers.

Four thousand in total.

It was an unusually large number for an army owned by a single family, only possible because the family in question was Jervain of the North.

But even so.

"Four thousand… it’s difficult."

Forget about the number.

The good news is that the castle has thick walls… But it doesn't make sense to stay locked up in the castle and wait out the siege.

"We have to prepare."

We need to cut down on their troops at least a little bit. We can't let so many of the beasts reach the castle.

Besides –

"I don't think this is all."

"Are you talking about Callavan?"

"He's good at swordsmanship, and has a good brain. He's even kind and generous to the people, so he should be able to protect the northern areas."

There is only one thing that the head of Jervain needs. The ability and willingness to protect the North.

"Then why do you doubt him?"

"He's… he's very filial."

"… You're talking about his biological father."

"Yes. Unlike me, that man has a good son."

Elburton voiced his accusation.

"Callavan intends to kill me and make his father the Patriarch."

Something that would come to you if you just stay still.

"He's doing something foolish, because he doesn't know that I'm ill."

"Did you know everything from the beginning?"

"I am Jervain's sword, and the shield that protects the North. I need to be able to notice at least that much."

"If so, why did you just leave it alone? If you trimmed the shoots in advance…"

Elburton quietly shut his mouth at Bernard's question.

"The foolishness of an old man."

"You're younger than me, what are you talking about?"

"Every time I see Callavan… I keep thinking of him."

"You mean Callius?"

Elburton didn't answer.

But Bernard seemed to understand.

‘Blood does not lie.'

Even if it's for the family.

Even a cold-blooded man who abandoned his children is still a father in the end.

A parent cannot ignore a child's suffering[1].

"Sir Bernard."

"Yes."

"Callavan alone could not have moved the Orcs. He is valiant, but that is not enough to achieve such a thing."

There is someone behind him.

A person with experience, knowledge of the North, and a deep grudge.

"Perhaps one who belongs to that group."

"Is he a strawman? Callavan's biological father?"

"Maybe. If he wants to become the Family Head, he needs a way to hold the succession ceremony quickly[2] amidst the fires of war. Threading that needle would be hard just by himself."

But more than that.

There was something bigger at the root of it all… so thought Elburton.

Callis, the family heirloom sword in Elburton's hand, showed a slight tremor.

It wasn't fear or terror.

It was merely the anticipation of what was soon to come.

"Maybe all of this is just coincidence, but there are fewer coincidences in the world than you'd think."

"That's true."

"… Sir Bernard. I may die on this battlefield."

"Don't say that. Your death is not the death of just an individual."

"Anyway, this body doesn't have very many days left to live. In that case, I think it's splendid to die honourably in the embrace of battle. The Supreme Ruler of the North is still just a soldier… And should face a soldier's tragic end."

Bernard, who was about to refute, couldn't speak.

Both Elburton and Bernard were swordsmen, and Knights.

He understood Elburton's unwillingness to die a shabby death.

"We've been at peace for too long."

"But the North has always…."

"There's never been a battlefield like this. This is better. If the war broke out after I died, it would have been difficult to endure."

Bernard felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

Elburton spoke as if he wanted this war.

Under his hopeless demeanour, he seemed to have strange expectations.

It's like he was looking for the perfect place to die.

"You're thinking of dying."

"If I die, what will happen to Jervain. What will happen to the North…? Are you curious?"

"… I'm not curious."

"I wonder. If I die…"

What about Jervain?

Who will lead it?

Also, what kind of wind will blow in the North?

Will his successor be able to tame Callis, which has accompanied him all his life?

"That guy…"

And Callius.

What about his one and only son?

That was then.

A Knight with the mark of Jervain rushed towards him.

"Something happened?"

"An emergency signal from scouts!"

"Tell me."

"There was a battle in the village of Dynel, and even though smaller in numbers, the Knights were victorious!"

Triumph that arrived during this bad a situation.

"It's good news. Someone accomplished an honourable task."

The Jervains from the branch families had not arrived yet. He thought it might be one of them.

"They said that a Knight wearing a red cloak was leading the group…"

"Callius!"

Bernard exclaimed.

Elburton's pupils trembled slightly.

"That guy…"

Was he leading the Knights to annihilate the Orcs?

Bernard didn't doubt it, but Elburton furrowed his eyebrows.

It was hard to believe.

"However…"

Before he even finished thinking.

The soldier's report was not over yet.

"It is said that a Great Warrior was spotted, moving towards Dynel."

"What…!"

A Great Warrior! That means somebody able to command a full corps among the Orcs!?

"… Is he moving all alone?"

"Yes! That's right!"

"I know who it is. The Great Warrior who moves like a lonely spectre on the battlefields. Kel'tuk, that's him."

He had quite a unique disposition, but his abilities were not in doubt.

There was no counting the number of Knights of the North who had perished under his axe.

"I'll go. Callius alone won't have it easy!"

At Bernard spoke, intending to rush out, Elburton drew his sword.

Jervain's heirloom.

Callis, the North Wind.

"Go. The North Wind will carry you."

Cheok.

Selululuk!

Suddenly, a stormy wind blew.

Bernard's form disappeared with the strong wind.

The sword containing the northern winds, Callis.

The soldier's eyes shone sharply.

"Although…"

Chuckle. Elburton's eyes twinkled.

"It’s the first time I've seen your face."

The soldier's face contorted.

Tas! Tadadadat!

As if it was a signal, black-robed forms that looked like assassins appeared from below the wall, no longer hiding their aura.

The corners of Elburton's lips rose.

It was a cold smile.

"Is the rumour true?"

The Supreme Ruler of the North faced the dozens of assassins in his front.

At his question, someone in the crowd opened their mouth.

"… It's true."

"All right, then."

Soon the north wind blew again.

"Uaaaaa!"

A great shout followed.

They won the battle they had thought impossible to win, so it was only natural.

Even I have this exhilarating feeling, so why would they be different?

Victory is valuable and joyous for everyone.

Therefore, it was natural that they should exalt in the joy of victory.

Hwiiiing –

Unfortunately, the world was not that kind.

"I don't like these variables."

Sitting on a mountain made of Orc corpses, barely supporting my body with a sword, I saw someone walking alone as if wading through a sea of blood.

His red hair, tied in bundles, did not flutter even in the face of the strong northern winds.

Two axes with red emblems engraved on them were held in his hands, and they radiated tremendous momentum.

Hair dyed red, only allowed for those highly honoured for their achievements in the Orc society. Blood-stained axes.

Comparing to the Valtherus Church, he was on the same level as a Paladin possessing a Spirit Sword.

A Great Orc Warrior.

"Uh…"

The wind changed with the appearance of the man.

The northern wind that only felt chilly till then, was now approaching the freezing point.

Gulp.

It's not some other Orc.

Even those who did not know the history of the Great Warriors could not open their mouths because of his demeanour and mettle.

Those who had just been shouting till their throats burst, now could not utter even a word and could only swallow drily.

‘Shit.'

I mean, imagine this kind of timing.

It's not pouring cold water on you, more like drowning you in it. We just won the battle, but before we could fully savour our victory, this guy appeared and demolished all our feelings of exaltation.

Whether he knew this or not, the Great Warrior walked in slowly, and gazed intently at Callius, who was sitting on the pile of Orc corpses.

Kung, kung.

He put down the axes in his hands on the ground.

Cricking his neck and relaxing his body, he quietly waited for the battle to commence.

"I, master… Shall we run away?"

Bruns was terrified.

Quick-witted as always, he seemed to have realized that the level of the Great Warrior was quite different from the ones he'd met so far.

Just look at him, the aura he emanates is enough to overwhelm the surroundings and sink the very air, so what can you do?

‘Escape will be difficult.'

Only one enemy. However, his level far exceeded the Orcs they had met till now. If you run away, you die.

The moment they try to run away, they will be caught one by one and their limbs torn apart.

‘You must fight.'

Fortunately, it was a Great Warrior.

He acknowledged the etiquette of battle.

He was just warming up, not rushing in to attack.

A leisurely arrogance.

And anticipation.

For the battle to come.

For the brutal slaughter he shall commit!

To avenge his dead comrades!

"Step back."

Seuluk.

Callius loosened his cloak and stepped forward.

He pulled out Lucen from his waist and stabbed it onto the ground.

Loas' scabbard was also removed.

Every single possible distraction was put away.

And lastly.

Click.

The artifact on his wrist –

He loosened Vivi's Bracelet.

Kwang! Kwang! Kwang! Minute explosions racked Callius' body, because of the overflowing divine power raging inside him.

Blood flowed from his lips as if to represent that excruciating pain.

But despite that flowing blood –

His expression was infinitely calm.

The only things reflecting in his slow-moving pupils were his sword and the figure of his enemy.

There was no hesitation.

Kwaaang –!

Silver petals fluttered.

Editor's Notes:

[1] 아픈 손가락이 (lit. sore finger) is used by parents worrying about a child not doing well. See this article for a full explanation.

[2] 콩 볶아 (lit. roasting beans) is part of the proverb 번갯불에 콩 볶아 먹겠다 (lit. eat beans roasted in lightning) which means being agile in action, agile enough to be able to roast beans in lightning's fire.