Chapter 14

Children of Luo Beidra

A blizzard raged across the snowy mountains.

Though it was spring, the snowstorm only grew fiercer.

Snowfall so violent it was rarely seen even in winter lashed the mountains. The snow from the past winter had not yet melted, and today's snowfall piled up layer upon layer atop it.

Amidst it all, there were eight travelers.

They walked along a narrow cliff path—barely wide enough for a single adult. The snow piled there rose higher than their chests. Even with tools like shovels, it would have been unthinkable to clear a path.

On top of that, the wind howled against the cliff as if trying to push them off the edge, while the snow rode the gusts, obscuring their vision and threatening to bury them alive.

And yet, they walked.

At the front, one man carved a path.

He appeared to be the youngest among them.

With no tools, using only his bare hands, he pushed through the snow and advanced. The walls of snow parted under his strength, becoming a path, and neither the fierce wind nor the heavy snowfall could slow him or throw him off course.

The seven behind him followed, eyes fixed on his heels. Even wrapped in layers of winter clothing, they trembled as the cold pierced through to their skin.

"..."

After clearing the path for a long while, he suddenly turned his head.

He looked at the woman directly behind him—she kept her head down, unable to lift it against the wind, following only his back.

Even as he continued forward, he glanced back at her several times. Her steps were uneven. Her face was hidden, but something was clearly wrong.

He called her name, but she did not respond.

He stopped walking and narrowed his eyes at her. She failed to notice he had stopped and took another step forward—only to bump into him, letting out a small cry as her body tilted to the side.

The moment she began to fall, he quickly reached out his right hand. Grabbing the back of her neck, he called her name again.

"Roberta."

Only then did she come back to her senses.

At the same time, she realized her body was tilting sharply to the left.

It wasn't because she had misstepped. It was because he had pulled her sharply from the side. Unable to react, she was dragged toward him, her nose hitting his chest with a thud.

"Ugh!"

She groaned and lifted her head.

"That was dangerous."

It was Ulrich, the man holding the back of her neck.

Roberta looked toward the place she had been standing—and where she had been about to step.

It was a sheer drop.

Below was nothing but open air, where fierce winds carried swirling snow.

A chill ran down her spine. Only then did she fully realize—she had been walking along a cliff.

Why? Her mind had suddenly grown hazy, overwhelmed by wandering thoughts that had nearly led her to her death.

If he hadn't caught her, she would already be down there.

"Th-thank you… my lord."

Ulrich released her neck and roughly shook her head. Her body wobbled from the force, but her mind began to clear.

The reason became immediately apparent.

He opened his hand in front of her, and a monster flapped weakly in his palm.

It was thin, like a translucent sheet of dough spread flat, with dozens of thin, apricot-colored tentacles protruding from its center.

"It was clinging to your head."

"…What?"

"Wasn't your mind just now feeling foggy? This thing caused it. It secretes a substance that induces hallucinations. It rides the wind and targets the heads of animals."

Startled, she grabbed her head with both hands.

She had been wearing a winter hat—thick, fur-lined with ear covers. Because of that, the small, lightweight creature had not made direct contact with her scalp.

"You're lucky you were wearing a hat. If it had touched your head directly, it wouldn't have ended with just a dazed mind. The hallucinations are merely a means to keep you from noticing its contact."

Ulrich clenched his fist and crushed the creature.

She suddenly remembered—she had seen something like this in the magical compendium the lord himself had written. And beside the illustration, there had been a short explanation:

"Though the success rate is low, if it happens to settle on the head, it melts through the skull and wraps its tentacles around the brain, feeding on it bit by bit."

She bit her lip.

"..."

A sharp smack echoed.

Turning around, she saw Duke Vailen gripping one of his retainers by the collar. The man's cheek was red—he had clearly been struck—but he looked so dazed that he didn't even seem to feel the pain.

Vailen slapped him again, then brushed the snow off his hat.

There, too, was the same creature.

"Stay alert at all times. In this place, carelessness is death."

Behind Ulrich, Roberta clicked her tongue in amazement.

He was striding forward, clearing the snow along the cliff path.

The snow piled high and the cold winds raged, yet he pushed forward without any sign of strain, carving a path ahead. The other seven simply followed in his wake.

His appearance was no less remarkable. While the seven—including Roberta—shivered even under layers of winter clothing, Ulrich wore only a single light outfit. Just looking at him made one feel cold.

And yet, he showed no sign of feeling the cold, nor any loss of stamina. Even after several days of leading the way through the snowy mountains, his steps never slowed.

"There's a place nearby where we can rest. Just hold on a little longer."

Not only that—his sense of direction was impeccable. To Roberta's eyes, there was nothing but endless snow, yet Ulrich never failed to know where they were or where they needed to go.

Even when dusk fell in places where it seemed impossible to escape the storm, he would brush aside the snow—and a cave would appear.

Of course, inside there was nothing but cold air. But in a blizzard-ridden mountain, being able to avoid the wind and light a fire through the night was more than enough.

"We'll descend the mountain tomorrow, so at least walking will be easier."

Because he knew the locations of such caves, the group never had to sleep exposed to the storm. Roberta asked how he knew about these places, even though she already had a guess.

"I found them myself."

Ulrich answered as he loosened his pack.

"While I've been lord of Dithmarschen, there haven't been few who sought the Ice Peninsula. Camping each time was too dangerous. I might be fine, but others would easily freeze to death. So whenever I climbed the Caldorekai Mountains, I searched for places like this and memorized them."

"You have an excellent memory."

"If I didn't, my guests would die. What other choice is there?"

He gathered firewood and lit a campfire—materials he had collected along the way. Occasionally, very occasionally, there were times when the snow melted and plants could grow.

And apparently, that was true.

Moreover, since they had grown during such brief thaws and later died when snow returned, they had been buried beneath the snow. Because of that, they had absorbed too much moisture and were not easily usable.

But when he grasped it in his hand, the firewood became completely dry.

Roberta's eyes lit up at the sight.

"I've been wondering for a while now… My lord, have you also studied magic?"

It was the first time she had seen him manipulate mana since the consecration.

"I know enough. When I was born, it was considered a basic skill."

"That's quite refined for something you call 'enough.' The flow is very delicate."

"This much is something you can do as well."

She smiled awkwardly and shook her head.

"I'm not good with delicate work."

She recalled how, despite being greatly favored by mana—enough to be noticed by the Inquisition—she had often caused accidents due to her poor control.

"Didn't Alonso teach you?"

"I learned… but it doesn't work well."

"Come to think of it, that child wasn't very good at teaching others."

After a moment of thought, Ulrich placed his hand over the back of Roberta's and handed her a piece of firewood. Startled by the sudden contact, she instinctively tried to pull away.

"My lord?"

"I'll guide it. Try it once."

"No… it's fine—"

"Trust me. I taught Alonso as well."

Roberta hesitated, but seeing his serious expression, she nodded and gathered mana at her fingertips. Then she let the mana flow into the firewood, guiding the moisture inside it to be expelled outward.

Normally, she would have failed immediately.

There was too much mana within her body. Even the small amount she thought she was releasing was far too much for the firewood to contain. Like rainwater overflowing a dam at its peak, the wood would have broken apart.

But this time was different.

The amount of mana flowing into the firewood was very small.

He was controlling it.

The mana she poured out was being regulated between her fingertips and the wood—like controlling a dam's floodgates.

Her eyes widened as she looked at him.

"Did you feel it? That's how you control the flow."

"I think… I understand a little."

"Be calmer. Control it as if you're being overly cautious."

Following his advice, she adjusted the flow. The dampness of the wood in her hand gradually turned into dryness.

Only then did Ulrich remove his hand and smile.

"Remember the sensation. Mana belongs to the realm of feeling. If you forget it, it will be difficult to do again. So you must repeat it and engrave it into your subconscious."

Roberta nodded.

"You said you taught Alonso as well earlier."

"Yes. He was quite unskilled for someone with his potential. The more I think about it, the more it seems the Church is not what it used to be. There are fewer and fewer good teachers."

"..."

"If you wish, I can help you from time to time. What do you say?"

She hesitated to answer.

A priest of the Church receiving instruction from a secular lord?

Considering her position, it was not something she could answer lightly.

"There's no need to decide right away. It's not urgent."

"…It seems you are quite generous in teaching, Duke of Dithmarschen."

Vailen, who had been quietly observing, interjected.

"It's just a pastime. There are few things as enjoyable as nurturing someone with talent."

Ulrich paused briefly, recalling something, and continued.

"Though in a different direction, Banares was also full of talent. That's why he was able to reach that position."

"He said it was thanks to you."

Ulrich shook his head with a faint smile and stood up.

He looked over the group gathered around the campfire. They were warming their bodies soaked from the snow, each rummaging through their packs for food—jerky, dried fish, biscuits, and the like.

Roberta glanced up at him.

He barely ate.

It wasn't that he didn't eat at all. But compared to her or the others, what he consumed was almost negligible.

At most, he would boil snow and drink pine pollen tea.

When she had once found it strange and asked him about it, he had simply said:

"This is enough for me."

If she had eaten like that, her cheeks would have hollowed within days—but he showed no change at all.

Even now, she watched him, wondering if he would once again drink only tea.

"Rest here."

"You're going out?"

Vailen asked.

"The food is lacking, so I'll go catch something. There should be a fair amount of edible creatures around here."

When Vailen stood, offering to accompany him, Roberta rose as well. But Ulrich raised his hand to stop her.

"If you come too, who will stay and look after the others?"

"Roberta, stay behind and tend to them."

Everyone's faces showed clear signs of exhaustion. After days of walking through blizzards, their stamina had been heavily drained. Some even showed early signs of frostbite and needed immediate attention.

She knew basic healing magic, so treating frostbite and minor injuries was no problem for her.

After the two men left, she tended to the group and then suddenly asked Count Velido:

"Count, do you remember what we talked about the other day?"

"The other day?" He tilted his head, then let out an "Ah."

Two days earlier, just like now, when the two had been absent, Roberta had spoken with the count about various things.

At that time, she had learned that the count and his retainers each owed Duke Vailen a personal debt and had joined the journey to repay it.

But that was not what she meant now.

After that conversation, she had asked:

—"What kind of person is Banares?"

Banares, the king of the Kingdom of Carbonihar.

Though he held the title of "Great King," she had never heard his name before. It was only natural—the Kingdom of Carbonihar had only begun to spread his name across the continent relatively recently.

According to the count, King Banares was essentially the founder of Carbonihar. Before him, it had been nothing more than a small kingdom—one that had, in fact, once fallen.

"What you are curious about, Priestess, is the relationship between King Banares and the Duke of Dithmarschen… is that correct?"

Roberta nodded.

Vailen was not the only one whose attitude had changed after Ulrich revealed his names.

The count and all his retainers now treated Ulrich with respect.

To her, their change in attitude did not seem to come from following their lord, Vailen. It felt like something that arose from within themselves.

Why?

What meaning did Ulrich—no, Laurent—and all those names he had listed carry?

"Before ascending to the throne, King Banares faced four great crises. Each time, he had to flee, moving from one land to another. And each time, a certain traveler came to his aid."

Count Velido continued, explaining that this story was well known throughout Carbonihar—so well known that it was often adapted into theatrical plays.

"Four crises, four travelers—benefactors whom the king wished to meet again during his lifetime. To us, their names have only been passed down as aliases used in those plays… and until now, we believed they were all different people."