Chapter 654
[Who are you.]
It was a voice colder than ice, as though it held not a shred of interest in another person.
Simon took a fleeting moment to choose his words before speaking.
Keep it short. Only the necessary. Quick and concise.
“I am Simon Follentia from Keyzen! By the order of Lady Neftis, I have come to the northern region of Carlos.”
He respectfully presented the letter stamped with Neftis’ seal, but the glowing eyes within the helmet didn’t even glance at it.
[I have never given permission for an outsider to visit.]
Flutter!
The Grand Duke turned his back, his crimson cloak whipping roughly in the air.
[And the north is not so idle as to spare time teaching greenhorns.]
The Grand Duke pulled on the reins.
[Stand aside.]
The Grand Duke passed by Simon, and countless Phantom Dullahans followed behind. Trapped amidst the marching cavalry, Simon couldn’t move an inch and had to stand dumbfounded until the entire army had departed.
At last, after all the undead forces had ridden out, only the fleeting, futile whirlwinds of dust swept through the air.
‘Phew.’
Simon tucked Neftis’ letter back into his chest while watching the Grand Duke and the undead soldiers retreating into the distance.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. Just facing him and enduring that gaze alone was enough to make him feel utterly drained.
‘What overwhelming presence.’
Though the first encounter went poorly, Simon wasn’t discouraged—on the contrary, he burned with even greater resolve.
What kind of person was the Grand Duke of the North? What kind of life had he lived, and what values did he hold?
His curiosity only deepened. He wanted, at all costs, to speak with that senior legion commander.
[Kuhaha! As expected, you’ve been turned away at the gates! Now, what will you do, boy?]
Feer, who had been watching, laughed in amusement. Simon too lifted the corner of his lips.
“I’ll just stubbornly cling until he agrees to see me.”
Simon turned toward the Grand Duke’s castle.
The Phantom Dullahan unit had only just left, so the castle gates were still open. There weren’t even guards posted, so Simon slipped into the inner fortress without trouble.
‘Hmm.’
For the dwelling place of humanity’s famed hero—the Grand Duke of the North—it was rather small and austere.
It was designed purely as a bulwark against external threats, stripped of any luxuries or pleasures one would expect in a noble’s residence. There were no sculptures, fountains, or even grass lawns.
Most of the buildings seemed to be weapon depots, food storage, or civilian shelters.
Simon carefully avoided horse droppings and reached the entrance. The thick iron doors were ajar, and he slipped inside.
“Excuse me!”
Unlike the snow-sleet storm outside, the inside was warm. The crackling of burning firewood echoed, and monster pelts were spread across the floor.
And within the castle stood a single man.
A blunt face, stubborn eyebrows, a hook in place of his right hand, and an eyepatch over one eye. His old, ragged shirt revealed a chest thickly covered in hair.
“Whatcha want.”
That was the man’s first remark.
Simon politely replied,
“I am Simon Follentia, from Keyzen.”
“What’s a Keyzen.”
Simon blinked.
Until now, whenever he introduced himself as being from Keyzen, people were shocked or incredulous. Such a plain reaction was new.
“I came by Lady Neftis’ order to meet the Grand Duke.”
The man smacked his lips. Even Neftis’ name failed to rouse interest.
‘So the atmosphere here in the North really is different.’
Not only were news and messages slow to reach Carlos’ north due to geography, but the northerners, struggling daily just to survive, had no interest in the outside world at all.
That’s why it was common for outsiders to lean on their social status, only to get beaten up and thrown out by the northerners.
This harsh land, plagued by foreign invaders, acknowledged nothing but sheer strength. Even a royal of noble blood was considered a useless lump of fat who couldn’t run or fight in the eyes of northerners.
The man gave Simon a once-over with little faith in his eyes, then picked up a feather duster.
“The Grand Duke is not someone so idle. You’ll likely not be able to meet him.”
“And you are?”
“I’m Godrick, the steward of this castle.”
That man’s the steward?
He looked more like a warrior ready to leap onto the battlefield and crush goblin skulls with his thick arms.
Though with that hook-hand, wielding a sword would be difficult.
“I’d like to know when the Grand Duke will return.”
“He departed on campaign just now. He’ll be back by evening.”
“Would it be alright if I waited until evening?”
Godrick let out a long sigh.
“You may wait if you wish, but even then, he won’t see you.”
“I’ll wait.”
Simon sat on a nearby chair. Steward Godrick simply went off to clean another window, indifferent.
There was no atmosphere of hospitality here anyway, so Simon sat idly in wait.
Time passed.
After two hours of sitting on the hard chair, his back started to ache. Simon got up and stretched when—
‘Hm?’
Out the window, he saw a woman struggling to push a cart stuck in the muddy road.
The donkey pulling the cart was straining, but to no avail.
Simon slowly rose from his seat.
* * *
“Thank you so much for helping me!”
Simon had summoned skeletons to pull the cart free from the mud. The woman bowed her head repeatedly in gratitude.
“Of course, it’s only right to help.”
Simon replied while observing her.
Even the women of the north had impressive builds. Whether it was their bones or something else, they were tall, broad-shouldered, and thick-armed. She wore a long apron and had a white cloth tied around her head.
She smiled warmly.
“You must be an outsider.”
“Ah, yes. How did you know?”
She made a gesture, sweeping her palm up and down his face.
“Your face is far too clean. You look just like a young noble lord. Around here, if a man doesn’t grow a beard, people mock him, saying he looks like a woman.”
“......Ahaha.”
So that was why everyone here sported such thick beards.
He should have grown one too.
“I’m Grayson.”
“Simon Follentia.”
Simon walked alongside Grayson, exchanging small talk. Perhaps because he had helped her, she was the first northerner to treat him warmly since his arrival.
The cart was loaded with milk. She explained that she and her father ran a reindeer farm nearby.
Taking the chance, Simon asked the question that had been on his mind.
“You said something about to be acknowledged by the northerners?”
She fell silent for a moment, then said,
“A beard?”
“……Aside from that.”
“Hahaha! Just kidding. Hmm, let’s see. I was born and raised here, so it’s second nature to me—hard to explain to an outsider. Hmm, how should I put it….”
She paused in thought, then spoke firmly.
“Pride!”
“Pride?”
“Yes! All northerners carry pride.”
She raised her index finger.
“The pride of guardianship! Protecting one’s land, one’s family, one’s fief. Even a newborn baby isn’t exempt. Once a cradle is chosen, it’s never replaced. It’s tradition that even an infant must protect its own domain—the cradle.”
Northerners never run.
For them, daily life itself is war, and war is inseparable from daily life.
Even when going down to the river to hang laundry, they often had to draw the dagger at their waist to fight off monsters. Returning home only after cutting down two or three monsters was routine.
Had they refused to risk their lives in countless brushes with death, had they chosen flight over battle, the North would not have endured.
What is given to them, they protect without hesitation. That duty, passed down through generations, evolved into pride.
The pride of guardianship bound the northerners together.
“Each northerner is respected as a ‘protector’. Anyone who flees from danger or abandons what they are meant to guard is branded a coward. For warriors who risk their lives multiple times a day for pride, how could they look kindly upon outsiders wandering in, sniffing for something to take from the North?”
Simon nodded.
‘The pride of guardianship.’
He understood what it meant.
But as an outsider, how could he possibly prove such a thing? Simon sank deeper into thought.
* * *
After parting with Grayson, Simon returned to the Grand Duke’s castle.
More waiting. Endless waiting. Steward Godrick clearly had no interest in whatever Simon did, so Simon decided to wander the halls and look around.
Creak, creak—
The old castle’s wooden floors groaned in chorus with every step. From the castle’s worn and frugal state, Simon could sense how dire the North’s finances must be.
‘Oh.’
He found a wall lined with portraits of successive Grand Dukes of the North.
Every one of them had black hair, rugged faces, and thick beards. Their fierce, hawk-like eyes spoke of men who had ruled over the wild northerners.
‘The Grand Duke’s face must resemble these men, right?’
When he had met him earlier, the Grand Duke had worn a helmet, hiding his face. Simon, still wandering, stepped into an open chamber.
It was the Grand Duke’s office. No personal items—just training equipment and racks of the weapons and armor he used.
All the armor was the same type: pitch-black plate armor. Clearly, he wore only this design, again and again.
Simon was reaching out to touch one of the helmets when—
“Grand Duke! T-this is terrible! A disaster!”
A frantic cry came from outside.
“What’s the matter? The Grand Duke left for battle not long ago.”
It was Steward Godrick’s voice. Simon hurried to the doorway. There, a courier, snow piled on his helmet, was gasping for breath as he reported.
“Banzdale Fiefdom is under attack! The invading undead number at least 500! There’s even a Named among them!”
“Five hundred?”
Godrick’s jaw dropped.
“How could a force of that scale move without anyone noticing?!”
“They must have used a route unknown to us. We need the Grand Duke and the knights!”
“The Grand Duke only departed for Dondra a few hours ago! And Banzdale, that’s where the Grand Duke’s relatives live! Issue an evacuation order immediately!”
“The people of Banzdale won’t leave! Even if it means annihilation, they’ll fight!”
At that moment—
“I’ll go.”
The two men looked up in surprise.
On the second-floor balcony stood a blue-haired boy, hand raised. The courier snapped irritably,
“This isn’t a place for a child to interfere—!”
“Don’t be fooled by appearances. I’m a necromancer from Keyzen.”
Simon lifted the Grand Duke’s helmet he had just picked up, and slowly placed it on his head.
It fit as if it were his own.
Thud!
Simon leapt down from the balcony in a single bound, landing lightly.
The steward and the courier recoiled in shock, stepping aside.
“I have a good idea.”
From the shadows of the helmet, dark blue light gleamed in his eyes.
Superb.
When are we getting more free chapters?
Thanks for the new chapters
Very good story and translation but half the chapter aren't for free and it is wayyyy too expensive will it stat like tjis foreve or will it get free after some time