Chapter 340: Adela of the Northland

Rivers Town was one of the rare few that had not been greatly affected by the will of the Supreme King.

Perhaps it was because the guards from Greenwood maintained order, or perhaps the Supreme King’s bloodline flowed within this place. At the very least, when Aen returned to Rivers Town with his Iron Guards, the town’s garrison was at first startled—but quickly erupted into cheers.

Upon entering the fortress courtyard, Aen spoke to Fried, who had hurriedly come to greet him, “Fried, this little one will be your playmate from now on.”

Fried Collins, Aen’s eldest son.

Though called his eldest, he was in fact merely the child born of Aen’s wife. Before the gentry were expelled, a marriage of Aen’s status required the approval of the main house. Even so, before that, he had not refrained from seeking out courtesans. Considering those circumstances, perhaps some courtesan had conceived his child and given birth in some corner of the land.

Besides Fried, Aen had another two children—a boy of two years and a girl not yet one—both born after he had gained independence from the gentry.

He still occasionally hunted during his trading journeys, and who knew if there were some illegitimate bloodline scattered outside.

In the past, although Fried made Aen think he would struggle to inherit his business and become a merchant, once Aen’s younger brother came of age, they could at least live decently by supporting each other.

But now…

Aen frowned and said, “Look at your attire.”

Fried wore a crude animal bone upon his head, a gem crudely inlaid on its surface, and draped loosely in white bear fur.

These items were clearly valuable, yet when combined on Fried, they appeared utterly awkward—like an old, frail man stealing a knight’s armor and believing himself to be powerful.

Fried shrank back timidly, mumbling something under his breath as he tightened the white bear fur around him.

Aen’s dissatisfaction grew. His gaze swept the surroundings; everyone who met his eyes lowered their heads, while the Iron Guards’ hands subtly moved toward their weapons.

Suddenly, Aen swung his riding whip and lashed it across Fried’s face.

“Ahhh—!” Fried let out a sharp cry, his hand—still clutching the white bear fur—went limp as he covered his face.

Aen struck again, this time at the bear fur.

It was the hide of a Snowfield Berserk Bear. Though Aen’s strength could not deliver pain through such hide, the force was enough to lift the fur slightly.

What he saw beneath was disheveled—on Fried’s skin were faint red marks.

Marks left by a woman’s ardent lips.

Aen inhaled deeply.

Fried continued to wail loudly.

Everyone in the fortress lowered their heads, trembling all over.

The Iron Guards had already drawn their weapons.

“What are you still standing around for! Prepare hot water and supper!” Aen’s voice thundered.

Those nearby quickly responded and scattered in panic.

Aen no longer looked at Fried. Instead, he turned to the girl he had brought and said, “From today onward, your name is Adela Collins. You are my adopted daughter—the Princess of the Northland.”

The girl’s body trembled. Her eyes were vacant; she did not yet understand what Aen’s words meant.

Ignoring Fried, who was still crying on the ground, Aen led Adela and the Iron Guards into the fortress.

He summoned someone to inquire about the town’s recent state.

As Aen had expected on the way, there had been an escape attempt, but the Greenwood men and Fried’s intervention had stabilized things.

Other than that, to the east—where Annihilation once held territory—a massive iceberg had appeared six days ago. On that very day, people vaguely saw enormous dragons flying around it, and the dark clouds above had dispersed.

Aen understood. That iceberg must be the Land of Destiny that Bishop Jeven had mentioned. As for the Annihilation Army that had once been stationed there—it was clear they were now gone.

“Have the men of the Comrades Group returned?” Aen asked.

“Yes, my lord,” replied Ivan, Aen’s former assistant during his merchant days. “They returned quite early. The group’s leader and vice leader both came back, but one of their vice leaders named Cooper did not. After that iceberg appeared, Commander Hode was never seen again.”

Ivan now served as Aen’s steward in Rivers Town.

“Cooper…” Aen repeated softly.

That name was the second most familiar to him in the Northland. Cooper had once been captured together with Hode on their way to Greenwood. Any merchant traveling between the Northland and Greenwood naturally knew of such ‘notable figures.’

But now that all the Comrades had returned except Cooper, Aen believed the man was likely dead.

After all, since his name had become known among Greenwood’s merchants, Cooper had never once been apart from Hode.

Aen looked at Ivan and asked, “So now, only that Vice Commander Zeke remains in the Comrades’ Home?”

“Yes, my lord,” Ivan replied.

Aen waved his hand. “Go invite Commander Zeke here. Remember—be polite. The Comrades Group are my friends.”

Ivan bowed and left.

Not long after, he returned, bringing Zeke with him.

“It seems you also have something to discuss with me,” Aen said, motioning for Zeke to sit beside him.

At the center of the hall, by the bonfire, servants were setting down platters wrapped in beast hide—meat-filled bread and rye beer. The Iron Guards devoured them loudly, exhausted after five days of marching with only one night’s rest and barely a proper meal.

Before Aen and Zeke was a wooden table. Having come from Greenwood and accustomed to some comfort, Aen still disliked this Northland custom of eating by a bonfire with beast hides for tables.

“Commander Hode has departed,” Zeke said in a low voice. “I am now the leader of the Comrades Group. Of course, according to Commander Hode’s words, I should be called the Pioneer of the Comrades.”

“I see.” Aen nodded. “So that iceberg has something to do with Commander Hode?”

“I don’t know. But I suspect it does,” Zeke replied. “From afar, I saw that after Commander Hode entered the former Hoover Territory, a frost storm arose—and then a legendary dragon descended.”

The two fell into silence.

It was Zeke who spoke again first. “I tried to approach, but the frost surrounding it blocked me. Even when I forced my way forward, the cold made me faint. When I woke, I was already outside the frost.”

Aen asked, “Was it the dragon—or Commander Hode?”

“I don’t know,” Zeke answered.

Aen then asked, “Then what brings you to me?”

“Only to inform you of these matters,” Zeke said.

“Only that?” Aen pressed.

After a moment’s silence, Zeke finally said, “Before Commander Hode went east, he told me something.”

He then repeated to Aen what Hode had said—about the Will of the Northland.

Aen slowly nodded. “I see. No wonder the Northland bloodline is so frenzied.”

Then he looked at Zeke again. “But now, it seems that influence of the Northland bloodline has faded.”

Before the iceberg appeared, and after—it was as though two completely different worlds in Frozen Furnace City, judging from how the people treated him.

Zeke said nothing.

Aen continued, “I left five days ago—one day after the iceberg appeared—and hurried back to Rivers Territory. I’ve heard no news from Frozen Furnace, but I imagine rebellion must have already begun there. As Greenwood always says, never trust the loyalty of nobles or gentry. In their eyes, there is only profit. And letting a Greenwood man like me be the Supreme King hardly aligns with their interests.”

Zeke said, “From ancient times, the Northlanders have never been xenophobic. Anyone who comes to the Northland—so long as they can survive here—will be accepted as one of us.”

Aen asked, “Is that what you believe?”

Zeke replied, “The last Supreme King came from the Woodlands.”

Aen asked, “The ancestor of King Aureus?”

Zeke did not answer.

Aen nodded and continued, “Then what do you think? Or rather, what does the pride of the Northland—the Comrades Group—believe?”

Zeke said, “You are a friend of the Comrades. We all believe you are a good lord. And we believe, too, that you will be a Supreme King whose name shall be sung.”

Aen said, “The western nobles of the Northland have already rebelled, intent on driving me out as Supreme King. The Greenwood warriors stationed in Rivers will soon return home—they are Greenwood’s men and should not meddle in the Northland’s internal affairs.”

Zeke lowered his head. “The Comrades Group will always obey the Supreme King of the Northland.”

Aen said, “That alone is not enough.”

Zeke lifted his head and looked at Aen.

Aen picked up a cup of honey wine, stood, and raised it high. His voice rang through the hall.

“To the loyal and brave Iron Guards—my proud Iron Guards, my proud Northland Warriors!”

The Iron Guards, their faces and armor slick with oil, hurriedly rose to their feet, lifting their large mugs of ale high as they shouted in unison, “To the great Supreme King!”

Aen drained his cup together with his Iron Guards, then burst into hearty laughter, and the Iron Guards followed, laughing thunderously alongside him.

Zeke watched, his expression grim.

Finally, Aen raised his hand, and the Iron Guards immediately fell silent.

Aen said, “Tomorrow, we march east together. That is my Land of Destiny. And when we return west from there, the future of the Northland shall change according to my will.”

“King! King! King!” the Iron Guards roared, their voices echoing throughout the hall. Among them, Bazle’s shout was especially loud, piercing through the chamber so powerfully that the servants within the fortress trembled in fear.

Aen spoke again, “After you’ve eaten your fill, Ivan has prepared warm water and abundant women for you. Enjoy this night well. If anyone fancies a woman, I shall be the witness to your wedding and bestow my blessing upon your child. This is my reward for my loyal Iron Guards.”

The Iron Guards cheered loudly, while Aen seated himself once more.

Gradually, the cheers waned, and the Iron Guards hastened their eating.

Zeke said in a low voice, “You have no need for the Comrades Group’s aid. With these Iron Guards by your side, you shall forever be the Supreme King of the Northland.”

Aen replied, “No, I need the Comrades Group’s help. The Comrades are the pride of the Northland—and they should also be my pride.”

Zeke lowered his head and murmured, “The Comrades Group will always remain loyal to you.”

Aen said, “The Iron Guards are my sharpest sword and my strongest shield, but I hope the Comrades can become my eyes.”

Zeke replied, “I think the Rat Path is more suited to be your eyes. Once your throne is secure, they will send someone to sign a pact with you. They will become your sight.”

Aen narrowed his eyes. He was not unfamiliar with the Rat Path, though only by hearsay. Since the founding of the Church of the Sanctuary, the Rat Path had vanished entirely from Greenwood. Only after trade routes were established with the Northland did some merchants occasionally deal with them.

But that had nothing to do with Aen. The Rivers Territory where he traded was so poor—and so close to the territory once invaded by the Lords of Annihilation—that even the Rat Path refused to extend their network there.

The Rat Path was convenient, yes, but Aen trusted the Church far more. The Rat Path dared not operate anywhere the Church stood; therefore, Aen naturally did not trust them.

He said, “I do not trust the Rat Path.”

Zeke answered, “The Rat Path is the strongest set of eyes.”

Aen reaffirmed, “I do not trust the Rat Path, and I will not sign a pact with them.”

Zeke fell silent, then finally said, “The Comrades Group are Northland Warriors. They are not suited to be your eyes. However, I can recommend a few people who could serve that purpose.”

Aen asked, “Are they trustworthy?”

Zeke replied, “I am willing to vouch for them.”

Aen nodded slightly, then said, “I need an advisor—and your wisdom is one I have come to admire.”

Zeke suddenly raised his head, staring at Aen.

Aen sighed, his face filled with sorrow as he said, “I need your help, Zeke. On my way here, I passed through a village. A man there begged me—he begged me to eat him, so that I would not eat anyone else.”

“This is cannibalism, Zeke. To this day, the Senate of Greenwood has poured more than half the grain produced under last year’s miracle harvest into the Northland—enough to feed over two million people for a year. And yet, how many people does the Northland have now? No more than six hundred thousand. Even so, the people of the Northland must eat one another to survive.”

“I am the Supreme King of the Northland. I have brave Iron Guards. I lack no strength—but I lack wisdom to guide me.”

“So come help me, Zeke. You are the Pioneer of the Comrades, and the Comrades are the pride of the Northland. Commander Hode called you the Pioneer so that you would also become a forerunner of the Northland itself.”

Aen looked at Zeke with genuine sincerity as he extended his invitation.

Zeke’s gaze wavered. He said, “You already have Greenwood scholars assisting you. I am merely a Northland barbarian—how could my wisdom compare to theirs?”

Aen said, “That is Greenwood’s wisdom. But this is the Northland. Since when has wisdom ever been determined by the blood flowing in one’s veins? At the very least, I have witnessed your wisdom—and I believe you can help me bring a new future to the Northland.”

Zeke said, “I am the Pioneer of the Comrades. I should remain with them.”

Aen said, “You are indeed the Pioneer of the Comrades. But now, the Northland needs you too. I promise you—only one generation’s time is needed. No, not even a generation—only until today’s children grow up. When they can inherit the warriors’ legacy, you may leave my side.”

“Three years. Three years will be enough. Adela is the girl I rescued from that village. She is now my adopted daughter. She does not know her age, but I will tell her that today is her birthday, that she is nine years old. Three years from now, she will be twelve. I have heard Commander Hode slew an Icefield Wolf at the age of twelve to complete his coming-of-age rite. So at twelve, a child of the Northland should also cry out his—or her—first battle cry upon the frozen tundra.”

Zeke finally sighed and said, “But during that time, I will still be the Pioneer of the Comrades.”

Aen smiled. “Yes, of course. You will always be the Pioneer of the Comrades.”

Aen lifted the wine jug himself, poured a cup, and raised it toward Zeke. “To the Pioneer.”

Zeke lifted his own cup. “To the Supreme King of the Northland.”

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