Chapter 344: Song of the Northland

Aen naturally did not agree to what Marquis Severus had said.

Even Bishop Jeven had once told him to pacify the Northland with the strength of the Northlanders themselves.

Now that he had become the Supreme King of the Northland, Aen naturally would not borrow the strength of Greenwood.

When he returned to Rivers Town, just as Zeke had said, he was already gathering warriors.

However, how many warriors could Rivers Town possibly gather now?

The town could only accommodate a population of just over three thousand. When the Will of the Supreme King had summoned them before, things were manageable within the town, but most of the people outside had already left.

Zeke’s recruitment standard required at least Tier Three.

It was the same as the entry standard for the Comrades Group.

Given how brutal the Northland War was—especially when they intended to strike through the western Northland in one go—Tier Two warriors couldn’t even keep up with the march.

So by the time Aen returned to Rivers Town, Zeke had only gathered a little more than two hundred warriors.

That number already included the members of the Comrades Group.

“Perhaps this is the limit,” Zeke said helplessly. “Even if everyone in town is willing to swear loyalty to you, there just aren’t enough warriors who meet the standard.”

“Yes, I understand,” Aen replied. “But these men are already enough.”

Zeke glanced at the Crown of Thorns upon Aen’s head, then at the eight Iron Guards, and could not help but smile. “If you’re that confident, then yes—this number is enough.”

In Zeke’s eyes, among the Iron Guards were seven Tier Four Northland Warriors and one Tier Five Warrior. Among the members of The Ring were another six Tier Four Northland Warriors, plus himself, a Tier Five Warrior.

With so much elite strength, they were already beyond the norm for the current Northland.

All they lacked were some low-tier warriors.

Even if things went as poorly as possible—if every Northlander in the west refused to acknowledge this Supreme King from Greenwood and refused to submit to him—

With such an overwhelming concentration of high-tier strength, pacifying the Northland would only be a matter of time.

After all, there were no Holy Relics left in the Northland now.

Still, when Zeke thought back to those men who had enthusiastically signed up for recruitment…

He didn’t really believe that worst-case scenario would happen.

Before anything else, what mattered most was the bearing of Aen—the Supreme King of the Northland.

Last night, Zeke had already witnessed Aen’s determination. Now, Aen was showing him a different kind of presence—one unlike the merchant’s composure of the past.

That night, everyone feasted heartily and rested for the night.

The next day, Aen led the eight Iron Guards, the warriors of the Comrades Group, and the warriors recruited by Zeke in Rivers Town, setting out toward the west.

Before they departed, Adela, now clean and dressed in clothing made from the hide of an Icefield Wolf, held a bundle of Blue Mountain Flowers and presented it to Aen, who sat upon his horse.

Her face was timid, as if she were forcing herself to suppress her fear.

So many eyes were fixed upon her—some filled with curiosity, others with the wary gaze of the Iron Guards who had slain countless men.

The scene felt strangely familiar to Aen. He glanced at Zeke, who smiled and nodded at him.

Without hesitation, Aen accepted the Blue Mountain Flowers from Adela’s trembling hands.

The Blue Mountain Flower was unique to the Northland, growing upon snow-covered peaks. Its petals carried a faint blue hue, with a hint of purple near the center. When pulled out by the roots, it chilled the holder’s palm with icy coldness—a cold that lasted for over a month before fading, after which the flower would wither and die.

Even if one tried to replant it in frozen soil, it would not survive. It seemed that only the snow-covered mountains—where ordinary plants could not live—were its eternal resting place.

After Aen accepted the flowers, Adela let out a small sigh of relief, took two steps back, and raised both her hands high. Her young, tender voice rang out:

“May the flower of the Northland bring you victory!”

Her words were awkward but forceful, her face flushed red from the effort.

Aen responded loudly, “I shall claim victory—and I shall bring peace to the Northland!”

As soon as he finished, the Iron Guards, the warriors, the Comrades Group, and the people of Rivers Town all erupted into cheers, chanting Aen’s name.

Aen raised his hand, and the roar of the army fell silent. They began their march westward. Even after they had gone far, it seemed they could still faintly hear the cheers of Rivers Town behind them.

“Was that your arrangement?” Aen asked Zeke beside him.

“I modeled it after what I heard had happened in Greenwood,” Zeke said with a smile. “It seems to have worked well. If this campaign succeeds, perhaps these Blue Mountain Flowers will take on a new meaning—and in the distant future, that meaning might become part of Northland culture.”

“Is it a blessing for the army, or a blessing for the general?” Aen asked casually.

“Who can tell the outcome?” Zeke replied. “It depends on how the story spreads afterward—how the Northlanders come to understand it… or, rather, what you expect of the Northlanders.”

“Right now, those who tell stories in the Northland are the bards from Greenwood,” Aen said.

“If Greenwood has bards, then the Northland can have them too,” Zeke said.

“They have the support of the Church’s monasteries—and the magic to spread their words.”

“Yes, it will be difficult to replace them. But no matter how difficult, for the sake of the Northland, we must still try, mustn’t we?” Zeke sighed.

“Magic isn’t exclusive to the Greenlanders. Northlanders can learn magic as well,” Aen said.

Zeke gave a bitter smile and shook his head. “Yes, of course they can. But do you truly believe Northlanders will learn magic?”

Aen fell silent.

Learning magic required time, resources—and in the Northland, even physical strength.

It was so cold there that if someone failed to return home in time to light a fire, those without strong bodies would likely freeze to death before dawn.

But if one were strong enough to survive that… would there still be a need to study magic?

At Adrian Academy of Magic in Greenwood, even a Tier Two apprentice could do little more than conjure a fireball the size of a fist.

Aen doubted whether that fireball could even roast a Walk-ground Bird.

The advanced Explosive Fireball Technique had some killing power, but no grown man would fear it—it could only make a child cry from the noise.

Only a Tier Three Initiate Mage could be considered to have any real power—at least their fireball could roast a bird, and their explosive version could kill an adult.

But in the Northland, as long as food and training were sufficient, reaching Tier Three was only a matter of time—and a Tier Three Northland Warrior with an axe could slaughter tens of thousands of birds.

Moreover, learning magic required long hours of meditation, memorizing magic circuits, and even then, success wasn’t guaranteed.

In the Northland, that was something no one could tolerate. The Northland was already poor enough—who could afford to abandon work just to study magic?

That person would have starved to death.

Aside from that, learning magic required years of study and deep research, consuming vast amounts of precious materials. Such costs were far beyond what the Northland could afford—after all, even Marquis Severus of the Wallace Territory once mocked the barrenness of the Northland.

These obstacles made it so that the harsh and impoverished Northland never had the soil for learning magic.

Moreover, compared to the power that magic brought, the Northlanders trusted their fists far more.

But after much thought, Aen finally said, “Even so, the power of magic should still be studied.”

“In the future, I shall issue a royal decree to establish an academy of magic. As for whether anyone will study there, how far they can go, or whether any mages will even be willing to teach here—that will depend on our efforts afterward.”

Zeke smiled and said, “Wise as ever, Your Majesty.”

Just as he said—even if training bards was difficult, it was something that had to be done.

And so it was with mages as well.

——

Before nightfall, Aen’s army encountered a group of people.

After a moment of vigilance, the Iron Guards recognized them—they were warriors who had once served under Aen’s command.

These warriors were not there to attack but to seek the chance to serve once more under the Supreme King, Aen.

From them, Aen finally learned what had happened in Frozen Furnace City after his departure.

And as they spoke, there was an unmistakable trace of grievance in their voices—resentment over why Aen had abandoned them.

That made Aen’s face flush slightly with shame.

But upon hearing that Aen was now marching west to once again pacify the Northland, they did not hesitate to rejoin his army.

As they continued westward, more and more warriors joined under Aen’s banner, while he also encountered civilians fleeing eastward from the direction of Frozen Furnace City, seeking the rule of the Supreme King.

All of them were willing to obey his command.

At times, Aen even felt as if he were not campaigning westward at all—

But rather, as if he were journeying eastward from Frozen Furnace City to Rivers Territory on a royal tour.

A Supreme King’s Tour of the Northland.

And now, it was as though the Supreme King, having completed his tour, was returning to his rightful fortress.

However, that illusion vanished the moment he encountered a Northland viscount who had declared independence.

This viscount was holed up within a medium-sized fortress.

Even though his voice trembled when he shouted toward Aen, he still refused to open the gates and surrender.

He wanted to negotiate terms—such as retaining his lands and title.

Aen had not agreed before, and naturally, he would not agree now.

Thus, Bazle, as before, requested permission to lead his men to seize the fortress for Aen.

But Aen refused. He said, “This battle, I shall lead personally.”

Zeke glanced at him in surprise.

He knew Aen’s background—merely a merchant from Greenwood. To say he lacked experience was an understatement—Aen had never even truly fought on a battlefield.

Zeke hesitated. He did not know whether he should allow Aen to lead the charge, nor whether he should advise against it.

But Bazle and the others were invigorated—their faces alight with fervor.

They knew that Aen possessed immense power, though they had only ever glimpsed the shadow of it. They had never seen that power in action.

Seeing their enthusiasm, Zeke ultimately chose not to dissuade Aen. Instead, he decided to stay close on the battlefield, ready to protect him.

Thus, when Zeke saw Aen let out a roar like that of a dragon, a spectral dragon’s form faintly emerging around him—then charge straight forward, smashing through the solid walls of the medium-sized fortress—Zeke stood frozen in shock.

He himself had already reached Tier Five, yet even after fully adapting to his power, he knew he could never replicate that feat. At most, he could break through a closed gate—not pierce an entire fortress.

Realizing what had just happened, Zeke quickly led the Iron Guards in a cheer.

The sound sent tremors through those inside the fortress, who soon threw down their weapons and knelt in surrender.

As for Aen, who had smashed straight through the fortress, he found himself wedged between trees, rubbing his dizzy head.

He could hear the cheering behind him, and his face turned a little awkward.

He hadn’t controlled his strength properly—after breaking through the fortress, he had kept going until several trees finally stopped him.

After all, the power he wielded had been bestowed, not forged through his own training.

Afterward, when his troops confirmed that their Supreme King possessed such unmatched might, their morale surged. They swept all the way to Frozen Furnace City, where they accepted nobles and civilians who had chosen to continue building the Pale Castle.

“We will still need people to govern the Northland,” Zeke suggested.

Aen accepted Zeke’s proposal with ease.

Naturally, it was a performance between the two of them.

The Supreme King must be supreme, but beneath him, there had to be one who could speak to him.

This act allowed the nobles to calm down more quickly—and to draw closer to Zeke.

After this campaign, Aen’s steps toward unifying the Northland slowed.

“This may make life harder for those still ruled by the rebels,” Zeke said, “but it is precisely through such contrast that your greatness will shine. Only in this way can the Northland truly become united—for peace born from chaos is always the most precious.”

Aen remained silent, but he had Greenwood as a reference. At last, he sighed and said, “Three years. This chaos shall last no longer than three years.”

He had set a time limit.

Zeke nodded. “Three years is enough—for the common folk to understand the greatness of the Supreme King, and for more stories to be born.”

“The Supreme King will always be the highest ruler of the Northland—his stories will be sung by the people. But only the stories of the lower Northland warriors, the Northland fighters, or even a single Northland commoner, will truly enter their hearts and gain their recognition.”

“These stories, woven together, will form a new Northland.”

Thus said Zeke.

And so began a unification war that lasted three years. The stories born within it were compiled into a monumental work of twenty-one volumes—The Song of the Northland—a collection as tall as a six-year-old Northland child.

Meanwhile, at the end of that same year, the Church of the Sanctuary issued the New Testament Scriptures.

And the Pope of the Church of the Sanctuary proclaimed that when the year-end bells tolled, the Eastern Crusade would officially end—thus beginning the New Testament Era.

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