Ch.71The Arduous March

The winter of Amurtat’s ninth year was unbearably harsh.

It was only November, but Amurtat, where Fahrenheit’s soldiers were heading, was located much further north than Fahrenheit, so naturally it could only be colder.

Unlike Amurtat, Fahrenheit’s soldiers, who came from inland areas far from the influence of seasonal winds or sea breezes despite being in the northern region, struggled to endure Amurtat’s cold. As a result, their condition was now transforming into something like jelly—hard on the outside but soft on the inside.

Unlike Fahrenheit, which lacked geographical factors to lower temperatures further, Amurtat was constantly exposed to sea winds blowing from the direction of Pale Harbor, with cold air from the northern mountains descending at every opportunity. The ocean currents flowing through Pale Harbor were also cold, making the perceived temperature much colder.

Naturally, as the actual temperature was also lower, Fahrenheit’s army knew that Amurtat was colder than Fahrenheit. They had prepared various cold weather supplies to withstand the cold to some extent, but as the continuous winds kept cutting into the perceived temperature, it became impossible to endure any longer.

Moreover, due to the elves’ persistent attacks and traps, supply wagons kept getting lost, causing the massive force of 15,000 to slowly wither away. Important supplies had to be abandoned due to the shortage of pack horses, and morale had already hit rock bottom.

“Sergeant… we’re going to die before we even fight at this rate. Please let us rest a little.”

“That’s right. I’ve already lost feeling in my feet.”

The soldiers, unable to sleep properly while avoiding traps and responding to ambushes, began desperately pleading for rest.

A non-commissioned officer conveyed the soldiers’ opinions to the Master and urged for rest, but…

“Keep walking. The moment you stop, you might freeze to death.”

“But… the soldiers are at their limit now…!”

“They won’t die. I know well. Just slow down the pace a bit. Order the soldiers to fill their stomachs with hardtack.”

The Master simply issued the order to “endure.”

In truth, it was an unavoidable command. In this weather, if they carelessly cooled their warmed bodies, they might truly never wake up again.

Though the Master was strong, he wasn’t a being who could change the seasons.

Well, if there were a fire dragon, its mere presence would eliminate winter’s cold, but unfortunately, Fahrenheit had no fire dragons, and the Master was also silently enduring the cold as they pressed forward.

It might have been much better if they could receive sunlight, but the densely packed branches, though stripped of leaves, stubbornly blocked the sun, leaving only fragments of light to reach the Fahrenheit army below.

Crunch! Crackle!

“Ugh… damn it…!”

And naturally, as the situation deteriorated, the quality of their most important meals plummeted into the gutter.

While anything edible for humans contained some moisture regardless of quantity, what happens to that moisture when temperatures drop below freezing is something even a child would know, so there’s no need to mention it.

The water in their canteens had long since turned to ice, making it impossible to drink a single drop, and the only thing they could chew was hardtack with moisture content approaching 0%.

In summary, the hardships faced by Fahrenheit’s soldiers were as follows:

-Shortage of supplies due to continued elven raids

-Inability to prepare meals due to the cold

-Extreme fatigue from constant ambushes and traps

-Reduced mobility from losing wagons and horses

Even one of these would be a nightmare for a commander, but with all four overlapping, it was essentially as if the angels had destined Fahrenheit to defeat.

“Damn those Amurtat bastards…! *gasp*… *gasp*… H-h-how do they endure this cold…?!”

And the soldiers suffering through this extreme pain gritted their teeth and wondered about the Amurtat people.

There should be limits to how cold it gets. How could anyone possibly live in such extreme cold?

This level of cold should be enough to freeze even hell itself.

*

“C-Captain… I’m… I’m so sleepy….”

“Wake up, you fool! If you fall asleep, you’ll really die!”

The answer to the Fahrenheit people’s question was simple.

The Amurtat people couldn’t withstand this insane cold either and were dying as well.

Winters vary—some are warm, others are cold—and this year’s winter seemed as if the angels had deliberately brought in seasonal winds to freeze people to death.

It was so bad that just this morning, there were chilling reports of more than ten soldiers dying from the cold.

Ordinary citizens could hurry home, but soldiers who had to endure the cold outdoors, and at a considerable height of 15 meters no less, were dying fighting the cold before they could even fight the enemy.

Bang! Crash!

“Come quickly and take these! We’ve brought cotton blankets!”

“Cotton blankets?!”

“His Majesty has specially issued these items! Use them without damage!”

“Ahh…! Now I feel like I might live…”

Fortunately, after receiving reports that ten people had died just this morning, Tiberius had emptied the castle’s wardrobes and bestowed thick cotton blankets to the soldiers who were turning into frozen humans in real-time atop the walls. Additionally, coal from near Pale Harbor was newly distributed instead of charcoal for firewood.

Charcoal’s heat wasn’t enough to overcome this insane cold, and production was insufficient, so coal, which could be distributed in large quantities despite its slightly lower quality, was more efficient.

“Always remain vigilant; the enemy will advance even in this cold.”

“Wouldn’t those bastards have frozen to death or starved by now?”

“If you think so, would you like to go on reconnaissance?”

“I shall fulfill my sacred duty as a sentinel.”

“Then keep your mouth shut.”

Whether the enemy numbered 15,000, 10,000, or 5,000, the ‘number’ of enemies wasn’t important.

Because those numbers were meant to support the ‘Sword Master,’ and if they couldn’t stop that Sword Master, Amurtat would lose the war.

“By the way, is the Standard Bearer still in training?”

“Yes. Those fellows will be coming soon…”

It was good that he had been training intensely for months, even skipping meals, but the timing was poor.

He wasn’t just an ordinary knight but the nation’s Standard Bearer—in other words, the Minister of Defense.

For someone in such a position to neglect his duties due to personal emotions was dishonorable conduct for a knight, if not for a warrior, but since Tiberius was saying nothing about it, the knights were silently tolerating it.

No matter how much they wanted to criticize, they couldn’t send a letter of complaint when their superior’s superior remained silent, and since they were intimidated by the Master, it was somewhat understandable even as knights.

“But can one become a Master through such training?”

“Well… I’m not sure myself, but becoming a Master probably requires more than ordinary training.”

Basically, knights are those who utilize aura.

Unlike mages who handle mana, an otherworldly substance, knights who handle aura, an innate substance, were naturally powerful enough to fight 17 ordinary soldiers even with minimal skill, and among these powerful individuals, those skilled enough to project aura outside their bodies were called ‘Experts.’

Among these Experts, those whose skill reached mastery were called Senior Experts… and those who transcended that level were called Masters.

That’s why the 300 knights currently in Amurtat were secretly anticipating:

The Standard Bearer was the strongest in this land. Could he finally overcome the wall to becoming a Master?

“I heard he’s been skipping meals for months now…”

“Fasting is a common extreme training method for knights. I’m not sure if it’s effective… but at least it helps build mental strength.”

“Mental strength…?”

“Yes. You can’t comfortably eat three meals a day on the battlefield, can you? It’s preparation for such times.”

The knight, maintaining vigilant watch on the wall with the soldiers, answered this way while unable to hide his anxiety.

Of course, being a knight, he appeared solemn to ordinary people, but among fellow knights, it was clear that he was anxious.