NOVEL NEXT Chapter 408
Every place inhabited by people, big or small, tends to have its fair share of incidents, but in Iceland, the frequency was somewhat higher than usual.
The reason was clear.
Barren land, harsh climate, predators and monsters adapted to that environment, and one of the final refuges for fugitives.
Not just one, but four.
Add to that the influx of workers and adventurers from outside, and the situation speaks for itself.
However, it was extremely rare for a ruler to abandon their territory and flee, unlike other regions of Europa.
Even the smallest village, surrounded by palisades, would find it hard to venture outside with everyone joining forces and wielding weapons—doing so would be akin to committing suicide.
Nobles are the guardians protecting their territory and subjects from external threats.
So why on earth did the ruler abandon their land under the guise of returning or selling it?
It’s not as if everything in the world happens to be pleasant.
To say that living conditions have improved compared to before means that there’s some leeway now.
It also implies that there’s no longer a need to hole up in the territory for survival.
In the past, fleeing from the village or territory would lead to death, either from becoming a meal for wild creatures or due to freezing or starvation.
Oh, but not anymore?
There are ways to survive even if one flees to another place?
Of course, even if people from Iceland are finding it easier to live, the situation of barbarism in Iceland remains the same. Just stepping outside can very well lead to death, as mentioned earlier.
So they could simply band together and leave.
And the very person who ruled the territory? They were the first to flee?
The subjects had no reason to stay behind and worry in a territory devastated by an unprecedented outbreak of the undead.
Thus, at the southernmost tip of Iceland, facing the northernmost part of Kingsland, at the secluded coast of the Imgranla region, all who could leave the abandoned territory, which its master had given up on, had long since departed.
Those who remained were mostly elderly and orphans.
Only a minuscule number of middle-aged and young people with lingering attachments to their hometowns remained.
However, those who stayed behind did not give up.
The elders, gathered in one of the three villages in the territory, pooled their knowledge and experience.
Their numbers were few, but there were survivors left.
The orphans were not an insignificant number either.
Moreover, the current location of the sole village left in the territory was at the southernmost point of Iceland.
Compared to other areas of Iceland, the climate was relatively mild.
What they lacked was time.
All they needed was time.
The ruler had abandoned them, the subjects had left, and there were no specialties to begin with.
Yet the elders gathered at the survivors’ refuge did not give up.
To be old meant to have survived.
Hope still existed, but… the issue was that it was winter now—
“Phew, goodness. Thankfully, there are still people who didn’t leave. It seems there are more remaining than I thought?”
“Heh, it seems like there are a lot of old folks. In that regard, this is a positive sign.”
Wait a minute. The hope feels a bit sudden.
Moreover, the corpses… Huh, wait a second.
“Goodness, what are all these corpses lying around? It’s a relief that there are no monsters lingering! At least the village’s outskirts have been somewhat organized?”
“It seems they’ve divided the roles well. The young are wielding weapons while the elderly and orphans are clearing the corpses. Kindling is strewn everywhere.”
Suddenly, a group with wagons and carts appeared.
Flags embroidered with the roaring Ice Dragon.
The symbol of the Duke of Iceland and the Felwinter Family.
“First things first, let’s see what we can do about the food situation.”
The residents of Borderster nodded vacantly.
“Fortunately, I’ve brought a cart full of supplies and plenty of people along with me. You all can rest a bit. There’s a lot of work to do.”
The direct descendants of the Felwinter Family, the Duke’s heir, was rather plump.
“No, plump you say? He could stand to gain a bit more weight from over there.”
“Oh dear, granny. You say that again.”
“Those poor things haven’t eaten properly because of all this chaos. Just as the young master said, hurry up and feast on some Karem stew!”
*
*
*
Ugh… where do I even start to clean this up?
Of course, Godwin merely thought thus, but as soon as he set up his command post in the best house the village elders offered, he began preparations without delay.
First, he divided the soldiers into three groups: rest, guard, and patrol.
With the guild staff’s cooperation, he prioritized giving adventurers nearby scouting, subjugation, collection, and escort missions.
The workers accompanying them had plenty to do.
Clearing away the collapsed houses, sending lumberjacks alongside the adventurers on escort missions, and incinerating the still-unmanaged undead corpses.
The village residents were tasked separately with restoring the damaged lands—
“Hmm, great. This is a mess.”
“Well, your Highness seems to be handling it reasonably well.”
“Of course, I’ve learned quite a bit by now.”
Godwin replied to Viktor’s words while tossing aside the paper he was holding.
“Then what are you so anxious about?”
“…Father told me to stabilize the territory.”
“I was right there with you.”
“Right. And that last bit was just a thought to myself. No need for a response.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Anyhow, you said stabilize, right?”
He scratched his head with a hand on his temples.
“What does stabilization even mean?”
The meaning of stabilization was clear.
To correct what was wrong.
In that sense, the goal for stabilizing the territory became transparent as well.
It was to restore the two villages emptied by everyone’s departure.
The traces of civilization tend to creak and decay before a mere six months pass without some sort of action, continuous usage, or maintenance.
Let alone in the harsh climate with undead monsters rampaging, the abandoned two villages would need to deal with the monsters occupying the area before reconstruction could even begin.
The fortunate thing was that this village was at the southernmost point of Iceland.
With Kingsland’s northernmost city, Borderster, not too far away, there would certainly be people fleeing to Iceland for personal reasons, so manpower wouldn’t be in short supply.
“But it won’t be something that can be wrapped up in just one winter, right?”
“Heh. It would seem so. At least a few months will pass.”
“So then, does that mean I need to prepare at least the bare minimum for that?”
“In this winter?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
With a deep sigh from Godwin, Viktor understood Alfred’s true intent—his father wanted his son to experience failure cautiously.
Speaking up wouldn’t aid in solving the tasks at hand.
Moreover, the lord’s intent was solely for the sake of the heir.
What he needed to do was clear.
“First, should I look into the specialties?”
“While you could ask the village elders, I wouldn’t recommend it. The impromptu undead hordes have laid waste to the nearby environment, so it’ll take time to glean the effects of any specialties.”
Viktor stroked his beard, recalling his past smuggling experience.
“The seasonal issue certainly complicates utilizing the geographical features.”
“The geographical features? A coast?”
“Yes. Although there’s no pier, there seems to be a tidal flat. Plus, since it’s near Kingsland, there’s the option of developing it into a port village.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea, but…”
A fundamental problem persisted.
“First, we’d have to deal with the monsters stirred up by territorial disputes and disturbances.”
It would be easy if he could just close his eyes and rely on Catherine’s help, but Godwin shook his head, dispelling the thought.
No matter what, even a chief magic consultant like her didn’t have the authority to be used until the territory was stabilized this season.
Let alone her role being strictly observation and escort.
That was all.
This meant that Alfred desired his son to tackle the current challenges solely with his own abilities.
In reality, his father’s intention was to gently guide him through the shock of experiencing failure for the first time, but Godwin was unaware.
What the respectful son thought was to meet his father’s expectations.
What Viktor was pondering was how to safely cushion the impact of that initial failure.
As those conflicting thoughts echoed within the command post,
“Um… I’m feeling a bit peckish. Would it be okay to snack a bit before we begin?”
“Your Highness, snack time passed a while ago.”
“No, but as the eldest son of the Duke’s family, not being allowed even one snack I desire seems unfair.”
“There was an order from the Duchess.”
*
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*
The sea breeze wasn’t particularly pleasant.
At least Karem thought so.
The moisture carried by the wind from the sea made it damp, yet the salty tang only intensified that sticky feeling.
It was frustrating enough to be humid in midwinter, but feeling sticky on top of that?
There was no way he could find a reason to like it.
“Ugh, finally feeling somewhat alive.”
However, with the stench of undead permeating everywhere, Karem had no choice.
“Wow, I never imagined that a day would come when I’d welcome this sticky, damp wind…”
“I suppose it’s inevitable that it stinks, given the undead corpses littering the entire territory. At least the vicinity around Borderster has been cleaned up by the refugees.”
“Ugh, but it’s still too much.”
It was bearable when the wind carried a mix of fishy and salty scents.
But the moment the wind died down, a scent unlike anything he had ever experienced invaded his nostrils, rendering Karem unable to breathe.
“But Catherine seems fine.”
“She’s accustomed to it, but I suspect magic plays a role too.”
Catherine lightly tapped her nose.
“It’s a light paralysis spell.”
“What? A paralysis spell?”
“Yes. Like this.”
Catherine lightly tapped Karem’s nose with her finger.
In an instant, the gathered magic seeped into his nose, erasing the salty tang of the wind and the musty odor rising whenever the breeze ceased.
“Wow, it seems that actually worked!”
“…What? You questioning the validity of my magic right now?”
“No, it’s just that back in the tower, when you made the paste, it blew up in one shot and you ended up rebounding from it. Yet this stench feels even worse, doesn’t it?”
“No, that was an unfamiliar smell…”
Honestly, Catherine felt her pride hurt.
How could a grand wizard’s magic, even if cast haphazardly, be defeated by a fermented soy brick’s odor?
That spell had surely been less offensive than that stench.
It was largely because it was unfamiliar to her that her spell had failed.
“…”
Yet any further words would only humiliate herself.
Sometimes one must acknowledge what must be acknowledged.
“Contractor. Could you please cast that spell on me too?”
“…Hmm, what? You’re asking for it too?”
“It’s not unbearable, but it wouldn’t hurt to take precautions.”
It wasn’t particularly difficult either.
Catherine quickly bent down to tap Mary’s nose.
Mary experienced the same wonder as Karem.
“But Catherine.”
“What’s up?”
“Are we okay just standing around like this?”
Karem sneaked a look at Borderster village.
The village was bustling with people coming and going, hammering, breaking, and clamoring noisily.
Adventurers were already heading somewhere, perhaps having taken on a request, and he could see the scene of burning undead downed by iron from afar.
Those three were the only ones standing by the seaside, avoiding the stench.
“What can I say, as I said, until the young master’s tasks are done, there’s nothing for me to do. The lord made it abundantly clear I shouldn’t interfere.”
“What… so does that mean there’s no real job for you?”
“If you’re really that bored, you could try catching some fresh seafood.”
“Seafood cooking?”
“Yes. Since we’re at the seaside.”
Karem alternately glanced between the lively village amidst the reconstruction noise and Catherine.
He shrugged his shoulders.
If that’s what she suggested, then he could follow suit.
The thought of fresh seafood made him even hungrier.