The Northern Empire’s style could be described as practical when put positively, and unfortunate when put negatively.
A wall built surrounding a massive campfire placed at the center.
A roof designed to prevent heat from escaping while avoiding suffocation.
Such things starkly revealed the grim reality of the Northern Empire, slowly being strangled by the power wielded by the Veil of Mercy.
Without doing this, one would either freeze to death or lose some fingers and toes by the next morning.
In other words, the Northern Empire’s style was one for survival.
Thus, Aslan felt a bittersweet emotion upon seeing the approaching architecture of the Northern Empire.
Even in the reality where Aslan lived as Lee Hyun-woo, there were many who inevitably became unfortunate or cruel due to unavoidable reasons.
It was a common tragedy.
The very commonality of it did nothing to lessen the pain or sorrow.
Beyond the slanted opening of the roof, smoke rose from the giant campfire, and a vivid heat rippled within the walls, perceptible even from afar.
The surrounding fortifications, covered with leather finished in a unique Northern Empire way, played the role of preventing the cold from entering or escaping.
The settlement resembled some distinctive animal or a primitive prison, evoking such imagery. The place the traveling party was heading towards was such an encampment.
“…Hmm.”
Ereta’s murmur carried a faint tone of discomfort. Richard’s expression was also not particularly pleasant, indicating his dissatisfaction.
Was it because they had realized the poverty of the Northern Empire and understood they would have to live here for a while? Their expressions clearly reflected unease.
As the party entered through the wooden fence of the encampment, they were greeted by starving civilians wrapped in furs.
Their eyes bore the clear signs of hunger. An elderly person disappeared among them and reappeared, holding smoked herring or dried meat.
“Please eat. It’s not good enough to offer our general… and since we don’t grow vegetables… .”
Trailing off mid-sentence, the food offered was indeed a meager meal.
The bread, if it could be called that, was dry and crumbly, likely brought out as part of their best effort.
Lumel looked at the food, his light brown eyes filled with compassion, and picked up the bread to bite into it.
He took a small, passive bite, chewed, and swallowed. Seeing the old man relax slightly with a faint smile, Lumel reached into his cloak and pulled out a bundle to offer.
“Take it and share it with the people.”
This was one of the extra supplies the party had brought along. Dried fruits and mushrooms filled the bundle.
The old man bowed his head as he accepted it, and Lumel handed it over calmly, pretending it was no big deal.
Once the old man had retreated, the party began unpacking their belongings while looking around.
“…What a mess…”
Anguish tinged Angie’s voice as she muttered while leaning against the wall. Her words were heavy with regret.
Even Angie, who came from humble beginnings, sighed, and the reactions of most of her companions were similar.
Regret, pity, and discomfort lingered in their gazes, leading to one conclusion:
The situation in the Northern Empire was far worse than expected.
Although not all civilians lived like this, if even the coastal areas distant from the influence of the Veil of Mercy were this impoverished, the overall state of the Northern Empire was painfully obvious.
While detailed information would require further inquiry, the general picture of the Northern Empire was already becoming clear.
They were collapsing.
Perhaps due to the machinations and intrigue of the priest of their mother deity.
And Aslan came to truly realize this fact thanks to the actions and words of someone who appeared afterward.
“…Is this woman really the general? She doesn’t look like a warrior at all.”
A casually spoken remark. Near the large campfire, Aslan, checking the hand left behind by the Dragon King amidst the white mist of breath, suddenly looked up at these words.
What met her gaze was a young man whose face was etched with dissatisfaction.
With orange hair braided similarly to Angie’s, green eyes filled with contempt, the young man stared disdainfully at Lumel.
At the young man’s dismissive comment, Lumel frowned, and the elder who had brought him seemed flustered, drawing in a sharp breath.
“Eric! How dare you speak to the general like that!”
And immediately, the elder scolded him. However, Eric showed little reaction to the elder’s words.
Instead, Eric smirked and pointed his chin at Lumel.
“Do you really think this woman is the general? Coming to a forsaken place like this to listen to our plight and mooch for food? It’s ridiculous.”
Lumel’s cold gaze remained steady, but what he said wasn’t entirely wrong.
After all, Lumel wasn’t a general.
Whether he knew this or not, the young man continued speaking.
“And how do you explain the outsiders trailing behind? There are several women, children, and even livestock-like creatures.”
Only then did the elder turn his gaze toward Lumel. It wasn’t a supportive or protective look.
Instead, it was thick with suspicion—suspicion that had been present from the start but hidden for fear of voicing it outright.
Indeed, the composition of the group was too peculiar to gloss over easily.
There was even a visibly young elf, and there was a dragonkin too.
The presence of more women made the group seem less like the entourage of a general at first glance.
Of those appearing to be from the Northern Empire, only Angie, who was supposed to be the general, stood out.
As the atmosphere grew strange, the people inside the fortification began casting sidelong glances at the party.
Attempting to brush it off carelessly would only invite further suspicion, making it quite a predicament.
If it came to that, they might have to massacre the entire village. With a bitter expression, Aslan prepared to step forward.
Though it might tarnish Lumel’s pretense of being a general, it would still be better than leaving things as they were.
Before Aslan could act, however, Lumel stepped forward instead.
Carrying the verdict she had somehow procured, the elegant woman approached with measured steps.
As she walked, Lumel spoke.
“Draw your weapon.”
Her soft, feminine voice blended with a tranquil tone.
It was heavy, like moonlight descending onto snow piled up to the ankles.
So much so that even Eric, who had initially raised objections, and the elder were startled.
As she approached, Lumel spoke again.
“If you wish to live, draw your weapon.”
Then she swung her spear.
As the long weapon rotated, everything in its path was pushed aside, creating silence.
The wind was pushed away, silencing the surroundings, and the spear was grasped in her hand. Eric barely had time to register this before his hand moved to his waist.
“Damn bitch…!”
He drew a heavy one-handed axe. Though shorter than the spear, giving him a disadvantage in range and timing, its speed was significantly faster.
Typically, this would put Lumel at a disadvantage. The distance was close enough for the axe to reach but too short for the spear to be effective.
Speed was also on Eric’s side. Long weapons require both distance and time to strike or swing effectively, which takes preparation.
Thus, Eric was confident in victory, though it wouldn’t be easy.
Lumel lacked physical strength compared to Eric.
Her body wasn’t particularly robust either.
But her skill was far superior.
Thrusts practiced thousands, tens of thousands of times. Holding the spear in a seemingly casual stance, she struck without warning, leaving Eric unable to perceive the movement.
Peng!
The final spiral imbued in the spearhead. The spear blade, resembling a spike, struck the axe handle, severing the wooden shaft. Shavings flew as the axe head fell.
Before Eric could fully react, Lumel was preparing her second move.
“Eh?”
Ereta’s voice echoed as the spear shaft swept past her waist.
It was a technique Ereta often demonstrated with her two-handed axe, a skillful method of retracting a long weapon using the body.
As it swept along her body, the spear seemed to disappear, then reappear, almost like an ambush.
Like a snake weaving through the underbrush and lunging again, it aimed for the neck.
All this happened in the span of a single breath. The moment the axe head was severed, the spear tip stopped just before Eric’s throat.
Lumel gazed at Eric with a cold, settled eye.
Eric had no choice but to shut his mouth.
The sharpness of the spear tip at his neck, the extraordinary skill beyond comprehension, and the piercing golden current flowing along the golden spear left Eric swallowing his saliva.
As their eyes met, Lumel confirmed something.
Since entering the encampment, Lumel had gathered a few clues.
Actually, she had started gathering them even before arriving.
Talk of finally finding life again, references to being abandoned, and the disbelief that a general would appear now.
Unable to refute these sentiments, the elder’s suspicious gaze and the villagers’ readiness to turn into raiders completed the picture.
Lumel deduced that there was chaos in the Northern Empire, that it hadn’t been resolved, and that the civilians were suffering.
Waiting for salvation that would never come.
Lumel surmised their defeat.
Thus, the necessary words were obvious.
“So, you think a woman can be a general. Do you believe yourself to be more worthy of the title?”
Crackling current flowed as Lumel subtly twisted the spear tip, causing Eric to pale and stumble back.
“Can you not consider that I am here because you failed and there was no one competent enough to take my place?”
Words unrelated to Lumel’s true feelings but perfectly suited to persuade them in the moment.
Eric’s face alternated between confusion and subtle anger as Lumel smirked.
“You fail to realize that your incompetence forced us to bring in outsiders, yet you still spout nonsense about a woman not being fit to lead.”
“That’s….”
“Have you no sense of shame?”
Tsk, tsk. Accompanied by the sound of her tongue clicking, Lumel’s skillful performance unfolded, and Aslan, though internally annoyed, stepped forward.
“General.”
A quiet call. In response, Lumel enacted the demeanor she had seen from Gerald earlier.
Exhaustion, arrogance, and the aura of immense power.
The resulting wearied gaze was directed at the villagers.
“Hmph.”
A derisive snort. Lumel accompanied this with a slow withdrawal of the spear tip and a leisurely blink as she spoke.
“If you do not need our help, proceed thus. I have no use for lazy and incompetent fools like you.”
With that, she turned and walked away.
Watching her go, the villagers shared similar emotions.
Of course, Lumel personally was not a powerful ruler.
She might be the heir to a noble family, but she had no experience in noble governance.
She had scarcely used her authority in front of others.
Yet, she had observed many people.
Through observation, she acquired sufficient data.
Empathetic Lumel gauged the emotions of those people and mimicked them in her performance.
The result was strikingly similar.
These Northern Empire citizens wouldn’t know, but the person standing before them now wasn’t the naive noble girl who wielded a spear for revenge after eighty years of reigning as king without ever relinquishing royal power.
The charisma, the heavy pressure, caused the villagers to tremble lightly and gaze at Lumel with trepidation.
Even Eric, who had been defiant moments ago, was no exception.
“Please, wait!”
Finally, the respectful address emerged. Lumel merely glanced at him briefly before turning her head away and continuing forward toward the fort gate.
Eric had few options. He quickly ran ahead, stopping near the gate, knelt down, and bowed deeply.
“Forgive me, General!”
His desperate plea cut through the air. Only now did the confused pride of the Northern Empire citizen give way to understanding.
Lumel didn’t respond immediately but instead gestured with her chin toward Aslan behind her.
Fortunately, Aslan was perceptive.
Stepping forward, he unsheathed Tiyalmisof’s beast from his back.
Grrrrr.
A menacing growl. The sound of steel scraping against steel. The villagers trembled in fear, and Eric closed his eyes, shaking violently.
Even those contemplating obstruction hesitated upon seeing the eerie greatsword revealed.
The greatsword, two meters in length, gripped by Aslan, prepared to strike.
“I-I! I was foolish not to recognize you, General! Please, just give me one more chance…!”
Eric gasped for breath, begging for his life. Aslan swung the sword at him in a calculated performance.
Whoosh, a sound akin to tearing wind accompanied the rushing greatsword. Its jagged blade capable of splitting a human in half.
Eric inhaled sharply, and finally, the trembling villagers who had been watching in terror cried out.
“Please spare us, General!”
Upon hearing this, Lumel raised her hand not a moment too late and spoke.
“Enough.”
At her command, the beast halted inches from Eric’s face.
Eric stared at the blue blade before his eyes, gulping, and struggled to roll his eyes.
Lumel, observing Eric, spoke with an expression of weariness and languid disinterest.
“There will be no next time.”
“G-G-Thank you… Thank you….”
Eric gasped and sobbed, barely managing to breathe a sigh of relief. Now, it seemed no one would dare challenge the claim that Lumel was the general.
As Aslan retracted the beast, the metallic clinking sound made the villagers flinch slightly.
*
Inside the village, Aslan finally got the chance to learn about the situation in the Northern Empire.
And the situation was far worse than imagined.
The Northern Empire was fragmenting.
“Fragmenting…?”
“Yes, yes… that’s correct.”
The elder, bowing his head, explained. Aslan recalled the elder’s previous statements.
The Northern Empire was divided into various factions engaged in conflict.
The general hired mercenaries who eventually killed him, and even the emperor was assassinated, plunging the empire into chaos.
Considering that the mercenary from years ago was none other than Aslan herself, it wasn’t surprising, but the assassination of the emperor was certainly shocking.
“Now, without a successor, various warriors and lords are vying for the emperor’s throne.”
The struggle was evenly matched.
The rivalry was intense, and both legitimacy and practicality were present on all sides. Notably, the leaders of these factions were remarkable individuals.
The Blessed Ones.
The elder informed Aslan that they were called such.
When asked what kind of beings they were, the elder hesitated before answering.
Beings with beast-like strength and immortal-like vitality, surviving every battle unscathed.
Because these beings always appeared on the battlefield, the already barren land became even more desolate, according to the elder.
Aslan listened to all of this and wore a serious expression.
The situation had become more complicated.
These “Blessed Ones” were likely humans or hybrids created by the power of the deity who birthed Aslan, or perhaps priests.
If each faction had one of these Blessed Ones, it would be difficult to determine where the mastermind behind the scenes lay using simple methods.
Closer investigation would be necessary.
With this thought in mind, Aslan asked,
“What about the factions nearby?”
Such a straightforward question would only amplify suspicion. After pondering for a moment, Aslan provided an answer.
“I plan to gather information about the surrounding forces to report to the general. To know who is most suitable for the new empire, I must understand the local warlords first. I’d like to hear about the factions nearby.”
“Oh… I see…”
The elder, finally understanding, began to speak. From the stories recounted by the elder and Eric beside him, three factions became apparent.
First, Red Mane.
A rapidly growing faction established by a suddenly emerging Blessed One.
Its leader was known for fighting in the form of a beast with a red mane.
Second, Blood-Stained Axe.
A faction founded by a renowned warrior and hunter who received the blessing.
Lastly, Baulder.
A faction established by the descendant of a general from several generations ago, who named himself after his ancestor.
“All three are not particularly kind to people like us.”
“It’s because there are many elders and children.”
Listening to the elder and Eric’s remarks, Aslan believed she had obtained sufficient information about the three factions.
“Ah, now that I think about it.”
That belief lasted until Eric suddenly mentioned something.
“That’s right, you didn’t mention that, old man.”
“Ahh.”
The elder, suddenly recalling something, nodded vigorously. Observing the two, Aslan subtly furrowed her brow.
It was intentional to appear threatening.
“What is it? Are you hiding something?”
“That… It’s not that. With my age, I forgot. Recently, I remembered that Baulder’s people looted a giant ship that drifted ashore from the sea…”
A giant ship. Aslan focused her attention, prompting the elder to continue nervously.
“The… people with green skin they abducted from it and the considerable wealth they obtained… They’re recruiting warriors in the vicinity… That’s what I’ve heard…”
“This incident occurred nearby, so it should be accurate. Advisor sir.”
Eric corroborated the elder’s statement.
Aslan found no trace of falsehood in their demeanor and stroked her chin, wearing a grave expression.
Green-skinned people. Essentially referring to the Green ones.
The existence of Green ones itself wasn’t unusual. As humans, they could be encountered somewhere.
The question was why a giant ship belonging to the Green ones, the dominant force of the southern continent, had ended up in the Northern Empire.
Whether it was intentional or accidental was hard to discern.
“I personally saw the ship, so it’s certain. Lord.”
Hearing Eric’s affirmation, Aslan’s gaze shifted toward him.
“Really? Wasn’t there anything distinctive about the ship? Any symbols or marks?”
In response to her probing question, Eric thought carefully.
“There was an eye-like symbol painted on it.”
Describing it as resembling a human eye, Eric added,
“It was an unpleasant image, like it was staring intently…”
Hearing this, Aslan’s expression hardened.
A giant ship made of blue wood with an eye symbol painted on it.
Coupled with the Green ones aboard, the implication was singular.
Unlike those who merely claimed to be successors of the ancient empire, these were the true descendants of the ancient empire.
The highest-ranking scouts and officers of the largest nation on the southern continent.
Experts in one school of magic, honing their combat skills and martial techniques to match their magical prowess.
Among the entire empire, only twelve such true experts existed, masters on par with veterans.
The legendary warriors who had dominated combat generation after generation, before Budonggong and Aslan appeared.
The Watchers.
With a serious expression, Aslan addressed Eric.
“Can you lead me there?”
