Chapter 12
“Have you no decency, sir!”
CRASH—! It was the sound of the noble slamming both hands on the table. As if that wasn’t enough to vent his anger, the noble panted, huffing and puffing. Tarahan, sitting in a chair beyond him, stared blankly at the noble’s flushed face before letting out a dry laugh.
“To think there is still someone who raises their voice at me.”
Tarahan looked at the noble with an expression that said he was seeing something truly peculiar. At that, the noble flinched but made no move to cool his temper.
“There’s such a thing as human decency! Please return my land and my people!”
The noble was one of the group who had fled to the capital when war broke out in the North. He too had made a promise to Tarahan to offer compensation should he win the war.
However, just as one’s attitude changes when entering and leaving, so did his. He was demanding the return of the land, mines, and people that Tarahan’s knights had occupied.
But even as the noble worked himself into a fever pitch, his whole body turning red in the cold, Tarahan didn’t even blink.
“It’s because I didn’t chop off enough heads.”
When Tarahan grinned, the noble recoiled with a gasp, as if he’d seen a corpse. But, figuring it was the same whether he retreated now to fall into ruin and freeze to death, or died right here, the noble had no intention of backing down.
“You are a murderer! The goddess will surely not forgive you!”
“Hm?”
When the noble mentioned the goddess, Tarahan finally showed a reaction. That’s right. Even a devil like you must fear the gods, the noble thought to himself, on the verge of becoming puffed up with arrogance.
“As you well know.”
But it was the complete opposite of the noble’s expectation. Screech. Tarahan pushed his chair back, stood up, and walked around the table to stand before the noble. Compared to the noble of slight build, Tarahan was a giant. He was at least half a head taller than the noble, and what was hidden beneath his clothes was all muscle.
Even standing next to a knight, his physique was exceptional. It was to the point that he looked like he was of a different race altogether. The pressure was immense as such a man looked down on the noble.
“There is no temple in the North. This is my land now.”
Tarahan said in a tone of great pity. The noble, swallowed by his shadow, was now speechless.
“Right now, do you think I will look upon you with benevolence, or do you think I will pass judgment for your sins?”
Whether the noble turned pale or not, Tarahan simply found it amusing. In the first place, wasn’t the noble also a human born in a land forsaken by the goddess?
He was the type who probably couldn’t even properly recite a single verse from the holy scriptures regarding the gods. So wasn’t it absurd to see him crying out for the gods just because he’d visited the capital once?
“If you choose now, I’ll return your mansion at least.”
Tarahan offered his mercy. The noble instinctively realized it. If he refused this mercy, he was now truly a dead man.
Until a moment ago, he had thought it was all the same whether he died here or outside, but now, with the man who would deliver his death just a stone’s throw away, his mind had changed.
In the end, with a deathly pale face, the noble hastily stamped his seal on the documents and fled the office.
“Tsk.”
He regarded the fleeing creature with contempt. It would have been better for both of us if you’d done this from the start. Has your brain frozen over from the constant winter? he thought to himself.
“In a place where it’s hard to even raise livestock, the sound of squealing pigs should be kept to a minimum.”
It was a land where not a single blade of grass could grow except for about three months of the year, yet it seemed food was scarce because there were so many useless beasts like that one.
Returning the mansion was fine. He would either starve to death inside it, or sell it to someone else to prolong his life a little before freezing to death. It would be one of the two.
He sat on the central sofa and leaned back languidly. The rather sturdy-looking sofa creaked under his large frame. But Tarahan felt no discomfort.
It was while he was resting. Knock, knock. A knock rang out, followed by a short voice seeking permission, “I’m coming in.”
“Your Excellency.”
The one who entered was Tarahan’s adjutant, Jerome. Jerome closed the door and naturally went to sit on the sofa opposite him. There was no trace of the etiquette of high society, but his master wasn’t the type to care about such trivial things anyway.
“Has the lord left?”
“Yes. He ran out as if his tail were on fire.”
“I wish he would just plunge into the lake and die.”
Jerome watched his master, who phrased “I wish he’d drop dead” so elegantly, and had the nonchalant thought that he would have no trouble making a debut in high society.
“Unfortunately, the water is frozen right now, so that would be difficult.”
He spoke without thinking and handed the documents he had brought to Tarahan. They were documents containing the assets of the northern nobles. When shown people dying before their very eyes, some of them had been startled and coughed up everything they had been withholding.
“How many are left now?”
“Less than half.”
It meant that there were still quite a few who valued their lives. But there were still some holdouts, and that would require a bit of work.
Jerome, who had been watching Tarahan scan the asset list, suddenly broached a different topic.
“…Have you been to see Her Ladyship?”
“She seemed fine, for all the fuss.”
Tarahan said without even taking his eyes off the paper. His voice held not a shred of concern, let alone interest.
It was a tone that said, as long as she’s not dead, that’s enough, nothing more, nothing less. To him, that was precisely the extent of Ninia’s value.
In exchange for handing over Ninia, the temple had demanded that Tarahan either ‘purchase all future medical supplies and food through the temple, or donate a sum amounting to tens of billions of Lua.’
Both were absurd proposals, but Tarahan chose the latter. He considered it cheaper and more convenient.
Tarahan had to use most of the reward money he received from the emperor to bring Ninia over.
‘To think they would backstab me like that after I complied.’
The moment Tarahan took Ninia, the temple officially announced the saintess’s retirement. The story that the goddess had sided with the Piechen Empire, and that by her will, Saintess Ninia had offered all her holy power to stop the war, had now spread throughout the entire continent.
Now, all that remained for Tarahan was the desolate northern land and Ninia, who bore the title of former saintess.
Jerome was about to say that he should treat Ninia a little better, but he shut his mouth before the words could even form.
Because if he were in his shoes, he would have detested Ninia as well.
The people of the North disliked Ninia for taking his honor, but the reason he loathed Ninia was a little different.
‘It would have been better if it were for such a simple reason.’
The fundamental loathing was from the very root. If it were a leaf, one could simply cut it off, but a root. It was just a shame.
“The construction?”
Tarahan’s attention was focused elsewhere. It was the work of digging underground to create a waterway. Snow is not water, and when the ground and water freeze, many problems arise. He was proceeding with the construction underground, where it was warmer than on the surface.
“We are continuing whenever the snow lets up.”
It was all for the sake of enriching the domain. Tarahan was a rather excellent master to serve and a good ruler as well.
He was merciless and close to a cold-blooded man, but he was generous to those under his command and lacked the baseness to lay a hand on the innocent.
But that was strictly limited to those who lived quietly in his fold; it did not apply to the tribes who cried out the goddess’s name or who had not paid their dues.
Therefore, the North was the most perfect land for him to live in.
Jerome gave up on bringing up the story about Ninia and adopted a business-like attitude. Having finished his report on the waterway construction, he moved on to another main point.
“And, a letter has arrived.”
“Give it here.”
Unlike before, Tarahan reacted immediately. A single letter was placed gently in his outstretched hand. He tore open the luxurious envelope, took out only the contents, and frowned.
The letter, mercilessly crumpled in his hand, was soon burned and turned to black ash.
Tarahan, who had sent the letter from afar to its grave on the spot, scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Jerome.
“Send this.”
“Understood.”
Jerome folded the unfolded paper for him and tucked it carefully into his coat. The report was now finished, and he could go attend to other matters. But Jerome hesitated, not getting up from the sofa.
“Is there something else to report?”
Tarahan must have sensed it, as he asked. But despite his renewed hesitation, Jerome could not bring himself to take Ninia’s side.
“No, sir. I will take my leave.”
He stood up from his seat, but Tarahan’s gaze remained on the paper. As Jerome saw it, Ninia and Tarahan were equally ill-fated. He held his tongue and left the room.
🌻🌻🌻
Was it because the weather had warmed up a bit? Or was it thanks to the doctor’s prescription? Ninia, whose fever had been constantly flaring up, was slowly regaining her strength.
“You can stop taking the medicine now.”
“Thank you. I feel much better thanks to you.”
The doctor named Krove periodically came to examine her. Ninia expressed her gratitude, but Krove, with a face that looked as if he had heard the most bizarre thing, sullenly packed his bag and left.
With the thud of the door, Ninia blinked. Had she said something she shouldn’t have? She pondered for a moment, but it was difficult to know, so she gave up.
Surprisingly, his prescription had been effective. Holy power healed sickness and pain in the name of God, regardless of the illness, but doctors and pharmacists made it possible with human knowledge.
‘What a relief.’
She didn’t know the detailed process, but for now, it was a relief that her body had recovered. Ninia slowly lowered her eyes. There was something she had been thinking about and had made up her mind about throughout her illness.
“Dinner is served.”
Just as the maid, Rosa, entered, Ninia lifted her head. Ninia silently observed the maid’s ice-cold face and then opened her mouth.
“Rosa.”
The called maid flinched. It was the first time Ninia had ever called her by her name. Ninia looked at Rosa, who had turned her head, and said,
“Please tell His Excellency that I request an audience with him.”
