Chapter 1: The place where frost stays Part 1

The mountain range that stretches long from the southwest of the Empire to the northernmost point resembles a great artery.

Climbing along that long vein, one eventually arrives at the snow-covered end.

At the northernmost point of the Empire, where frost lingers all year round, strong northern people reside.

Carlton, a village in the northern part of the Empire, is located on the very outskirts of the outlying villages.

Right in front of the village, a towering mountain range loomed.

The sharply rising peaks cut through the wind.

The split wind flowed in two directions: the strong wind and the gentle breeze.

Keldric vaguely thought that the two branches of the wind resembled the fissures in his own family.

“Whoosh, whoosh!”

However, Keldric, being just the third son, found there was nothing he could do about it.

Because of that, he felt rather calm.

“Hoo…” His rough breathing subsided.

Keldric placed a log that was likely four times his height on the ground.

The heavy log rolled with a thud, making a loud sound.

It was a log that no ordinary person could lift with their bare hands.

However, Keldric could easily lift two or three of such logs.

Catching his breath from the hard work, Keldric looked once more at the tall mountain peaks.

The north wind continued to split at the mountain tops.

The strong wind represented Keldric, and the gentle breeze represented his family.

Thus, they divided.

“Keldric!”

As he wiped the sweat dripping down his jawline, Keldric turned at the sound of someone calling his name.

“You’ve been here.”

It was a familiar servant of the family.

Faced with the servant’s bowing posture, Keldric awkwardly nodded.

No matter how much of a third son he was in a family that ruled this small village, Keldric was still a member of a noble family.

It was certainly expected for him to be treated well by those below him, but Keldric found such treatment unsatisfactory.

This was partly due to remnants of his previous life and partly because of his simple nature.

“Yakov. What is it?”

Seeing Keldric’s muscular body, from which white steam was rising, Yakov instinctively lowered his eyes.

It felt like standing before a powerful beast!

This was the sensation Yakov naturally felt whenever he faced Keldric.

“Lord Volpen has instructed me to bring you. It seems you must hurry to the lord’s manor.”

Keldric recalled his father, Lord Volpen.

The head of the Bellaf family, Lord Volpen, had been bedridden for several months due to worsening illness.

‘He said he was struck by a filthy arrow.’

It was probably not just simple filth.

He must have been struck by a terribly poisonous arrow.

Whatever the case, it was sure to be extremely painful.

Keldric frowned at the thought of Lord Volpen, who lay sick from the filthy arrow, and nodded.

“Go right now.”

Without hesitation, Keldric turned his body.

The cold wind brushed past his sturdy frame.

Born with a strong physique, Keldric didn’t feel much cold.

However, Yakov, who was rather slim, trembled in the chill.

The worn-out shoes of Yakov precariously stepped on the snow.

Watching Yakov, Keldric absentmindedly extended his coat to him.

“Are you very cold?”

“No… Thank you for your kindness.”

“You’re old enough, so you should be careful of the cold.

You really seem to have a problem with your slim frame.”

“I’m fine with this much. How could a northern man tremble in the cold?”

Despite saying that, he looked rather cold.

His shivering legs proved that.

However, since Yakov seemed to want to avoid making this a bigger issue, Keldric willingly ended the conversation.

Northern men considered not yielding to the cold a virtue.

The village, seemingly made from logs and moss, gathered together, and beyond it stood the lord’s manor on a gently rising hill.

Keldric and Yakov hurried their steps toward it.

Should it be called a past life, or should it be called the life from the original world?

No matter what it is called, Keldric, who lived in 21st century South Korea, suddenly found himself dropped into the medieval era without knowing the cause.

It would be more accurate to say he fell because the world he first encountered was a place where bright light poured in, and he fell somewhere soft.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that he was born as a newborn in the unfamiliar medieval age, wrapped in a clean swaddle.

The new life he gained was that of the third son of the small and humble Bellaf family in the northern part of the Empire.

It was a status from which it was hard to observe a hopeful future.

Not only did his ambiguous position make him uneasy, but Keldric’s father, Lord Volpen Bellaf, was extremely displeased with him.

Although he didn’t openly scold or throw utensils, he made it clear through his gaze that he held a complicated mix of emotions toward Keldric.

In his childhood, Keldric didn’t understand why Lord Volpen was so eager to devour him.

However, as he grew older and began to grasp the intricacies of noble families, he could only sigh in frustration.

To put it simply, Lord Volpen wanted a daughter, and a beautiful one at that.

The firstborn and secondborn sons, who were born before Keldric, were both healthy and strong.

In the meantime, the first wife, whom Lord Volpen had long since given up on, succeeded in becoming pregnant after some time.

Now, with enough sons to inherit the family, Lord Volpen dreamed of receiving a daughter as a gift through a strong alliance with a prominent family.

The first wife, who bore Keldric, was quite beautiful, so it would be perfect if a lovely daughter resembling her were born.

And the baby that emerged without any consideration for this was Keldric.

Not the lovely daughter Lord Volpen had wished for.

Knowing Lord Volpen’s rough appearance well, Keldric wanted to say that he should be thankful that a less fortunate child was not born, but… reality was harsh.

If he had brought that up, he would have been beaten on the spot.

However, if that were the only issue, Lord Volpen wouldn’t have treated him so coldly.

Calamities continued to strike.

Keldric’s mother passed away right after giving birth to him.

“A child who devoured his mother.”

Regardless of time and place, the death of a mother during or after childbirth symbolizes misfortune and bad luck; thus, it is avoided.

Of course, for Keldric, it was a ludicrous situation.

Keldric did not wish to fall into this shabby medieval fantasy world.

If it were a fantasy world, at least let him cast some magic.

If there was any consolation, it was that he did not have the label of being a bastard child.

His father, two brothers, and stepmother each treated Keldric as a son or younger brother, but his childhood was not particularly favorable.

His stepmother, Lady Bellaf, at least treated him as a half-brother reasonably well.

But the others were a problem.

Remembering how Lord Volpen treated the eldest son, who was a prominent heir, and the second son warmly, Keldric felt that his childhood was quite unpleasant.

Lord Volpen taught Keldric swordsmanship, but at some point, he stopped teaching him and even seemed reluctant to allow Keldric to wield a sword.

This was because being born as a knight’s son with martial skills would cause discord in the family if it threatened the position of the eldest son.

‘It’s regrettable, though.’

Keldric, who had already mastered all the swordsmanship taught by Lord Volpen, still felt the regret.

Keldric understood well that knowledge is power.

Did Lord Volpen truly pass on all his swordsmanship?

Was it certain that there was nothing left for him to learn from Lord Volpen?

Such regrets left a sour taste in his mouth.

However, he could not whine and ask for more teaching.

Keldric was the third son of a knight’s family granted a small village as a fief.

It was a position where he would be lucky to inherit even a single sword.

Keldric was born too late to harbor ambitions for his family.

This was a simple yet powerful reason that even Keldric could accept.

“Keldric!”

“I see you’ve returned from the outskirts of the village today?”

As Keldric moved along with various thoughts, the villagers carrying firewood murmured among themselves behind him.

Their gazes followed Keldric’s back, eventually scattering at the lord’s manor on the hill.

The villagers busily bowed to Keldric when they saw him, which became quite bothersome.

Nobles were always a cumbersome presence to commoners or serfs, yet they were also figures to be treated with respect.

Since Keldric did not use his noble status to be arrogant, he was viewed more favorably than his second brother.

“I’m very sorry to say this, but we need to hurry.”

Yakov, following behind Keldric, cautiously spoke up.

Keldric quickened his pace without responding.

Passing the village mill, Keldric and Yakov climbed the hill and finally entered the lord’s manor.

The cold aura dissipated, replaced by a somewhat better chilly air that welcomed the two.

“You’ve come.”

Another servant besides Yakov had already come out to greet them.

This was proof that Keldric was expected.

“This way, Lord Keldric.”

“Thank you as always.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

The servant guided Keldric to a room located deep inside the lord’s manor.

There was a large stove, and the place felt much tidier than the other rooms.

“Keldric, you’re late.”

“Were you looking up at the mountains again like a fool?”

As soon as Keldric stepped into the room, he was met with a barrage of scorn, as if they had been waiting for him.

Without a doubt, the source of this scorn was Keldric’s two half-brothers.

Hilmor, the eldest son of the Bellaf family and the eldest of the three brothers, and Fritz, the second brother to Hilmor and Keldric.

The sharp gaze of both pierced Keldric.

Especially Fritz’s gaze felt like a sharp sting.

However, Keldric remained composed and slightly bowed without any unnecessary words.

“I apologize, brothers.”

“I’ve told you time and again, if you want to play around, you should leave the family. I hear…”

“Come here quickly. Your father has something to say to you.”

“I understand.”

“…Tch.”

“Fritz, don’t scold Keldric too much. Your behavior isn’t exactly commendable either.”

Fritz clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction, and Hilmor stepped aside.

Keldric bowed his head slightly to Hilmor and finally approached the room’s owner.

“Keldric…”

An elderly man lay there in a state resembling that of a corpse, clearly gravely ill.

He was none other than Baron Volpen Bellaf, the head of the Bellaf family, recognized as a seasoned knight in the north by Baron Yaben.

Keldric discreetly looked around the room.

Volpen’s second wife, Lady Bellaf, the mother of Hilmor and Fritz, was nowhere to be seen.

She must have shed a few tears before she could no longer bear it and left.

Keldric gazed down at the feeble Volpen.

“…Father.”

Baron Volpen looked extremely weak.

His once muscular body appeared emaciated, and his complexion was very poor.

Volpen’s dry lips parted.

“Keldric…”

“Father, I’m here.”

“Your…”

Baron Volpen moved his trembling hand.

It looked frail and pitiful, like a withered branch.

That hand, which always appeared strict to Keldric in his childhood, now reached for Keldric’s arm.

‘What are you doing? Why are you touching someone else’s body?’

At first glance, it seemed like Volpen was exerting effort to grasp Keldric’s arm with his weak hand.

However, Keldric quickly realized what Volpen was doing.

‘Muscles?’

The hand that felt Keldric’s firm forearm clearly had a sense of ‘exploration.’

It was as if Volpen was assessing the body Keldric had steadily trained until now.

After a moment of touching Keldric’s arm, Baron Volpen suddenly coughed violently, raising a finger.

“A suit of armor from the armory…”

“…Father?”

“A surcoat… one dyed with our family crest…”

Baron Volpen’s words began to stretch out.

Keldric listened to Volpen’s words without concern.

‘It seems like it would be a loss if I didn’t listen.’

This realization was not simply due to the father-son bond, but because he understood that what Baron Volpen said was one of the few inheritances bestowed upon him.

Baron Volpen’s life was now nearly over.

Time was of the essence.

“Hilmor…! Hilmor!”

Baron Volpen suddenly shouted as if in a fit.

Hilmor, who had been standing behind Keldric, hurriedly knelt down and grasped Baron Volpen’s hand.

“I’m listening, Father.”

“There should be a horse in the stables… a cream-colored horse! With a blue saddle and bridle!”

“Are you referring to the one you purchased recently? Yes, it should be in the stables.”

“Bring it to me! No questions asked!”

Hilmor’s brows twitched for a moment.

Silently, he grasped Baron Volpen’s scarred hand, then let out a faint sigh and nodded.

“Tell someone to prepare a horse in the stables. A horse with cream-colored fur and a golden mane.”

“Yes, Lord Hilmor.”

One of the servants left the bedroom.

Hilmor looked at Baron Volpen with a somewhat troubled expression.

“…The surcoat should be there too. Give it to Keldric!”

“Yes, as you wish. Do you have anything more to say?”

“I have prepared a sword and armor in the armory, as well as a coat.”

“Understood.”

“Lord Hilmor.”

“Yes.”

“Father, do you have more to say?”

“And, and… you…”

As if the last spark was flickering out, Baron Volpen’s once powerful voice gradually diminished.

And Keldric watched.

“Hilmor, you will take charge of our family…”

Hilmor’s eyes sparkled, shining brighter than gold in this moment.

Hilmor’s complexion brightened as he grasped Baron Volpen’s hand.

In contrast, Fritz, still standing behind with a stony expression, merely stared at Baron Volpen.

“And… Keldric.”

Baron Volpen’s gaze flickered back to Keldric.

Those eyes were solely directed at Keldric.

“Yes, Father.”

“Your eyes… they resemble your mother’s…”

“Are you trying to leave home… to leave the family?”

Keldric’s body stiffened as if struck in the chest.

Baron Volpen’s eyes, which had almost lost their light, sparkled brightly for this moment as they locked onto Keldric’s.

“There is one last request.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“Please fulfill my wish…”

“And, I…”

Baron Volpen’s eyes began to dim.

The secretary, who also served as the priest in the territory, hurriedly wrote the will on parchment.

“I’m sorry… Keldric, my son…”

As if a cold wind swept through, Baron Volpen’s last breath faded away.

The cause of death was an illness caused by an ill-fated arrow struck in battle, smeared with excrement.

It was the year Keldric turned eighteen.