In the dark night, the door of the residence where Erich was staying slowly opened.

–Creak.

Someone, illuminated faintly by moonlight, cautiously slipped their body through the gap in the door.

Then,

"... Damn it."

Before he realized it, sweat was trickling down Frederick's forehead as he looked at Erich, who was sitting in bed. At that, Erich eased his tension and put down the sword he had been holding.

"I almost sliced you in half, Frederick."

Frederick, feeling strangely chilled, lit the candleholder placed by the entrance.

–Fwoosh.

It was because, at the very moment the door opened, tremendous killing intent radiated from Erich.

Having gone through countless battles, Frederick could tell instinctively. One wrong move and he would have been cut in two.

"Well, I figured you'd be tired. That's why I was just going to drop off what you asked for and leave. You've been shooting all day at squad training and sentry repairs, so you'd have a right to be exhausted."

"Can't afford to slack off when I don't know when someone Nicholas sent might barge in. So, what you're holding— is that what I requested?"

"That's right."

Frederick placed the bundle of papers he was holding onto the table. Erich picked it up and began to read intently.

"This guy, Max. Looked into him and something is strange. His birthplace is blank, but for all that, he has a younger sibling."

"Blank...?"

"Well, it's not pleasant to say myself, but it means 'Dregs'."

At the word 'Dregs', Erich's eyes narrowed. The "Dregs" they spoke of referred to those who should not exist in the Watch.

Lifelong bachelors, Watch members took a vow never to form families, dedicating themselves to guarding the Great Wall. But such things were impossible to uphold perfectly.

In this place, crowded with men, "accidents" happened for various reasons. Northern women, or in worse cases, children of mixed blood with Barbarians.

The children born from those trysts were called, in slang, 'Dregs'.

"So Nicholas being Max's guarantor— that what it means?"

"Exactly. For some reason."

Children born as Dregs were 'lucky' if they survived as orphans; most were killed at birth. Their very existence was a disgrace to the Watch and should never have been.

But in rare exceptions, someone of prestige within the Watch would stand as the child's guarantor.

Just as was the case now.

"But Nicholas isn't the kind to show meaningless goodwill. Why would he act as their guarantor?"

"That's the question. I asked around too, but couldn't find a reason. Unless the kid was some high official's bastard or something."

"But if it was a high official, they wouldn't entrust a nobody like Nicholas to be guarantor."

"Exactly. That's why it's strange."

Erich slowly leaned back in his chair. Even so, thoughts about Nicholas were rapidly taking shape in his mind.

'Nicholas only moves when he has a need. What use would Max have for Nicholas?'

There wasn't enough justification if the idea was just to make Max his own subordinate. And it wasn't guaranteed that Max would become such a useful and loyal subordinate anyway.

But in that moment, something flashed through Erich's mind.

"You've got a sense of something?"

"A bit? It's just a hypothesis."

"Going to keep it to yourself again?"

Frederick looked displeased. But Erich smirked and replied,

"I'll tell you once I'm absolutely sure."

"Tch. Annoying. By the way, isn't it uncomfortable sleeping like that all the time?"

"I'm not sleeping sitting up. I just noticed your presence."

"Looked like you were ready to kill anyone who acted suspicious..."

Erich gave a short laugh.

"On a normal night, I'd have slept more soundly. But tonight's different."

"What's different about it?"

"Look out the window."

Erich pointed outside. The already faint moonlight was now slowly being hidden by clouds.

"It's the perfect night for a sneak attack."

Frederick squinted, at a loss. But an odd sense of dread began to creep over him too.

"I'll go check on the squad, just in case."

"No need. Everything's already prepared."

"Prepared?"

"The reason I drilled the squad and inspected the posts since coming here— it was all for tonight."

"... That shift in duty and post assignments?"

"Exactly."

Soon, the whistling of a bitter wind was heard from outside. It was a blizzard so fierce that you couldn't hear footsteps even right beside you.

Erich then picked up the sword from the table and said,

"It's about to begin. Let's get ready to receive our guests."

"...."

Frederick's expression turned odd once more. Who were they going to greet, exactly? But somehow, standing before this young outpost captain, he felt as if he knew everything already.

***

Through the swirling snow, hulking men revealed themselves. Despite the flurries that could freeze their flesh, they wore nothing but thick animal hides.

[...]

They exchanged words incomprehensible to outsiders. At the very least, it wasn't the language of the Empire. As a Watch member approached them, clad in a black cloak, the animal-hide men openly revealed their hostility.

"You people always make trouble. Do we really have to do this dirty work too?"

"... We've already made the deal."

At that, the leader among the animal-hides grinned, baring his heavy fangs.

"Little whelps, always scheming pointlessly."

"... It has to be your doing. Only then will Sir Nicholas avoid suspicion. After all, the last person he met was Sir Nicholas. Artu."

Max stared straight at the man whose head looked larger than his own— 'Artu'.

In response, Artu flashed another chilling smile, rumbling in the Barbarian tongue.

[Don't glare at me like that. Makes me want to just rip you apart.]

At Artu's jest, the other Barbarians snickered behind him. Their tone was anything but joking.

"So, are you coming with us? You might as well open the side gate nice and wide."

"No. Then it would look like an inside job. Instead, you need to use these to leave Barbarian traces."

Max dumped the tools he had been carrying. They were shaped like sharp pickaxes.

Artu scratched the back of his head with a huge hand and picked up a pickaxe.

"What a hassle. Whose idea is this, anyway?"

"It's already settled with your shaman. If you have complaints, take them up with them."

Max, his expression hard, continued.

"Not that I care. We're getting what we want out of this too."

Artu, collecting the pickaxes Max had passed, gestured to his followers.

[Let's not waste time. Move fast.]

Artu and his crew gripped their pickaxes and raised their heads toward the Great Wall. The wind crashing against the massive Great Wall sounded like a dragon's cry.

–Boom!

Yet thanks to that, the sound of Artu and the Barbarians' pickaxes striking the wall went unheard. They drove the pickaxes into cracks in the wall and began to climb upward.

The blizzard, obscuring everything, even blocked the torchlight from above.

With the moonlight hidden behind clouds, it was nearly impossible to make out their figures.

–Crunch! Crackle!

[Ugh!]

But at that moment, a Barbarian's grip slipped, and his posture faltered. He looked as if he was about to cry out.

–Thwack!

The Barbarian's eyes went wide. A thick knife, hurled from somewhere, had pierced his neck.

Next to him stood Artu, retrieving his knife after it bounced free.

–Swish.

The Barbarian's body tumbled to the ground, limp.

Seeing the companion die so silently, Artu spoke.

[Move faster.]

To outsiders, it might have looked brutal— even to their own kin— but the Barbarians uttered not a sound. Their faces didn't even flinch.

It was simply their way. The weak die. No matter what kind of death. The Barbarians here already knew.

The instant his grip slipped from the pickaxe, that Barbarian was as good as dead— no longer their comrade.

–Boom!

Before long, the Barbarians had scaled the towering Great Wall. Swiftly, they jammed their fingers into cracks and climbed-nimbly.

Max, who followed after, drew close to the Barbarians.

"Empty. Wasn't there supposed to be a guard?"

"... It's an abandoned post. If there were guards, that'd be the real surprise."

Artu's eyes narrowed, and he nodded to the Barbarians nearby.

–Rustle—

Despite their huge frames, the Barbarians moved as lightly as mice, scattering in all directions. In their hands they gripped swords and axes closer to clubs than blades.

While Artu watched the area, he waited for his subordinates to return. But when they did, his eyebrows shot up.

[No one?][No one. No one's guarding this place.]

Artu quietly stared at Max. Doubt flickered in his eyes.

"Sir Nicholas did say it might be completely unguarded. Guess he was right."

"... If this is some kind of trick..."

"It's not."

Max quickly cut off Artu's suspicion. Artu, too, agreed. There was no reason these people would lure Artu into a trap.

Artu issued swift orders to his gathered Barbarians.

[Take the stairs down. Deal with anyone you find, before trouble starts.][Understood.]

The Barbarians, in formation once more, headed down the stairs. Even as they descended, no one stood guard.

Just as their suspicion peaked, at last, through the end of the blizzard, they saw ground ahead.

And the moment they reached the ground—

–Fwoosh!

Suddenly, torches flared up all around. Through the blizzard, blazing torches cast their light upon them.

"Well done coming all this way. Barbarians, huh? Not a bad plan— for one out of Nicholas's thick skull."

Breaking through the blizzard was a young man with long, jet-black hair. Around him, countless squad members had surrounded the intruders.

Max's eyes darted in confusion. Artu and the Barbarians quickly scanned for any escape. There was none.

At that moment, Artu and the Barbarians realized—

They had fallen into a trap.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=Oh, barbarians...Did Nicholas impregnate a barbarian woman?How?【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】

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