Chapter 113: Mulin

Sven returned to Gorigan, his birthplace and childhood home. Most of the original clan members were gone and had been replaced by new settlers. Once a place of glory so strong that it received tribute from surrounding clans, was now just an ordinary fishing village.

"Do you know anyone here?" Urich, sitting by the beach, asked Sven who was walking over to him.

"Just a few," Sven replied, gazing at the horizon. The sea was frozen, halting any ship departures during winter. The frozen sea was majestic.

"Frozen sea! How cool is that? If we walk across, do you think we would reach the Edge of the World or the eastern continent?" Urich chuckled, looking at the frozen sea. He stood up, and the children of Gorigan, seeing the strangers Urich and Sven, glanced at them and ran away.

"What are you going to do now? You've seen your daughter and came back to Gorigan."

Urich wiggled his fingers. He was always ready. His sole purpose in following Sven was to guide him to the Field of Swords. That was his role.

"Mulin," Sven said as he pointed northward.

"Mulin? Ah, the sacred site of the north," Urich mused after tilting his head in confusion for a second.

"Even here they’ve lost the old traditions. This isn't the north I knew."

"Not a bad place, though, eh? It’s quiet and peaceful."

"Tradition and faith aren't just about good or bad. They're just something that is silently passed down and preserved," Sven coughed softly, staring at the sea. Memories of the past flashed through his mind.

"If you've made up your mind, we don’t have to waste any more time here."

Urich and Sven resupplied in Gorigan and mounted their horses.

Mulin was a land of extreme cold, even for the north. It was almost too harsh for people to live in. But that was also the reason why the sacred site of the north could remain outside the empire's territory, as its conditions made it too difficult for the Imperial to maintain control even if they managed to get it in the first place.

"The north was originally the land of dragons. Our forefather Ulgaro vanquished them and settled the land for northerners."

"I’ve heard that story over and over, Sven."

"...And in Mulin lies the remains of the dragon that inflicted deep wounds on Ulgaro."

Sven spoke carefully. It was a secret even among the northerners.

"What?"

Urich turned his head, eyes wide.

"I thought you'd want to see the dragon's remains."

"Dragon's remains exist?"

"I saw them myself as a child. My father had access thanks to his renowned status."

Sven's eyes, crinkled with webs of wrinkles, remembered that day that felt like a fever dream. Deep inside the sacred site's cave, walking for a long time with a torch soaked in whale grease...

"Dragons are just in legends, no? Like that dragon figure from the eastern continent."

"That was the dragon of the eastern continent. They look different. The ones that Ulgaro defeated were evil ones that preyed on humans."

Urich was taken aback. Sven's words didn't sound like an exaggeration. Sven wouldn't casually say such things if they weren’t true.

"It’s my gift to you for following me all the way out here. If Mulin is still a sacred site of the northerners, they will recognize a true warrior like you. They'll gladly show you the dragon's remains."

"Really?"

"I'll do my best."

It was Sven's last gift. He had enjoyed a good journey thanks to Urich. Without Urich, he might have met an unbecoming end as a warrior.

'And he stopped my despicable act.'

Regret came to his mind late. Kidnapping Karha was wrong. A warrior's blade should never turn inward. Sven was ashamed of his mistake. He had no right to face the ancestors on the Field of Swords.

"Dragons, huh," Urich muttered, stroking his rough beard. His eyes sparkled like a boy's.

‘This young man is not like me. I’ve already met my limit, but Urich is a young and curious warrior, still with room to grow.'

Urich had potential and a future. He was a shining warrior. Sven envied him. Next to Urich, Sven felt petty, awaiting death with all possibilities closed.

'If only such a young warrior had been my offspring.'

Sven wanted to make Karha like Urich. If he had a blood like Urich, he could die without regrets and face the ancestors on the Field of Swords with pride.

"Tell me about your homeland. There’s no one else to hear it now."

Urich hesitated before sharing stories of his homeland. His homeland was a land with distinct dry and wet seasons, where forests and wastelands coexisted. The scarcity of resources made permanent settlements impossible, leading to frequent relocations.

"...And I always looked at the Sky Mountains. The shaman said it was the world of spirits. When we die, we go there, treated according to our deeds in life. Warriors, of course, receive the best treatment."

Urich gazed westward, where the sun was setting. The Sky Mountains were not visible from here.

"Is that so..." Sven observed Urich.

Urich was young and open-minded. Once he learned that the world of spirits was not real, he decided to enjoy his exploration of civilization.

'I wouldn't have dared such a thing.'

Urich wasn't afraid of his worldview being shattered, and it couldn’t have been only due to his youth; his temperament was different. He easily believed and then discarded Lou.

'Urich abandoned his god but remains a warrior blessed by one.'

Sven coughed every night. The signs of his illness were increasingly evident. Urich teased the dying Sven without changing face.

"Isn't it better for you this way, anyway? In this world, even your only family shuns you. If you die quickly, you can meet your son on the Field. That must be nice, real nice.”

"Keke."

Sven laughed by the campfire, clutching his stomach. Each breath or laugh brought pain. His lung disease was getting worse by the day.

The next day, Urich and Sven continued their journey. As they drew closer to Mulin, they occasionally passed through ruined villages.

"It seems the rumors of Mulin's warriors raiding the surrounding villages are true. The people here must have either fled or were wiped out," Sven remarked, surveying the ruins for any food that may have been left behind. But it was clear the village had been thoroughly plundered.

Sven and Urich didn’t seem bothered by what they were seeing. They did not despise the act of raiding. To them, raiding was a way of life, just another duty of a warrior to provide for their family and tribe.

"Sven, weapon," Urich said calmly, sensing a presence around the ruins.

Schriiiing.

Urich grabbed his axes.

"Imperial soldiers?"

From the ruins emerged Imperial soldiers clad in leather armor, surrounding Urich and Sven. There were five of them.

"Judging by their attire, they're scouts."

Sven and Urich backed up against each other. The soldiers hesitated to approach rashly.

"We're just passing travelers," Sven told the soldiers.

"Then come with us for identity verification. We need to make sure you’re not a part of Mulin!"

The soldiers shouted with their shields and swords ready. They were scouts sent to inspect villages attacked by Mulin. They had discovered suspicious individuals, and they planned to take them for questioning.

"I'd rather not provoke these Imperial soldiers," Urich muttered. Defeating them wasn't the issue, but provoking the Imperial Army could lead to troublesome consequences. Urich was well aware of the empire's might.

"We're barbarians. If we're lucky like last time and someone recognizes you, maybe we’ll be off the hook. Otherwise, they’re just going to torture us. Plus, we're on our way to Mulin. The Imperial Army will think we're joining them."

Sven was ready to fight immediately.

"Well, I guess there’s only one way out," Urich said, spinning his axes, eyeing the soldiers' positions.

Urich and Sven were about to engage, but the soldiers instead retreated, avoiding confrontation.

‘They’re Imperial soldiers from the north, alright!'

Sven scowled. The soldiers didn't rashly attack the two barbarian warriors even though they outnumbered them, knowing well the danger they posed.

The soldiers retreated like true scouts and fired a whistling arrow into the air.

Peeee!

The whistling arrow was a special arrow that produced a flute-like noise. The arrow soared high, spreading sound in all directions.

"Shit."

Urich cursed and ran after the fleeing soldiers, but they were too quick. It was clear the area was heavily patrolled by the Imperial Army.

"Mount up, Urich!" Sven shouted. They needed to escape the area quickly.

"Kylios!" Urich whistled. Kylios and Sven's horse galloped toward them.

Urich mounted Kylios, scanning the surroundings and spurring the horse on.

"They’re closing in from all directions."

Urich laughed, looking around the snowy landscape.

"That means their army is nearby. This isn’t the time to laugh!" Sven yelled, searching for an escape route.

'There will soon be a clash with Mulin.'

Urich remembered the words of Yabhorn’s defense captain Gremor.

'Is this the army preparing to clash with Mulin?'

Urich had to make a decision: fight his way out or bet on his fame.

Thwip.

There was no time to think. Urich looked to the side. Sven had been hit by an arrow and fell from his horse. His weakened state couldn't withstand even one arrow.

"Typical old man," Urich smirked, raising his hand to greet the approaching Imperial soldiers.

𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"My name is Urich," he announced to the soldiers surrounding him.

* * *

“Such a headache, those Mulin barbarians," Duke Langster, the viceroy of the northern provinces, grumbled in the cold. He tightened his coat and looked out over the snow-covered landscape.

"All the nearby villages seem to have been attacked. Such cruel brutes," a knight reported to Duke Langster, who nodded in acknowledgment.

'If they had just stayed quietly in Mulin, they would have saved their lives. Why do they do this to themselves?.'

Mulin was a land even the Imperial Army was wary of. Attacking a holy site, even of a different faith, was enough to incur the wrath of the gods. Moreover, the fierce cold killed their men just by advancing toward Mulin.

"You’ve come out here yourself; that will surely make them tremble in fear," remarked another knight.

Duke Langster scoffed at this comment.

"As if they know how to tremble, you fool."

Duke Langster was a distant relative of the royal family, but he was not appointed viceroy solely due to his lineage. He was also a knight who had faced the northerners in battle several times and knew their ways well.

'Damned sycophants. I can’t believe I have to carry these idiots around.'

He glanced disdainfully at his knights. Some were competent, but many were rejects sent to the north after being virtually exiled from their families. He wanted to dismiss all these fools, but doing so would provoke complaints of dishonor from their families. Noble society was frustratingly complex.

"Ugh, it's disgustingly cold here.”

Duke Langster complained as he adjusted his coat again. He was leading the northern army to Mulin and his scouts were collecting information in every direction.

"We have captured two men presumed to be Mulin’s scouts," a scout reported. Duke Langster smiled with satisfaction. You could never have enough information about your enemies.

"Good, good."

Duke Langster went to meet the captured barbarians with a wide grin on his face. As he approached, the soldiers bowed their heads to the viceroy.

"My name is Urich! I demand proper treatment as a free man, not a captive," Urich declared, facing Duke Langster.

Sven lay beside him with the wound from the arrow earlier on top of the illness he had been carrying already. Without immediate medical attention, Sven was in danger.

"Treat the injured prisoner and torture the other for information," Duke Langster ordered briefly before turning to leave.

"Sir, this man is..." A knight interrupted Duke Langster. He was a knight who had just recently been deployed to the north.

"What about that barbarian?" The duke frowned.

"If I remember correctly... it might be wise to treat him properly. That man is Urich, the winner of the Hamel Jousting Tournament. He was the first barbarian to ever win the competition, so I remember him clearly."

"What? Why is a jousting champion in a place like this?" Duke Langster was noticeably surprised. He had been away from the capital for over five years and was out of touch with the empire's news.

"Many soldiers already recognize him. He's a barbarian, but apparently, he has connections with the royalty. It would not be good if word spread that we treated him poorly."

The knight offered his counsel in the politest way he could think of. Duke Langster turned to look back.

"Tsk, treat them as guests, not as prisoners!" Duke Langster waved his hand dismissively. He then called the knight who advised him aside to hear more details.