Chapter 5. Beautiful Monster

The Land of Death.

It was the name given to the vast wasteland that divided the south from the north.

Its area was so immense that if one got lost in the Land of Death, they would see nothing but barren horizons in all directions, causing anyone to lose hope.

Nevertheless, until just a few years ago, many children from the north had no choice but to enter the Land of Death, as if pushed into it.

In this land torn between various tribes, small and large wars never ceased, and children who lost their villages had no choice but to seek refuge in the Land of Death—a place where “stepping foot meant certain death”—to escape pursuit.

The reasons for war were diverse. To claim the relatively prosperous regions in the barren land, to plunder food, to attack before being attacked…

Powerless children were merely sacrifices.

But as these seedlings grew to become the main actors in war, the problem showed no signs of resolution. Misfortune repeated endlessly.

Johannes was one of the children who had fled to the Land of Death.

He had witnessed his parents being brutally slaughtered before his eyes, fled miserably with a tear-soaked face, and thrown himself into the vast wasteland to escape the pursuers intent on k*lling him.

Southward, he just ran southward.

Eventually, he would reach an unknown land. If there truly was nothing at the end of this land, if the wasteland simply continued endlessly, then that couldn’t be helped.

But the hope to survive prevented young Johannes from giving up.

Perhaps it was because he wasn’t alone that he could persevere so tenaciously.

「It’s grass. Let’s eat this to survive.」

「What if it’s poisonous?」

「We’ll starve to death anyway if we don’t eat.」

Young Glenton had discovered grass behind a rock and brought it back. Young Rowell stepped back in suspicion, but after seeing young Johannes chew and swallow it without harm, he put his portion in his mouth.

It didn’t taste good, but it was edible. In terms of providing moisture, it felt like dew sent from God.

Enduring countless days like this, the three continued southward. It was possible because grass grew sporadically along the way. Sometimes, if they were lucky, they could gather berries.

And at the end, the three were able to face a horizon that wasn’t wasteland.

「We did it! We really did it!」

They repeated the same cheer so many times it should have been tiresome, but it wasn’t at all. It was a moment so joyful it felt like a dream.

They learned while begging that the land they had arrived at was the southern Kingdom of Tranche. They also discovered that orphans didn’t need to run away and hide, but could enter a place called a poorhouse.

So for Johannes, the Kingdom of Tranche was once a place to which he owed his life. It was thanks to the grace bestowed by the Pavlone duchy.

More precisely, it was thanks to the poorhouse established by that great family.

“Something’s not right.”

A small murmur escaped Johannes’s lips as he led the escort.

They had advanced some distance into the Land of Death. According to his memory, the land that should have been more desolate was now tinged with unfamiliar vitality.

As he looked around with a confused yet serious face, Rowell, riding beside him, also sensed the strangeness and agreed.

“Is my memory wrong because it’s been too long?”

“No, it’s very different from my memory too.”

They had crossed the Land of Death when they were very young. They had crossed southward at age ten and returned northward at twelve.

But no matter how long ago it was, it was the most unforgettable memory of their lives.

The land should have been filled with dry, swirling sand dust…

“Is this what the reports meant by grass growing?”

“It’s hard to call this the Land of Death anymore.”

Rowell agreed as Johannes muttered in astonishment.

Even in the era when they traversed the Land of Death, grass had grown occasionally, so they had dismissed the reports as normal.

But this much growth was a completely different story. The areas forming sparse prairies were substantial.

“Who wrote such a sloppy report?”

Johannes rubbed his forehead and exhaled a murky sigh. He recalled the worm-like, squiggly handwriting.

The negligent attitude in its preparation was evident, but he had generously overlooked it because it seemed like a low-priority matter.

Rowell sneered.

“The cattle will fatten up nicely.”

“I overlooked this because I was too focused on the Arctic region.”

“Indeed. Who was in charge of this?”

It became clear that no one had properly examined the reports about the Land of Death—neither the person who wrote the report, nor the king who used it as an excuse to come here, nor the representative mage who was dragged along as personnel for thorough investigation.

Johannes’s blue eyes flickered with confusion.

He couldn’t grasp how to interpret this change. It was then that Rowell spoke.

“We’ll need to investigate in detail, but I don’t think it’s a bad sign.”

“Why do you think that?”

When Johannes asked in a low voice, Rowell tapped his own forehead with his index finger, as if telling him to use his brain.

“Your Majesty, is your head just for decoration? If the land recovers and exchange with southern countries becomes easier, won’t resources become more abundant and life improve?”

“…”

“You don’t understand this?”

“Can’t you see this?”

As Johannes placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, Rowell quietly closed his mouth.

Having simply resolved the issue of the impertinent mouth, Johannes turned his eyes back to the vast land. The wasteland, once so enormous and cruel to a child’s eyes, now tinged with green, settled troublingly into his blue retinas.

The sound of hooves striking the ground reverberated powerfully in his ears.

‘Maybe it is a good phenomenon, as Rowell says. A prairie is better for people in many ways than a wasteland.’

Coming to a quiet conclusion, Johannes secretly let out a long sigh of relief. In truth, he had been carrying a worry lately.

The Kingdom of Nordish was incredibly barren compared to Tranche, which shone with mild weather and colors of all hues.

He had worked tirelessly to make it a better country to live in, but he constantly worried about how it would appear in Eunice’s eyes.

He had been concerned that a barren atmosphere might flow from the Land of Death, foreshadowing what was to come…

“Will it look somewhat prosperous?”

Watching the king who was in his own world, Rowell clicked his tongue in disbelief.

‘Talking about prosperity, ridiculous.’

It would be fortunate if nothing appeared trivial to the eyes of the great Lady Pavlone. Neither the Land of Death nor the capital Berzan.

Words of retort rose to his throat, but remembering his split lip from the blow he had received before departure, Rowell decided to restrain himself.

* * *

It really is enormous.

Looking at the vast land stretching outside the window for days, Eunice quietly swallowed a stifled groan.

She couldn’t believe she was traveling to such a distant place. Even as the carriage steadily moved northward, it didn’t feel real.

‘We seem to be almost there.’

Eunice unconsciously clutched the hem of her dress. Sweat kept forming on her palms.

They were supposed to meet the Nordish escort at the midpoint. This meant they had only crossed half of the Land of Death.

She suddenly realized what tremendous hardships the “Children of Death” had overcome to reach St. Laurent. Those young children.

Now that Nordish was unified, a relatively safe passage connecting north and south had been pioneered, but it wasn’t like that back then. There had been no markers to guide the way through this vast wasteland.

Just then, a pillar flashed by outside the window. It was one of the pillars placed at regular intervals to prevent travelers from losing direction, and it had numbers indicating how much distance remained.

The occasional diplomatic envoys, merchants carrying magic stones from the north and luxury goods from the south, and now Eunice herself—all used these pillars as beacons for navigation.

It was then that the carriage gradually slowed down. They had reached the midpoint. Eunice held her breath in tension.

Murmuring sounds came from ahead, followed by the approaching sound of hooves. Her green eyes naturally turned toward the source of the sound.

At that moment.

‘Ah…’

Eunice couldn’t take her eyes off the man riding a snow-white horse. Even without an introduction, she somehow felt she knew who he was. Even though it was unlikely the king would come here personally.

「They say he has an extremely brutal and cruel temperament.」

「That’s how he unified the harsh north.」

「He rules through power and fear.」

Johannes Reinhardt…

His silver hair, as if infused with moonlight, fluttered in the dry wind. His blue eyes, which gazed at her, were as cold as ice crystals. He gave the impression of being more like a sculpture than a person.

If everything people gossiped about was true, the man before her would surely be a monster…

But he would be a very beautiful monster.