If there is light, a shadow is cast. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow is cast.
If light was love, friendship, hope, and mercy, then shadows were things like destruction, slaughter, hatred, and despair.
Albrecht originally had a shadow that was darker than anyone else and had a physical ability that was stronger than anyone else.
That's why ever since I left Calteren, I've only lived by my own shadow. I tried to scatter the shadows with my contemporary memories as a small lamp.
However, unlike the spiritual physical ability, my mind grew weary of loneliness and emptiness. Then I met Rosamund and finally turned my head to see the light instead of the shadow.
For Albrecht, Rosamund was the brightest of all. Nevertheless, Albrecht's gaze grows longer and darker.
It was a different matter than setting standards to establish values or distinguish good from evil. Deep and deep inside man, it was not a world that could draw a line.
Light and shadow always blended together and were cloudy. Maybe all of those virtues and virtues were not just light and shadow, but various sides that illuminated one's inner self.
However, it seemed clear that Albrecht would be swallowed up by darkness in an instant if the light that illuminated the inside disappeared.
On the contrary, if he continued to illuminate the interior, it could have been a pillar that firmly supported the soul of Albrecht in any exhausting wind and anguish.
As darkness envelops the world, pathetic eyes fly. The wind was like cutting flesh with a blade, and the two of them were riding their horses, leaving traces in their eyes.
Looking closely, there seems to be another person, not two, but a small child sitting in front of a large person.
All three of them had their big capes firmly fastened and their hoods pressed down.
A little boy picks up a torch and a big man grabs the hillbilly and walks through the darkness.
The narrow area of light of the torch shows only scattered eyes, but the tall man is advancing without hesitation, as though he can see beyond it.
I wonder how long it's been. I can see a faint light coming from that big house. The wooden house had a sharp roof and its tip almost touched the ground.
The three men got off the horse, put the horse in the stable, gave some food to the horses, and opened a large house door and entered.
An interior space surrounded by cozy air from a large central furnace opened the door, and the cold energy and eyes of someone outside came in.
A dozen people who were in a large house were sprawling everywhere, sipping wine, grabbing dry meat, or just talking quietly with the group, and suddenly I saw three people who came in with a blizzard.
A large man with an axe takes off his hood. A scar that starts with blonde, blue eyes, chin, goes from the left lip to the bottom of the left eye. Albrecht.
After winning the throne of Anglia, it was not good for the predecessor to stay long, so he left the road with Rosamund and Vervantos the next morning.
Albrecht still couldn't resist saying that the magic device had been inspected by an expert this time. And the three of them flew together into the northern hemisphere with the magic of space travel.
Through the harsh northern weather over the course of three days, Vervantos walked as soon as he showed the way. Surprisingly, the coldest of the three was Albrecht.
Rosamund simply said that it was a little cold, but it wasn't that cold. When I went camping at night, Albrecht held her as a warmer, feeling the temperature and trembling less.
After three days, however, we arrive at the resting place of the warriors and hunters here, where the people are. The people inside saw Albrecht without hostility, but with an unfavourable gaze.
They all had strong character relaxation and did not even notice the slightest hint of vigilance towards strangers.
Albrecht also looked at the people inside. Everyone was wearing a big, thick leather outfit, or armor with leather on the chain. It looks shabby, but there are long traces of practice.
They were mostly blonde, blue-eyed, like Albrecht, but what was characteristic was that many people braided long hair or even braided hot beards.
They were all wearing axes and swords, but they were rarely seen together compared to their colors. The wall is lined up with circular shields.
They were all Northwestern warriors and hunters. Cruel, barbaric, and more battle-oriented people than anyone. That's what Albrecht knew.
The people in the intestine wondered if a child had come to the resting place of the warriors and hunters, even if it was Albrecht. But it was none of their business. There's got to be a story.
They try to keep their eyes peeled, and Vervantos takes off the hood. A cute little boy's face came out. Above all, my ears were pointy.
But no one was surprised in the intestine. Rather, he looks at the dwarf and naturally turns his gaze away from the group, not surprising.
Not all Northmen do, but the Northmen who lived near the Heavenly Mountains lived in a relationship with the Dwarves.
They were mostly hunting, trading with Dwarves, or going out and living mercenaries. They receive mostly crops and weapons from Dwarves, and trade them for fur, meat, etc.
That's why some Dwarves come down to their villages for trade, so that dwarves are not a myth.
“Huh? Isn't that the Verbantos? ”
Surprisingly, one of the people looked at Vervantos and pretended to know him.
“Huh? It's Hrrolf. ”
Vervantos leaps forward, then plunges into the lap of the man in the chair named Hrolph.
He seemed familiar, not caring at all. Rather, I tore the meat I was holding and fed it to Vervantos.
The man named Hrolph was light blonde, almost white, and the strapped and braided beard was rich enough to cover his neck. Your head is so long that it can't reach your shoulders, you braid it on the side and tie it back together.
I didn't know anything else, but I could see that I wasn't that old. The blue eyes of the sky contain the courage as well as the relaxation. The overall impression seemed to be of a relaxing tiger or lion.
Albrecht didn't know if this was an inn or just a private house. If I were the owner, I'd put some kind of spell on it, but I didn't see any bars.
“Those of you who are with Vervantos, if you don't mind, come and sit down. ”
In a slightly embarrassed car, Hrrolf suggested a seat. He is a friend of the Vervantos he knows, so he did him a favor.
It was a kind of morning commute bus stop for readers and warriors. I saw it every morning, but I didn't know it, it was just a place where face-to-face people would gather.
Warriors and hunters were always on the move, requiring a place to rest midway through the harsh northern weather, and that was the place to rest.
Most people come in and out soon, and people in the sanctuary keep changing, but it's all there.
“Thank you.”
Albrecht lightly thanks Hrowl and sits a little further across from him. It was a long table, so it looked like it was hanging out with strangers. Rosamund sits right next to Albrecht.
Hrrolf simply looks at Albrecht and his hooded neighbor, Rosamund, and pushes the meat, liquor and glasses he ate on the plate and gives them to him.
Albrecht doesn't like to think of it as a favor, but he picks up the meat, bites it, and drinks it along with honey liquor. Honey wine was not sweet as the name suggested, but severely poisonous. His hometown used to make honey liquor, but it wasn't this bad.
As Albrecht looks at the meat and drinks, Hroelf says,
“You must be a traveler. I am Hrrolf Langwaldson. What about you?”
“Albrecht von Hoenclatern of Calteren. ”
Albrecht introduces himself, and Hrrolf opens his eyes wide. The warriors around you gaze into Albrecht's eyes.
“It's unusual for a southerner to come here, but it's amazing. From the looks of it, you feel the breeze of a warrior who is not a southerner. ”
As far as the Northmen were concerned, they were all Southerners living further south than they were. Albrecht lived in the north or the middle, but the Northmen used to mock the southern women for being such girls, even though their male warriors were still alive.
When people who weren't surprised to see the dwarves were surprised to see Albrecht himself from the south, they thought something was funny.
After all, they liked Albrecht's blonde, blue-eyed, big, and, most importantly, scarred face.
Hroulf looks away and sees Rosamund. I pressed the hood deeply to see only my mouth and chin, but it was a woman. He thinks strangely and looks at the white bow leaning next to him.
“Are you hunting? I've seen a lot of shield maidens, but I've never seen a female hunter before. ”
The shield maiden said the warrior woman. They fought in the same position as men, and there were rare, albeit armed men.
According to Hrowlf, Rosamund takes off his hood and looks at him boldly. He lowers his head and the rest is tied back and forth, and a three-day journey brings a lot of bald hair, but he never loses his looks.
“Huff!”
“Elves!? ”
“Oh, my God! It's an Elf! ”
Rosamund shows his face and the warriors and hunters around him are furious. Despite seeing the dwarves, those who were indifferent saw Rosamund in a commotion.
The people behind Rosamund rush in to see his face. And they were also surprised to see Rosamund's face.
“I'm not an elf. This is Rosamund Westskad from Anglia. This is Albrecht's wife next to me. ”
Hrowlf stares at Rosamund with a blank expression, and opens his mouth.
“What the hell are you? Vervantos, the Southern Warrior, and a hunter like an Elf. ”
It was Vervantos who answered Harold's question. He put the meat in his mouth, murmured, and drank the poisoned honey wine and said,
“I'm on my way to catch a dragon. That's why I gathered the men. Albrecht is the descendant of the mercenary Sigurd, and Rosamund is the descendant of the great dragon Wescade. We have the weapons, and now we only have one thing left to catch. ”
Hrrolf glances down at Bervantos, who sits on one knee in a daze.
“A dragon? I thought the dragon was gone? ”
In the center of the Sanctuary, the hearth still burns cozy, and people gather around Albrecht's group one day to listen.
Even though he said he was killing dragons, he didn't question anyone, and everyone believed him. I only heard about the dragon for a long time, so I listened with excitement.
For the Northmen near the Sky Mountains, dragons were a common storytelling. Many tales were told of mercenaries.
It has long been said that the Dwarf quest to catch dragons has not been the case for catching Baharius-class devils like the ancestor Sigurd of Albrecht.
The large northern peoples of the eastern tip were proud of catching whales, and the northern peoples near the heavenly mountains were proud of catching dragons. But dragons have long since disappeared from the North.
To them, dragons were not the only stories in the lore. Because where they lived, dragon bones used to be found.
All the warriors and hunters in the sanctuary stare at Vervantos' mouth. For those who know adventure, combat, and hunting as the greatest honor, dragons were a living sacrifice of glory.
< 119 > End