Chapter 43.2

“Sir Theo, thank you for everything.”

As Theo’s gaze lingered, his eyes met those of a soldier riding in one of the carts. The soldier, Bill, spoke first.

“Well done, Bill. You’ve worked hard. Will you return to your hometown after the banquet at the High Tower?”

Bill was a seasoned soldier Theo had befriended during the expedition.

“I suppose I’ll have to. There’s no place for someone like me in the army anymore. But… I wonder if my hometown will welcome me back. I only joined the army because there weren’t enough mouths to feed. How am I supposed to live now, crippled like this?”

Bill’s legs were gone—both of them.

His left leg was missing below the knee, lost to frostbite. His right leg had been amputated above the thigh after an orc’s spear caused a festering wound.

“Be grateful you’re alive.”

Theo’s words were tinged with bitterness as he looked at Bill.

In truth, Bill’s survival was a miracle.

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, injuries like his resulted in death—whether from blood loss, infection, or frostbite.

But for some reason, the gods—or perhaps his ancestors—had spared this grizzled, bearded twenty-eight-year-old bachelor.

Among the wounded, Bill’s survival was likely a unique case.

“Yes… but sometimes… I wonder if it wouldn’t have been better to die…”

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Haha…” Bill forced a laugh, brushing off his remark.

If Theo had been whole, Bill would have lashed out with a string of profanities the moment he heard Theo’s well-meaning, “Be grateful you’re alive.”

And if he had been executed for insulting his superior or committing insubordination, Bill might have thought it a mercy.

“Yes, you’re absolutely right, Sir. They say the later you go to meet your ancestors, the better, don’t they? Hahaha!”

“….”

Bill forced a laugh, brushing it off, but Theo understood what he was feeling.

If losing just one arm was enough to make Theo feel this way, how hopeless must it be for Bill, who had lost both legs?

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what, Sir?”

“No reason. Forget I said anything.”

“…Yes, Sir.”

Theo could already see the bleak road ahead for Bill.

The small stipend and rations provided by the High Tower each month would never be enough.

In his impoverished hometown, Bill’s presence would become a growing burden.

Eventually, he would leave, forced to beg for survival.

And when winter came, he would likely find himself freezing in the streets, starving, consumed by resentment and regret until the end.

“You’re good with your hands, though. You’re talented at carving and painting. I still have the portrait you painted of me.”

“Well… that’s true.”

Perhaps Bill’s future wouldn’t be entirely hopeless.

His knack for crafting and artistry might allow him to scrape by, selling paintings or wooden crafts in the streets.

“And what about you, Sir?”

“…?!”

At Bill’s question, Theo instinctively glanced at his empty sleeve, flapping in the wind.

“Me? Hmm…”

The thought hadn’t crossed his mind until now.

‘What a fool I am. Who am I to worry about someone else? I have nowhere to go, either.’

Theo was of noble blood, but only halfway. He was the illegitimate child of a concubine.

Even so, his talents had been recognized, allowing him to train as a knight, which eventually led to his current position.

But that was as far as his prospects went.

‘Why did it have to be my right arm?’

Theo was right-handed.

He could retrain his left hand, wield a sword again, and perhaps find a role.

But he would never be allowed to participate in dangerous expeditions again. Not just expeditions—he’d be excluded from all critical missions reserved for knights.

“At best, I’ll end up as an instructor for soldiers in the rear… or maybe a wandering adventurer.”

Theo’s future was bleak—a position somewhere between knight and soldier, without prestige or real purpose.

“Come to think of it, I’m in just as much trouble. My swordsmanship wasn’t exceptional to begin with, so becoming a one-armed swordsman seems pointless. Hahaha!”

Theo laughed awkwardly, his expression tinged with bitterness.

“You’re good with words, Sir, and you write well. You’re also quite good with numbers.”

“Anyone can pick that up with some effort.”

“Really?”

“Yes. If I had any real talent in that area, I’d have become a bureaucrat or a merchant long ago.”

“Then why not become one now?”

“No, thank you. Bureaucrats and merchants read far more books and deal with far more complex calculations than I can handle. I wouldn’t dare.”

Theo dismissed the idea and fell into quiet contemplation about his future.

‘What am I going to do? If I go back to my family, they’ll treat me like dead weight. Can I even survive as a one-armed adventurer?’

Until now, his focus had been on enduring and returning alive.

But as the tension began to fade, the uncertainty of his future loomed large, filling him with dread.

“What’s this? You two seem to be having an interesting conversation.”

The voice was deep and commanding, causing Theo and Bill to flinch in surprise.

‘No way!’

“?!”

They spun around to find the source.

“Commander!”

“The Ice Wall of the North greets you, Sir!”

Standing at the rear of the procession was Sun, the Ice Wall of the North, who had been keeping watch over the soldiers.

Sun towered over them, his height exceeding two meters with ease, his massive frame reminiscent of a polar bear.

On his back was a kite shield, its size 1.5 times that of his enormous build. Forged entirely from Northern Cold Steel, the shield gleamed with a blue hue, emanating a chilling aura.

Every time he moved, the air seemed to grow colder, as if his very presence carried an icy wind.

“…”

Sun silently observed his wounded subordinates, who had sacrificed so much.

His gaze lingered on the young knight missing an arm and the soldier missing both legs.

“Sir Theo, you’ve done well.”

After a long moment of silence, Sun finally spoke.

“Y-Yes, Sir!”

Hearing the high-ranking commander personally call his name, Theo felt a surge of emotion.

“And Sergeant Bill, you’ve also done well. That landscape painting of the High Tower you made… my wife loved it.”

Sun didn’t forget Bill’s name either, and his words of gratitude brought tears to Bill’s eyes.

“She—she liked it? I’m honored, Sir!”

“By the way, Bjorn, how’s your leg? Was it your left or right foot you injured this time?”

“Haha! My left, Sir. And it’s just two toes lost to frostbite. My foot’s otherwise fine!”

This was only the beginning.

“Soldier Baron, how’s your condition? Are your wounds healing?”

“Yes, Sir! Thanks to the medicine you gave me, there’s no infection!”

At the very rear of the procession, Sun meticulously checked on his men one by one, calling each by name and inquiring about their injuries.

Even in the harsh cold and grueling march, the Ice Wall of the North never neglected his soldiers, offering each of them a moment of care and reassurance.

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