Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight [438] (Patreon)

"Hello~ Ophelia dear"

Within a castle built of ice blocks, a foxy, playful voice echoed with a smile.

Dressed much as she would in the Russian domain, the deep green-garbed Koyanskaya cheerfully walked up to the dazed-looking girl.

Ophelia, who had just returned to her room, quietly watched the uninvited guest without reacting.

"Welcome to the princess's snow palace, like a best friend's room."

Adjusting her drinks, Koyanskaya smiled slightly: "No, I should say, welcome back again today. I've already started on my own, okay? Vodka with Nordic ice is surprisingly good."

Clink.

Raising her glass, Koyanskaya looked satisfied, her foxlike eyes narrowing in delight—a mere gaze from her could make anyone lose themselves.

"......"

Ophelia said nothing, simply watching this person who should have left but still lingered.

"Your expression is like asking, 'Oh dear, is it okay to drink on the job?'"

Koyanskaya smiled: "I agree with you, but it's really this castle's fault. I thought it would be warmer here than in Russia, but it's even colder."

Even without blizzards, the cold here surpassed even the Russian domain.

"This city of ice and snow is the exception among exceptions."

Koyanskaya sighed: "It's so cold, you'd freeze without a formal outfit. Sure, it's better than extreme heat, but this is too much, right? Don't you agree, Ophelia, our Nordic beauty?"

"I don't think so."

Ophelia replied flatly, "What surprises me is that you're still here, Koyanskaya. I thought you would have already moved to another Lostbelt.

You also have your own mission, don't you? Just like I carry out Lord Kirschtaria's orders."

Koyanskaya had only recently transferred into the Scandinavian Lostbelt. Thanks to her Independent Manifestation ability, she could appear in any time or place; even the Storm Wall couldn't stop her.

Likewise, because of Independent Manifestation, Koyanskaya's actions in the Scandinavian Lostbelt didn't overlap with Chaldea's timelines; she had been active here for quite some time.

As for why she came, it was because of Alaric.

After Alaric's plans began unfolding in Russia, Koyanskaya, sensing something was wrong, quickly escaped, bringing news—embellished by her, of course—about the Russian Lostbelt to Ophelia in the Scandinavian Lostbelt.

That's how Ophelia and the other Crypters first learned the reason behind the fall of the Russian domain.

"It's fine, you don't have to worry about me. My work here in the Scandinavian Lostbelt is almost done."

Koyanskaya said with a grin: "The Fantasy Tree is growing well, and the Lostbelt King is cooperative, right? I've also added to my personal collection. It's about time to head to the next Lostbelt."

"But, well—"

Koyanskaya looked troubled: "Sometimes I wonder if I should've taken better care of Kadoc back then.

But—rather than worry about someone who's already out of the game, shouldn't I be more concerned about you, who's just about to shine?"

Looking at Ophelia, Koyanskaya broke into a bright smile: "Or maybe, as a fellow girl, I just can't leave you alone~ That sort of thing."

Hypocrite.

That was Ophelia's only impression—like a non-human wearing human skin. Who could possibly trust her?

But Ophelia didn't care. She replied indifferently, "I don't need your concern, Koyanskaya."

"Oh? Really? Are you sure? Absolutely sure?" Koyanskaya feigned surprise, then continued lightly, "Ophelia, you're diligent and an excellent magus, but there's always a sense of listlessness about you. It stirs my maternal instincts.

Not that I'd really know what being a mother feels like, of course."

"Annoying."

Ophelia frowned slightly. "I have pledged absolute loyalty to Lord Kirschtaria Wodime. You don't need to worry—I will not waver.

Nor will I be swayed. My Mystic Code includes charms for mental defense."

"Oh~ so you're well-defended."

Koyanskaya chuckled: "But doesn't that mean you recognize this as your weakness?"

"—"

Ophelia fell silent, not answering.

Koyanskaya realized she had crossed a line and quickly smiled: "Whoops, meddling again! In human society, they say silence is golden, right? Let's just pretend I didn't notice and start over!"

Watching Koyanskaya's performance, Ophelia pondered for a moment and then asked, "Koyanskaya, can you Apostles become Servants?"

"Hm?"

Koyanskaya, sipping vodka with her legs crossed, raised an eyebrow, showing a flash of sharp canine teeth as she smiled, "Ophelia dear, who did you meet? Isn't it normal for Apostles to be Servants? The priest is one, isn't he?"

"It's different. Aren't you Apostles of the Alien God?"

Ophelia replied calmly, "How could one of you become a Servant for Chaldea? Is it just one, or are there several Apostles who've defected?

And is it even possible for an Apostle to become a Servant?"

That one is different—he's alive.

Even Ophelia knew this much.

"Well, about that…"

Understanding who Ophelia meant, Koyanskaya's eyes narrowed, her pupils slitting beast-like: "Sir Alaric appeared here as a Servant?

A Servant? A weak Servant? Oh my, oh my!"

Unable to hide her amusement, Koyanskaya downed her vodka in one gulp and laughed: "Well, this vacation in the Scandinavian Lostbelt just got interesting!"

"The Scandinavian Lostbelt doesn't welcome you."

Not getting the answer she wanted, Ophelia said, "If you want to keep indulging your hobbies, please go do it in another Lostbelt."

"Of course, as soon as I tire of vacationing here, I'll leave."

Koyanskaya replied matter-of-factly: "But until then, let's get along, shall we? Aren't we both comrades who dislike humanity?"

"But it's fine, it's fine, Ophelia Phamrsolone, poor girl."

Koyanskaya smiled: "There are no humans here to oppress you. Here, Sunday will never come."

…

Swish.

On the empty snowy plains, two figures sped across the snow, leaving trails behind as snow was flung aside.

"Exoskeleton, high-speed mode with auxiliary equipment disengaged."

Mash came to a stop, setting down Fujimaru Ritsuka. Not far away, Alaric similarly set down the young girl, Gerda, and looked ahead to the village surrounded by high walls.

Except for a massive gate, the village seemed to have no other exits.

And—

"A powerful barrier covers the entire village through the gate. Is it to keep out giants and other threats?"

Alaric immediately sensed the barrier's presence. It was strong enough that even he and Mash, as Servants, would be affected.

The magical energy forming the barrier was very close to the ice-and-snow mana covering the entire Scandinavian Lostbelt—practically the same source.

This was the 23rd village, where Gerda had brought them after gathering herbs; it was also her home.

"Mash, where are we?"

Alaric glanced around, crouched, and thrust his spear of light into the ground, piercing the snowfield.

"Estimated location is the original Lake Vänern—"

Mash quickly matched the map and their previous path, "It's a lake northwest of Lake Vättern.

Which means this village shouldn't exist in proper human history."

"Another lake, huh—"

Alaric stood up, dusting snow from his hands, "Let's head in and see what's going on inside."

In talking with Gerda, Alaric had learned a lot.

While some information gaps were due to her youth, the cultural differences were clear.

Though geographically in Scandinavia, what the girl had learned since childhood was completely different from Norse myth—a strange, alien feeling.

Without further ado, Alaric and Mash, braving the barrier's pressure, followed Ritsuka and Gerda into Village 23.

"Hehe, it feels so mysterious, so wonderful!"

Gerda smiled happily: "I thought guests only existed in old stories, but now I can welcome real guests like this. And all three of you are envoys!"

She was truly, genuinely happy.

She'd found life-saving herbs and even met visitors.

Today was a truly joyful day!

Her heart was as pure as the snow, untainted by negative emotions.

"Envoys—"

Alaric's eyes flickered. He'd heard the term from Gerda before—those who would visit the villages at set times, bringing precious goods, armed and skilled.

Deep in thought, Alaric didn't join the conversation between Ritsuka, Mash, and Gerda, instead examining the village architecture.

The style was pure European, unchanged for centuries.

But—

The village, protected by the barrier, was kept at a comfortable temperature, and everything was lush and green.

Alaric frowned slightly, his gaze sweeping the area. With enough magical power, he scanned the entire population.

Numbers weren't an issue; there were enough people to sustain a small village. But—

They were all so young. So young there were no elders—not even middle-aged people.

Alaric had wondered why someone as young as Gerda, only thirteen, would be sent out. But now he saw—Gerda was both young and, compared to others, old.

'A miscalculation. I didn't consider the age distribution after counting the population.'

Having experienced the world under Qin Shi Huang's rule, Alaric knew: a village of only the very young must have a special way of dealing with the old.

In his experience, people under Qin Shi Huang took a drug that brought happiness but built up toxicity. When their bodies declined, they'd die quietly, becoming fuel for the holy corpses.

But here—

Beep beep.

Suddenly, a light screen appeared with a familiar voice.

"Ah ah this is Shadow Border. Can you hear me, field investigators?"

Goredolf's image appeared before Mash and the others, fiddling with a microphone.

"Eh? Director! I thought communications only worked within a few kilometers of the Shadow Border?"

Mash asked in surprise.

"Mm, the technical advisor found a solution during equipment adjustments."

Goredolf said proudly: "Of course, under my brilliant command."

Alaric came closer, grinning: "Keep working hard and maybe the Clock Tower won't arrest you as Chaldea's accomplice."

"Hey, come on!"

Goredolf retorted, flustered: "Why would I get arrested?"

Alaric waved it off, smiling: "So what's expanding the communication range?"

"Honestly, don't scare people like that!"

Goredolf grumbled: "It's a hastily developed Mystic Code drone acting as a signal relay, expanding the range from a few to dozens of kilometers.

It also functions as an observation device. I didn't expect it to connect now, though."

"So, how's the equipment adjustment?"

Alaric got to the point: "We're still clueless about the leyline, but I've gathered enough mana to search once the adjustments are done."

"The technical team is on it. Besides maintaining the barrier, almost all Shadow Border power is allocated there."

Goredolf, wrapped in a coat, complained: "Half the heating's off. If you don't find the leyline soon, we might freeze!

As for progress, the advisor says there's still a long way to go—lots needs to be rebuilt from scratch.

Hurry up! I can't deal with another masked-rider-type like before."

He paused, then asked, "Can you really find it?"

"I have some ideas—never tried this, but it's worth a shot."

Alaric mused, "If too much is buried under snow, just dig deeper."

This was the result of days trekking through the snow.

He'd pierce the earth itself—surely then he'd find the leyline hidden beneath.

Rules as learned from Gerda:

Children aged 14–15 must pair up, have offspring, and become adults.

Adults who've had children must raise them until the child is 10.

Adults who reach 25 must leave the village and be crushed by giants.

Adults aged 14–15 who fail to have children must also leave and be eaten by giants.

Anyone who breaks these rules cannot survive under the protection of the village's god or envoys.

These were the absolute rules Gerda had known since childhood.

Everyone followed them in this village of only a hundred.

"......"

Learning these rules from Gerda, Ritsuka and the others fell silent. Goredolf, unable to bear it, burst out: "Are you stupid? Not just the rules, your whole mindset is twisted! Do you know what you're saying? Only a hundred people in the village? If you can't have a child by fifteen, you die? In two years, you'll die too? Are you an artificial being? And you're smiling as you say this!"

Unacceptable—

Completely unacceptable!

That such a normal child had to accept this fate so calmly—Goredolf couldn't stand it.

Neither could Ritsuka or Mash, even if their own mission would ultimately bring destruction.

But to have death predetermined, long before the end…

"With restrictions on age and numbers—"

Alaric, always calm, saw the truth of this twisted village. Nothing was meaningless here.

Even simple enjoyment had its reasons. So there must be a purpose behind these rules.

According to Gerda, there were a hundred villages, numbered 1–100, each with a hundred people.

So, the whole Scandinavian Lostbelt had only 10,000 people.

An incredibly small number, but perhaps that was all this world contained.

Then—

Was this number being deliberately maintained?

Alaric's gaze darkened as he surveyed the village. To him, it was like a cage for humans, maintained by gods—just enough to keep numbers and quality steady.

No more, no less, endlessly continuing.

And these villages rarely interacted; only envoys traveled between them.

To villagers like Gerda, envoys were second only to gods. Now, Alaric and Ritsuka were considered envoys themselves.

Whatever the purpose of the god Gerda spoke of, all Alaric could see was a futureless world.

Perhaps that's the reason for pruning.

The Russian domain was pruned because harsh disasters forced humanity to become Yaga, losing their humanity entirely.

The Chinese Lostbelt was stagnant under Qin Shi Huang, but a little pressure could break the stagnation and escape pruning.

This Scandinavian Lostbelt, though, merely raised humans like livestock, letting them live brief lives under the gods' embrace.

"A boring world."

Alaric looked down: "But being alive is the best result—"

To live and meet destruction is not the end of life, but the end of the Lostbelt, the world's collapse.

—

At the same time—

After her conversation with Koyanskaya and seeing her off, Ophelia activated her communicator. Unlike Chaldea's, which couldn't cover an entire Lostbelt, hers could cross even the Storm Wall, connecting different worlds.

Beep beep.

A pale blue screen appeared, showing only one figure—the leader Ophelia idolized: Kirschtaria Wodime.

Kirschtaria, calm and smiling, looked at Ophelia, "Ophelia, things are even worse than you feared.

The Russian Lostbelt has been destroyed, turned into a band of light covering the stars. It's a shame.

That world couldn't become the soil for a new god. It had a strong history, but… what a pity."

The fall of the Russian Lostbelt might have been inevitable, but both the process and result surprised even Kirschtaria. That an Apostle accomplished such a feat—something even Koyanskaya couldn't do.

The existence of the band of light was a threat. Though King Solomon had thwarted Goetia, Goetia's deeds could not be denied.

If not for Romani Archaman, Goetia might have reshaped the primordial planet.

And the light band Alaric and Da Vinci created in a similar way was even more powerful—above most mysteries, beyond even gods.

But Kirschtaria saw it as a threat, nothing more. He knew no one could use the band of light as Goetia had—not even Alaric.

"But let's set that aside, Ophelia."

Kirschtaria didn't dwell on the light band. He continued, "We've discussed this in meetings, so I won't bring up Kadoc again. You can try to rescue him—only Akuta knows what happened in Russia.

Alaric and Da Vinci's entrance to her Lostbelt forced her to risk communication, keeping information flowing.

But since your concerns have come true, I have to address it."

"You flatter me, Lord Kirschtaria."

Ophelia replied softly.

"Ophelia."

Kirschtaria said gently: "I hope you'll manage the Lostbelt with your own will. Once the Fantasy Tree has taken root, it's not the King but us Crypters who must develop the world.

In the end, responsibility is ours, not someone else's.

The Queen of Ice and Snow is both merciful and cruel. Facing her will be a huge burden, but I hope you'll overcome it.

You have the talent to do so. It's because you have a burning heart yet remain as calm as ice that I entrusted the Scandinavian Lostbelt to you."

Kirschtaria knew full well what potential Ophelia held—not empty praise, but a practical judgment.

Whether it was her ever-calm reasoning, or her innate talent, she was worthy of the title "genius."