The Mythical Hero's Otherworld Chronicles: Volume 10 [Parts 1 to 7] by Tatematsuri

Author:Tatematsuri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Light Novel, partial, magic, action, isekai, high fantasy, politics, war, OP Antihero Protagonist, Military Strategy
Publisher: J-Novel Club (generated)

Chapter 3: Creeping Shadow

House Heimdall ruled over a broad swath of land in the west of the northern territories. They had faithfully served House Scharm for many years, through good and ill, and had been rewarded for their loyalty by becoming one of the three most powerful houses in the north. Yet that was not the only reason for their fame. The rest of Soleil knew them as the keepers of Friedhof, the great wall that divided the empire from the untamed lands of the Sanctuarium beyond.

The house’s seat of power was located in Malaren, only a stone’s throw from the wall. It was a medium-sized settlement, perhaps the sixth largest in the north, and had been built to dispatch reinforcements at a moment’s notice. With the threat of the Wild Races so close, it was far from an economic hub, but its residents maintained good cheer. The frigid climate lent itself to drinking, and Malaren boasted so many taverns with such a wide collection of liquor that it had earned itself the nickname “Flagon’s Last Stop.” It had its rougher sides, with daytime drinkers in the streets and a few rowdy drunks, but it broadly maintained a semblance of order.

Hermes von Heimdall was known far and wide not only as a high general, but also as a great lover of liquor. He preferred to stay in his chambers inside Friedhof rather than at his mansion in the city. That was where he was at present, accompanied by a man who would have very much preferred to be anywhere else: Muninn, lieutenant to King Surtr of Baum.

Muninn sat rigidly on the floor, his mouth hanging open. He didn’t know what to say. The sheer volume of bottles lying there left him in shock.

Hermes peered at him. The old man was stripped to the waist, revealing bulging muscles. “Cat got your tongue, son?”

“It ain’t like that, it’s just... Old ma— I mean, High General von Heimdall, sir...”

Muninn had expected death after being exposed as a spy, but Hermes had made no move to apprehend him. The old man had simply escorted him back to his chambers and set to drinking. Muninn could only watch, aghast, as bottle after bottle had emptied before his eyes.

“Get some drink in you, son. You must be freezing.” Hermes thrust a goblet into his hand and filled it to the brim.

“Um...if you don’t mind me asking,” Muninn began, “what’s going to happen to me?”

“What’s going to happen? You’ll drink up and then you’ll go on home, that’s what.” Hermes took another hearty swig. “Bah. S’pose you’d best have a gander at the wall first.”

Muninn took a gulp of his own goblet, cocking his head. “That’s it? I just get to look around and go?”

“Be my guest, son. You seem like a good sort.”

Muninn pinched the skin between his eyebrows, only more perplexed.

Hermes grinned at his confusion. “You’ll understand once you see for yourself. Come on, lad. Grab yourself a bottle and we can drink on the way.

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