Once again, I dreamed of the snowy plains.
It was a world dyed entirely white. The sharply rising coniferous forest, even the carcasses of beasts that had collapsed from cold and starvation—everything was bleached beneath the falling snow.
I was walking across that pale land.
Behind me stood military tents with wisps of smoke rising from them. It was an encampment meant to stop the monsters crossing over from beyond the coniferous forest, yet there was almost no fighting spirit to be felt within.
As though the snowfield itself had stolen away all their heat.
Even the few voices brushing past my ears were insolent beyond measure.
“That cannibal…… if something isn’t…… somehow…….”
“It’s all…… fault…… the reason we…… ended up…….”
My gaze turned behind me at the whispers that were difficult to ignore.
Yet all that stood there was a sentry with an unmotivated expression, his head repeatedly drooping as he nodded off.
It was a rare sight.
No matter how little respect I received, to be this lax in front of an Imperial messenger.
It was proof of just how low morale had fallen on the Northern Front.
The war situation was stagnant, and supplies were poor. Considering the brutal environment of the Northern Region, it was not an incomprehensible outcome.
Even so,…