Poor Noble Nord’s Adventure

22.1. Escape

Afterward, the wyvern seemed to begin incubating its eggs after feasting on its prey inside the nest.

Through a narrow gap cleared from the pile of dung—just enough for visibility (and ventilation)—Nord quietly observed the scene.

What might make royal capital researchers on wyverns cry with joy was, for Nord, a matter of survival observation.

There was no doubt he remained in a dangerous situation, but at the same time, he had infiltrated the place where the eggs were most accessible.

Except for the unbearable stench, it might even be the best place to wait for his chance.

Watching the wyvern closely from this hiding spot was far from entertaining.

Not only did he have to make no noise, but there was also little movement to observe.

The wyvern incubating the eggs barely moved, occasionally shifting only slightly.

(I’m so bored…)

There was nothing he could do within the pile of dung.

Nord endured the overwhelming stench, which had already begun to numb his sense of smell.

(……!)

The dragon stirred—not just a small shift, but a large movement.

What’s going on?

Before Nord could process it, he froze.

The dragon was standing up—and heading straight toward him.

Thud, thud.

Each step sent a terrifying tremor through the ground where Nord was hiding.

What’s happening!? Was he discovered?

Cold sweat poured out from every pore.

His body temperature rose, only for the blood to drain from his face moments later.

(Should I fight? No, that’s madness… Damn it, this can’t be happening!)

He had a sword at his side, but he knew drawing it would be futile against the wyvern.

What just happened? Had their eyes met?

Nord trembled—unsure if the trembling came from the dragon’s steps or his own fear.

The wyvern drew closer and closer.

Even in the dim light, Nord could see every scale clearly.

(Is this the end…? Sister, I’m sorry. Father, Mother…!)

He prayed to his god, surrendered to fate, and thought of his sister Hannah, followed by his father, mother, and the rest of his family.

The wyvern loomed directly in front of him. Would it crush him? Bite him? Nord’s thoughts filled with despair as he envisioned his end.

(……?)

The dragon abruptly turned away.

What happened? Why did it change direction?

Nord’s mind filled with confusion.

Then,

The sound of something wet dropping, followed by a heavy impact, revealed the answer.

(It’s… using the toilet?)

Nord collapsed in exhaustion.

Though now covered in dung—humiliating enough with fresh excrement added on top—he felt no anger.

His entire being was overwhelmed with relief at having survived.

§

After that, the wyvern made no significant movements.

It curled its body around the eggs, cradling them protectively and continuing to warm them with its body heat.

Aside from an occasional twitch of its tail, its posture remained the same.

How much time had passed?

Nord noticed the wyvern moving again—this time in earnest.

From the small gap in the pile of waste, he observed its behavior.

The wyvern rumbled through the cave, heading somewhere beyond Nord’s view.

He soon lost sight of it, but the sound of its steps gradually faded.

(Is it going hunting?)

In the dim cave, with no clock or light, it was difficult to gauge the passage of time.

However, Nord sensed that about a day—or close to it—had passed.

The sound of the wyvern’s footsteps grew fainter and then…

The faint flapping of wings reached Nord’s ears.

(This is my last chance!!)

Wyverns fly fast.

Based on prior information and what he had observed during this ordeal, Nord estimated he had less than an hour.

The prey would likely be somewhere beyond the foothills—in the forest, the plains, or elsewhere.

The moment the wyvern returned would seal his fate.

Wyverns are intelligent.

Even if the smell of dung masked his scent, it would quickly notice if any eggs were missing.

Once that happened, the wyvern would rage across the snow-capped mountains in search of the culprit.

Nord had to act quickly, ensuring he was long gone before the wyvern’s return.

Clambering out of the dung pile, Nord retrieved equipment from his utility box tied to his waist.

It was a harness, resembling a sling used to carry an infant.

He had prepared this beforehand to secure one of the eggs.

With swift hands, he tied an egg firmly to the harness and strapped it over his armor.

The egg was heavier than it looked.

(Heavy… Is this made of metal or something?)

Rather than an egg, it felt more like the glacial stones he’d harvested before.

With the heavy burden slung over his back, Nord left the wyvern’s nest.

§

As he approached the cave entrance, the wind picked up again.

Nord hurried, mindful not to slip and crack the egg, and emerged from the cave into a fierce snowstorm.

“A blizzard, of course!”

The weather on the mountain had turned for the worse.

Dark, heavy clouds blanketed the sky, stretching endlessly across the horizon.

The blizzard showed no signs of letting up, but Nord had no time to wait.

If this were a normal mission, he’d wait for the weather to improve, but doing so now would be suicide.

The wyvern would return, and being found inside the nest would mean certain death.

Crawling back into the dung pile wasn’t an option, either—

Not for emotional reasons, but because he was already at his physical limit.

Nord had narrowly escaped danger, but nearly a day had passed.

During that time, he hadn’t had any real rest.

He’d endured the awful stench, motionless in the wyvern’s presence, and was mentally and physically exhausted—

Not to mention starving.

If it were a warm season, he might have lasted longer, but on this frigid winter mountain, he needed to reach shelter and food soon.

Otherwise, even if the weather cleared, he’d collapse before making it down the mountain.

Nord moved immediately.

Fortunately, the harness allowed him to keep both hands free, despite carrying the egg.

He quickly washed his filthy hands with snow, grabbed a camouflaged rope he’d prepared earlier, and launched himself down the cliff face.

Using the rope to support his weight along with the egg, he rapidly descended the cliff.

He kicked against the rock face, sliding down little by little on the rope.

Compared to climbing down bare-handed, this method was much faster—

But still, the harsh conditions made it frustratingly slow.

Eventually, Nord reached the midpoint of the cliff, where he had hidden a backpack.

He grabbed it and tossed it to the bottom of the cliff.

The pack contained essential supplies, but the weight of the egg made it impossible to carry both at once.

Continuing his descent, Nord used the rope to lower himself further.

The wind weakened slightly, allowing him to speed up.

Still, by the time he reached the bottom, he’d used up more time than expected.

He retrieved the buried backpack, pulling out a pair of snowshoes.

After strapping them onto his feet—still stained with frozen wyvern dung—Nord secured the egg and slung the backpack over his shoulder.

Then, braving the blizzard, he marched onward down the snow-covered mountain path.

§