Poor Noble Nord’s Adventure

22.2. Escape

(Damn… Even with snowshoes, my feet are sinking into the snow!)

Nord’s internal clock indicated that quite some time had already passed.

Without prior preparation, he would still be clinging to the cliff. However, even with preparation, the progress was slower than expected.

At this rate, it was inevitable that the wyvern would find him—this thought filled Nord with dread.

(What a disaster… Isn’t there anything I can do?)

The snowstorm might delay the wyvern’s hunt or its return.

But that was just wishful thinking. It could just as well come back sooner.

The time left until the wyvern noticed the intruder was short.

He had to come up with a plan within that window.

The best scenario was to reach the foot of the mountain. There was a hidden campsite there, stocked with supplies to help him recover.

After that, he just needed to move toward the meeting point with the carriage at a time the wyvern was unlikely to notice.

The problem was how to get down the mountain. His feet were stuck in the heavy snow, and even with the walking stick prepared in his pack, his pace was sluggish.

He likely wouldn’t reach the foot of the mountain even if he walked for an entire day.

The next best option was to take a break somewhere along the way.

Fortunately, he had tools in his pack.

If he dug into the snow and made a snow cave, he could minimize the wind’s impact. With enough food, he could rest.

The problem with this plan was that he wouldn’t be able to move.

Though travel would be easier once the storm passed, it would also make him easier to spot.

Avoiding discovery would require waiting for the wyvern to give up on its egg, but there was no telling how long it would search.

His current location wasn’t far from the wyvern’s nest.

Even if he reached the foot of the mountain, a wyvern searching for its young might still patrol the area around the nest.

In the worst-case scenario, if the wyvern searched for a week, Nord’s return would be hopeless.

The food in his pack would only last three days.

With the area sealed in snow, hunting wasn’t an option.

(If only I could’ve moved further before stopping… No, it’s the same problem!)

The real issue was the means of travel.

If only he could predict the wyvern’s movements, he thought, but the information wasn’t recorded in his leather-bound adventure journal.

No adventurer from the capital had successfully stolen a wyvern egg.

Those who managed to obtain one were all Silver-ranked or higher. They told Nord, “We just killed the wyvern and brought the egg back, so we don’t know.”

If he could do that, he wouldn’t be struggling now.

(Damn it! Those guys made me buy them so many mugs of ale… Though, it was valuable information.)

Their stories, based on years of experience, were enlightening and entertaining.

The problem was that their methods were beyond Nord’s capabilities.

Meanwhile, time was ticking away.

At least a quarter-hour must have passed, with less than that remaining. He needed a plan.

The issue was transportation.

In any case, he needed to get away from the wyvern’s nest.

His choices were either to make it to the foot of the mountain or to move as far as possible and take shelter in a snow cave.

The farther he moved from the nest, the less likely he’d be discovered, but that meant he needed a way to travel.

(Move… move… move… Yes!)

Trudging through the snowstorm, Nord dredged up a memory.

There was no time to check his journal in these conditions.

But something he had once heard came to mind.

[Skiing.]

That’s what it was called.

A technique used in northern countries, it involved attaching longboards to the feet, similar to the snowshoes Nord wore.

Like snowshoes, they kept one from sinking into the snow, but they also allowed for rapid movement downhill by gliding over the surface.

In the northern region of the Hamill Kingdom, snow was common.

It made sense that the northern knights would study such equipment. Nord recalled overhearing his father and brother discussing it at the Ferris estate.

(That’s it… With this, I can move!)

It was like a sled.

With a slope downhill, he could slide and drastically shorten the travel time.

Luckily, he already had snowshoes, so attaching boards to his boots should be easy.

(Alright, now I just need to make skis… Materials… I need materials…)

What he thought was a brilliant idea quickly hit a snag.

There were no materials to use.

The area was covered in snow, and there wasn’t even a dead tree in sight.

How was he supposed to make boards in these conditions?

For a brief moment, hope had filled him, only to be snatched away just as quickly, leaving him in despair.

How could he overlook such a simple issue?

Nord cursed himself.

Normally, he would have noticed right away, but exhaustion had clouded his mind.

After all, he’d spent an entire day in the wyvern’s nest, climbing cliffs and setting ropes before that.

On top of everything, the cold was starting to affect him.

He hadn’t eaten or rested.

The blizzard made it worse, with the freezing wind sapping his body heat in seconds.

Even the equipment he wore was no exception.

(Damn it, no wonder it’s been so hard to walk—wyvern dung’s frozen solid on me.)

The dung he’d been covered in while sneaking through the wyvern’s nest had hardened, freezing onto his armor.

Every movement scattered pieces of frozen dung into the wind.

(Ugh, my cloak’s completely frozen—more like a plank now.)

The cloak that had somewhat protected him from the wyvern’s dung had soaked up moisture and lost its softness, becoming stiff as a board.

(……!)

Then, a sudden realization struck Nord. A brilliant idea came to mind.

§

Nord sat inside the rattling, swaying carriage.

After escaping the wyvern’s nest, he hurriedly boiled water on a portable mana stone stove.

He used the hot water to thaw his cloak, tearing it in half and soaking it thoroughly.

Once exposed to the biting snowstorm, it froze solid in an instant.

From there, everything proceeded quickly.

Nord strapped makeshift skis to his snowshoes and, cradling the egg, slid down the slope.

Perhaps fortune smiled on him—just after he started, the blizzard weakened, slightly improving visibility.

The snowy slope, which had been a grueling ascent, became a rapid descent.

The improvised skis proved remarkably effective, allowing Nord to steer using walking sticks.

He had planned to use his sword as a brake if necessary, ready to protect the egg if he crashed.

But he quickly mastered controlling his movements by shifting his weight, and his pace soon surpassed running speed.

Just as he reached the foot of the mountain, a wyvern’s enraged roar echoed across the snowy peaks.

The sound was so intense it seemed to shake the mountain itself.

The avalanche that followed roared down, swallowing ice spirits and snow golems in its path, smashing through the forest at the base.

Fortunately, Nord had already reached the campsite, far from the avalanche’s path.

If he had been traveling on foot or camping in the snow, disaster would have been unavoidable.

For a whole week after, the wyvern scoured the mountain in search of the egg thief.

It didn’t fly constantly but was clearly hunting for more than food.

At the campsite, Nord ate and rested but couldn’t bathe.

All he managed was a quick wipe-down of his body and armor.

Still, he thought the smell had become tolerable—at least to him.

Eventually, the wyvern gave up, and life on the mountain returned to normal.

With the creature’s attention elsewhere, Nord left the snowfield.

He paid for a carriage in a nearby town and finally began his journey back to the capital.

Though the rental was expensive, he had no choice if he wanted to return quickly with the egg.

As the carriage jolted along the road, Nord cradled the wyvern egg, reflecting on the past month.

The harsh winter mountain had tested him with life-threatening situations and unforeseen challenges.

Yet overcoming them made him feel like he had grown stronger.

To acquire this egg, he had gathered information, prepared equipment, and used every tool at his disposal.

Though the cost had been steep, the return would be well worth it.

Nord inspected the egg again.

In the dim nest and beneath the blizzard, he hadn’t noticed its true color.

It was more gray than black—a dark gray, to be precise.

Its surface was smooth but not slippery, and it was quite heavy.

To keep it secure during the journey, he continued using the harness he’d rigged.

“Man, you’ve been nothing but trouble,” he muttered to the egg.

The recent days flooded back into his mind.

Although Nord had successfully evaded the wyvern’s search, life at the campsite hadn’t been entirely smooth.

He had carefully planned the heist, but he overlooked one critical issue—how to store the egg afterward.

With no way to leave it on the ground, he kept it strapped to himself the whole time.

Other creatures might have targeted the egg, so he carried it constantly.

He worried about crushing it by accident and spent sleepless nights guarding it.

When the wyvern gave up its search, Nord traveled to the nearest town—with the egg still strapped to him.

Even now, as the carriage rattled toward the capital, he held the egg close.

But the end of his troubles was in sight.

Once back in the capital, he would sell the egg to the Iron Dragon Knights, pay off the Ferris family’s debts,

and finally be free.

Even then, it wouldn’t cover everything, which terrified him.

In some ways, the debt felt more frightening than the wyvern.

“This weight… I’ll almost miss it when it’s gone… huh?”

He murmured the words half-jokingly as he glanced at the egg’s surface—

only to freeze in disbelief.

“A crack?”

Had he dropped it somewhere? Or bumped it against something?

Wyvern eggs were only valuable if intact.

If it was rotten, it would be worthless. Even a living egg with a crack might sell for less.

This egg represented Nord’s last hope.

There were still four more in the wyvern’s nest, but returning there was out of the question.

Not even Nord dared re-enter the den of an enraged wyvern.

“Damn it! Can I reinforce it somehow?”

Desperately, he racked his brain. But all he had was his backpack,

and none of its contents seemed useful for patching a cracked egg.

“So close to the capital…!”

His heart sank as the crack widened before his eyes.

What was happening?

Even as he struggled to think, the crack grew larger,

splitting further until it became a full-blown fracture.

Just as his mind grasped what was about to happen—

It hatched.

“Kyuu~”

The newborn dragon, its wrinkled scales still soft, peered out from the broken shell.

With the remnants of the egg still on its head, it blinked, adjusting to the light.

The first thing it saw was Nord’s stunned expression.

Then it sniffed the air, recognizing the scent it knew from inside the egg.

Satisfied, the hatchling nestled into Nord’s chest, rubbing its cheek against him for comfort.