Demon of the Grasslands
Demon of the Grasslands
The winter of the fortress city of Kelbast, facing the Great Grassland, was harsh.
Because it bordered the Great Grassland, which was the Fire Dragon's domain, the temperature itself was not harsh. If anything, it was among the mildest of the Western Five Kingdoms. The reason Kelbast's winter was considered harsh was entirely due to the orcs that went berserk every winter.
The orcs' way of passing the year was exceedingly simple. They fought bloody battles among themselves, and when their forces coalesced, they targeted human cities. The reason their offensive began during the winter, when even humans would hesitate to be active, was a profoundly orcish one.
Because food spoils slowly. So they could fight more, and longer. A truly absurd reason.
Thanks to that policy, which had a detrimental effect on the hair health of everyone in the western kingdom region, the kingdoms that had been racking their brains for generations over hundreds of years eventually built the Great Wall and pooled the resources of all kingdoms to construct a city to maintain the border against monsters.
The neutral fortress city Kelbast. A sacred and inviolable domain that all kingdoms would never touch even if they stabbed each other in the back, and actively supported.
And they granted a status no different from a margrave, guaranteeing autonomous action.
In other words, they found someone else to pull their hair out for them.
"Why the hell are these bastards so quiet...?"
And in that position boasting a long tradition, the 'honorable' Margrave of Kelbast, who had to fulfill the duties of a lord, was once again tearing his hair out without a single night's sleep. Though his speech and actions lacked any sense of noble dignity or decorum, the butler standing silently by did nothing to stop him, and the Margrave of Kelbast himself paid no mind.
Because such things were completely useless for maintaining Kelbast, which had the Great Grassland—a demon cave, practically—right in front of it. What he needed were adventurers who went out into the Great Grassland, hunted profitable magical beasts, and returned, troops to defend the city, and the funds and food to support them.
If not for the orcs, he might have reigned as the absolute ruler of Kelbast, where astronomical sums flowed in and out each year, enjoying wealth and prosperity for generations, but that single flaw canceled out all the advantages. In that hamster wheel of a daily life, where he had to repair the walls like an annual event, pay compensation for casualties, and still prepare for the next year, the only blessing he received was sturdy hair roots.
To be honest, he had prayed to the gods many times, begging the orcs to be quiet for just one year. Because if that happened, the things he could try with Kelbast's funds would increase exponentially. But now that something like that was actually happening, he was so uneasy he couldn't sleep.
He had originally expected a terrible large-scale offensive this year, the likes of which were hard to find in history. Because a crazy orc who had unified almost all the orcs for the first time in decades had appeared.
Great Chieftain Kakula.
By the time he properly recognized the threat posed by that bastard son of the grasslands, it was already spilled water. Even a little reconnaissance revealed scattered orc outposts, and adventurers returned carrying more orc heads than magical beast heads. While they were left unchecked, the bastards went on a fucking rampage as soon as winter began, and it didn't take long for everyone to get tense, saying an invasion was imminent.
Then suddenly they quieted down. Starting exactly about two weeks ago.
At first he thought the Fire Dragon had woken up and set the grasslands on fire out of boredom, but even the regular patrols couldn't figure out the cause. In the end, the Margrave of Kelbast attempted more aggressive reconnaissance, and the information that came back was nothing short of astonishing.
First came a report that the orcs had diminished, then a week later a report that they had found orcs fleeing in terror, and this week, a bizarre report from smugglers that the orcs were lying low, fearful of a demon that had appeared on the grasslands.
Yes, those damn smugglers. He had known that those traitors to humanity, who embodied the saying that they'd sell weapons even to monsters if it made money, were actually trading secretly with the nearby orcs, but now that it hit so close to home, he felt a sense of futility.
It was a win for the orcs, who hoarded unnecessary things from hunting and traded for quality weapons and food; it was a win for the smugglers, who gained far more byproducts than the goods they provided, reaping enormous profits. But of course, to the Margrave of Kelbast, they were nothing but criminals deserving of the gallows. In fact, the margrave knew full well that even those parasite-like creatures leaking this information was a scheme to figure out the cause and let the orcs breathe easier.
Nevertheless, he was angry at the reality that he couldn't ignore that story. Demon of the Grasslands? That was originally the term western kingdom people used for orcs.
The Grasslands' green demons, the orcs.
And those bastards were fleeing, screaming about a demon? Even though they had the Great Chieftain Kakula, who was practically a hero to them, and an army of thousands beneath him?
It was clear that something was very, very wrong, so he was running patrols in three shifts to get more reliable information, but what he got was unsatisfactory. At least recently, a report had come in that they had captured signs of a mass slaughter at an orc settlement further inside. And that was more chilling than useful.
Because the place they had marked on the map was where Kakula's tribe had recently settled. The fact that it had been reduced to ashes meant something was happening on the grasslands.
It was a situation where he could understand nothing at all, but as the Margrave of Kelbast was organizing and reviewing countless parchments, hoping for some clue, a knock sounded at his office.
"Come in."
As soon as he gave his curt permission, the door opened quickly, and what appeared was not a servant but a guard breathing heavily. At the same time, his heart sank.
Could it be that the orcs' attack had finally begun? Even as the ever-composed butler took a sharp breath, the guard spoke.
"M-my lord! An adventurer claiming to be a citizen of the Kingdom of Itisel has appeared at the gate, so I came to report it at once!"
But at this unexpected report, the Margrave of Kelbast could only tilt his head.
"That... why report it so urgently?"
The reason he didn't snap at his subordinate, asking if he had to worry about every single adventurer now, was that he was a man of character and, having lived as a member of the family that maintained and defended Kelbast, he trusted his retainers and soldiers.
"W-well, it's not that he came from the east, but from the west..."
The west. The Great Grassland.
There was no reason for such a report to be made about a place where dozens of adventurers came and went every day. Sure enough, even without the Margrave of Kelbast pressing him, the guard who had rushed in reported the crucial part on his own.
"...He didn't have a pass."
Even that was disappointing.
"...How does an adventurer without a pass come from the west?"
Was he now confessing to having neglected immigration control? If that were the case, he wouldn't look so flustered.
"After checking, he was not an adventurer residing in the city! A-according to the man himself, he got caught up in a gate the orcs opened..."
Seeing the guard report with such a serious and rigid attitude, the Margrave of Kelbast genuinely wondered whether he should be angry or take his words seriously. Instead of questioning it, he replayed what he had just heard in his mind, and eventually asked back.
"The orcs opened a gate?"
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Are you reporting this because you believe it at face value? I'd find it more credible if you said there was a hole in our border security."
"My apologies! It was not only too detailed to dismiss him as a madman, but the weapon he was carrying..."
Why the weapon now? The more they talked, the more questions piled up rather than being resolved.
"Was there something wrong with the weapon? Is he a Demon Sword wielder?"
"N-no."
"Then is it a magic sword enchanted so heavily that it can cut through anything it touches, making it a threat just to possess?"
"Th-that’s not it either..."
"Then what the hell..."
Just as he was about to get angry at the stalling response, the butler, who had been silent until then, let out a low cough.
Only then did the Margrave of Kelbast realize he had been about to take out the stress caused by the orcs on a diligent guard who had rushed over to do his duty. He regretted it belatedly and let out a short sigh.
"...Hoo, I'm sorry. I was a bit on edge. I didn't mean to interrogate you. So, what was the problem?"
When he asked with as relaxed an expression as possible, the guard glanced at the butler briefly before giving a proper answer.
"He... he was carrying the axe of the Great Chieftain Kakula."
The Margrave of Kelbast had no choice but to doubt his own ears once again.