Outlaws from the Southeastward
Outlaws from the Southeastward
A ruffian, renowned among his comrades for his exceptionally sharp hearing, thought to himself. There had definitely been a skirmish, but the sounds were strange.
"I heard the captain's voice, something about an archer."
And it had been an urgent tone. Considering the captain's usual temperament, it was a very rare occurrence. Did that mean it was a completely unexpected ambush? The battle seemed to have ended quickly, but it felt ominous.
"Probably just some adventurers."
The others, however, brushed off his words while tending to their wounds after regrouping. Though their injuries weren't severe, they had to check each prisoner for fatal wounds and were thus in a hurry. There was no time to react seriously to the mutterings reaching their ears.
The sharp-eared ruffian, too, shook off his unease at his comrade's words and tried to think positively. If they were people trying to help the prisoners, they would have launched a coordinated pincer attack immediately. And judging by the size of the fire, it wasn't a large group on the move either.
There wouldn't be a major problem just because one archer had ambushed them. Having concluded that, the ruffian turned his head to check the prisoners. The man in the best condition among them shouted at him.
"You damned Imperial lapdogs. Do you still have the nerve to call yourselves children of the West after this?!"
"None of us are going to fall for such pointless provocations, so save your strength. It's a real pain for us if you croak, you see."
Worried the man might bite his tongue, he roughly shoved a gag back in. The sight of him thrashing like a mad dog, dignity be damned, was quite laughable. Imperial lapdogs, was it? Did he really think the Empire cared about the West? This level of excessive self-importance was serious.
All the anti-Imperial factions were like this. Armed with the logic that if the Empire grew, it would eventually devour the Western Kingdom region and wield hegemony, they called themselves the true children of the West and claimed moral rightness. And there were a few gaping holes in that logic, big enough for even a ruffian with little formal education to spot.
The biggest hole among them was that the Empire's power was already damned massive, and the other was that the Empire's expansion policy had pivoted years ago toward uncharted lands encroached by demonic beasts, not human territories.
To the Empire, the Western region was no different from the far-off Itisel. If that side was a wall holding back the Demonfolk, this side was merely a wall holding back the orcs and monsters of the great grasslands.
Anyway, the Western region was too busy fighting amongst itself to have any proper means of checking the Empire. Swallowing up unproductive kingdoms, bloating its size unnecessarily, creating needless expenditures, and taking on someone else's battlefront was something only a moron would do.
'And the Empire is no moron.'
Things might be different when the Fire Dragon was dead and the monsters and orcs of the great grasslands vanished, but today was not that day. So the anti-Imperialists' arguments were bullshit. They just saw reality however they wanted, driven by their excessive pride and vanity.
Clicking his tongue at their pathetic state, the ruffian felt a presence behind him. Turning his head, he felt his blood run cold.
A giant of a youth he had never seen before was glaring at them from the forest. He held a familiar type of sword in one hand, and a massive double-handed axe with a corpse dangling from it in the other.
For a moment, a brief debate sparked in the ruffian's mind on whether 'a corpse was dangling from it' was the right description, but he couldn't think of a better way to portray the scene at that instant. It was likely the body had just gotten stuck as the axe cleaved through breastplate and bone, but what mattered now wasn't such trivial details. It was the fact that the corpse was their captain's.
"Twitch even a single finger, and I'll consider it hostile intent and kill you."
It was a phrase muttered out flatly, almost to himself, but no one dared resist. Ten able fighters had been killed in an instant, and even their captain had returned as a corpse. Five wounded men were in absolutely no position to do anything about it.
Even if that result was due to an ambush, it was still that. And if the youth had done it all alone, then he was even more dangerous.
"You have three options."
Seemingly satisfied with the ruffians' reaction, the youth nodded lightly and raised the hand holding his sword, unfurling three fingers.
"One is you just die right here. Nothing special. You just follow him on his way. The simplest and fastest clean-up option, so it's a good thing for me too."
I'm worried my stew is gonna burn even now, you see. Along with a statement impossible to tell was sincere or a joke, one of the youth's fingers folded down.
"The other is you ditch those tied-up bastards and run. Since these fuckers swung their swords at me without warning, they're all dead. But you were told to stay put, so I'll at least extend that much consideration. However, I figure this isn't such an appealing option for you who went through the trouble of tying them up."
He was right. Even if they ran away safe and sound, things would get hard later if the anti-Imperialists simply went on their way unscathed. The anti-Imperialists would use this assassination and kidnapping attempt as a pretext to strengthen their arguments, while they themselves, constrained by the operation's failure, would be forced into silence for a while.
It was clear a very long time would pass before suspicious eyes were withdrawn from them. If their enemies' numbers grew in the meantime, a truly fierce anti-Imperial movement might actually rise up.
And that would ultimately be their ruin. The reason the Empire wasn't interested in the West was that they were wild dogs that didn't bite, and at the same time, guarded the house without even being asked. If wild dogs left alone because they cost no feed suddenly bared their teeth, the Empire would seek to put them down, even if it meant mobilizing their own watchdogs.
Past emperors might not have done so, but the future emperor was a bitch who absolutely would. By the time the ruffian finished thinking that far in that short moment, the youth had spoken the final option.
"There, the last option. Untie all those bound bastards and follow me. Explain what this whole mess is and why you pulled this shit, then if I tell you to go, you go, and if I tell you to take them, you take them. It's the option with the best chance of achieving your objective."
It was a one-sided and arrogant attitude, yet no one could refute the youth's words.
"Mmmph! Mmph! Mmmph!"
Except for the one anti-Imperialist who had just been gagged by the ruffian. Despite his oblivious struggling drawing everyone's gaze, he continued to thrash.
"...What the hell is wrong with that fucker?"
In the end, the youth, unable to contain his bewilderment, asked, but with the gag in his mouth, there was no way to know. After a moment of gauging the situation, the ruffian, at the youth's gesture, let out a sigh and untied the cloth he had stuffed in the man's mouth.
Immediately, the anti-Imperialist, now full of bluster, yelled at the top of his lungs.
"Serves you right, you damned Imperialists! A fitting end for traitors selling out their country! The West shall be victorious! Mwahahahah!"
In a surge of anger, they momentarily wanted to just slug him in the ear, but unable to move recklessly, the ruffians could only clench their fists. In fact, with this, the explanation the youth wanted was practically complete, which made it feel all the more hollow.
They had faced countless situations where they were helpless before overwhelming force or authority, but never in this form before. If they had suffered a natural disaster, it would have felt less unfair. But they had tried to silence an adventurer they ran into on the road, only to get slaughtered...
"......"
The conscience of a ruffian who hadn't managed to finish killing him belatedly admitted there was nothing unfair about it. Cause or whatever, if the youth had been weak, he would have been the one who died. And judging by his attitude, he clearly wasn't in league with these anti-Imperialists, so he truly would have met an unfair death.
Was it because they'd already reached a point of no return, no matter how much they racked their brains or struggled? Judging with a head grown cold, the ruffian looked at the youth and unconsciously tilted his head.
The youth's expression was incredibly subtle.
"Imperialist? So you're an anti-Imperialist, then?"
"Ha! Of course!"
"...I'm having trouble understanding this, but why on earth? Didn't the Empire lose all interest in the Western kingdoms after their Grand Offensive? I thought you were unrelated?"
Unlike the utterly ignorant attitude, the man seemed to possess some knowledge and common sense. The bound man answered the youth's perplexed, sour-toned question, his face flushing with blood vessels popping even.
"The kind of bullshit Imperialist dogs spout! Does it make even a lick of sense that the Empire doesn't target the West just because of some mere orcs?!"
The youth's reaction instantly turned cold at that answer. Frowning, he closed his eyes for a moment and pondered deeply. Then, shifting his gaze to the ruffian, he asked.
"Do you think the same? That orcs are no big deal?"
"...That is merely the nonsense spouted by those madmen who know nothing of the world."
"Still talking to me like we're equals even now? Your neck seems a little stiff. Want me to bend it halfway for you?"
"...It is merely nonsense, sir."
Seeing him nitpick even the speech pattern, he seemed to be not just somewhat knowledgeable, but a fairly intelligent bastard.
As soon as the ruffian felt a death threat and instantly corrected his words, the youth clicked his tongue as if displeased and pulled the axe still embedded in the captain's corpse.
"Take him."
"...Pardon?"
"I said take him."
The anti-Imperialist who had been so triumphant moments ago widened his eyes, and the ruffian also widened his own, staring at the youth. The youth still scanned them both with a dissatisfied gaze and gave a short explanation.
"Long live the Princess, you motherfuckers."
The anti-Imperialist's face instantly contorted as he tried to shout something, but the ruffian's action was faster. Just as he had considered earlier, he threw a punch to the man's ear and, filled with a surging sense of satisfaction, gagged him with the cloth again.
Then he asked the youth, who was striding away as if he truly had no further interest.
"Is it really over with this?"
That question stopped the youth in his tracks. Though all the ruffians flinched at that alone, no hostility could be felt from the youth anymore.
"What is?"
"I have no intention of blaming you for killing our comrades. Had your skill been lacking, it wouldn't have been them dying, but you, and that would have been a most unfair death. However, can I truly believe that this entire situation is concluded and will end with no further complications, based solely on the conversation we just had?"
"You sure do talk a long-ass way just to ask if I'm gonna change my mind and backstab you. I said my stew's burning, fuck."
Answering as though the situation of his stew possibly burning was more annoying than someone trying to kill him, the youth met the ruffian's eyes.
"The bastard who gave the order to attack is dead, the ones who attacked are dead. I just gave you a chance because you listened well, like I said at the beginning. And the gods simply smiled upon you there, that's all. But that doesn't mean I have to swear an oath guaranteeing I won't backstab you. I don't care whether you believe me or not. Fuck off, or just die right now."
The ruffian, once again feeling the threat of losing his life over a moment's curiosity, wasted no words and gathered the prisoners with his comrades. Fortunately, exchanging opinions to decide on a course of action wasn't necessary. The youth turned his back on the ruffians and began walking away again, as if he had no lingering interest.
"I don't know who you are, but there won't be a second time. Steer clear on your own."
"W-Wait! We have to know who you are to be careful, don't we?!"
His comrades cursed him with their eyes, asking why he kept grabbing at a natural disaster that was just passing by. But this was crucial information that must not be overlooked, so the ruffian stood firm. A description of his appearance alone wasn't enough.
Even if the one who gave them their orders wanted revenge for the dead, they at least needed a name.
Contrary to his resolve to suffer another round of silent cursing, the youth, even as he walked further away, answered with a clear pronunciation.
"Eldmia Ega."
Leaving behind an encounter that might become fate, or ill-fated connection, the youth who identified himself as Eldmia disappeared into the forest.