Chapter 245: Centaur Colony
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 245: Centaur Colony
"A monster colony has formed in Martai."
When monsters gather and organize into a group, it is known as a colony.
Following Battalion Commander Marcus’s report, Encrid decided to move immediately. He had learned just before departure that Dunchabel had already headed there. The consensus was clear: since they were going anyway, they needed to move fast.
After all, the reports described a truly threatening number of centaurs.
"We’ll go on horseback. How long will it take if we push them?"
Riding individually would be far faster than taking a carriage. The only question was whether everyone actually knew how to ride.
"Are you worried about me? I’m Rem. The Rem."
Fortunately, everyone could ride to some extent. In fact, they knew how to handle horses properly. Naturally, Encrid was no exception. During the times when he wasn't swinging a sword, he had spent a significant amount of time working as a carriage driver. He was more proficient with a set of reins than most would expect.
"You ride well."
The same went for Ragna, who offered a brief comment after watching Encrid mount up.
You ride well?
Did that imply he was lacking in other areas?
Encrid ignored the subtext and replied, "Don't try to take the lead. Just keep your eyes on the person in front of you and follow."
That directionless bastard always needed a close watch.
Audin and Sachsen were also accustomed to horses, and Krais went without saying.
"If a man can't even ride a horse, how is he supposed to carry a lady on the back?" Krais quipped.
His motivations were, as always, transparent. It was said he had gone out of his way to spend Krona to learn horsemanship from a noble. True to his boast, he seemed to handle his mount with the most finesse.
The half-giant, Teresa, was the only potential issue.
"I’d like a sturdy pack horse," she requested.
She eventually chose and mounted a particularly robust pack horse. She admitted it wasn't fast, but it possessed excellent endurance.
Recently, trade had been booming, bringing a variety of goods into the Border Guard—including riding horses. While they couldn't be classified as true warhorses yet, the territory had selected a few individuals with a talent for training to run a proper stable.
Thanks to that, they had established wooden fences across the high-quality pastures in front of the territory—specifically toward the Greenpearl Plains—to begin breeding. Taking over those plains had been one of the primary rewards for winning the previous war against Azpen. Raising horses here would finally make it possible to train a proper cavalry.
Originally, the Border Guard only possessed messenger and pack horses, but now they were breeding them in earnest. Marcus provided several of these new mounts for the journey.
"You know this won't be easy, right?" Marcus asked just before they departed.
Encrid nodded.
Centaur monsters. The dangers they posed were manifold.
In the first place, colonies were inherently dangerous. They weren't just a simple gathering of monsters. Even with ghouls, a colony implied the presence of a unique specimen leading them—and unique monsters were always a threat.
Among such threats, a centaur colony was far more formidable than a pack of gnolls. The problem with gnolls was their sheer numbers and rapid multiplication, but they were still infantry. No one had ever seen a gnoll charging on horseback.
Centaurs, by their very nature, were always mounted.
And the fact that they use something resembling strategy makes them even worse.
What would happen if a group of skilled, monstrous cavalry utilized human-like tactics? If their numbers exceeded even fifty, the results would be catastrophic.
Naturally, the Border Guard had to intervene. Especially now, as they were deciding whether to fully open the eastern trade route. After all, these very horses had come through that route.
There were other motives as well. This was an opportunity to display the close ties between the two territories. Martai was a bridgehead for eastern trade and a vital safety buffer should the East ever launch an invasion. From the Border Guard's perspective, Martai had to be an ally and a brother territory.
However, the news they received upon arriving in Martai was anything but pleasant.
"Dunchabel went into the forest and went missing."
To make matters worse, a horde of monsters was currently encamped on the plains right in front of that forest.
It was a mess. They had been told the centaur colony was the problem, but that was only the beginning. This wasn't a simple colony.
"The situation is pretty nasty," Torres said as he approached, one side of his head wrapped tightly in bandages.
They had been fighting the monsters for three straight days. Many were seriously injured, and the death toll among the soldiers was significant. He had heard the casualties numbered in the dozens.
Zimmer was also present, limping heavily.
"We've been caught in a real nightmare," said the former Border Guard Captain, now the Castellan.
Encrid climbed the castle wall and looked out at the monster horde gathered in the distance. Was the problem that the centaurs numbered over a hundred? That was a concern, but the true issue lay elsewhere.
"When the leader lets out a screech, everyone freezes."
Torres had suffered his head injury because of that roar. One of the guards had his skull crushed by the leader's club and died instantly while paralyzed.
The death toll had already exceeded fifty. Encrid didn't know the exact size of Martai's current forces, but this was undoubtedly a fatal blow. In fact, they were lucky it wasn't worse. It was only thanks to the desperate efforts of Zimmer and a few skilled Border Guard veterans that they had managed to hold the line this long.
Encrid considered asking more to grasp the specifics, but decided against it. The problem was the centaurs. Period.
Encrid remained expressionless, as was his habit. He didn't dwell too deeply on Dunchabel's fate. This was a battlefield.
Killing and dying is inevitable.
If that was her limit, then that was that. However, one question lingered.
Why?
If she wanted to run and abandon the soldiers, she was more than capable of doing so. Why didn't she?
Among the soldiers who had taken the commission were the brothers Luchi and Rich. Because of his exceptional memory, Encrid had memorized the names of almost every soldier he had trained and disciplined. He could recall their names and their distinct traits with ease.
Those two soldiers told him:
"If she wanted to run, she had every opportunity."
"But she didn't. She just charged right into them."
"That was the first time I saw it. A bastard twice the size of the others let out some kind of screech."
"Instructor Dunchabel was trying to maneuver, but she slipped and fell from a tree when he roared. That was the last we saw of her."
"But if Instructor Dunchabel hadn't done that, we'd all be dead. The territory would have been devastated by that raid."
So that was the story.
Why? To save them? Did she want the fame of being a protector? Or was there a man among them she had taken a liking to? She was a beastman, after all, and she took the matter of breeding quite seriously.
Encrid scanned the faces of the soldiers, but that seemed unlikely. It would be difficult to feel any sort of desire looking at those weary, battered faces.
Then why? He was simply curious.
"Kiyoooot!"
In the distance, about ten centaurs broke away from the herd and began to gallop. Instead of a direct charge, they rode horizontally across the field, letting out piercing battle cries. It was a clear act of intimidation—a challenge.
They were trying to break the defenders' spirits. That was certainly the intent. Though Encrid was unaffected, the ranks of the soldiers stirred. Their discipline was wavering.
"Those motherfuckers," Torres spat, grinding his teeth.
From what he had seen, every time a small group came out to screech, a full horde would charge immediately after. The leader of those centaurs was a truly extraordinary monster.
There were over fifty horse-type demonic beasts, and they had even roped in three or four harpies; the breasted monsters could be seen circling in the sky. That wasn't all—the pack of human-faced dogs easily exceeded three hundred. There were dozens of ghouls, and several wolf-type demonic beasts prowled the edges.
They had managed to gather such a diverse and numerous force without being detected.
In truth, while Encrid, the Castellan, and Torres didn't know the cause, a local ranger knew that the depths of the Grateful Forest were treacherous. He knew it had only earned the name "Grateful Forest" because people only ever used the safe outskirts.
The ranger speculated that some of the monsters that had vanished from the south had settled in the heart of the forest. Being intelligent, they had quietly survived by hunting local wildlife, avoiding conflict until their numbers swelled. That was why wild animals had become scarce in the forest recently.
Furthermore, to the northeast of the forest lay a vast pasture inhabited by wild horses. There was no better place for a centaur herd to settle. It was an obvious realization in hindsight, but no one could have predicted it.
Of course, knowing this now changed nothing.
"Rem."
Encrid didn't care whether they charged or not. If they attacked, he would kill them. It was that simple. However, the Castellan and Torres looked deathly pale.
Did Dunchabel really die?
As Encrid stood lost in thought, Rem spoke from beside him. His tone was leisurely, almost bored. He spoke just as he finished a yawn, wiping a stray tear from his eye.
"I don't usually say things like this."
"You don't?"
"That beastman girl... she has talent."
Talent? It was rare to hear such praise from Rem. Encrid knew that better than anyone. For the record, he himself had never heard Rem use the word "talent" regarding him.
Though I’m pretty sure I’ve heard the word "dull" more than a few times.
"And?"
"I'm saying she wouldn't have died easily."
Rem had somehow read Encrid's thoughts.
"Though she might have kicked the bucket anyway."
The bastard couldn't just leave it at a compliment; he had to add a disclaimer. He chuckled, but there was a sharp edge of murderous intent lingering in his laughter.
Encrid didn't think he had grown particularly attached to Dunchabel. Even so, she was a member of his unit. Therefore, he would give her a funeral—one paid for with the blood, flesh, and heads of the monsters.
Is Rem feeling the same way? Encrid wondered.
He began to calculate. His mind spun rapidly, analyzing the tactical situation.
Fighting on horseback was out of the question. While Martai had some cavalry, they were useless here.
"We can't use them," Torres explained. "Once that bastard roars, the horses bolt. Half of them just freeze on the spot. We lost half our riders in the first clash because of it."
What about blocking them with infantry? Martai’s assault infantry were lightly armored, but they carried long spears and shields. Would that work?
It had already been proven ineffective. At the very least, they had to neutralize the leader's momentum. Everyone froze at a single screech.
That's practically a cheat ability.
"I've requested support from the capital. We need at least an Associate Knight," the Castellan said.
He was highly experienced, and his judgment was sound. He recognized that the leader's roar carried something similar to 'Will.' Occasionally, such traits appeared among monster leaders. Some called it 'momentum,' others 'murderous intent,' and some simply 'fear.'
I see.
Encrid took it all in. He pondered how to draw the mounted monsters in, then looked for Krais.
"Big-Eyes."
"Yes?"
"If they run away on horseback, I feel like we'll be chasing them forever."
Using his head wasn't Krais's forte, and he didn't look like he was thinking deeply now. "Can't we just fight them?"
"What?"
"They’ve fought these monsters several times already. If they're using strategy, it means they have intelligence. Do you think they're scared right now? I don't. Look at them."
"Kiyoyoyoyot!"
Once again, ten centaurs screeched as they entered the archers' range before pulling back. A few archers twitched, but they didn't fire. They had seen this before; the monsters were too fast to be hit by casual potshots.
"So, what I'm saying is, if we just charge out and attack, they'll charge right back to meet us."
Was that so? Encrid had worried about the enemy fleeing, but Krais dismissed it as a non-issue.
But why did I assume they would flee in the first place?
Encrid retraced his thought process. The reason was simple.
Because winning was a given.
The reason they thought they needed an Associate Knight was because of the power hidden in the leader's roar—a force that induced paralyzing fear.
But what if they weren't afraid?
Encrid had experienced Intimidation and realized Rejection. An intangible form shaped by 'Will' had already taken root in his chest.
Encrid felt no threat.
"Then, shall we go out?"
"What?"
"Where?"
The Castellan and Torres reacted simultaneously.
"To fight," Encrid replied.
"What have you been listening to this whole time?" Torres shouted. "Are you going out there to die? We have to wait for reinforcements. At least until the troops from the Border Guard arrive!"
They didn't know Encrid. His mastery of Rejection had happened after they had already left for Martai.
"Krais."
Instead of explaining, Encrid called upon the man who spoke for him.
"The situation is bad," Krais said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "Their numbers are growing. They're likely gathering every monster in the region. That leader has the 'General' trait—the most dangerous type of monster. As time passes, we're the ones at a disadvantage. We need to slice off the leader's neck while we still can."
Krais made a cutting motion across his throat.
"If you get close to him, your body freezes instantly!" Torres barked in frustration. If it weren't for that, he wouldn't be stopping them.
"It'll be fine. Man, you worry too much," Rem said, patting Torres on the shoulder. "Just hold the line so we don't get swamped by the small fry."
"I'm coming too," Audin added.
"And me," Teresa followed.
Torres stared at them, wondering if they had all lost their minds. Had they shared a batch of poisonous herbs? No, they had always been crazy. That was why they were the Mad Company.
Once again, Torres felt a surge of respect for Marcus. Did he really just trust these bastards and send them here?
They wouldn't listen to reason. They weren't the type to be stopped.
"Kiyoyoyot!"
Ultimately, Krais was right about one thing. Would support actually come from the capital? The probability was low. Rumors of a guild assassinating nobles were reaching even the north; the capital was likely in chaos.
"Let's go."
With those words, Encrid led the Mad Company down from the wall. His steps were steady and leisurely. He was completely unbothered by the screaming centaurs outside.
As they descended, leaving only Krais behind, Torres asked, "Aren't you going with them?"
Krais looked at him like he was an idiot. "Why would I? Do you want me to die? Why would I leave a perfectly safe castle wall?"
Then what about them? Torres wanted to ask, but he didn't bother. He knew the answer.
"Well, the captain is the captain." Something like that.
"Ah, hell. Let's go fight then."
Their morale had been in the gutter, but the sheer absurdity of the Mad Company had somehow deflated the tension. Being dumbfounded was, in this case, better than being terrified.
"All forces, deploy!" Torres commanded.
As the commander-in-chief, he stepped out with his head still bandaged. The monsters, led by the human-faced dogs, were already charging.
They had been through this multiple times. They would slaughter the front line, only for the leader to screech, freezing the defenders and turning the tide into a rout.
We shouldn't be fighting like this.
But holding the walls wasn't an option either. Martai’s walls weren't built for a prolonged siege. If they collapsed, the city would become a slaughterhouse.
"Show them the bravery of the East!" Zimmer roared, forcing a spark of morale into his men.
In the front, Rem had already dashed out, his axe swinging in wide, lethal arcs.
And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the slaughter began.
Torres had expected this. They were the Mad Company, after all. The leader was still the primary threat, but watching them work was exhilarating. It was a rare feeling on a battlefield of life and death—the simple, brutal satisfaction of seeing the enemy broken.