Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Refugees from Red X
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The Red X Barony lay one territory above ours, meaning it was the neighboring domain about 100 kilometers away.
You might wonder how something 100 kilometers distant could be considered a neighbor, but that's just how it was in the borderlands. Without dragon veins or territory veins, it was hard to sustain even a village, let alone a full territory, so 100 kilometers counted as neighboring.
And how were relations with those neighbors?
'Not good.'
When I announced that I was dropping our territory's tax rate to 70%, the Red X family was the first to kick up a fuss.
As was typical for border territories, the Red X family belonged to a martial house and had participated in countless battles between nations, revering military might above all. I'd heard they even ran a knight order. Considering the Red X family only had three knights, it was downright comical.
'The Red X family won't go down that easily.'
The Red X Baron might be an utter fool among fools, but the family itself was no force to be underestimated. They could handle orcs or even goblins with ease.
"But what's that?"
Refugees were streaming down along the territory vein.
There were hundreds of them at a glance.
'At this scale, their territory must be all but destroyed.'
The Red X Territory wasn't much larger than ours, so hundreds of refugees was far from normal. And with hardly any soldiers among them, it was even more suspicious.
'We barely made it out with this many survivors against orcs...'
As I thought that, the refugees marching southward in haste spotted our own group, advancing in orderly ranks.
They hesitated for a moment but had nowhere to flee, so they drew closer.
The territory vein connecting Bronze Sword Territory and Red X Territory ran through the Killerus Mountains—that is, the [Mountains] terrain—so there was no way to avoid anyone you encountered on it. The winding mountain path was nearly four lanes wide, improbably broad for a mountain trail, but straying from it meant steep slopes or dense forests that made movement nearly impossible.
"Halt."
"No, where are you headed? The north is crawling with green monsters! We have to flee south!"
A group of six men leading the refugees tried to push past us in a panic, but our armed soldiers blocked the road in formation, forcing them to stop short of shoving through.
"Monsters have poured out in Bronze Sword Territory too."
"No way! Even if monsters appeared there..."
"Thousands of them—two-meter-tall muscle-bound brutes."
The men's voices faltered in shock at the calm declaration.
It was only natural. They were fleeing monsters, only to learn the destination was infested too. And between two-meter beasts and one-meter pests, anyone could see which was deadlier.
"N-No, that... that's impossible."
"You calling me a liar?"
Hundredred barked intimidatingly, and the burly men averted their eyes, bowing their heads.
In his silver full plate armor, with broad shoulders and long limbs, Hundredred looked every inch the quintessential knight. He even cut a more imposing figure than I did as lord, so even roughnecks couldn't muster the nerve to defy him.
That held true even without the thousand territory folk at his back.
"Are you refugees?"
"Y-Yes. That's right, sir knight."
"Where are your families?"
"W-We got separated in the chaos. Heh heh."
The men forced affable grins, banking on the idea that you couldn't spit in a smiling face. But Hundredred was a medieval land knight who could punch a smile right off.
Thwack!
A heavy thud, and one collapsed without even a scream. Hundredred growled.
"Separated in the chaos, huh? Then why the smirks? You think I'm an idiot?"
The rest cowered, heads down, not daring to protest his savage tone.
"What should we do with them, my lord?"
I answered Hundredred's question.
"Conscript them."
"Conscripting now!"
"Con~scripts!"
The soldiers echoed the order in unison and surged forward, hauling off the fallen man and his entire group.
"W-What is this!? We're honest refugees! Even if you're knights, we're not from your territory... Gah!"
"Let... Ack! Argh!"
They resisted, but a hail of fists left them bloodied in seconds, dragged away.
I watched for a moment, then spoke.
"For family groups, hand over rations and record their details. Stress that they can't go to Bronze Sword Territory—they have to stay in Mok Castle Village."
"And the ones who can't manage that?"
"Conscripts."
"Yes, my lord."
War bred refugees, that much was inevitable. If you didn't want to die, abandoning your land was sometimes unavoidable.
But not all refugees were the same.
For civilians, ditching their nation or group wasn't some grave sin. Individuals couldn't do much against overwhelming tides.
But abandoning family?
Every refugee here was a sturdy man in his twenties or thirties? That screamed suspicion. No one popped into the world alone—where were the parents and kids?
When you ran into types like that, you beat them down and conscripted them on the spot.
Because men who ditched even their families were likely utter scum.
Someone who could abandon kin could never be a proper society member. A man with no ties to family had no ties to anything—letting irresponsible drifters roam free was a hazard.
'They cower before strong knights but bare their fangs among the weak.'
We conscripted or fed refugees as we slowly pushed north.
A few hours later, the refugee numbers swelled, and beyond them loomed a green horde approaching.
"Faster, faster! They're catching up!"
"Huff... huff... C-Can't... run anymore..."
"Dear, leave me. I'll hide by the road somehow."
"Don't be stupid—climb on! L-Look, soldiers!"
"What army is that?"
"Reinforcements from the southern territory!"
Staring at the endless goblins and refugees, Steelstone groaned beside me.
"That's a lot."
"The refugees will head south, so their pursuers will too."
By Ardania common sense, I was the madman pushing north, abandoning my territory. Borderlands were borderlands. The pinnacle of human civilization lay squarely in the continent's heartlands, no matter what anyone said.
That was where the people thronged, where food overflowed.
'But it all crumbles anyway.'
The boastful empire and alliance would shatter alike. A million-strong army? White Knight Order? Useless.
Revenge's central continent was a hero (master)-level high-end zone.
'No joke—the average roadside monster is master-tier.'
With ogre fighters (heroes) roaming the fields, no empire could hold. The heartlands demanded millions in efficient pay-to-win spending just to glimpse them.
"Let the refugees through."
"All hands! Ten-rank line formation!"
"One!"
"Two!"
...
"Nine!"
"Ten! Numbers complete!"
"Spread out!"
The orders echoed through the ranks, and the soldiers shifted seamlessly from twenty ranks to ten. Gaps between them widened enough for people to pass.
Steelstone, now gripping a large shield, bellowed.
"Let refugees pass! Split goblin skulls! Battle stations, all hands!"
"Battle stations!"
Over half of our thousand territory folk—mostly soldiers—readied for combat. Frontliners held boar-hide leather shields, backed by bone longsword infantry, then spearmen with bone daggers lashed to wooden poles.
"Hundredred, Steelstone."
"Yes, my lord."
"Give the word."
I faced the two knights.
"Focus on minimizing casualties over aggressive offense. Evacuate wounded immediately. We have a long road ahead—we can't lose soldiers."
"Yes, sir!"
"Yes, sir!"
With their replies, I strode through the spaced-out ranks to the front.
The foremost refugees now ditched their packs, sprinting toward us in desperation.
Exhausted from long flight, unlike our fresh conscripts, they hauled sick elders and children, pushing them further.
Lumbering at a gait between walk and run, they gasped on the verge of collapse.
"Advance slowly! Grab refugees and shunt them rearward!"
"Dump gear roadside! Club any who don't listen!"
Hearing the knights direct the men, I pressed on, passing even the vanguard shieldbearers.
The top commander breaking formation to charge solo into the foe would normally spell panic, but not one soldier flinched.
Because I'd done this as bandit chief, mercenary captain, knight, and now lord.
"Chase! Chase! Chase!"
"Catch 'em! Catch 'em! Trip 'em up!"
"Kill! Kill! Heh heh! Rip limbs and stab with picks!"
The green monsters howled in pursuit.
"Argh! Save us!"
"T-Together! Argh!"
Refugees fled, bleeding profusely. Now I saw: the goblins toyed with them.
When a laggard quit running from exhaustion, they'd poke with daggers from behind to spur them on.
Only the ones collapsed from blood loss did they swarm and devour.
'Vicious little bastards.'
Passing the last refugee, I drew my Orc Warrior Sword (Rare)+6. The gleaming blade stirred a pang of regret.
'Ah, wanna hit +9.'
Item enhancement ramped up from +7, granting special effects at +9.
But from +7, there was a 50% chance of shattering. And success rates plunged higher up.
With this my only decent rare weapon, it was too risky now.
"Human?"
"Human! Human, human!"
Only then did the goblins, spotting me approaching unlike the fleeing refugees, shriek.
"Human! No run. Human!"
"Grab and kill! Kill! Rip arms, rip!"
"Chew and stab with picks!"
I advanced amid their malice-filled screeches. Their charge crashed like a green wave, but I felt no fear.
Back when the territory folk were bandits under me, our band of 200—including women and kids—routed an equal force of regulars.
How?
Bandit rabble outfighting trained troops? Me channeling Zhuge Liang's genius? The regulars being Tang Dynasty rejects?
No.
Simply.
"Come at me, you runts."
I'd fought well.
That was all.