Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: Thunern Tribe Suppression Operation (5)
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Two weeks later, in the Lukur tribe's village.
Semi-agricultural, semi-pastoral living means more than just farming and herding livestock at the same time.
It signifies that farming is tough enough as it is, but to scrape by, they have no choice but to raise animals like nomads.
You might think, "What's that supposed to mean?"
But out in society, you often see people working second jobs. If one job provided enough financial stability to live comfortably, no one would clock out just to clock back in later.
Even these barbarians scraping by on semi-agricultural, semi-pastoral life would stick to farming with just a few livestock—like our Reich Empire's serfs—if farming alone let them get by without issue.
"What a sorry sight, Captain. How can people live in such a shoddy place?"
"Weren't these guys just brawling with each other nonstop a hundred years ago? Looks like they never developed or adopted any real skills for daily life. Plus, even though they kidnapped serfs from the north, they probably didn't snag any proper technicians."
"That makes sense, but it's still too much."
I let out a deep sigh and surveyed the surroundings.
Roofs crudely woven from straw and weeds into lumpy messes. The walls look like they tried to plaster the dirt carefully, but the thickness is uneven, slapped together without a level, leaning at crazy angles like they're one gust away from collapse.
People need a decent place to live to feel any peace of mind. In an environment like this, it's no wonder good-hearted folks are rare—their tempers must twist out of shape.
Spring and summer are tolerable, but past mid-autumn, this place gets brutally cold. Living in houses with zero insulation or windproofing... no surprise they resort to kidnapping and pillaging.
Ah, not that I get it and think they're off the hook for being scum who deserve killing.
Back in Korea where I lived, one thing soldiers always learned was respecting civilians and POWs—not just after a war ends, but during it too.
I have no intention of applying that principle to this tribe.
Why? Because these barbarians are the epitome of barbarism, having killed or kidnapped thousands of Reich Empire citizens.
I'm not talking full payback, but these tribe bastards are all hardened criminals, so they deserve proper treatment.
"Battalion, attention! Once we enter the village, form groups of ten and search every house thoroughly. They might be hiding inside and ambush us, so stay sharp until the search is done. After that, tear off the roofs, build fires, and prep meals. Scout, just to confirm—village really empty?"
"They must've figured they couldn't take our 24th Battalion alone. When we scouted, a few might've been tucked away out of sight indoors, but nothing outside."
"Makes sense. Their farming skills suck, so they're stuck with this half-assed semi-nomad crap. But war? They're pros—better than our staff college professors in some ways. At least they'd have some log palisades or defenses set up."
Yet from here, a twenty-minute walk from the village, the only thing visible was a flimsy beast-ward fence. No military fortifications.
If they'd planned to defend the village assuming we'd push this far, they'd have come out to meet us.
The scouts insisted no one was outside.
After ordering the men to comb the village, I took some soldiers to check the fields outside for intel on the tribe's status.
Scouting a normal city or fortress, glancing at wheat, barley, or bean fields wouldn't tell you much.
But fighting these damn barbarians, just eyeing their village fields reveals why they came raiding and what they were after.
If the crops look healthy, it's a bumper crop year—they're expanding territory. If it looks like a bad harvest, that's their average, so they raid anyway.
If it's a total disaster, they're after food and slaves—pure plunder.
Thinking that over as we headed to their fields, the soldiers ahead of me shouted in surprise.
"This is really the barbarians' farmland? It's not just decent—way better than ours!"
"Sergeant Hans, look. Winter barley, not fully ripe yet, but sturdy as hell. On this barren soil? Must've used some top-notch fertilizer."
"Whoa~ Once I finish my service under the regimental commander, I should settle here."
"Damn barbarians. Good at farming too, and they still come raiding? Typical savages."
The men buzzed excitedly over the barbarians' fields. I checked myself—the barley wasn't ripe, still green, but...
It grew thick and lush. So they attacked us to expand their power.
Intel said the Lukur tribe uses captured slaves for the hard farm labor.
They deliberately withhold Empire composting techniques from the slaves, worn out by endless fieldwork.
'If we taught them composting, they'd already work fourteen hours a day. Add that chore, and we'd run them from dawn till midnight without sleep.'
So these ignorant nomads just dump raw manure. But it barely even smells...
After scouting the sprawling fields around the village on horseback for about two hours...
I returned to find Laura waiting with a report.
"Per your orders, Colonel, we searched every house and storehouse in groups of ten. Found seventy cows, one hundred twenty sheep, one hundred pigs—no horses. No hidden tribesmen as expected, but thirty women and twenty men Empire serfs held as slaves."
Considering they starve slaves and work them to death quick...
These must be recent kidnappings from the Empire.
Leaving them alive for us to find suggests the tribe hoped we'd take the prisoners, slowing our march and eating into our supplies.
Not out of humanity, of course—just baggage to bog us down.
"Filthy barbarian scum! Bring one prisoner who can talk, feed the rest minimal rations. We packed hardtack and jerky for this. And tear off those roofs for cooking fires."
"Yes, sir."
Soon, soldiers brought a middle-aged man.
He dropped to his knees, bowed low, and poured out heartfelt gratitude.
"We thought the women would be their playthings, the men worked like dogs till death. For lowly serfs like us, you came all this way... I don't know how to thank you. Truly, thank you."
In all my past campaigns, I'd never done defensive ops or POW rescues saving civilians, so gratitude was new.
As a soldier rescuing my nation's people, it felt good—swelled my pride, nose in the air.
"You're safe now, no worries. As an Empire noble and officer, this was just my duty. We'll avenge you next, so relax. First, answer some questions truthfully."
"Of course."
"Do you know where the Lukur tribe went? Any other info on them, spill it all."
At my request for cooperation, he unleashed a torrent of whatever useful tidbits he had.
Nothing on their location or Thunern forces numbers, but...
We learned of bumper crops last year and this, and the barbarians often drafted for wars.
As his long info dump wound down...
"Last question: What fertilizer did they use? Even with stone or scrap tools, how's the barley this good?"
His answer was unexpected.
"There's a weird soil patch nearby. They scoop the dirt, mix with water, boil it—gets a lump. Mix that clear stuff into the soil, and crops thrive."
I clamped my mouth shut.
This fertilizer was a game-changer. I nearly blurted a curse of awe.
A colonel can't swear in front of the troops, right?