Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: These Guys Think Completely Differently
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After finishing the greetings with the tribesmen, Karack took the lead, guiding me as he began to walk.
I followed behind him.
Every warrior we passed bowed their head and stepped aside.
They were all intimidating giants packed with muscle.
It seemed the rumor that Kel Bark had returned had spread quickly through the small tribe.
The highest point in the fortress.
A massive tent stood alone there.
A tent made of white hide, emblazoned with a black wolf.
Karack opened the entrance flap.
"This is Kel Bark's home!"
It was a simple explanation.
I stepped slowly inside.
The interior of the tent was...
'Oh?'
Cleaner than I'd expected.
Clear signs that someone had meticulously maintained it.
A floor free of even a speck of dust.
Neatly arranged bedding.
But to my eyes, once a ducal house reserve trainee servant, it was still filthy in countless ways.
'Ugh... mildew smell...'
As I surveyed the tent's interior, one object mesmerized me like a spell.
A massive sword placed beside the enormous throne.
"That...?"
Sensing my gaze, Karack explained, resolving my curiosity.
"Kel Kar. The fang of the sharpest wolf!"
Pride swelled in his voice.
I stared blankly at the sword.
A crude yet imposing blade.
A wolf emblem carved into the hilt.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from it.
And as if entranced, I reached out my hand.
Then,
Woooong—
Surprisingly, as soon as I touched it, the sword began to resonate.
Seeing this, Karack burst into booming laughter.
"Kahahaha!! As expected of Kel Bark! Anyone but the master who touches Kel Kar gets torn to shreds!"
"You should've mentioned that first..."
"I figured it'd be fine since you're Kel Bark!"
What a hopeless guy...
Still, being acknowledged by the sword filled me with a strange sense of pride.
Caught up in the moment, I tried to pick up the sword.
But,
"......"
'What the hell? It won't budge an inch.'
It was ridiculously heavy.
Apparently, being recognized by the sword and actually lifting it were two different things.
"Looks good just sitting here anyway."
I muttered to myself, then turned to Karack.
"I'm a bit tired, so mind if we call it a day?"
"Got it! Kel Bark! Rest well!"
Karack strode toward the exit but paused.
"Kel Bark!"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for coming back!"
His booming voice trembled faintly.
"Really!"
With that, he left the tent.
Something felt bittersweet.
They were the ones who kidnapped me—why was I the one feeling this way?
"...Tch."
I was alone now.
In the massive tent.
In this space layered with 20 years of history.
I sat slowly on the bed.
It was much softer than expected.
"......Ha."
A long sigh escaped me.
The day's events flashed by like a panorama.
I stared blankly at the tent ceiling.
"...What the hell is going to happen now."
Of course, there was no answer.
Whiiiish—
Only the sound of the night wind brushing the tent fabric.
"Soundproofing's terrible too."
I closed my eyes.
The great king they wanted was an impossible role for me.
This wasn't where I belonged.
But without power, I had to play dead for now.
And if I could escape from here,
Then I'd bolt.
Until that day came, I decided to shamelessly play the king.
The next morning.
"Kel Bark, are you awake?"
I opened my eyes to the grating metallic voice from outside the tent.
It was Shaman Magra.
"Come in."
I roughly tidied my disheveled hair and sat up.
My body felt stiff and sore.
The bed was soft, but the musty smell from the blankets had kept me tossing and turning.
Vowing to have someone wash the bedding today, I welcomed Magra.
Magra bowed her head in morning greeting.
"Did you have a peaceful night?"
"Eh... it wasn't bad. But what's this so early in the morning?"
"Since Kel Bark has returned, I came to report on the tribe's current situation."
Here it comes.
I nodded with feigned solemnity.
The tribe's history from Magra's lips was even more tragic than I'd imagined.
To summarize:
20 years ago, after the previous Kel Bark vanished, the Grom Kel tribe lost its center.
With their powerful king gone, surrounding tribes bared their fangs. After repeated raids and wars, they lost all their fertile lands and were driven to this barren rocky mountain.
To survive, they built a fortress by stacking stones, and it proved effective.
"The tribe has just over 200 members. Feeding and sustaining them, we lack food and supplies by a wide margin."
Regret laced Magra's voice.
"The most painful loss... is the spring."
"Spring?"
"Yes. A clear spring where fresh water bubbles up. Since the Yagur tribe took it, we've relied on rainwater or stagnant pools."
I furrowed my brow.
'Like an oasis?'
Water is life.
Especially for someone like me who valued hygiene.
Then, realization struck me like lightning.
Seeing my reaction, Magra asked,
"Wh-what is it, Kel Bark?"
No water meant I couldn't wash the blankets today.
'This is insane. It's an emergency.'
But that was it.
I wasn't a savior, and my own situation was precarious enough.
Reclaiming the spring? If they could, they would have already.
Me joining wouldn't change a thing.
"Got it for now. Anything else to report?"
Magra shook her head.
"No. There's a feast tonight, so rest until then."
A feast, huh...
Guess I'll just go along with it.
Night fell, and a massive bonfire roared to life in the central plaza of the fortress.
It was a feast celebrating the king's return.
"Kel Bark! Tahu!"
"Kel Bark! Tahu!"
Bathed in the tribesmen's fervent cheers, I took my seat.
It was the head seat, even if it was just a single hide atop a cold rock.
Magra and Karack stood rigidly at my sides.
"For the king! Offer the finest meat from the hunt!"
At Karack's shout, warriors brought food.
A massive leaf plate before me.
And atop it... unidentified hunk of meat.
"......"
Black hairs still patchy because they hadn't been properly plucked.
Not even cooked through—just barely scorched on the outside, with blood dripping from the flesh.
Beside it... entrails? Raw too?
Above all, the revolting fishy stench assaulted my nose.
'They expect me to eat this?'
Even the dogs at the ducal house ate better than this.
No matter how hungry I was, this was too much.
"Eat up! Kel Bark! The tastiest liver and brain from a wild boar!"
Yeah, that explained the goo leaking out.
Just pig slop.
Karak gulped as he urged me on.
Looking around, the other tribesmen were already tearing into the meat with their hands, devouring it like possessed beasts.
Grinning and chattering with blood smeared on their mouths—they were the picture of wild animals.
My stomach churned.
I averted my gaze and picked up the cup beside me.
At least some water to settle my gut.
Gulp—
But.
"Pfft!! Cough! Hack!"
It was booze.
And what insane alcohol content.
My throat and stomach burned like fire.
"What's wrong, Kel Bark?"
"Wh-what is this...?"
"It's Busenrak, our traditional fermented mare's milk liquor made from Dromas milk and fire ant cactus sap. Not to your taste?"
Dromas.
I'd heard of them.
A desert mount with a sleek, muscular horse-like frame, but a grotesquely long and thick neck like a camel.
Sometimes called camel-horses.
Southern barbarians brew booze from their milk, I'd heard...
Taste?
Nonexistent, obviously.
What were those lumpy chunks? And this smell?
Plus the alcohol was so strong—barely a sip and my throat felt scorched.
I glanced sidelong at Magra.
"...Not that. Just get me some water first."
"Forgive me, but... all water for consumption goes to the children..."
That snapped my patience.
King, my ass?
But nothing works. Nothing exists.
This was king treatment?
I hadn't expected royal perks anyway.
But basic human living should be possible, right?
Me, who'd spent 10 years yearning for noble dining etiquette and cleanliness.
No, setting that aside—water is basic.
I couldn't endure this life.
Something snapped in my head.
'Can't take it.'
A life without washing, tea, or even water?
Might as well be dead.
For my dignity, I had to make a stand.
I shot to my feet.
The crowd fell silent, all eyes on me.
I splashed the booze from my cup onto the bonfire.
Whoosh—!
The high-proof liquor sent flames shooting skyward.
How strong is this stuff?
And I declared,
"I'm not eating this."
"......!"
The atmosphere froze instantly.
The raucous feast went deathly quiet like a bucket of ice water had been dumped, as the massive barbarians' gazes locked on me.
Only then did I realize my mistake.
I had to choose my words carefully.
"The tribe's children can't even drink clean water freely, yet I'm supposed to eat like this!?"
The barbarians nodded, their expressions shifting to ones of approval.
Whew, dodged that one.
I glared at Magra and said,
"That spring the Yagur tribe has, right?"
"Y-yes, but..."
"Let's go."
I brushed off my hands casually and tossed out,
"To borrow some water."
Silence.
Innumerable shocked eyes from the tribesmen stabbed at me.
What? Why the big deal? Just borrowing water.
Give 'em some meat, get water—barter basics.
Even barbarians know that much, right...?
So I added,
"Pack some meat too."
But their reaction showed just how little I understood these guys.
"""Uoooooooh!!!!"""
The feast exploded into cheers.
"War!! Kel Bark has commanded war!!"
"Revenge! Blood revenge!"
"Pack food! Can't fight on empty stomachs!"
The barbarians rose as one, roaring.
Their eyes burned hotter than the bonfire before them.
Watching their frenzy, I realized something had gone terribly wrong.
"Uh, everyone...?"
But my small voice couldn't reach the excited muscle pigs.
Karak dropped to one knee at my feet, shouting in rapture,
"Karack fights! For Kel Bark, I'll sever enemy heads and offer their blood!!"
No.
Wait a sec.
I wouldn't be happy with that even if you did.
But it was too late to rein it in.
These guys thought completely differently from me, right from the basics.
My first command as the barbarian king, given unwittingly.
It was the declaration of a territorial war.