Guardian: Derek Walker 22

Luna returned to me and gave her report.

"Lady Rita and Lady Bianca are both safe. We sliced one knight from the territory army's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shoulder and severed one soldier's ankle."

"Well done."

Pallax's actions had already exceeded my patience. That's why I'd sent Luna.

Luna's actions were tantamount to a declaration of war against the Tarsion territory army—and Tarsion territory itself. But I wasn't the least bit afraid of the consequences.

The next day, I headed to the temporary barracks where the territory army was staying to check on their movements.

Rita accompanied me. Luna came along too. Rita had been anxious about me going to the territory army's temporary barracks alone, but her expression softened once Luna decided to join us.

As expected, the barracks were in quite a commotion. Two soldiers standing guard at the entrance shouted at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us in a fluster.

"V-Vice Captain's orders are to restrict outsiders! Please leave!"

"Is that so?"

I turned around without hesitation. He must be busy cleaning up the mess. I'd half-expected them to attack me in retaliation, but nothing of the sort happened. If they had, I would've cut their forces in half.

I was tempted to mess with them plenty, but that could wait. As we returned to the village center, a sharp horn blast echoed from the village entrance.

"Another attack?"

I glanced at Luna. She gave a quick bow and headed toward the sound. Rita watched her retreating figure with a worried look.

"I feel like I'm always relying on Lady Luna. Yesterday too..."

"How's your body holding up?"

"Yes! Just a little bruising, but it's nothing. If not for Lady Luna, I'd be..."

"How's your sister?"

"Yes, Bianca's safe too. Thank you so much, once again."

Rita bowed her head in gratitude.

Nearly five hundred orcs charged toward the village entrance. Even Barugo, one of their own kind, felt a chill at the overwhelming numbers and momentum. Had the orcs of the Malak Plains ever formed such a massive alliance before?

"But if that female swordswoman's there, they're all dead meat anyway."

Barugo recalled the beautiful sword dance she'd performed amid the club-wielding orcs. That female transcended the limits of numbers. No matter how many zeros you added up, they couldn't beat a one. Sheer quantity alone couldn't bring her down.

"Chwiik! Boss! Are we finally fighting alongside the other clans!?"

A young orc exclaimed excitedly, brandishing his club. But Barugo shook his head.

"We're going around to the rear. No chance in a head-on fight."

"Chwiik! What's the rear mean!?"

"Simple terms: circle around and hit 'em from behind. They'll be focused on the front-runners, so we strike the gap. Our goal's food supplies. Avoid humans if possible."

Their stockpiled food was running low. Raiding humans wasn't ideal, but combat was essential to sustain the tribe.

Orcs were simple and brutish, hating complexity. Even the basic idea of splitting forces for a rear attack was a stretch ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for this dim-witted race. And avoiding fights? That was an outrageous shackle for orcs.

"Chwiik! Avoid fighting? My body's itching!"

"Chwiik! I wanna hunt humans!"

Of course, beyond their capacity for complex thought, battle lust burned hot in orcs—fleeing combat was shameful in itself.

If any orc but Barugo suggested a sneaky flanking maneuver, they'd be ostracized or exiled.

"Shut your traps. Got complaints? Say it to my fist."

Barugo knew how to handle these simple brutes: match their idiocy with brute force. To them, might made right—the purest logic.

"Chwiik! We'll be quiet."

The massive horde thundered toward the village. Barugo watched, arms crossed, as orc roars mixed chaotically with human shouts of defense. The sight boiled one orc's blood; he couldn't contain himself.

"Chwiik! I wanna fight!"

"Shut up and follow."

Barugo led them down the pre-scouted path. The attack route was already confirmed.

"Vice Captain. Orcs have begun their attack."

A messenger reported to Pallax. But Pallax just scowled silently, still fuming from last night's shock.

"Grrrh! That bitch...!"

The human heart is a treacherous thing. When the sword hung over him last night, he'd cowered in terror, unable to even flee. But come morning, hatred for Luna blazed like dry tinder.

Pallax wanted to drag her before him right now, knights in tow, and ravage her savagely. Of course, he hadn't forgotten it was impossible.

"V-Vice Captain... the orcs are attacking..."

"I know!"

BAM!

Pallax slammed the table. Whether Allen Village burned to the ground under orc assault meant nothing to him.

'Wait. If orcs are here, that bitch'll fight them too, right?'

If he struck then, he might capture her. And if she sortied, that merchant Walker would be defenseless. Greed lit Pallax's eyes at the thought.

"Heh heh! I'm a genius. Yeah, dare to treat Tarsion territory's army like that? They'll pay dearly."

He looked up at the soldier.

"Prepare to sortie!"

"Yes, sir!"

The soldier scurried off. Pallax gripped his sword.

"You filthy bitch. You'll scream under me yet."

Blinded by revenge, Pallax ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠saw nothing else.

Luna and Kelly sortied to block the orcs. Their numbers were double the last attack.

I returned to Granny Junaid's house with Rita. Whether a hundred or a thousand orcs came, Luna could handle it. Some village casualties were inevitable if numbers swelled, but unavoidable.

Sub-quest progress was smooth. Minor damage was tolerable.

"Won't the territory army deploy?"

Rita spoke anxiously. As she said, those bastards showed no sign of moving. Someone from the village must've reported it.

Are they sitting it out 'cause they're still pissed?

Clop! Clop! Clop!

Then, hoofbeats echoed from afar—from the west.

Peeking out, I saw a dust cloud from marching troops. The lead knight bore Tarsion's banner, advancing proudly. They looked impressive from here.

"Ah! It's the territory army!"

Rita clapped happily. After nearly getting assaulted by them last night, her optimism was remarkable.

She was welcoming reinforcements, not the rapist pack itself. Their involvement would reduce villager casualties.

But their movement was off. They should've headed to the fiercely fighting entrance—yet the vanguard aimed our way. Rita's face hardened too; she sensed it.

"Th-they're coming our way."

"Looks like it."

I replied calmly. Were they backstabbing while Luna was away?

The idea was laughable. That Pallax must be suicidal.

As Rita and I predicted, Pallax's force headed straight for us. The flamboyantly flagged knight halted before me.

Rita trembled like a leaf. I stepped forward, shielding her.

"What is it?"

He looked down arrogantly. Vice Captain Pallax, astride a white steed, advanced.

"Derek Walker. Vulgar merchant scum. Beg forgiveness for yesterday's insolence now, and I'll spare your life."

His voice trembled with unslaked rage.

"So Tarsion's army is just a band of highway robbers."

"Merchant, still blind to reality? Or banking on that arrogant wench?"

I sighed involuntarily.

"Begging me to kill you."

Pallax's eyes bulged. He meant to exude killing intent, but it was yawn-worthy. Vice Captain? For real?

"Arrogant bastard. Grr! Fine. Your wench's maid took Rengen's arm yesterday. Fair's fair—I'll take yours."

"If you can..."

"Chwiik! Humans! Attack!"

"Chwiik! Boss said avoid humans if possible!"

"It's fine! Finish before boss arrives! Chwiik!!"

Orc roars suddenly interrupted. Pallax and I whipped around simultaneously.

"Orcs!?"

Pallax's face changed. Mine too. Orcs crashing in now?

Had Luna lost? No way—she wouldn't fall to orcs. Not even named ones; current Luna...

"O-orcs! What do we do!?"

I calmed panicking Rita first.

"Don't worry. Where's Bianca?"

I prioritized the important.

"Probably at the village hall."

"Head there."