Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Impending War (1)
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In the depths of the damp marshlands, the Raalak tribe's dwelling seethed with rage on the verge of explosion.
The tribe's chieftain, Juk Sun, roared as he hurled a scrap of imperial fabric brought by the scout onto the ground.
"How dare they! How dare that damned old rock!"
His warriors were already sharpening their spear tips and coating them with poison in preparation for war.
It had been just a few weeks since they had been honing their blades, biding their time for Bark Makre's death.
Everything had been perfect.
Once that wise but aged chieftain was gone, southern hegemony in the jungle would be theirs.
But it had all fallen apart.
"Chieftain! Additional report from the scout!"
A warrior came rushing in, breathless, and shouted.
"The Raktali scum have opened a trade route with the imperial bastards! They're paving some road called the Saint's Path and hauling their goods right into the heart of the jungle!"
Juk Sun's eyes turned bloodshot.
"Th-these bastards!! Bringing foreign powers into our land?! Defiling our sacred jungle with the empire's hooves, trading our ancestors' spirits for their shiny trinkets!!"
To him, Raktali's prosperity meant nothing.
He was furious that the mild rock had survived, but even more unbearable was the fact that it had shattered the jungle's balance.
Those sturdy stone walls erected in an instant with imperial technology, that strange chill that defied the jungle's heat.
All of it was a direct challenge and betrayal of the jungle's laws and traditions.
"They've betrayed our ancestors! But I, Juk Sun, will not betray the jungle!"
He slung his club over his shoulder.
"If Raktali has joined hands with the empire, then we shall call upon our brothers."
His goal was clear: drive out Raktali.
But the current Raalak alone weren't enough.
In the foggy marshlands, the territory of the Abarut tribe—longtime enemies.
Juk Sun stood alone before their chieftain.
"Juk Sun... You dare set foot in my swamp?"
Abarut's chieftain, Agdra, growled without hiding his displeasure.
Juk Sun relaxed his grip on his club, suppressing his boiling hostility with effort.
"Of course I didn't come to your stinking swamp because I like it, Agdra."
His red eyes stared straight at the swamp chieftain.
"It's because an even fouler stench is spreading across the entire jungle."
"What nonsense is this."
"Raktali! Those rock idiots have sold out the jungle!"
Juk Sun snarled.
"The old chieftain came back from the dead and lost his mind. He's dragged the imperial scum into the jungle's heart! Under that disgusting name 'Saint's Path,' they're ripping up the jungle and hauling in their rocks to build walls!"
Agdra fell silent for a moment. He too had heard that Raktali had begun trading with the empire.
"So what? What does it matter to me if that old rock Bark Makre got bewitched by some imperial trinkets and food?"
"Trinkets?"
Juk Sun scoffed.
"Do you need imperial walls to surround even your swamp before you wake up? They talk of trade, but that's just the beginning! Today they feed Raktali their food, but tomorrow their armies will cross your swamp, backed by the humans' empire! Humans don't follow jungle law. They just clear the land!"
Juk Sun took a step forward. His voice carried a sense of crisis that transcended the long-standing hatred between the two tribes.
"Agdra. Our feud is a war for jungle hegemony. But those bastards are trying to erase the jungle itself. Are you just going to let those traitors be?"
Agdra's eyes narrowed.
Juk Sun's words were crude, but not wrong.
"...So, what do you propose? Should I join hands with the likes of you?"
"Yes."
Juk Sun answered immediately.
"A temporary alliance. You and I combine forces to drive Raktali and the imperial scum hiding behind them out of the jungle. We'll divide Raktali's fertile lands after we sever that traitor old man's neck."
Agdra was silent. He was belligerent, but not stupid.
He had heard the rumors of the sturdy walls Raktali was building.
The thought of human laws—not jungle laws—overtaking the marshlands was more revolting than Juk Sun's presence.
Finally, Agdra raised his head and replied.
"Fine, Juk Sun. I'll take your hand. But remember one thing."
His voice sank low like the swamp's fog.
"The day Raktali's blood dries and the imperial footsteps cease, my first prey will be your heart."
"Good. With this, the pact is sealed."
Juk Sun grinned, baring his tusks in satisfaction.
It was the moment the blood-soaked alliance between the two most belligerent tribes of the southern jungle—Raalak and Abarut—was forged.
The news of the two beasts' union spread through the jungle faster than the stench of rotting marsh.
The numerous minor tribes of the southern jungle were plunged into fear and chaos.
Until now, they had maintained a precarious balance under the mediation of the mild rock, Bark Makre, and Raktali's moderate power.
But the fragile equilibrium of the southern jungle, upheld under Raktali's gentle rule, shattered with the alliance of the two ferocious beasts.
Until now, the minor tribes had barely escaped the threats of Raalak and Abarut under Raktali's shadow, but now that shield was gone. No, it had become the common target of the two beasts.
Secret gatherings began across the jungle.
"What are we to do now!"
"Juk Sun and Agdra have joined hands! We'll be next on the menu!"
The old shaman of the Vine Root tribe slammed his staff down.
"There's only one path! Side with Raalak! They speak of jungle traditions. Raktali, who brought in outsiders, are the traitors! We must strike them as warriors of the jungle!"
"Traitors?"
An old warrior from the Poison Fang tribe retorted.
"Haven't you heard what those traitors are enjoying now? Thanks to the empire's miracles, they eat food that doesn't rot, they've built stone walls no beast can breach! They even revived their dying old chieftain!"
"Exactly! Our children drink the rotten swamp water and sicken to death, while Raktali drinks pure water from imperial magic tools! Juk Sun preaches tradition to us, but Raktali shows us survival!"
The fierce debate split the jungle's order in two.
Thus began the unrest in the southern jungle.
Tribes gripped by fear stood at a crossroads.
Some tribes succumbed to the jungle's ancient terror.
Fearing the savage might of Juk Sun and Agdra, they headed to the marshlands to survive.
They joined Raalak's forces, praying they wouldn't become the next prey.
But far more minor tribes began moving in the opposite direction.
They chose hope over fear.
They packed their belongings, gathered their children and elders, and fled toward Raktali.
Their destination was clear.
Sturdy walls of imperial marble. Miraculous sauces that didn't spoil in the jungle's heat. Purification magic tools that turned swamp rot into spring water.
They sought new survival in the place where the saint's miracles dwelled, fleeing Raalak's wrath.
In the southern jungle of the empire, inside the newly built walls of Raktali, at the imperial trading post.
The up-and-coming wool merchant Ernst was flicking his abacus beads and letting out gleeful squeals.
'My god, this is all money!'
Connecting with Baron Oshirap in the capital had been the best decision of his life.
Under the baron's patronage from the court treasury, he had secured distribution rights for imperial fabrics the moment the southern trade route opened.
Though the road was paved, he had been startled by the massive bugs and giant snakes, but all potential threats had been cleared, and it had been several days since he safely arrived with his goods and caravan staff to begin trading.
Imperial fabrics, immune to mold in the humid jungle, sold like hotcakes, and in exchange, his wagons were piling up with southern native products.
At this rate, becoming the capital's top merchant wasn't a dream.
As he happily drafted the list for the third shipment to the capital, it happened.
"M-Master! Over there!"
"Hm? What is it? Hermann! What's going on!"
Hearing the urgent shout from a caravan employee, Ernst followed him up to the watchtower.
Upon reaching the top, an unbelievable sight met his eyes.
Thousands of trolls were emerging from the jungle canopy, clambering forth in droves.
"An attack...!"
As Ernst cried out in terror, he realized.
They carried no weapons. No—instead of weapons, they held children's hands and supported their elders.
A ragged procession of refugees stretched out from beyond.
"Save us! Imperial folk! Warriors of Raktali's rock tribe!"
"The Raalak scum are burning the jungle! O-our forests are ablaze!"
The refugees desperately reached toward Raktali's sturdy walls.
Ernst's face drained of color.
To face war so soon after coming south.
'Th-this is the end of my fabric business!'
Ernst rushed straight into the tent that served as the temporary imperial consulate at the trading post.
There was a long-range communication magic tool installed by the Magic Tower for emergencies.
"Emergency report! Emergency report! Imperial citizens are in danger! War has broken out in the south!"