Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: The Battle of Nakmanr (1)
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The rumor that Cain had used the wealth bestowed upon him by His Majesty the Emperor for the territory spread like wildfire among the nobles.
Of course it did. After all, it was Cain himself who had distributed the rewards according to merit.
The nobles could only marvel at Cain's impartiality and vast magnanimity, tongues wagging in awe.
To reward achievements with prizes and then use even the leftovers for the territory... How could anyone be so noble?
"After much deliberation, we've decided. We won't accept the rewards either."
"There's no need to go that far..."
"Our lord charged ahead of everyone in battle and refused them. How could we dare accept?"
'They're really okay with it...'
But contrary to Cain's thoughts, the nobles couldn't bring themselves to accept the rewards Cain offered, if only out of shame.
Thanks to that, Cain was able to use the entirety of the Emperor's rewards for the territory.
The sheer volume of gold was staggering. Merchants' footsteps, absent for so long, resumed as if by magic.
Yet someone dashed cold water on the newly revitalized Lenheim Territory.
Life has two sides, like a coin.
Where there's fortune, misfortune lurks. Exceptions exist, of course. But Lenheim Territory was no exception.
After months of relative calm, the beastmen launched a full-scale invasion.
The prior clash with the bear tribe seemed to give the Seven Beast Kings ample pretext.
Honestly, it was unfair to call it a pretext. The beastmen had struck first, after all.
But the brutal wilds of the demon borderlands need no justifications. Only the strong devouring the weak.
Under Cain's command, the imperial army repelled every beastmen incursion over three months with relative ease.
Surprisingly, the greatest contributors weren't the Empire's knights or elite troops, but the newly joined Red Hammer dwarves.
Cain asked the Red Hammer clan what they desired, and their request was...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Kieeeek!!
Cain clicked his tongue in disgust as he stared at the monster impaled on the spear, limbs flailing wildly.
Monster or not, the thought of it being used for life smelting stirred pity he couldn't shake.
It would be tossed alive into the dwarves' boiling molten iron and melted down.
"The life smelting permit came far quicker than expected. Does that mean we've earned a bit of trust?"
"Can't deny it. Repairing every fortress in nearly three months... even under beastmen assaults.
I never imagined even dwarves could restore them so perfectly amid invasion."
Thanks to them, Cain held a slight edge in the standoff with the beastmen.
The beastmen must have been losing their minds, watching fortresses rebuild in a single day.
"That's basic for dwarves."
Clan Chief Grid replied as if it were nothing. But to Cain, it was anything but ordinary.
In a resource-starved, manpower-poor situation, the dwarves were a miracle incarnate.
Without them, several fortresses would have crumbled to the beastmen by now, the territory overrun.
Perfect work demands fitting reward. Cain granted permission for life smelting.
Limited strictly to monsters, of course.
"Didn't expect you'd be this thrilled just over life smelting approval."
"The alliance banned it as ill-omened. Understandable, but... we can't let our pride fester."
"Your craftsmanship pride runs deeper than I imagined."
"Any dwarf feels the same. We're no exception."
With that, Grid gazed quietly at Cain. What? Does he want to smelt me? Nah.
A bit spooked, Cain soon noticed Grid's eyes fixed not on him, but the sword.
"Something wrong with this sword?"
"Mind if I take a look?"
"Be my guest."
Cain readily offered the jet-black greatsword. Grid took it carefully, inspecting every inch.
"...Just as I thought. The edge is mostly gone, and it's corroded deep inside."
"The edge is gone?"
"Yes. Must be from that strange power you wield, my lord."
Grid's assessment left Cain flustered. Strange power—almost certainly death force.
Death force was indeed trickier and more ominous than mana, no denying that.
But affecting an inanimate object? That shouldn't happen.
"Non-dwarves think iron and stone lack breath. Wrong. We hear their sighs, their tales."
Grid uttered what would send biologists into fits, utterly casual.
"Perfect timing, with your permission for life smelting. I'll forge a new sword from our smelted iron and present it to you."
"No need to go that far."
"Craftsmen don't blame tools... but shunning fine ones is folly."
"If you put it that way."
Cain sighed, eyeing the greatsword. He recalled its vision when they first met.
It had wailed like the living back then; now it lay silent. Vengeance for its master fulfilled?
Or resentment for his kingdom's betrayal? Unable to shake the sentiment, Cain looked up.
"That's enough for today. Prepare to fall back to the territory."
"Can't we push a bit longer?"
"Sun's dipping soon. Night belongs to the beastmen."
Beastmen favored nocturnal raids above all. They moved by day too, but...
Day was safer regardless. Retreating while sunlight lingered was ideal.
So he thought—until arrows whistled from the forest. Cain snatched one midair.
"No warning for an ambush. Beastmen?"
"No. Examine the arrow."
"...This."
"Bone arrow... Only they wield such cursed shafts."
"Necromancers."
No sooner said than clattering bones echoed ominously, skeletons shambling into view.
Battle-hardened through countless fields of death, Cain grasped the necromancers' scheme at once.
"...They're set on pitting us against the Seven Beast Kings to the bitter end."
For corpses? Some deeper plot? Unclear, but the outlook was grim.
The sun was sinking beyond the horizon.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Unlike their bold invasion, the Seven Beast Kings were faring poorly. Those damned fortresses were the issue.
Tool-shunning beastmen could only throw themselves at the walls.
Siegecraft? Nonexistent. At best, hurl boulders or scale battlements.
Insufficient against imperial-held bastions.
Frustration mounted with every needless loss. Then aid arrived from an unexpected quarter.
"...The Red Hammer dwarves who surrendered to the Empire are truly surrounded?"
[Yes.]
"Why should I believe you?"
[Believe it or not, your choice. But surely you know necromancers thrive on mounting corpses.]
The Serpent King glared with blazing orange eyes at the repulsive skeleton before him. Not just any skull,
but a beastman's—proof of their vile, twisted nature.
Yet that very depravity lent credibility. At least where corpse-making was concerned.
"Today's raiders were the snake tribe, yes?"
"Yes."
"Snake tribe warriors number three thousand... Necromancer claims three hundred dwarves. Manageable odds."
"What nonsense? Dwarves are nothing to our bear tribe..."
"Forgot your last defeat? Besides, your warriors aren't even mustered."
Warriors don't mobilize on a whim. Without preparation, they're mere rabble.
Doomed to shatter against foes. But this time favored the beastmen.
Alerted to isolated dwarves, the lord would sortie personally for rescue. Strike then.
And naturally, the necromancer omitted mention of the Lenheim lord and his guards among them.
If the Serpent King sortied himself...
Only dwarf corpses would result.