Chapter 24
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Nomads' Grand Debut
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"Speak."
"First, the season. The cold is starting to set in. The merchant caravans are pulling back south before full winter hits. Shipments themselves are dwindling."
I nodded.
It was a convincing reason.
Northern winters were said to be brutal.
Blizzards could block roads for days on end, wagon wheels would freeze solid, and even horses could freeze to death.
From the merchants' perspective, there was no reason to take the risk.
But...
"Is that the only reason? Winter comes every year, and they've got ways to deal with it."
"Second, the Kuman Tribe."
"Kuman?"
The northern tribe that had killed the previous legion commander.
"Scouts have started showing up near the supply routes. No full-scale raids yet... but the merchants are spooked."
"Two wagons nearly got hit last week."
Another staff officer chimed in.
"The escort knights held them off... but word spread among the merchants. 'The northern supply lines are dangerous.'"
"Even tripling the escort fees, no caravans are willing to come."
The staff officers added their pieces one by one.
This had nothing to do with embezzlement.
It was purely external factors.
"Scouts, you said. How big are the groups?"
"Ten to twenty men, small units. But their mobility is top-notch—hard to pin down."
"Can't they just hire some mercenaries for that?"
It was a natural question.
The staff officers just exchanged glances.
Something was up.
"Legion Commander."
A heavy voice echoed through the meeting room.
It was Sir Heinrich.
He stood by the door. No idea when he'd arrived.
"You know Sir Gerhardt, the previous commander, fell to the Kuman Tribe, right?"
"Of course."
"Heard it happened in a situation just like this."
The room fell silent.
"Tell me the details."
"The staff officers would know better than me. They just don't want to say it."
I nodded and looked at the staff officers.
"Explain. That's an order."
Jobe let out a heavy sigh.
"General Gerhardt... tried to handle the raiding parties personally and got himself killed."
"Personally?"
"Yes. He took his guard out to sweep the scouts harassing the supply lines. And... he never came back."
I furrowed my brow.
"To a small group? Sir Gerhardt?"
The previous commander, Sir Gerhardt, had been an advanced Expert.
And he'd died to a mere twenty-odd raiders?
Especially with his elite guard along?
"You can't underestimate the Kuman Tribe."
Sir Heinrich said.
"They're barbarians, sure... but their combat prowess rivals any knight order in the Empire."
"That good?"
"Thank the heavens they have no Masters. But in terms of sheer number of Experts..."
Jobe paused for a moment.
"They might outnumber the entire Krushtein Duchy."
Krushtein Duchy.
The Empire's strongest military force, the shield of the North.
More Experts than that?
"Even a group of twenty could all be Experts. Several advanced ones mixed in wouldn't be surprising."
Information not in the books.
But not everything made it into print.
Especially intel on barbarians striking down from the Empire.
It made sense why the staff held back. They'd either planned the op that got the previous commander killed or failed to talk him out of it.
Even merchants fleeing a mere twenty-man unit started to add up. If those twenty were all elite Experts?
No ordinary caravan stood a chance.
Hiring two or three Expert mercenaries would bankrupt them.
And fifty or sixty regular sellswords? Useless.
If twenty Experts popped out?
It'd be like sending fifty mongrels against twenty tigers.
The meeting ended without resolution.
I returned to my room.
Sat in the chair and stared out the window. The red sunset dyed the northern sky.
'They might outnumber the entire Krushtein Duchy in Experts alone.'
Jobe's words echoed in my head.
The Kuman Tribe was strong. And hungry.
This world's winters turned brutal every twenty years, then eased off—now was the cooling phase.
For nomads, harsh cold meant famine. Famine meant raids.
Strong and starving neighbors.
The most dangerous combo.
"Wish they were dumb orcs instead."
I muttered at the window.
People often misunderstood. Barbarians? Must be stupid.
Wrong.
Nomads migrated with the seasons, adapted to strange terrain, clashed endlessly with other tribes. Lose a fight, you starved. Dumb tribes died out.
Thousands of years of natural selection.
That produced the Kuman Tribe.
I mulled over the staff's words.
'Tried to handle the raiding parties personally and got killed.'
Ambush, ninety-nine percent.
Small teams harass supply lines, dangle bait.
Furious commander sorties. Main force ambushes.
Classic lure tactic.
A far cry from orcs, whose IQ sat somewhere between human and chimp—massacred by simple fire attacks.
I sighed.
"That's the upside of them being human. Tactics we can use against humans."
A voice came from behind.
I turned.
Lize.
She'd slipped into the room unnoticed. Her silver hair glowed red in the evening light.
"What do you mean?"
"Orcs are dumb, so they charge right into fire~."
"They do."
"They're closer to pigs than humans by nature~. Feed 'em full, and they want nothing else~. They raid 'cause they're hungry, not ambitious~."
"True. Orcs are simple. Eat, sleep, breed. That's it."
Some past-life media trendy-fied orcs as civilized, but this world's were classic fantasy cannon fodder—dumb brutes.
Spore reproduction screamed lowlife.
Not like space orks with wild tech. Just easy prey.
But this foe was human.
"Kuman are different~. Smart, so suspicious... always on guard~."
"Smarter than farmers in some ways. War especially."
"Right~. They won't fall for traps easily~. Need bait they can't ignore, something that makes 'em drop their guard and reach out~."
Bait they couldn't ignore.
I pondered.
There was one. But...
"Can't use me as bait directly. They might call me a coward, but it's too risky."
"Of course not, Master as bait? Never~. You're far too precious~."
Lize approached and grabbed a lock of her hair.
Silver. Shining like moonlight.
Then pointed at my hair. Same silver.
"We have the same hair color~."
"...So?"
"Make a fake Master~."
Lize grinned.
"Spread rumors the commander himself is escorting supplies~. From the Kuman view: they killed the old one, now a new kid shows up. A ten-year-old brat~."
"..."
"Could they resist~?"
They couldn't.
Success killing the previous commander.
New one's a mere ten-year-old kid.
Easier prey?
"Listen~. Have the Kuman ever seen me~?"
"...No."
"You~? Have they~?"
"Doubt it."
"Right. All they know is 'new commander: ten-year-old silver-haired kid'~."
Lize ticked off fingers.
"One, silver hair. Me too~."
Second finger.
"Two, height. We're about the same~."
Third.
"Three, age. I'm ten too~. From afar, no telling us apart~."
Fourth.
"Four, hat hides hair length~."
Fifth.
"Five, in a carriage, no one sees the face~."
Logical.
Air-tight.
She was right.
Silver hair.
Rare here, like in my past life. Stood out, drew danger.
What Kuman knew of me:
'Ten years old.'
'Silver hair.'
'New commander.'
That was it.
Face? No clue.
Voice? Never heard.
To them, 'Commander Adrian' was just 'silver-haired kid' visuals.
Lize would exploit that gap.
But.
"Too dangerous."
"I know~."
"You could die."
"I know~."
Lize's voice was calm. Just her fingertips trembled slightly. She didn't notice.
Then.
"Oh? Having a fun chat without me."
I turned.
Where the black cat should be stood a black-haired girl.
Celine.
Since when? The meeting? Just now?
Cat ears aside, a fifteen-year-old girl. Her usual playful expression.
But.
Her eyes on Lize were different.
"Keeping all the fun talk to yourselves."
Celine smiled.
"Let me in."