Chapter 35
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Red Deer Tribe
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Just 50 men would be enough?
I had my doubts, but I decided to trust Lize's judgment.
She'd never been wrong up to now.
I bowed at the waist.
"I am in awe of Your Highness's wisdom. To give these northern barbarians the chance to serve the Empire—what finer judgment could there be?"
It wasn't sincere, but it probably sounded convincing enough.
"To think the young hero of House Krushtein harbors such deep loyalty to the Empire. The Empire's future shines bright."
"That said, I would like to keep around 50 of them for my own uses."
Duchess Clara nodded lightly.
"Very well. I'll send someone separately to pay for the slaves... no, the mercenaries. We can't issue promissory notes of that magnitude here."
Not long after we returned to our quarters, Lize spoke up.
"We'll pick all 50 from the Red Deer Tribe."
"Why that tribe in particular?"
"They've got the most blue-red grass settlements nearby. Out of all the local tribes."
"Isn't the Golden Bear Tribe bigger?"
I asked. The power dynamics on the northern grasslands.
The Golden Bear Tribe was at least ten times larger than the Red Deer Tribe.
"You killed their next chieftain candidate, remember? Batu. Sir Heinrich took him down in two exchanges."
Ah. Right.
The hulking warrior swinging his axe. The man whose head flew off in a duel.
That was the Golden Bear Tribe's heir apparent?
Well, they had dozens of great warriors touted as chieftain candidates, after all.
"No room for negotiation there."
Lize stated it flatly.
But it wasn't entirely accurate.
Lize had good instincts, but her knowledge was on par with any ordinary maid.
I had information she didn't, which meant negotiation with the Golden Bears wasn't impossible. Still, I saw no need to bring it up.
"So we need to send a message to the Red Deer Tribe."
"What kind of message?"
"That we're treating them special."
950 would be carted off to the Empire's south.
The duchess called it "jobs," but in reality, they'd be little more than expendable tools.
Why else mention "slaves"? Suppressing rebel remnants. Maintaining public order. Pretty packaging for what amounted to cannon fodder in place of imperial troops.
Even if that wasn't the case, it didn't matter.
Even if, by some miracle, those dragged south lived well-fed lives in the warm lands, it would still mean the loss of 950 warriors from their tribe. A massive blow to their strength.
And in that scenario, if just 50 returned? All from one specific tribe?
"Showing them favor while isolating them at the same time?"
Lize nodded.
My gaze naturally shifted to Kuulruk.
The former great warrior sat bound in the corner.
He flinched. I'd given him a plausible reward, a gesture that merit earned its due. But he couldn't fully trust it.
That was why he was still tied up.
"Think you can handle the negotiations?"
"Of course! Just leave it to me!"
I stared at him intently.
"Didn't you say you had no say? Because you're a half-breed."
Sir Heinrich crossed his arms. Sir Wolfram eyed Kuulruk from behind his eyepatch as well.
Kuulruk took a step back.
Batu, presumed stronger than him, had his head lopped off in two exchanges. The worm hadn't even lasted one. He'd witnessed it all firsthand.
Sir Heinrich, who cut down those great warriors like common foot soldiers. And Sir Wolfram, whom even Sir Heinrich called "brother."
"To be honest, even without me, if you provide them with steady meat and grain, they'll follow Young Master without question."
"Is that so?"
I stood and approached Kuulruk, drawing the dagger from my belt.
Kuulruk stiffened. For a mountain of a man, he sure was timid.
Slash.
The rope binding his wrists snapped.
"...Pardon?"
Kuulruk stared blankly down at his wrists.
"Three horses. Your reward. Remember?"
"Y-yes."
"I'll throw in mounts for your men too. Even shares for the rest of your tribesmen. Release all your subordinates, and load up some grain to boot."
"...Young Master?"
Disbelief colored Sir Heinrich's voice. A natural reaction. Releasing prisoners was one thing, but horses and grain on top?
But we'd captured hundreds of horses in this battle anyway. Dozens wouldn't make much dent.
Kuulruk dropped to his knees, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the floor.
"Thank you, Young Master. I swear... I swear on my life I won't disappoint you."
"Don't make me regret it."
I replied curtly.
The next day. Before dawn broke.
Kuulruk and his group departed.
50 tribesmen from the Red Deer Tribe. Mounted on horseback, with sacks of grain tied behind their saddles.
I watched their retreating figures grow distant.
"Aren't you scared, Young Master?"
"Of what?"
"Kuulruk. What if he doesn't keep his word?"
The scheme had been Lize's idea.
But now that it was in motion, she seemed anxious.
I patted her head.
Silver hair slipped between my fingers. So soft.
"Then we lose a handful of barbarians."
"But the other stuff too..."
"A few dozen horses. Some grain. That's it."
I felt the tension drain from Lize's shoulders.
She seemed a bit relieved.
"Right. You're correct, Young Master."
Lize nodded.
So did I.
Acting all relaxed.
Playing it cool.
Truth be told, I was tense too.
A week passed.
No word.
Lize stood in the corner.
The girl who normally chattered away was keeping her mouth firmly shut.
Her shoulders were hunched. The eye visible below her eyepatch stared only at the floor.
"...My fault."
Her voice was low.
Almost inaudible.
"What?"
"Me. Telling you to trust Kuulruk. The blue-red grass plan. All of it."
Her voice trembled.
The edge of her eyepatch grew damp.
"Because of my plan, you're taking losses, Young Master. The horses. The grain. Everything."
It might well be true.
But I wasn't fool enough to berate the staff officer who'd succeeded in scheme after scheme without a single failure.
"It's only been a week. Round trip to the northern grasslands takes at least two. A month, factoring in back and forth."
"But..."
"Plus negotiations. Meeting the chieftain, talking it over, convincing them. You think that wraps up in a day or two?"
Lize's eye blinked.
"...True."
"So don't freak out. I told you last time too. Worst case, we lose a few horses and some grain."
This was reassurance for myself as much as her.
"...Yes."
But in the end, that reassurance proved pointless.
About a week after that conversation, a dust cloud rose from the north.
"Enemies! Cavalry approaching from the north! Nearly... nearly 5,000 strong!"
"Of all the timing."
Father had left for the capital two days prior. He'd left Sir Wolfram and many knights and soldiers behind, so the 7th Legion's current strength was even greater.
"Kuman tribesmen!"
"Banners confirmed! Definitely Kuman!"
Damn.
Had Kuulruk betrayed us?
Or was it a trap from the start? Had they waited for our forces to thin?
"Full muster! Man the walls!"
Sir Heinrich's voice boomed out.
Soldiers sprang into action. Clanging armor. Marching feet. Shouts.
I climbed to the ramparts.
Lize stuck close beside me. Her face was pale.
"Young Master, this is because of me..."
"Shut it. Not the time."
I cut her off coldly.
Regrets could wait.
The cavalry drew nearer.
Shapes emerged from the dust.
Horses. Riders. Banners.
But.
"...What the hell."
Sir Wolfram muttered.
I saw it too.
The banners.
Not tribal standards.
White. Pure white flags fluttering in the wind.
Whether Empire or Kuman, white flags meant one thing.
Surrender.
"Wait, there... there are children."
Lize narrowed her eyes.
Her enhanced vision let her make them out from this distance.
"What?"
"Elderly too. Lots of women."
I rubbed my eyes.
As they closed in, even the naked eye could see.
Women cradling children on horseback. Stooped elders. Carts laden with belongings. Livestock.
Warriors were there too. But fewer than half.
"That's not an army. That's a tribe."
"A tribe?"
"The whole tribe on the move. Not just warriors—the families too."
Murmurs spread among the soldiers atop the walls.
"Hey, look. Kids."
"For real. Elders too."
"They here to fight?"
"White flags. Surrender, right?"
"A whole tribe surrendering? Never heard of that."
I hadn't either.
One horse broke from the formation, advancing ahead.
A familiar face.
Kuulruk.
But something was different.
"Look at that."
Lize spotted it first.
"Something on his head."
A feather.
A long one tinged red, swaying in the wind, glinting in the sunlight.
"Chieftain's feather?"
Sir Heinrich murmured.
"Heh. Made it big."
Sir Wolfram chuckled.
Kuulruk dismounted.
And knelt.
Before 5,000 tribesfolk. The feathered chieftain prostrated himself before a ten-year-old.
"Young Master. I've returned as promised."
"Kneeling so easily in front of your tribesmen? You're chieftain now."
"I only became chieftain thanks to you."
Kuulruk's voice shook.
"My doing?"
"Without the food you sent, we would have been wiped out."
"That was meant for the Red Deer Tribe. Not all 5,000 are yours."
"They are the displaced, driven from their homes. From various tribes, mixed together. When we shared our food, they joined us."
A few sacks of grain had drawn 5,000?
How starved must they have been?
"And..."
Kuulruk turned back.
"You lot! Bring it here, quick!"
At his shout, his men scrambled.
Unloading crates from horses, running, tripping. Chaos.
One crate was set before me.
The lid opened.
Grass with a reddish glow. A distinctive scent stung my nose.
"Oho."
Sir Wolfram's eyes lit up.
Blue-red grass.
"Though we were driven from our original lands, our skilled herbalists have mapped multiple settlements. We can supply it steadily."
Kuulruk remained kneeling, head bowed.
Behind him stood 5,000 tribesfolk.
Watchful warriors. Women clutching children. Stern-faced elders.
All eyes on us.
Awaiting a single word from the ten-year-old.
"What will you do?"
Sir Heinrich asked quietly.
Instead of answering, I questioned Kuulruk.
"What exactly were you chased by?"
Kuulruk's shoulders twitched.
He swallowed hard.
Lifted his head.
Terror dwelled in his eyes.
"The Ice Dragon is moving south."