Ogre, Just You Wait! (3)
Having properly savored the performance of the enchanted blades, the Wolves could not hide their excitement.
"I'd heard the stories, but this is something else entirely."
"I told you. A cedar as thick as your thigh, cut clean through in a single stroke."
"That was because you used mana."
"I did not! Pure strength. You were the one who refused to test it yourself, saying you'd lose your mind. This weapon is just insane."
The Wolves traded banter, glancing back and forth between their own arms and the mercenaries'.
"They're starting to come."
"No way they handle something that size so easily."
With the appearance of the massive orc giants, every eye locked back onto the fight.
Perhaps because of their bulk, the two orc giants only began their slow climb up the hill after the rest of the orcs had been wiped out. Their heavy arms swept through the air.
Yet the mercenaries seemed to have predicted the motion from the start, stepping back and slipping clear. While the giants' attention was fixed, other mercenaries quietly circled around behind them.
One man draws the gaze; the others strike from the rear. It was the most basic formation for dealing with stupid, sluggish monsters.
"Getting behind them is easy enough, but you can still catch a swing from those arms. Let your guard down thinking they can't see behind them and you won't just walk away with a broken bone."
"They're not green kids. Veterans. You think they don't know that?"
A light suddenly seized their attention.
"They're going to use mana?"
"That hide's thick enough that even a sharp blade won't cut it easily. Wrap it in mana, though, and the story changes. And with those weapons…"
An eerie blue radiance bloomed along several of the mercenaries' swords.
What followed was exactly what everyone had expected.
Slash!
A single stroke from a mercenary sent an orc giant's head tumbling free of its neck.
It was a scene that invited every word for awe, astonishment, and wonder.
And it filled the Wolves with high expectations. The Baron had told them that the enchanted weapons they themselves had received were even more powerful than the ones now in the mercenaries' hands.
Roy arrived late and caught only the final moment. That was enough.
I was worried because they were lower-grade pieces, but the blades cut better than I thought.
Even in his previous life he had only crafted weapons like these when he was young. He had known they would help in battle, yet he had never witnessed the effect with his own eyes until now.
At this level I could sell them for a higher price.
The moment the spectacle ended, Roy spun and bolted back the way he had come. Geren called after him, asking where he was rushing off to, and quickly followed.
Seven-year-old Roy could run ten paces and Geren would still catch him in two or three strides.
"Where do you think? I paid good money for dismantlers. Time to put them to work on those orc giants."
The wind was cool and clean.
It swept across the hilltop and left Roy feeling refreshed. Two days had already passed since their arrival at this place. He had fallen asleep the moment they reached it on the first day, so strictly speaking he had spent only yesterday here.
Finally, today.
The orc assaults that began yesterday morning had continued until evening. In the end they had succeeded in hunting roughly fifty orcs and seven orc giants.
At first everything had been left to the mercenaries. After that the Baron and the Wolves had gone wild, each man desperate to test the weapons he now owned.
Roy had watched it all from the crest of the hill alongside Geren.
Who had made those weapons? He had.
If they shut him out of the strategy meetings, that was not protection—it was incompetence. And the Baron had chosen to claim that incompetence for himself. Roy could hardly pick a public fight with him in front of the others.
So after dinner the previous evening, Roy had quietly requested a private audience. What followed was a stage for persuasion that walked the edge of threat.
"The reason I came here is to collect and secure the materials needed for enchantment while keeping them at the highest possible quality."
"And?"
"I would like to know why you are excluding me from the strategy meetings. Combat is one thing, but strategy discussions should not matter."
"When adults are talking, what is a boy who has never even cut off a goblin's head supposed to do there?"
"Yet the weapons made by the knowledge that includes me have cut the necks of more monsters than I can count."
"That is a separate matter."
"It is not. Crafting magic of that sort is impossible without an exceptional mind. Every book I have ever read calls it foolish to judge a person by age alone."
The Baron pinched the bridge of his nose, fingers pressing against his temple as if a headache were blooming. He already knew his damned son was about to dig in his heels again.
"Fine. On the day we left the manor you said you had a plan. Explain it. Listening costs me nothing."
"It is nothing grand. Simply a plan to face the monsters more safely so that the quality of the materials is damaged as little as possible."
Roy asked whether he might use the operations table. The Baron gave permission with a nod.
On the broad wooden desk sat a miniature model of the entire local region: Wolf Forest, Wolf Tail Hill, and the surrounding mountains. Elevation, the position of lakes, even the density of the trees had all been carefully rendered—the work of one of the Wolves who specialized in such things.
Roy climbed onto a chair and pointed with a small wooden stick to a spot on the model: the lower slope of the hill, right where the orcs had climbed up.
"We need to clear the trees across this entire area and create an open field."
"Why? We are already using the hill to defend against the monsters with ease."
"If all we wanted was defense, yes. But we have to hunt an ogre. Unless we intend to lure it up onto this hill, we will have to fight it in the forest. And if we do that, the odds of our own men being struck by flying shards of broken trees are high."
He chose not to mention that those same shards could also mar the ogre's hide.
"What you say makes a kind of sense, but how long would it take to fell that many trees? And what do we do with the timber once it is down? What if monsters attack while we are cutting?"
"Felling them is not difficult. We simply divide into a defense detail and a cutting detail. Once the nearby trees are gone, watching from the hill becomes far easier. Right now the dense woods hide the orcs until they are almost at the foot of the slope. If a truly large force rushes us all at once and we spot them too late, even the terrain advantage will not save us from serious trouble."
The Baron had received reports of exactly that problem the previous year. As harvest approached, the orcs began to move in larger and larger groups. The mercenaries had noticed too late and had ultimately lost the hilltop. Despite careful preparation, the sheer difference in numbers had made the fight nearly impossible. In the end they had lost every scrap of their supplies and fled with nothing but their lives, only reclaiming the hill after winter set in. By then the village at the foot of the hill and the surrounding wheat fields had been reduced to ash.
"Even so, clearing the range you are talking about would take far more than a day or two."
"One day is enough. Half a day, even."
"How?"
"Enchantment works on axes as well."
The Baron realized it a beat later and nodded. Cutting, however, was only the beginning of the problem.
"And the felled timber?"
"Some of it can be used for palisades and watchtowers. That can wait. The priority is simply to open the sight lines so that any monsters approaching the hill become easy to watch. We clear only what we need—the places our own people will use—and leave the rest stacked where it falls. The monsters will follow the path we create. They will not bother leaping over a tangle of thick fallen trunks. Even if a few try, they will be slowed, and our chances of spotting them will only improve."
"Hmm… The real questions are whether we have enchanted axes and whether the mercenaries will willingly take part."
"We have them."
"What?"
"The axes."
Roy had already crafted twenty enchanted axes and brought them along in his own wagon. The revelation left the Baron momentarily speechless.
"You calculating little brat. What would you have done if I refused?"
"There is no reason for you to refuse—unless you intend to hunt the ogre inside the forest itself."
"…"
"The mercenaries will join us as well. If they refuse, I simply stop selling them enchanted weapons."
"And who is supposed to hold this place then?!"
"That is a problem for the lord and the mercenaries to solve. I am only a seven-year-old who knows nothing."
"Hah…"
"If you mean to dismiss me as a child and ignore my opinions, that is your choice. In that case I will shut down the business at once and start again only after I am grown. Would anyone risk their life on a battlefield with a weapon made by a little boy they do not trust?"
"You little—!"
The Baron knew perfectly well that Roy had no intention of actually doing any of it. He was simply furious that a child was blackmailing him.
"There is no need to get angry. This is not my idea. It is my teacher's."
The moment Geren's name entered the conversation, the Baron's expression shifted to sudden understanding.
A child could not be allowed into the meetings—but Geren was another matter entirely.