Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: The Start of the Battle
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“Ughhh.”
Berik bolted upright as if seizing, dry-heaving wildly. Ian, who had been reading a book beside him, grabbed some water and watched over him.
When they’d returned to the camp, he had barely been conscious, just as the physician had said—his mind the only thing intact. For someone with holes punched through his body, that alone was impressive...
“You okay?”
“Stomach’s churning...”
“What the hell for?”
“No idea. Did the physician spike my meds with booze or something?”
His condition was improving at an astonishing rate as time passed. He still couldn’t get down from the bed, but from his manner of speaking and attitude, it was clear he’d pulled through.
“Can you straighten your back a bit?”
“No strength at all. Want me to try?”
“No. Your wounds could reopen.”
“Ugh. What the hell kind of herbs did they stuff me with?”
Berik grumbled in disgust at the bits of grass he felt with his fingertips.
Ian held the empty cup and examined him closely. He knew Sword-Mages had far superior combat prowess and recovery rates compared to ordinary people. He knew, but...
‘This much?’
The speed of his recovery was bordering on miraculous. Even the physician had been shocked, so the Cheonryeo Tribe surely wouldn’t heal like this either.
“Berik. Do you know what your parents looked like?”
“Huh? Yeah, I do. They’re all dead, but I remember.”
He hadn’t been an orphan from birth, so he remembered his mother and father’s faces clearly. Even the filthy memories were etched in perfectly—hardly what you’d call fond recollections.
Ian sank deeper into confusion at Berik’s answer. If he’d said no, at least he could suspect some inhuman bloodline.
“...I see.”
“Huh?”
While Ian pondered deeply, Berik muttered to himself.
“Should’ve shoved it up both sides. That fucking bastard punched a hole right through my side and then peacefully closed his eyes. What was his name? Bell?”
Berik seemed resentful that they’d traded blows evenly. Bell was dead, and here he was, alive. Ian nodded faintly, and Berik ground his teeth even harder.
“Those knight bastards, you never see hide nor hair of them usually. Guess they do train, though. Anyway, when are we heading back to Bratz?”
“Soon. Maybe even tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Music to my ears.”
“The Central Army’s coming down, and we’ve got reports that Derga’s mustering his soldiers. Su’s sending info from the borderlands, but it’s not real-time, so details are scarce. We’ll leave as soon as possible.”
“Sounds good. Too damn hot here.”
“Berik. I don’t think I can take you with me.”
“What?! Why?!”
Berik whipped his head around, then reflexively clutched his side. That was exactly why. For an ordinary person, a wound that deep would’ve been fatal.
“You can’t even walk.”
“I’ll be walking by tomorrow.”
“Walking isn’t the point. You need to wield a sword. Focus on recovery here until Bratz wraps up.”
“No way!”
The moment Ian finished speaking, Berik yelled. But he soon collapsed back onto the bed, curling up in pain.
“Argh, shit...”
“No choice.”
“Wha—what? You’re just gonna use me and toss me aside? Ungrateful bastard, traitor, piece of shit.”
Ian smiled faintly, and Berik bit his lip hard. He looked just like a stubborn child throwing a tantrum.
“If you’re worried about the tavern owner you owe a debt to, I’ll look into it separately.”
He’d told them to quit the estate before leaving, but he wasn’t sure if Haena and the servants had. If battle broke out, they’d surely flee to the bank district, the tacit neutral zone. Berik clicked his tongue in disbelief at Ian’s reassurance.
“That’s not it.”
“Then what?”
“The Central Army! The Count’s private soldiers! And now the Cheonryeo Tribe jumping in for a real brawl—and I’m supposed to sit here sucking my thumb? That’s too much!”
The thrill of charging through the battlefield, yelling war cries, the clean slice of a blade, the rush of clashing bodies and dancing on the edge of life and death. That’s what he’d been waiting for.
“Absolutely not. No arguments. I’ll carry you if I have to. Honestly, you and me? We’re like master and disciple, right? How’s a teacher gonna abandon his student?!”
“Berik. This is surprising. To think you see me as a teacher like this. Strictly speaking, it’s a lord-vassal relationship... Well, that’s surprising too.”
“You said you’d let me use mana! Every day counts!”
“Don’t you remember?”
“What? Try feeding me any bullshit, and I’ll...”
“When you fought Bell, you drew out mana on your own.”
“...Who?”
“You.”
Berik just blinked at Ian’s words. From his utterly disbelieving expression, bits of his memory were clearly gone.
Ian smiled as he straightened Berik’s blanket, then spotted Nersarn entering the tent.
“Lord Ian.”
“Lord Nersarn.”
“Outside for a moment.”
They hurried out, where Kakantir was buried face-first in an eagle’s neck feathers. He took a deep breath. The metallic tang of blood was strong.
“The timing is perfect.”
“Kakantir?”
“Lord Ian. Derga’s surrounded the estate with his private soldiers. The inspection team seems to be holding out, probably waiting for the Central Army and biding their time.”
“The inspection team is just the advance party for investigation. They can’t handle full-scale war. The Central Army should be arriving by now.”
“The problem is the territory folk’s mood.”
“The territory folk?”
Kakan nodded curtly at Ian’s question.
“They’re gathering in the territory center, arming themselves.”
“Ah. That’s because there’s a bank there.”
“Bank?”
Ian, who had tensed up alongside them, breathed a sigh of relief. If infighting broke out among them, it’d make the situation harder to read. A three-way battle turning into four-way chaos would ramp up the uncertainty.
“It’s Haiman Bank, which handles Bariel’s financial infrastructure. Every region has at least one branch. Probably Dion area.”
“We don’t know the areas behind Bratz well.”
“There was a revolt in Dion once. Amid the chaos, a bank got totally smashed. In response, Haiman Bank refused service to anyone tied to the Dion revolt.”
The rebels lost not just their deposits but all economic activity, forced to barter with goods. They had to lug around hundreds of kilos of coin, and losses were untraceable.
“Bariel has only that one banking house. The rebels had no alternatives. Within a few years, their momentum fizzled, and Bariel crushed the revolt.”
“So that bank’s a sanctuary.”
“Exactly. Alongside temples, it’s inviolable. That’s why the territory folk flocked there.”
That meant the stench of blood soaking Bratz territory was no small matter. Ian continued gravely.
“We need to hurry. Territory folk without the bank’s protection will side with Derga as time drags on.”
Bariel’s heart was the imperial palace, but Bratz’s was Derga. His private soldiers were family, neighbors, friends. The more their home crumbled, the stronger the urge to return to the old ways.
“We’re going to Bariel.”
“I’ll return to Bariel.”
Kakantir and Ian spoke at once, and Nersarn and the subordinates burst into laughter. The two exchanged glances and said in unison again.
“Tomorrow.”
* * *
“What about Merelrof?”
“They refused the letter.”
“Fucking bastards. This is why you can’t deal with merchants.”
Derga gnashed his teeth, thinking of his neighboring Merelrof Count, who also guarded the border.
Unlike Bratz, which clashed with the Cheonryeo Tribe, Merelrof was dutifully handling exchanges with the foreign Hawan Kingdom.
“They’re short on soldiers anyway. Mostly merchants, so their laborers suck too. Might as well crush the Central Army, declare independence, and take them out while we’re at it.”
Deo muttered as he wiped blood from his sword. Independence meant inevitably swallowing neighbors to bulk up the territory. Merelrof Count knew this well, making it an obvious choice—but Derga felt betrayed anyway.
Even without sending troops, they could’ve mediated, but Merelrof was playing ignorant, avoiding any sparks.
“Smash it! Bring bigger timber!”
“Dip arrowheads in oil! Light ’em up!”
“Fire! Keep firing!”
“Waaah! Come out, you bastards!”
“Advance! Keep advancing!”
“Arghhh!”
Boom! Boom boom!
He’d only planned to fight the Cheonryeo Tribe, not siege his own estate. Derga found the lack of siege engines absurd but kept launching fire arrows.
Bwooo. Bwoooo.
Then it came—a heavy horn blast reaching Bratz. Everyone froze and turned. On the distant hill horizon, ants swarmed up: the Central Army with the imperial flag.
Derga scowled and drove his private soldiers harder.
“Hurry! Hurry up!”
“Dig the trench deeper from that end to this!”
“Block the bridge they’re coming over!”
“Faster, faster!”
The estate occupants must’ve noticed the Central Army too, as a reaction finally came from inside. Bratz’s flag came down, replaced by the imperial inspection team’s.
“You fucking...”
Derga’s rage boiled over, nearly snapping his reason. He’d kill them all. Burn every outsider invading his territory alive.
“Let’s go! Kill them all!”
“Stick to the high ground as much as possible!”
“Kiiiill!”
His lifelong home turf. He knew the terrain blindfolded. No matter the Central Army, terrain was half the battle.
Swoooosh.
Giant eagles circled high over Bratz territory. But the private soldiers, fixated on the enemy death-bringers, didn’t notice—only the territory folk gazing at the heavens spotted them.
“Let us in! Open the bank doors!”
“Ahh. Stop pushing!”
“Hey! I work here! You fucking idiots!”
“What janitor? Get out of the way!”
“Save me! They say the Central dogs killed everyone in the estate! Burned them alive! They’ll tear us limb from limb when the army comes!”
“Aaah! Don’t trample me!”
Portroga, home to Haiman Bank. Desperate cries from territory folk trying to enter the inviolable sanctuary rang out everywhere. Those unable to flee bolted their doors and prayed.
“Sis.”
“Yeah?”
Haena, praying with hands clasped, softly opened her eyes at her little brother’s call. A sliver of light leaked through her palms.
He murmured in wonder, innocent.
“Such a huge bird.”
“Bird...”
Haena looked up at the sky too. A familiar feeling. She soon realized it was the Cheonryeo Tribe’s eagle from the estate.