Margel Island (1)
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The True Dragon Tanares.
To the orcs, it was a living catastrophe and an object of terror.
Yet when the great chieftain declared he would resurrect that dragon, Bargulgu doubted his own ears.
"What did you say?"
"Krhuhu, better to show you once than explain it a hundred times. Follow me."
The great chieftain led the way, taking Bargulgu to his treasure vault.
It was a place guarded day and night by orc shamans, off-limits to all but a select few.
There, the great chieftain revealed something astonishing.
Bargulgu's eyes went wide.
"This is!"
"Krhuhuhu, the truth is, the tooth I gave you was just a part of it."
Incredibly, what the great chieftain produced were the bones of the dead Tanares.
Several long fangs and ribs, among others.
Though they belonged to a long-dead being, they still brimmed with immense power.
Bargulgu felt the Tanares fang necklace around his neck vibrating.
"How on earth did you obtain these bones, Great Chieftain?"
"That doesn't matter. I'm taking these bones to Margel Island in the north. And there, we'll perform the resurrection ritual."
"Margel Island? Isn't that a trading hub?"
"Yes. But beneath that island lies an ancient orc ruin."
In ancient times, orcs worshipped dragons.
For a race that revered strength above all, it was only natural.
But when dragons chose humans as their riders, the faith faded away—though remnants of those ruins still dotted the land.
"That ancient temple is filled with the bones of dead dragons. I'll assemble them with parts of Tanares's bones and bring the beast back from death."
"But Great Chieftain! Reviving the dead is heresy! It defies the natural order and is doomed to fail."
Bargulgu objected, but Great Chieftain Kaladashyr said something unexpected.
"No need to worry. The demons taught us the method."
"Wh-what?!"
"Their very existence defies the natural order, doesn't it? So to revive the dead, we need the demons' help. Krhuhuhu!"
The great chieftain channeled his power.
Vwoooom!
Black chaos poured from his body, leaving Bargulgu speechless in horror.
It was a chilling aura that made his flesh crawl and his hair stand on end.
Exactly like the malevolence he felt from demons.
This can't be. How could our glorious orc leader wield such an ominous power!
At a glance, the great chieftain was clearly enthralled by his own strength.
His face overflowed with confidence and satisfaction.
Even to Bargulgu's eyes, the power was immeasurable.
He's undoubtedly far stronger than before. But this makes him no different from a demon!
And the shocking revelations weren't over yet.
"You'll come with me to Margel Island, bringing these bones. There's work to be done there."
"What sort of work, Great Chieftain?"
"Demon magic always demands a price. To revive the dead, we need the life of the living. Especially for a being like Tanares—we'll need a great sacrifice."
"Great Chieftain! You don't mean—"
"Yes, you'll be the living offering."
"Krrk!"
Bargulgu trembled with humiliation in that instant.
He had always known death would come someday, but he believed it would be in a glorious form.
That conviction had let him charge through waves of spears and swords like a madman.
To become a sacrificial lamb in some filthy demon ritual?
Such a pathetic end was unbearable.
As Bargulgu despaired, the great chieftain gripped his shoulder hard and leaned in close.
"That's why I told you—endure the shame. It's all for us orcs. Human Reaper."
In a meeting with Surpuk Duke, the dark elf queen, and their vassals gathered, a knight reported.
"The enemy has been completely annihilated. Only a tiny fraction are estimated to have escaped."
"A total victory!"
"Splendid."
Admiration and applause erupted throughout the chamber.
Humans and dark elves mingled in celebration, exchanging compliments and well-wishes as never before.
"Your exploits this time were monumental."
"No, such praise embarrasses me."
The allied forces had spent the past week hunting down Bargulgu's remnants.
Pursuing a determinedly fleeing enemy was no easy task, so they had marched relentlessly.
The result was a resounding success: by the time they reached the Arcane Mountains, the enemy was utterly destroyed.
The mood was jubilant from the overwhelming triumph, but Surpuk Duke seemed to regret one thing.
"Tch… It's a shame we didn't capture Bargulgu."
The dark elf queen seated beside him soothed him.
"He lost an arm to Sir Leire. He won't wield his former strength anytime soon. And given orc customs, he's likely to be beheaded if he returns."
Those listening nodded in agreement.
"Your Grace! Her Majesty's words ring true."
"His head's probably already rolling by now."
Surpuk Duke's mood lifted.
"Good! It's a great victory, so let's rejoice openly today. Kahahaha!"
Laughter spread as congratulations flew back and forth.
Owen, occupying his seat, added his voice.
"Your Grace. Next time, I will bring you the Human Reaper's head."
Surpuk Duke laughed heartily and nodded at the bold declaration.
"Of course! You must. Your performance this time was outstanding. Logan raised a fine son. Wait… I should send something to his farm too, not just reward you."
"I am deeply grateful for this great favor, Your Grace."
Surpuk Duke, taken with Owen, decided to look after the Leire family as well.
It was astonishing that the overlord of the East would take interest in a humble rural knight.
But everyone knew Owen's merits, so no one found it strange.
On the contrary, more people approached him, eager to get close.
Among them, the most helpful was Betshel, a senior figure and elder of Bris.
"I like you a lot. It's been ages since we saw such a promising young man."
Betshel grinned broadly whenever he saw Owen.
He had good reason, having thoroughly bested Count Russell this time.
Bobbert Count's endorsement played a part too.
To Betshel, Bobbert was a man without ambition.
A diligent bureaucrat who simply did his duty—unlike the other four swords, Betshel rated him highly in his heart.
"Keep it up. I have high expectations. Uhahaha!"
It was simple encouragement, but everyone grasped its meaning.
Betshel had essentially declared himself Owen's patron.
With Count Russell as an enemy anyway, Owen had no reason to refuse.
"Thank you for your kind regard, elder."
No one saw Owen as a greenhorn anymore.
Not with heavyweights like Betshel and Bobbert Count backing him, and even the dark elf queen taking a liking to him.
He had formally received the title of Parte from her.
Plus, as Bris's mid-level diplomat, he was qualified to form a dragon knight order.
He sat among the seniors in the meeting, and all took it as natural.
The gathering seemed filled with nothing but laughter.
But then a voice shattered the harmony.
"Forgive me for interrupting this joyful moment, but there's an urgent matter we must address."
The cold tone silenced the room.
"What is it, Russell?"
Surpuk Duke asked, unable to fully hide his discomfort.
Yet Count Russell replied without flinching.
"The gunpowder issue. If we don't resolve it, we can't be sure future battles will end like this."
"Hmmm…"
Surpuk Duke let out a low hum.
He was right.
The orcs' suicide bombers using gunpowder had caused major setbacks.
A precious medium dragon had lost a leg and was crippled.
The losses were no small matter.
As uneasy expressions spread, Count Russell pressed on.
"It's undeniable that gunpowder has become a grave threat to our Eastern hope, the dragon knights. And only dark elves can produce it."
Naturally, all eyes turned to the dark elf queen.
In this atmosphere, Count Russell pressed like an interrogator.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I must ask: you must know how the orcs obtained gunpowder. I would be grateful for a truthful answer."
"Of course. First, I express my regret over the injury to the Eastern dragon."
The queen responded with her characteristic poise and grace.
Many were already charmed by her.
"It is true that my nation exported gunpowder to the orcs in the past. But that was before our alliance with the East."
"Are you denying it now, Your Majesty?"
"Of course not. As a proper ruler allied with the East, I hereby ban all gunpowder exports to orcs. However, the rebels won't obey my orders."
Surpuk Duke stroked his beard and interjected.
"Your Majesty, is there no solution? I suspect you know something."
"Indeed, Duke. To halt gunpowder exports, I will reveal all secrets of this trade."
Admiration burst from those around.
"Oh! Your Majesty."
"A truly noble decision."
They felt her sincerity in resolving the issue.
The dark elf queen continued her explanation.
"There is an island in the North Sea, quite close to orc territory. All trade with orcs happens there."
Orc seamanship was said to be abysmal.
They could barely sail crude transports to islands near land.
Dark elves, by contrast, navigated the treacherous North Sea like their backyard.
Hence, trade occurred on an island near orc lands.
"It has shops and supply depots for trade. Seize it, and we can cut off both sides' commerce at once."
Attacking the island sounded appealing.
But problems abounded.
"Your Majesty, regrettably, the East lacks the resources for an expedition to a distant island. As you know, the North Sea is dark elf domain…"
As Surpuk Duke expressed concern, the queen shook her head.
"No need to worry. I have my fleet. I'm fully committed to this endeavor."
"If so, it's not impossible."
The queen had brought many ships to carry over two thousand people.
Actually, to prevent defection to rebels during evacuation, she had brought more than necessary.
Some ships sailed with barely minimal crews.
"Duke, provide soldiers and dragon knights. Occupying that island will give us the edge against the orcs."
She was right.
The priority was blocking gunpowder to the orcs.
Afterward, they might even land on the orc mainland via the island.
Orcs' hopeless seamanship made sea approaches to the East impossible for them.
Humans could bypass via the North Sea if unhindered by dark elves—and now the queen's fleet would aid them.
This line of discussion continued, with all agreeing the island was a strategic linchpin against the orcs.
Surpuk Duke was seized by great hope.
The war with orcs has dragged on, but this variable is unprecedented. Thanks to our alliance with the dark elves, an unexpected opportunity has arisen.
Orcs' trade dependence wasn't just gunpowder.
As the queen pointed at the island on the map with her baton, Surpuk Duke trembled with excitement.
"Your Majesty, how many orcs and dark elves are on the island?"
"A few hundred. But the island itself is a natural fortress, so we need a stratagem. A direct assault would be tough even with thousands."
Owen, listening, raised his hand.
"Your Majesty, what if we disguise your fleet as trading ships to approach? Orcs would never imagine humans riding dark elf vessels to strike their island."
"An excellent idea, Sir Leire."
The queen nodded with dignified grace.
Pure artifice.
Ugh, that woman.
Owen hid his annoyance from prying eyes. In response, the queen subtly raised her middle finger at him under the table.
As if saying, "Screw you."
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While the two exchanged that, the others embraced the plan and dove into heated discussion.
Then Surpuk Duke asked.
"By the way, Your Majesty, what's the island's name?"
"Ah, we call it Margel Island. The orcs do too."
Owen jolted at the answer.
What? Margel Island?
He had heard something crucially important about that island in his past life.
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