Chapter 29
Chapter 29
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Orc Traces
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Slash, slash.
Sizzle!
Amid countless wolf corpses, he pulled out the dead leader and skinned it.
When he spread it out with his hands, the now even clearer slave brand came into view.
It was still an orc marking, without a doubt.
I'd seen hundreds of orc banners over dozens of years—I couldn't possibly mistake it.
"Combat wolves."
Even orcs, for whom strength was everything, weren't incapable of taming wild beasts.
Of course, their methods were worlds apart from ordinary “breeding,” and the results were typically monstrous horrors called demonic beasts or monsters.
That fit perfectly.
The wolves that attacked the outpost were probably combat wolves created that way.
He clenched his fist tight.
Who the hell were these guys to drag combat wolves all the way to this northern backwater?
Had they discovered the village?
No—orks hadn't ventured into the northern hinterlands even once in eight years.
No matter how unusually warm this spring was, they had neither reason nor motivation for it.
Yet here was undeniable proof right in front of me, making it impossible to dismiss outright.
As if some absurd coincidence had contrived this impossible situation.
"Damn it."
No matter how I tried to think positively, the unease wouldn't shake loose.
Grimacing in frustration, I stuffed the leather scrap into my pocket.
"Knight!"
That snapped me out of my thoughts.
The patrol members who'd risked their lives scouting the surroundings had returned to base.
I turned to Little Bear, whose attitude had completely shifted after the recent battle.
"Did you find anything?"
"Nothing! We scoured every inch within 200 meters—no ant or bird in sight!"
A pack of tamed wolves should have someone nearby controlling them.
But right after the fight, we'd searched the area with the members and found no orcs—or even signs of anyone passing through.
That was a small mercy, at least.
No orc beastmaster controlling the combat wolves meant this incident wasn't some deliberate, full-scale ploy by them.
With the immediate fire put out, I sighed in relief and thanked the members.
"Thank you. It was dangerous work."
"No, sir! It's all for the village! No matter how risky..."
"Heh heh. Hey, Little Bear! Aren't you laying it on a bit thick? Everyone's about to crack up."
"N-no, it's not!!"
Fame from long ago was such a thing.
It shone bright, but it was too heavy to carry around openly.
Hide it, and you invite weird misunderstandings about enjoying the drama.
But since I'd drawn my sword to save the members, the process and the good outcome became proof of my identity.
How ridiculous was it to have to explain that I'd just gotten older?
Inadvertently proving I wasn't some namesake, I endured their chaos and fuss for a good while.
But that didn't change how they treated me as a person.
Still watching the friendly members with a smile, I soon suggested heading back.
"Let's return for now. There's more than one bit of news to share with the village."
"Yes, sir!"
They'd pinpointed the cause of the massive wolf pack's appearance and rescued every attacked soldier.
We could confidently say we'd fulfilled our core patrol duties.
But celebrating success was premature—the omens we'd uncovered were far too grave.
The weight of the name "orc" was on another level from the barbarians we'd faced so far.
For now, halting Snow-Covered's training to strategize with Gray Wolf was the right call.
Pushing down my anxiety, I set off back to the village with the members.
The blaze consuming the outpost felt like a harbinger of grim war.
And as a side note, on the way back, Little Bear asked me,
"By the way, sir... er, milord! Mind if I ask something?"
"Hm?"
"Are you married? If not, my sister's been looking for a good match..."
"Hm."
Perfect—a downhill slope.
Pretending to stumble, I dashed ahead. ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "The north is cold even in spring."
"...I apologize, Tigr."
Tigr, the 44th son of Emperor Ogre, had lost the brutal succession struggle.
With so many elder brothers ahead, his meager forces were no excuse.
But precisely because his power base was weak, he hadn't pushed aggressively in the fight.
Knowing this, his brothers spared his life but exiled him to the north.
Well, better than nothing, perhaps.
Tigr said with a bitter face,
"No, it's all my fault."
Weak factions like his were grains of sand, swept away in a single war anyway.
At least he'd survived and made it here—he had to count that as fortune.
Who knew?
If he racked up steady merits in the north, a brother who won the civil war and claimed the throne might summon him later.
Knowing his place all too well, Tigr kindled a modest ambition and steeled himself.
"How's the camp construction?"
"We couldn't secure land since we're newly formed. But we've found a spot, so it'll be up soon."
"Good. Hurry it as much as possible."
Northern camps had notoriously harsh conditions, infamous among commanders.
But compared to the central continent, the intensity was far lower—perfect for third-rate troops like theirs to build achievements and grow.
One year term. He needed to find merits fast.
Gazing at the tribesmen diligently building the camp, Tigr snorted steam from his nostrils.
Something occurred to him.
"By the way, the wolves?"
"We recaptured half. But the rest all fled, and..."
Tigr had a natural talent for taming wild beasts into combatants.
His prime example was the hybrid combat wolves, which he'd naturally brought on this expedition.
But crossing rugged mountains, their wagons overturned, costing him more than half.
A bone-deep loss.
Yet rather than blame the warriors, Tigr focused on boosting morale.
"It's fine. Those expendables can be bred again. Northern wolves are huge, right? Perfect opportunity."
"...Truly sorry."
"Come on, isn't today a good day? Once the camp's done, we'll feast! Ha ha!"
Even spoiled, he was a scion of the great emperor—a fine leader.
The warriors, moved by his broad magnanimity, pledged loyalty to their chieftain once more.
Orcs cheered at the feast proposal.
Exiled though they were, their northern arrival seemed promising.
But that relief shattered with the ensuing commotion.
Clop clop clop!
Murmurs.
"Where's Tigr?!"
"Tigr! Urgent report!"
Two horses carrying orcs galloped up.
They were orc warriors sent to scout the area before camp construction.
What had happened?
Tigr stiffened, raising a hand to signal.
"Over here!"
Whinny!
"Tigr!"
The orc warriors charged toward him, yanking reins to dismount.
Panting heavily, they bowed deeply to their chieftain Tigr.
"What is it? Enemies again? My brothers haven't tracked us here, have they?"
Tigr demanded anxiously.
Having endured beatings and pursuits from brothers, with every report, mere words now spiked his nerves.
But unlike usual, the scouts' faces weren't grim.
They looked delighted, like they finally had good news to deliver.
"No, Tigr! Not enemies!"
"See what we brought first!"
Relieved at "not enemies," Tigr watched.
One orc warrior hurriedly pulled something from his bosom.
"Pigeon...? Ah! A messenger bird?"
"Yes!"
The pigeon they brought was riddled with wounds, long dead.
Captured mid-flight by a hawk or similar predator, no doubt.
But the real reason they'd retrieved this carcass was the scrap of message tied to its leg.
Tigr puzzled over the waterlogged scrap, reading the human script.
'Do not engage unidentified wolf pack. Patrol squad will deploy from barracks in half a day.'
'Dispatch: Little Bear, Orchid Flower, Non-Crying Bird, total 4.'
'Barley Ear and Lord absent.'
A mundane exchange between a village and its outpost.
But the problem was this wasn't the central continent—it was the human-infested north.
Blatant northern names.
Words like "outpost" and "Lord" implying an organized domain.
Tigr asked excitedly,
"Where'd you find this?"
"Nearby river. Clearly floated down from upstream."
The great subjugation alongside the northern kingdom's fall had uprooted any remotely rebellious factions.
Thus, merits in the north came solely from rare bandit packs or filthy barbarians.
But an undiscovered human fief still thriving here?
Tigr, daunted by the toil ahead, couldn't contain his bursting joy.
This was heaven-sent chance for glory.
Tigr pressed, face alight,
"River upstream! Further north, then?"
"Yes! The so-called hinterlands. Spring's here—we can make it."
The bird had drifted down the river from upstream.
Follow the discovered river north, and they'd find traces.
Tigr shouted,
"Gather warriors and form a scout team now! Confirm the location properly."
"Yes, sir!"
"And don't report to HQ. Call it routine terrain recon."
Standard protocol meant periodic reports to the overseeing main camp.
But tip them off prematurely, and sharper camps might snatch the opportunity.
Human heads meant merits.
Merits meant promotion!
He had to claim that village before other orc camps caught wind.
"Heh heh."
Tigr grinned with thick fangs, an uncharacteristic schemer.
When luck finally smiled on his endless misfortune, the joy was indescribable.
This was his restart.
His trampled pride, his suffering tribesmen—all redeemed.
Tigr glared northward at the barren hinterlands, eyes gleaming with desire.
It was the dread prelude to the orc invasions humans so feared.
Tigr bellowed,
"Hurry the camp! I'll gift you an honorable war!"
The human village had built using the orcs' diverted attention.
But with its secret exposed, no safe havens remained.
Eight years on, the orc onslaught that once ravaged the north now turned its blades toward peaceful human lands once more.