Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: Wyvern Raid
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“The first shipment should be in about a month. Two at the latest.”
“Uh… what sort of quantity are we looking at?”
“Our boys get first dibs, so around a hundred sets? Swords, arrowheads, and the three-piece shield set.”
“Um, we don’t really have many archers…”
“Hmm. Why not train up some bowmen while you’re at it? I think it’d work out fine.”
“Y-Yes! You’re right! Of course!”
A feast of power plays.
It was a pushy contract, unfair to the core.
But the underlings could only wipe away their cold sweat and force a smile, with no real choice but to accept.
They already had dirt on them—that was reason one. Reason two: the other side owned the biggest stake.
The possessor of the Hexagonal Aptitude had decreed:
-Accept it. Accept it and find peace.
So the sinners had no choice but to obey.
Not everyone gathered here knew about the Hexagonal Aptitude, though.
That was why some couldn’t fathom why Bellin—known as “Yajan’s Sagal”—would swallow such absurd terms, their faces twisted with resentment.
Still, none dared voice their complaints.
Even Miuran, Bellin’s partner and former pirate boss with the moniker “Inner Sea’s Blue Shark,” sat quietly in silence.
‘What the hell? What’s going on?’
It was maddeningly frustrating and curious, but the Yajanites could only watch as Bellin, representative of the Spio Merchant Company and Yajan’s special envoy, finally signed off on the unfair contract.
Two days passed, and eight hundred Yajan mercenaries (兼 pirates) arrived in Rozin.
They’d been rushed, but Bellin’s network had simply brushed past them.
Excluding Bellin and Miuran, the Yajanites harbored hopes of “maybe?”
Even with the Sparrowhawk Unit joining, Rozin’s guards combined barely reached half the mercenaries’ numbers.
Maybe. Just maybe.
‘Could we take this city by force?’
‘Then negotiate with the Sion Ducal House?’
Their impudent fantasies shattered before a single day passed.
Kyaaaaah—!!!
A colossal flying creature with a single wing spanning over ten meters, flanked by hundreds of smaller flyers, rounded the cape and swarmed toward the mercenaries’ ships like a hive of bees.
* * *
“What is that?”
A few sharp-eyed folk spotted it first, wheeling over the sea past the cape.
At the time, they took it for a large eagle or odd seabird.
But when it plunged like lightning toward the distant Yajan mercenary ships, people sensed something was off.
It was as big as the ships themselves, packed with over a hundred rowers and mercenaries.
Kwarrr rumble rumble!
Fast. Insanely fast.
The massive thing barreled through like a storm, and the humans gawking from the decks flew into the sky before plummeting to the waves like autumn leaves.
“……!”
Those watching from afar gaped at the surreal sight.
Then, the sharpest-eyed among them—one who knew what “it” was—spoke up.
“Wyvern…”
Kyaaaaahhh!
After incinerating one ship and skimming the surface to trail a long wake, the wyvern rocketed skyward with a roar.
Hundreds of smaller flyers rounded the cape in response, diving toward the dozen ships.
“Harpy?”
The classic flying monsters, harpies, swarmed in a black cloud, pirating the (pirate) mercenaries’ vessels.
* * *
“What the fuck!?”
The Yajanites out to greet their mercenaries at the docks had watched the wyvern and harpy horde assault the ships from the start.
“W-What do we do!?”
“What do you mean, what?!”
Nothing they could do.
The distance was too great, for one.
Docking a dozen mid-sized ships wasn’t like yelling “come on in!” to some idiot port.
Even with prior arrangements, protocol demanded clearance from offshore.
Especially now, with orders to turn back—and ships crossing paths unluckily, arriving anyway.
While Rozin’s officials argued with Yajanites over partial docking, disaster struck.
How were they supposed to help ships over two hundred meters out?
“Send the guards right now!”
“Yeah! They won’t just hit our ships!”
“Those mercenaries are here to help Rozin!”
The gathered Yajanites bellowed for aid.
But the official stayed ice-cold.
“Why should we help ships that didn’t get proper clearance? Do you Yajanites help in cases like this?”
Plus, the bribe-taking traitors had already spilled everything about these (pirate) mercenaries’ schemes.
Sure, they’d “support” Rozin—for pay. But really, they were here to raid. Why help?
If it were you, would you?
“We, uh…”
The Inner Sea’s top thugs, second to none in sneakiness, couldn’t answer.
They wouldn’t have helped either.
“Bellin, do something. Aren’t these the mercenaries the Spio Company called?”
“You’ll take the blame if they all die, you know? Bellin!”
Rejected by the official, the Yajanites swarmed her, and Bellin sighed deeply while eyeing one person.
Sion, arms crossed and watching the Yajan ships get wrecked like it was a show across the river, caught her glance and turned with a smirk.
“So? Need them now?”
“Pardon? Need what… exactly?”
“Archers. If you’d had proper bowmen with real bows, they wouldn’t be getting wrecked like this. So, good call on the three-piece set, right?”
‘Then why bother saying that! We’ve got nothing right now!’
Fearing her true thoughts might slip, Bellin bit her lip as Sion spoke slyly.
“Want help? You know we’ve got world-famous archers.”
“El…ves.”
Bellin and the Yajanites’ gazes shifted to the cluster of elf warriors watching casually a short distance from Sion.
Their expressions were a touch grave, but they didn’t seem scared or tense.
Then, an impatient Yajanite whispered to Miuran, who reluctantly stepped forward.
“Um… sorry, but won’t those things head this way soon? Wild monsters like that won’t leave the port alone.”
The foe who’d floored him without a proper look.
And even his lover Bellin—Sagal herself—couldn’t budge against Sion. So Miuran’s tone was exceedingly cautious and polite.
His seemingly valid point had fellow Yajanites and even Rozin port soldiers nodding.
But Sion eyed Miuran and the Yajanites with pity.
“Dumbasses. You think harpies are idiots?”
“Pardon…?”
“They’re only hitting the ships because prey up there can’t run. Plus, harpies have sharp eyes—they know this place is crawling with elves armed with bows.”
“Ah….”
“Think about it. If you were them, would you hit the easy prey on those ships, or come here where bowmen nail one perfect shot per second the moment you close in?”
“I-Is that so?”
Sion wagged a finger at the flushing Miuran and clicked her tongue.
“Look at this guy. How do you do mercenary work with intel like that? You think nobody’s hunted monsters before?”
Infuriating. Dead on, but boiling mad anyway.
As his lover got scolded, quick-witted Bellin jumped in.
“My apologies, Representative. From what I’ve heard, our guard captain clearly erred.”
She shot Miuran and the Yajanites a “shut up” glare and pressed on.
“If the Representative—”
“Instructor.”
“Yes, if Instructor and the Sparrowhawk Unit help, Yajan and the Spio Merchant Company will never forget this grace and pay fitting compensation.”
“Hmm. Sure, why not. They need cleaning up anyway.”
“Ah! Thank you—”
“So, how much?”
“Pardon?”
“How much you got in mind.”
“Ah….”
Bellin’s mind reeled at the nightmare of another “opening bid.”
* * *
Twenty-odd elves drew composite bows from their Gou cases, stringing them with lightning-fast hands.
Crafted from Gou horns and special woods unique to the Dukedom, infused with elven knowledge and Iron Mountain dwarf craftsmanship, the composite bows were smaller than standard wooden ones.
But their power was enough to make other bows look like toys.
And every wielder had Archery skill A-rank or higher.
“…….”
No orders given, yet the elves took positions and nocked arrows.
The arrows and heads, like the bows, were Iron Mountain-made—faster and deadlier than standard.
Fweee!
At Priele’s short whistle, arrows flew from the strings.
Fired from over two hundred meters, the elves didn’t even check before nocking and loosing again.
The fluid, blinding speed left onlookers dazed.
But only for a moment.
The volley struck; harpies clawing and pecking humans in clusters atop the ships rained down.
Kyaaak! Kiek!
Pierced harpies plummeted to decks or sea.
Dozens at a time, in heaps.
In under ten seconds, nearly half the harpies were swept away like flies. The wyvern ravaging the largest ship sensed it and whipped its long neck this way.
Sion’s superhuman eyes met the wyvern’s gaze.
Queeeeeeh!
The wyvern bellowed long at the insolent human unafraid to meet its stare.
They’d been watching instead of fleeing, so it planned to clean them up soon—but this punk dares?
Ten years since hatching from its egg.
This wyvern, freshly matured by luck, claimed the southern Brantin Mountains as territory.
To celebrate adulthood, it ventured north once and got pummeled by an ogre—since then, it stuck to the southern mountains and nearby isles, playing king.
It had gathered the island harpies as food and minions.
It was smug.
Just avoid the northern mountains with that ogre, and nothing could touch it.
So it thought:
Humans have less fur and look tender—could make good food and minions too?
And look, big log full of humans floating out there?
Jackpot!
No mother since hatching, it had eaten its would-be siblings’ eggs for survival—utterly lacking any “socialization.”
That’s why it didn’t stop at attacking the mercenary ships.
It knew nothing of the being that, sensing its young about to hatch, beat its foraging mother to death over half a day.
“If you don’t know, you learn the hard way.”
Excluding “Big Fang,” no major monsters in the Dukedom knew her now, so Sion muttered indifferently.
The hand of the old monster once dubbed “Mountain Devil” (by big ones) held a long, blackened spear.
(To be continued)