Let the Ants Do the Cleaning
Before they entered the Ant Tunnels, Messi sought Ereb out privately — catching him while Ramang was away, deploying the vine-wrapped warhorses through the forest.
"Young Master, would you care to work with me on something?"
"You show up out of nowhere with a proposal that reeks of something shady... What is it?"
Ereb's smile was thin and sardonic.
"You came looking for me, so this must be something that needs my command authority. Planning to get revenge on that mercenary from earlier?"
"Revenge is what you do after a fight is over and you've lost. I didn't lose, and the fight isn't over."
He could have written it off as a convenient bit of live combat experience, courtesy of that drunkard Den. But if someone else had been the one to shove Den forward, that changed everything.
Durek. The man currently assembling a splinter faction to tear the Red Fox Mercenary Group apart.
"And it's a matter of cutting down a risk before we go in. I'm certain it will benefit you as well, Young Master."
"Heh. So this has absolutely nothing to do with personal feelings, is that it? Well, a man of such noble character as yourself would never stoop to that, I'm sure."
The sarcasm made it clear Ereb didn't believe him, but Messi didn't bother correcting the record. All that mattered was getting the result he wanted.
"There's a man named Durek. He's currently building a faction inside the mercenary group."
"Ah, that big, stupid-looking bastard?"
"Yes. So you remember him."
"I filed him away as someone I'd have to deal with eventually. He ran his mouth pretty damn arrogantly back then... What was it he said? That he'd carve shame into us, or something like that?"
Those had been Durek's words, shouted just before the knights and mercenaries came to blows. Ereb was not a man who let things go.
"He's slowly gathering numbers, but if we leave him alone, he'll start showing his thorns one by one. Just like what happened a little while ago."
"So that's what that was about? I just thought some idiot had picked a fight with you."
"He's a man waiting for any chance to escape. The problem is, he's also nursing a grudge against you, Young Master."
"Ha! Against me?"
"His picking a fight with me is part of that. He can't touch you, so he goes after me instead — to interfere with whatever you're doing."
Only then did Ereb's eyes go cold. He'd thought of the man as nothing more than a rock sticking out of the road. Now he realized he was looking at a viper, lying in wait for an ankle.
"Keep talking."
"He's also looking after that fellow Den — the one you crippled earlier. Shielding a man who'll be nothing but dead weight once we enter the Ant Tunnels is not a good sign."
"Means he's useful for something, I suppose."
"Exactly. And who, right now, would harbor the deepest grudge against you, Young Master? Who would best serve as a symbol of the rift between the mercenaries and yourself?"
"That cripple, I imagine. Heh."
There wasn't a trace of regret or apology in him for having made Den that way. Truth be told, Messi thought the punishment had been the right call. If anything, he'd considered it a little too light.
"You should have killed him when you had a clear justification, Young Master. If you had, then at least..."
"Oh? I thought you were the type who couldn't rest until every last mercenary was saved. Hearing that come out of your mouth is a surprise."
"Don't mock me, Young Master. The reason I want the mercenaries alive is because you need them for your work. If your endeavor succeeds, I get to live."
"Good attitude, Messi. Don't forget that the success of this great undertaking is tied directly to your own life."
Ereb had invoked his life, but Messi felt no fear. Failure in the Forest of Resentment promised an equal death for everyone. He wouldn't even need to die by Ereb's hand — he'd be dead regardless.
And for all the noble's talk, Ereb had long since realized just how badly he needed Messi. He tossed out barbs even as he did everything Messi asked of him... Wait. Was this guy actually a tsundere?
"So. What is it you want me to do, then?"
"We need to do a little cleaning."
"...You want to borrow my hand for that?"
If Messi wanted to borrow his hand, that meant using the knights to take out this Durek character. Ereb didn't think that was a particularly good idea.
We're in a situation where we need every mercenary we can get just to make it through the Ant Tunnels. We just finished pouring out liquor and rations to paper over the rift... If I use my knights to dispose of mercenaries, the relationship will be beyond repair.
Messi was well aware of that.
"It's simpler than that. When we enter the Ant Tunnels, just divide the formation into squads."
"You want me to organize them into squads. How?"
"Split them into ten squads."
"...And how is that supposed to clean anything?"
Ereb didn't follow. It would scatter the faction, sure, but that was about as far as it would go. Messi was wearing a faint, inscrutable smile. Ereb tried to work out the reason himself before the other man could spell it out, then finally gave up.
"Young Master, human nature is a curious thing."
"...The hell is that supposed to mean?"
"People put on a show of strength, but inside they're terribly fragile. That's why the more they plot something difficult together, the less they can bear to be separated. When they find out we're dividing into squads, will the faction scatter? No. They'll cluster together even tighter."
"...Oh?"
"When we enter the Ant Tunnels, casually put Squad One at the vanguard. They'll all flock to the rear squads without fail. These are men planning to run, after all. They'll do it just to avoid fighting the ants."
When Messi finished, Ereb sighed inwardly. If only this one weren't an other-race... He could have put him to truly great use.
"I see what you're thinking. Once we're inside the Ant Tunnels, you mean to put the rear squads at the vanguard."
"Very astute, Young Master. We don't have to lift a finger. We just wait for the ants to do the cleaning for us."
It was a plan that saw straight through the mercenaries' psychology and turned it against them. Ereb was impressed. But one piece was still missing.
"Fine, I'll grant it's a good plan. But you're missing something. Why should I approve this? My knights in the rear squads will have a hard time of it too."
He now knew Durek harbored ill will toward him and was planning to run. Now that he knew, he could just deal with the man quietly, couldn't he? There was no benefit in putting his own knights in the rear squads and making them suffer for it.
"That's because this operation benefits you as well, Young Master."
"How?"
"You're currently suspicious of Sir Ramang, aren't you?"
"...!"
Just what was this man?
He felt gooseflesh rising beneath his gauntlet. Come to think of it, this one had shown up the moment Ramang left. This wasn't something that had occurred to him mid-conversation. He'd known.
"How did you know that?"
"I wasn't certain at first. But I found it strange when you said the Sky Castle's records on the Forest of Resentment were incomplete."
Messi had heard it from his master as well. A teaching:
My words may be wrong, but the Sky Castle's information never is.
"The Sky Castle's records are missing 'the most important information'? Information that, if you went in without knowing it, could deal the most devastating blow? That made me think of Captain Ayla, who was set up by you, Young Master."
"I see..."
"You must have thought the same thing when you looked at her. Am I right?"
"I'll admit it. I've been wondering whether I was caught in a double-layered scheme by someone on the inside. The prime suspect is Sir Ramang, who obtained the Sky Castle's records for me."
"What's more, he's a retainer whose direct superior isn't you, Young Master."
"That's right. He's my father's man."
Ereb admitted it without resistance. There was no point hiding anything from Messi. The other-race standing before him had terrifying eyes — and an even more terrifying mind.
"To return to my earlier point, Young Master. Human nature is... a curious thing."
"...I see. I understand what you mean now."
Just as Durek would gather his entire faction into the rear squads, Ramang would unconsciously place those who shared his intentions in the same squad as himself. Identifying the sympathizers and keeping them under watch — all of it, solved in a single stroke.
One play, placed on the chessboard by Messi.
"Brilliant. I'll give you that, Messi. You are the first other-race I have ever been impressed by. And that is... truly the highest praise I can offer."
"...I'll take that as a compliment."
"I approve your plan. We'll divide into squads just before we enter the Ant Tunnels."
"A wise decision, Young Master. Then I'll go finish my remaining preparations."
Messi bowed and left the tent. Ereb stroked his chin, staring hard at the space where the man had been.
"Heh. That bastard... I really want him."
Durek, who'd been sleeping soundly until he was thrown onto sentry duty, yawned hugely. Still, being in Squad Nine — the last rotation — meant he'd at least gotten a decent rest.
He was growing fonder and fonder of his own clever mind. The moment he'd heard they were dividing into squads before entering the Ant Tunnels, he'd packed his men into the rear squads. He'd avoided the vanguard, and he'd drawn the last watch. The best possible choice.
I really am leadership material. Thanks to following me, all my men made the best choice too, didn't they?
Compared to him, Captain Ayla was an incompetent wench who'd gotten greedy and handed the mercenary group over to complete strangers. She was the one who'd put everyone in danger in the first place.
This won't do. I have to step up, for everyone's sake. That's the only way our mercenary group survives.
Like a man pumping himself full of righteous spirit in the dead of night, Durek swelled with empty grandeur from the first light of dawn.
Perhaps because his head was so full of stray thoughts, he failed to notice that the trickle of running water had stopped. The surroundings had gone quiet.
That was when it happened.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud...
From far off, a sound of footfalls that shook the ground itself came rolling toward them. Jerked from his reverie, he stared into the darkness where the sound was coming from.
"No way..."
"S-something's coming!"
"Wake them! Wake everyone up!!"
The mercenaries who'd been standing watch with sleepy eyes were suddenly screaming as if in a fit. A knight concentrating mana into his eyes was the first to identify the enemy in the dark.
"Ants!!! Mercenaries, defensive formation!!!"
"Knights, kill the ants coming from the front!! Mercenaries, form up and block the path!! All you have to do is send the ants to the knights!!"
Even in the sudden chaos, the Squad Nine leader issued orders without a tremor, as befit an elite knight.
The problem was that the mercenaries receiving those orders were rabble. To have ears thin enough to fall for Durek, Den, and Amon's agitation and join their faction, a certain prerequisite was required.
"You pieces of trash! Didn't I tell you to form a defensive line!! Pick up your weapons!!"
"It's no use, Squad Leader! These ones... they don't seem to have much experience. Recruits, most likely."
"How the hell does one squad have this many rookie mercenaries?!"
The Squad Nine leader bellowed at the mercenaries, who were frozen in panic, hoping the shouting would snap them back to their senses. But that only worked on soldiers. Territorial troops followed any order with their lives because their families' lives sat in the palms of nobles and knights.
Mercenaries were different. Their bodies were the livelihood that fed their families — their only asset. Frightened by an unseen enemy advancing through the dark, the mercenaries edged backward.
"Damn it, it's no use. Forget those bastards. We'll handle this ourselves. Young Master Ereb will send support soon enough."
Thud-thud-thud-thud..!
At last, the first clash between the giant ants and the humans erupted. Both sides seemed startled by the sudden encounter, but the ants quickly grew excited and charged the humans.
"W-waaah! Stay back! Aagh!!"
One mercenary was snatched up by a 1.6-meter ant and hoisted into the air. A massive pincer clamped around his waist as his legs kicked wildly.
"You son of a bitch! Let go! Let me go!"
He struggled to break free, but the ant's pincers and raw strength were far beyond what an ordinary man could handle. An ant can lift twenty times its own body weight. A human lighter than itself would be nothing. If anything, the creature was probably trying not to squeeze too hard, lest the human tear apart.
The captured man struck at the ant's head with his sword. He couldn't get his stance right, and no force transferred. The blade bounced off the hard chitin.
In that instant, he knew his future.
Pik. Whether from an anesthetic stinger or not, he went limp. Then he was sucked away into the darkness.
As the same scene played out again and again, Durek thought he might lose his mind.
"You goddamn ant bastards!!"
Those men were all as good as his personal assets. And now the ants were plucking up the precious human resources that would fulfill his ambitions, like diners at a buffet!
"Give them back! Give them back!!!"
Durek swung his sword wildly, killing ants at random. As a fifteen-year veteran mercenary, his skill was nothing to sneeze at. The problem, if there was one, was that he'd completely lost his reason.
Watching from a distance, Ereb let out a snort of laughter. Somewhere, Messi was probably smiling too.
"Young Master, we should send support."
"Very well, Sir Ramang. Send Squads Eight and Ten."
"Squads Eight and Ten, sir? Understood."
Ramang had intended to lead Squads One and Two himself, but Ereb had named different squads. He found it odd, but didn't dwell on it. He simply did as he was told.
The knights could only tilt their heads at Ereb's words.