Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: Warlord Conference (1)
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*
In the center of the encampment, atop a low hill, stood a massive tent that served as a kind of fortress. They'd coiled wooden palisades around the hill's crest and erected a structure draped in beast hides atop them.
The capital of the Beastkin Alliance. For these nomadic beastkin who lived in tribal-centric societies, the concept of a "capital" might feel a bit alien. Their capital was better understood as a diplomatic hub.
Most tribes under the Beastkin Alliance were scattered across the vast wasteland. This encampment of the alliance functioned as a sort of legislative body where the representative elders from each tribe gathered to minimize infighting and deliberate on future courses of action.
An institution born from a loose agreement of "at least let's not turn our blades on each other." It held no grand authority, but it provided the bare minimum safeguard to prevent the proud, arrogant beastkin from self-destructing.
Fernandez smirked as he eyed the beastkin warriors leveling spears at him from the palisade entrance.
*
It had happened the night before.
"Five of them."
"Five tribes, you mean?"
"No, really five individuals, my lord."
Fernandez tilted his head at Partak's words. If five elders from different tribes had been summoned to the warlord conference, didn't that mean he wielded influence over entire tribes?
But Partak spoke slowly, very cautiously.
"Our tribe aside, every other tribe has its own circumstances. I have five elders who submit to me, but that doesn't mean I've subjugated five entire tribes under my command."
"...What?"
As Fernandez recalled, in his previous life, Partak had commanded a massive warlord faction among the beastkin. At his peak, droves of beastkin had bowed to him in pursuit of hellish mana and its power.
Of course, that faction had shattered amid civil war as Kirhas rose with the Kalini clan and unified the Beastkin Alliance, but at this point in time, wasn't Kirhas one of his subordinates?
'Due to checks from other tribes?'
-That seems likely, but...
Information was scarce. It was an event from too far in the past and too distant a region for his era of activity. Fernandez tapped the table.
"Who are they? Who's sabotaging you?"
"The Kardihor tribe's resistance is fierce. They hold the alliance's mainstream power base right now and command the largest warlord faction to boot."
Partak trailed off uncertainly. It wasn't just that simple. Fernandez narrowed his eyes.
"Any other issues?"
"He's an imperial dove."
"Imperial? Weren't they allied with Kirzat?"
"The Beastkin Alliance survives by mercenary work in this war... but we're not exactly sworn to the Kirzat Sultan. The imperial faction finds our involvement on the front lines highly inconvenient..."
Only then did Fernandez grasp the situation. Imperial doves. Whether bought with imperial gold or some secret pact, they were the ones steering alliance opinion to keep the war at bay—staying on Kirzat's side without committing to the fight.
'If it were religious conviction against corruption, I'd understand, but this is tricky.'
Resistance born of religious opposition to corruption was something Fernandez could handle. He'd once received Shild's blessing, was fundamentally an inquisitor, and a saint of Beitasser besides.
But if they rejected Partak's corruption out of worldly desires, there was no easy fix. Secular politics couldn't be resolved by leaning on religious authority.
The situation was getting tangled. Fernandez slammed the table and stood.
"Bring the map, Partak."
"The map...? Do you need a chart of the Great Wasteland?"
"Yes. And mark the dove faction beastkin's bases on it."
Fernandez watched Partak hurriedly unroll the parchment, feeling a strange sensation. Like laying out chess pieces on the board. A sensation from long ago, when he'd sat upon a throne.
'Conquest is no fun without resistance, right? Isn't that so, Feizashi?'
-Using devil worshippers for business... Yeah, takes me back.
Amid the current Great Wasteland, where countless nations vied for interests, even the beastkin were on the brink of infighting.
Chaos. Fernandez gazed at the wasteland chart and slowly smiled. He rather enjoyed this mess.
*
"State your identity, human."
"I'm a hunter under the protection of the Pufthus clan. Here to attend Elder Partak."
"No word of a human coming."
"I'm from the Pale Demon Tribe. I can abide by Great Ger's code."
The guard flinched and lowered his spear at those words. A hunter from the Pale Demon Tribe wasn't someone you pointed a weapon at lightly—not for strength, nor background.
Fernandez shrugged and slipped past the guards.
"Kirhas. Hurry up."
"Y-Yes, s... uh, sorry, dear!"
Kirhas bit her tongue midway and scurried after him. She was the key to this plan.
'A flashy opening shot.'
*
A massive, intricate map of the Great Wasteland covered one wall. The elders stood with arms crossed, muttering with sour expressions.
Golden ornaments dangled here and there, taxidermied prey and massive beast fangs adorned the walls and tables.
This lavish council chamber was now thick with unease and clamor.
"Quiet! Quiet down!"
An elderly beastkin with half-torn upward ears and fur bleached entirely white bellowed. He slammed his polished staff against the floor.
"The Kirzat army has retreated again. The northern skull bastards scored another victory. Kirzat is done for! The Sultan lacks both the troops and ability to keep the war going!"
"So what? You saying we ally with those boneheads now?"
"The ancestor gods would rage!"
"Ancestor gods? What ancestor gods do we even have left?"
"Blasphemy!!"
"War isn't waged by gods—it's our young warriors piling up their blood!"
Despite the elder's shout, the chamber dissolved back into chaos. The tribal elders bellowed near-roars at each other.
Partak sat quietly, arms crossed, scanning the elders. Hawk, hawk, dove, hawk, dove.
A thousand tails drooping. Scared mutts.
Partak's lips twisted. The presiding elder raised his voice once more.
"Enough! Last report—where were the skull army sighted?"
"Near Russell Gorge, fortifying. It's one of Kirzat's deepest supply lines! We need to send reinforcements there!"
As one elder shouted, the one opposite sneered.
"Ridiculous. Tutan Gartep, that dead skull—mad as he is, he'd face Kirzat head-on? He's backed by the empire at the border! If they're moving, it's to recruit Kirzat, not attack!"
Hawk. Partak eyed the speaking elder. One of the third faction—not recruited by him, but eager for war.
Partak was a Kirzat hawk. But this elder was from the neutral-merc 'Darik clan,' running a mercenary business from the middle.
"If we sit idle, we'll lose all sway over Kirzat! Isolated in this scrum, where else can we turn? Friends, wake up! Huddling to 'protect' our lands will just get us surrounded and wiped out!"
"Don't talk nonsense! The Sultan is our longstanding ally!"
"The Sultan is wise and cunning. From Kirzat's view, he'd rather see the empire fall and claim reparations than rule the wasteland. But Tutan Gartep—that skull—his missive? Forgot it?"
The chamber fell silent, recalling the Pharaoh's envoy from days prior.
[Leave, or submit.]
The Pharaoh only wanted the vast wasteland lands. He cared not for those atop them. If he offered the Sultan aid and trade routes in exchange for ceding wasteland dominion...
Partak scowled. Their alliance, their victory—it would spell the Beastkin Alliance's doom.
"So, we should back the empire instead!"
"You considered the distance between the empire and us? What help could they give?"
"The empire faces its own foes. That means we can raid their rear!"
"Hit Kirzat now? The Sultan could shatter our alliance on a whim!"
Partak merely watched as the council turned to pandemonium. Each elder had valid points. The situation had devolved from the loose protracted war between emperor and sultan into total disarray.
In this vast cauldron of chaos, unifying the old elders' thoughts was near impossible.
"Partak Blackfang!"
An elder, scowling in disgust at the mess, suddenly barked his name. He glared at Partak with utter dissatisfaction.
"You called this council! Said it was time to resolve! So why just sit there silent!"
"Yeah! Got some grand wisdom?"
"Wisdom, huh."
Partak smirked. Shifting blame, dragging it out for excuses to their tribes later. Old dogs. Partak wore a expression insultingly obvious for the high council and spoke.
"We choose neither emperor nor sultan."
"What?!"
Hawk. Partak eyed the shocked faces. Without prior word, the Kirzat hawks felt betrayed.
The neutral hawks smiled, while the imperial doves prepared to object before he even finished.
Partak locked eyes with each one by one, declaring firmly.
"We must see the bigger board. Neither emperor nor sultan can be our great chieftain."
"Sounds like you want to be great chieftain yourself."
"Me? No. There's a better candidate."
The Beastkin Alliance's great chieftain seat had been vacant for decades. In this politicians' arena, unanimous election by rival chieftains was nigh impossible.
But there were ways without their consent. Partak slowly spoke.
"I've received a revelation."
"Ha! Revelation? You a prophet now?"
"A revelation of dead ancestor gods walking beside us again. Of the hunting season!"
Even those who'd eyed him favorably, or with shock and rage, burst into laughter. Amid the thick mockery, Partak held his expression.
"Must've misheard the devil's whisper, Partak Blackfang! I knew you'd consorted with those damned hell spawn for ages!"
"Count yourself lucky you haven't faced the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods' judgment—only because you're still an alliance elder! Fail to prove your words, and even that status goes to senility!"
"Of course. Happy to oblige. Allow me to introduce!"
-Thud, thud.
Partak's ears perked. He heard the dull clank of metal boots echoing down the corridor outside.
The submission curse etched into his body screamed. His master had arrived! Partak extended a hand toward the council entrance.
-Swish.
The tent flap parted. Outer light filtered in faintly, casting long shadows of two figures entering against the backlight.
The elders flinched, staring. An odd pressure. An intense presence bore down on their souls.
The unique oppression of beings whose existence transcended mortal limits dominated the chamber.
"Pleased to meet you, alliance elders."
-Thud.
The young man spoke. A low baritone. Then, the object in his hand caught the light, gleaming brilliantly.
One elder murmured low.
"...That couldn't be...? The real thing... the authentic article?"
"Indeed."
-Thunk.
The youth placed the jackal mask, reflecting radiant gold, upon the table. In that instant, every elder seemed to hear the jackal god's voice whispering in their ears.
[Serve me...]
"The god of the hunt. Recipient of Kadan's baptism. Last scion of the fallen Kalani clan, and great hero under Beitasser's patronage. Allow me to introduce—Kirhas Hearttaker."
Soon, the woman standing behind the youth stepped forward, her turquoise eyes aglow.