Chapter 45
Chapter 45
The Iron Emperor — Chapter 45
"What's all that racket?"
"General Buru."
The intermittent screams of orcs had apparently frayed Buru's temper, and he emerged from his tent with an irritated scowl.
"We've had a bit of a problem...."
"A problem?"
Giyul wore a troubled look as he pointed to the orcs that had been beaten unconscious.
"The orcs are eating each other."
"Pigs eating pigs?"
"Yes."
"Huh."
A baffled expression flickered across Buru's face, and Giyul managed an awkward laugh. Truth be told, if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it either.
"Let's have a look."
"This way...."
Buru heard Giyul's explanation and let himself be led over, where the skeletal remains of devoured orcs met his eyes. There looked to be a good twenty or more.
"Heh-heh...."
"We caught it early, so this is the worst of it so far."
A wheezy, old-man sort of laugh escaped Buru's lips at the sight. Even as he looked, another orc shrieked—caught gnawing on a comrade's foot and being beaten to death for it. But isolating them all would mean dispersing their forces, and that worried him. Buru tilted his head for a moment, then his eyes lit up.
"That’s it!"
"Huh?"
"It's a good thing, you know."
"What do you mean?"
Giyul blinked at Buru, who was now acting as if this turn of events was actually fortunate. Buru let out a hearty laugh at his expression.
"Look here. If pigs eat pigs, then you feed 'em pigs. Ain't that right?"
"Whaaat?"
"Heh-heh-heh-heh."
At Buru's words—which didn't sound much like words at all—a noise of sheer disbelief burst from Giyul. Yet Buru kept cracking up, as if he found it endlessly amusing.
"I'm afraid I really don't follow...."
"Detail some men."
"Yes...."
Still confused, Giyul ran off to gather his axemen.
"Chop 'em up."
"..."
"You mean... these?"
"That's right."
Before them lay the corpses of the orcs killed in the day's battle, sprawled where they had fallen. All the metal and usable gear had already been collected, so the bodies just needed to be carved up, and thanks to the ferocity of the earlier fighting, many of them were already dismembered into pieces.
"You intend to feed them this?"
"Yep."
"To the orcs?"
Buru nodded firmly at Giyul's repeated question. Giyul found himself utterly speechless at Buru's grotesque pronouncement—feeding orcs to orcs. Normally, no one would even think such a thing. But Buru must have sensed how Giyul felt, because he let out a little snort of a laugh. Giyul shook himself alert at the sound and finally spoke.
"But isn't it a bit... cruel? I know we're taking them to use as labor, but even so..."
"Cruel? It is cruel, sure."
"Then why...?"
Buru gave a nudge with his foot to an orc torso lying nearby and answered Giyul's question.
Roll, roll.
"Look. Life is cruel. Us rounding up these pigs and working 'em till they drop—same thing."
"But isn't this different?"
"Same thing."
"What?"
Despite how little sense it seemed to make, Buru kept on.
"The moment these pigs started eating each other—that's when it became the same. Look. These pigs can talk, you said."
"Yes."
"So, then. A pig with that much sense—does it eat its own kind just 'cause it skipped one meal?"
"..."
Giyul's mouth snapped shut at Buru's words.
He was right.
They had missed only a single meal. And yet the orcs had been devouring their own kind as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"In the end, this is how these pigs have always lived. Look here, Giyul."
"Yes, sir."
"Don't you go measuring everything with our yardstick. Every creature that lives has its own yardstick. Somebody who keeps dogs might call you a brute for eating dog meat. But that's just a matter of how you look at it. You can't force your way on that, see."
Giyul had no rebuttal. Buru clicked his tongue and went on.
"And we ain't got food of our own, so ain't this just dandy? Living itself means you gotta eat something to survive. Life's cruel by nature, so that's all there is. We're just going along with these pigs' way. You get me?"
"Yes, General."
"Then get to it."
As Giyul watched Buru's receding back, one particular thought surfaced in his mind.
'Since when did he get so eloquent?'
To Giyul, that was the biggest mystery of all.
After Beron and Hawk returned to the village, Million found himself unable to sleep despite the late hour. He had been a mercenary, so he knew the battlefield better than anyone here. But the meaning of holding a sword—that had struck him like a blow.
'A sword... I held one to survive, to eat. I never once thought it could mean more than that.'
Million's thoughts were a tangled mess. But others were tossing and turning too, which meant they were wrestling with the same things. Most people dismissed Beron's claim that the monster boundaries had collapsed as a lie, but to Million the words had a visceral ring of truth. He had seen it happen—small slash-and-burn settlements outside this village wiped out overnight, over and over.
Many of the current villages had been established over ten to twenty years. Some were nearly a century old. And yet their populations had never grown. With the steady annual death toll from orc raids, Beron's words made sense.
The problem was the villagers' reaction. They were afraid—and they feared change even more.
That was what held them back.
"Million."
"Hm? Oh—can't sleep?"
"Yeah, well."
A man who'd been lying awake approached him. Like Million, he'd been unable to sleep for all the turmoil in his head.
"Million, what should we do?"
"..."
"What are you going to do?"
Sure enough, the man's face was a mixture of complicated emotions as he spoke to Million. When no answer came, the man stared into the dark and spoke again.
"If the orcs come like today's attack just once more, it'll be hard to hold them off, won't it?"
"...Yes."
"And the barricade that collapsed today... it'll take time to repair."
"Hoo."
"Right?"
Million's sigh met the night air and bloomed into a white cloud. They'd torn apart sections of wall to do emergency repairs, so a chill breeze was seeping through.
Rustle.
"Those people... how strong are they?"
"Nel... you were awake?"
"Yes."
Nel, whose face was still too young to be called an adult, sat up and directed the question at Million. Million tilted his head before broaching an answer.
"How strong...."
"Yes."
"In all my memory, I've seen nothing like them."
"What?"
"I've never seen a unit like that. It's hard for me to even gauge how strong they are. That... way of fighting, that fighting power—it's the first time I've seen it."
Million's words only deepened the doubt in the two listeners' eyes. Nel rounded his eyes and spoke.
"But you fought in the Imperial War, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"They say the Ameri Empire's heavy infantry is the strongest—how do they compare?"
"Right. Compared to them?"
Nel, not understanding, rephrased the question. It didn't take long for Million to answer. He looked straight at Nel and shook his head.
"It's tough."
"As expected, the Empire..."
"No—the other way around."
"What?"
"What did you say?"
Nel's eyes went wide, and the man beside him who'd only been listening let out a startled exclamation. That seemed to be the signal: men who'd been lying down began stirring and sitting up all around them. Every pair of eyes was fixed on Million. Conscious of their stares, Million let out a small sigh and spoke again, as if to make sure they understood.
"Listen closely."
"Okay."
Nel's eyes glittered as he looked at Million. Million wet his dry lips and gave the conclusion first.
"Even for Imperial Heavy Infantry, cutting down that many orcs without losses would be impossible. No—the killing isn't even the point. Those people took them alive."
Gulp.
Someone swallowed audibly. All they had to go on was Million's word. But in their minds, Beron's warning echoed.
'If you keep thinking like that, you'll just end up slaves.'
For the first time in their lives, they were wrestling not with whether to live or die—but with how to live.
"Move, quickly!"
"Move it!"
As the first light of dawn brightened, the impatient shouts from all around were more than enough to rouse the slash-and-burn farmers from their sleep. Off to one side, Buru, who was driving the orc herd, was pushing his two hundred soldiers to make ready for an early departure.
"Are we ready?"
"Just give the word."
"Mm."
Satisfied by Yeon Hwi-garam's answer, Go Jin-cheon gave a nod. Armored and mounted on Gangsoe, he was observing every movement one by one.
"Fetch Gurajaengi."
"Yes, sir."
When Hwi-garam called for Gye Ung-sam, he came at a run, saluted before Jin-cheon, and prostrated himself.
"Salute!"
"Inform the slash-and-burn farmers. Those who wish to come with us have one shichen to decide."
"Yes, sir."
"Starting now."
"Yes, sir!"
After his short reply, Ung-sam took Beron and Darun and hurried to the slash-and-burn village. No one tried to stop them at the entrance; inside, Ung-sam and his party found the farmers already split into two camps.
"What do you mean, abandon the village!"
"We aren't abandoning it—we're saying we want to live better!"
"Million, what on earth are you trusting that makes you follow them!"
"Don't go."
A war of words was raging between those who had decided to leave and those who had decided to stay. Ung-sam watched with interest for a moment, then strode into the middle of the arguing, cutting it off.
"Which ones are coming with us?"
"We are."
"Are you truly doing this!"
When Million stepped forward to answer Ung-sam's question, the voice of an older man burst out. But it was Ung-sam, not Million, who reacted.
"Something to say?"
"Hurk! I-I..."
"Say it to me."
"No, I..."
In that single glance, Ung-sam's eyes unleashed a murderous intent that words could not describe.
"Hik!"
The village elder who'd spoken up collapsed to his knees, his face looking as though the breath had been choked out of him. But Ung-sam immediately quelled his killing intent and turned to smile at Million.
"Let us go. You may load your belongings onto the wagons under the soldiers' guidance."
"Ah... yes."
Faced with Ung-sam's two entirely different faces in rapid succession, the people hesitated—but they began to move. At that moment, Million stopped mid-step and turned to look back.
"I want to try living like a human being."
"Living with us—is that not like a human being!"
"..."
At the plea that was half reproach, half entreaty, Million slowly turned his back and offered a bitter smile.
"I want my children to think about how to live—not just scramble to survive. And from what I've seen wandering battlefields my whole life... even with a sword in your hand, your chances of survival go up when you're in the shadow of the strong."
"Million..."
"Stay well."
"Million."
The elder's voice quavered thinly as he watched Million's retreating back. But no piteous sound could hold their footsteps.