Penalty Fee (1)
“We’ll dig the canal here!”
The dwarves rushed in and began excavating a new waterway. The main canal stretching from the river to the canyon was wider and deeper than most rivers—fully 25 meters deep—so no Gigant could simply cross it. But if they started filling it in with Gigants, it might get blocked in just a few days. That was why Wayne had them create an additional canal further south. It might prove unnecessary as a preemptive measure, but water was that crucial. The southern sea bordering the barren lands was infested with massive sea beasts, making it impossible to dock ships, and even the largest vessels couldn’t transport the heavy, bulky Gigants in any real numbers. Block the land routes, and enemies couldn’t easily invade the territory. This canal doubled as a moat. From the outside, it looked like self-imposed isolation, but Wayne had the highly mobile Valhalla Gate, so it didn’t matter.
“Chief! Bastian’s squad is back!”
“Got it!”
At the news that Bastian—who had gone to fetch the refugees—had returned, Wayne headed straight for the territory.
“Captain Wayne, I’m sorry.”
One look at Bastian and his squad’s ragged state told Wayne everything he needed to know, no explanation required.
“The refugees?”
“Well, out of nowhere, this Count Holver and Viscount Erwin showed up and blocked us from taking them.”
“Viscount Erwin? Any reason given?”
“I don’t really know. We waited around for a fortnight, but in the end, we had to come back empty-handed.”
“And they didn’t send any food or supplies either.”
“Yes...”
Wayne’s expression turned colder than ever.
Was this the tyranny of big business? The battle for the Sailon Occupation Zone had ended just a month and a half ago. They’d sent gold and food once at the start, but the moment the Tarun Kingdom retreated, it was like they’d never existed—no more shipments. And when Wayne offered to take the Sailon refugees off their hands, since they were a headache anyway, they’d even thanked him. So why the sudden change of heart?
He’d half-expected the supplies to dry up, but blocking the refugees was a surprise even for him.
“What brings you two here, anyway?”
Wayne eyed Bowga Taylor, the knight commander from Lorenne Outpost, and Albus Taylor, son of Lord Fredric, who had come with Bastian.
“The baron instructed us to meet with you personally, Lord Wayne.”
“Come inside first.”
The air in the office hung heavy.
“So, you’re saying food sales will be difficult from now on?”
“Yes. Kallung Grand Territory notified us that if we keep selling food to you, they won’t sell to us anymore. As you know, we import half our territory’s consumption from them...”
Knight Commander Bowga bowed his head.
“But don’t worry too much. Our lord said he’d look into import routes from northern territories like Ronsstock or Schwerin without Kallung knowing. Just give us a little time.”
“Lorenne’s caught in the middle, huh.”
“Sigh! Our roots are in Kallung, so the lord can’t step up without hesitation. We’re truly sorry.”
Lorenne was a branch grown from Kallung. It had relied on them for 20 years to become self-sufficient and still depended on them heavily, leaving no choice but to watch their step. But Wayne’s food production was already stable enough for independence. Half a year ago, the dwarves had planted crops in the underground fields and begun harvesting. Seeds and tubers were sown thick in the southern fields too.
Wayne’s face grew deadly serious.
“Just one question. If war breaks out between Kallung and us, which side does Lorenne stand on?”
“Pardon?”
Bowga and Albus’s eyes widened.
“You’re not planning to go to war with Kallung, are you?”
Wayne didn’t answer. Instead:
“Tell Lord Fredric this: I understand not helping us. But if you side with Kallung, be prepared for the consequences.”
The blunt warning drained the color from Bowga’s face.
“We’ve passed all of Kallung’s intel to you, Lord Wayne. And we’ve supplied food, timber, daily goods...”
“I know. And I’m grateful. But our future relations matter more, don’t they?”
“Well, yes, but...”
“Best to stay neutral. This is for Lorenne’s sake.”
It was a threat, plain and simple.
“Understood. I’ll relay it verbatim to our lord.”
“And tell him if he doesn’t want to lose his Gigants, send them to the Great Forest ahead of time.”
“Ah!”
Bowga nodded. Wayne had just given them an out. If Gigants were in the territory, Kallung would surely requisition them. But if they weren’t...
“I’ll head back immediately. And young master Albus will stay here for a while.”
“I get the message. Thank Lord Fredric for me.”
“Yes!”
Fredric wasn’t foolish. By sending his only son, he’d created a pretext to refuse excessive demands: “My son’s there.” It was surely Baroness Alicia’s idea.
Once they left, Wayne stood and gazed out the window.
“Already baring their teeth? More hasty than I thought!”
The Estel Kingdom war wasn’t even over. Fierce fighting still raged around the capital. No one knew how long it’d take for frontline troops to return. Yet Kallung thought they had Wayne on a leash. What could a nameless barren territory do against a grand territory? They didn’t expect him to challenge them with limited forces.
But they didn’t know Wayne.
I’ll make them pay, no matter what!
Yielding now would invite endless meddling, and when Estel’s troops returned, things would escalate. Wayne was ready to go all in this time.
[Kallung Grand Territory]
“Captain Holver, please talk to the lord again!”
“Former Captain Rakins, I understand your position. But the lord has already decided.”
“Wayne defended the Sailon Occupation Zone for us! This isn’t right. And he’s not the type to sit idle.”
“Not sit idle? You worried he’ll attack Kallung Grand Territory?”
Viscount Erwin Tokin cut in. Rakins replied:
“Have you forgotten? In the Sailon battle, Wayne mobilized 150 Gigants to the southern fortress. Including 1st-class ones.”
Erwin chuckled and shook his head.
“Heh! That’s because you don’t understand strategy, former Captain. It was all bluff. Who in the empire could move 150 Gigants to Sailon right now? Think about it.”
“Dresden could.”
“Dresden’s in the same boat. They poured a third of their forces into the Estel front and only took the capital with Ronsstock’s help. If they had spare troops, they’d have taken it alone—why share? Common sense.”
“But...”
“And does the empire have some secret 1st-class Gigant? Dresden’s two were on the Estel front. Makes no sense for them to be at Sailon. Besides, those southern fortress troops never moved during the battle, right?”
“True...”
Erwin sneered.
“If they’d used those forces, they could’ve crushed the enemy faster. But they didn’t. Get it now?”
Rakins had to admit it was odd. But from afar, they’d looked like Gigants. He regretted not checking closer.
“Then why not let the refugees go too?”
“Our losses in the Estel war outweigh the gains. At least we got the vast southern plains.”
“...?”
“Land means farming. But will our settled folk move there? Refugees, though—we feed ’em scraps, and they’ll work.”
“So all of them...”
“Exactly! Once the war ends, we ship them to our Estel lands. Gotta hold ’em tight from now on.”
“But you promised Wayne you’d send them all.”
“They were useless before, but not now! Promises are for equals anyway.”
The groveling Erwin from before was gone. And from Kallung’s view, he was spot-on—hell, brilliant.
But Rakins couldn’t shake his unease. Wayne’s feats blocking the Great Wave’s ant horde at Westline Fortress and commanding at Sailon weren’t mortal skills. His subordinates were ex-Dresden elite veterans.
This feels bad...!
Rakins prayed nothing would happen.
[Quartermain City]
Quartermain City was Kallung’s largest southern hub, bordering the Ratan Desert. Tents and shanties of planks crowded the southern stream, so flammable a single spark would turn it all to ash.
But the refugees had nowhere else to go.
Now soldiers and Gigants surrounded the camp.
“From today, Sailon refugees may not leave this camp!”
“What? How do we gather fallen grains from the fields?”
“Catch fish?”
“We need the mountains for food—how?”
“I won’t repeat myself! Anyone leaving is executed!”
The refugees murmured.
“Then give us bread!”
“Yeah! Feed us, and we won’t go out!”
“Of course, bread once a day. Soon you’ll be relocated—houses, fields to farm freely. Just hold on!”
True to the officer’s word, they distributed bread daily. The problem? Black, brick-hard loaves mixed with sand and who-knew-what. Protests on day one ended with five beaten to death. No one spoke up after.
They’d become worse than pigs in a pen—slaves.
“Hey, hear the news?”
“What?”
“Calderan Oasis got smashed!”
“What? That’s the biggest southern oasis!”
“Yeah. Sailon refugees enslaved there were freed.”
“Freed? What’s that mean?”
The man whispered desert rumors: Wayne had taken them to the barren lands, building a city with homes, food, fields.
“So there’s a city in the barren lands now? Refugees went there?”
“Yep—houses, food, land!”
“Bull! Empire guys said the same, then fed us sand bread!”
“Nah, it’s different! Saved over 5,000 slaves already. Voluntary too—didn’t force anyone, just gave food and let ’em go.”
“R-Really?”
The informant was a freed refugee resettled by Wayne, returned undercover to spread the word.
The rumor spread like wildfire. Soon whispers flew: like the oasis slaves, rescuers would come here too.
[Kallung Territory Southern Garrison]
“Former Captain Rakins, cigarette?”
“Drop the ‘former captain’—no squad left anyway...”
Garrison commander Grunt lit the offered smoke.
“You’ll head central soon.”
“These days, no urge to.”
“Huh?”
Rakins inhaled deeply, exhaling into the darkening sky.
He’d been demoted. Once a renowned Great Forest captain, monster-hunting ace, Westline hero who saved his men and blocked four times the Tarun forces—next squadron leader buzz. But persistent pleas for Wayne got him shipped alone to Kallung’s southernmost outpost.
“Hm? What’s that light?”
Grunt paled at Rakins’s question.
“That’s Quartermain!”
“What?”
“The city’s under attack!”
Quartermain burned.
“Assemble all squads!”
“Yes!”
Soon two 2nd-class Gigants and eleven 3rd-class were ready.
But—
Greeee!
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A massive 9-meter Gigant and a red-eyed golem blocked the way.
Hey! Long time, former Captain Rakins!
W-Wayne... Captain Wayne?!
Rakins’s face drained of color.