Chapter 166

Translator: Willia

At first glance, it looked little different from any other forest. If there was one difference, it was the strangely unfamiliar sense of wrongness, disconcerting enough to be bewildering.

Entering a forest inhabited by monsters brought with it a sensation that seeped straight through the skin, the feeling of having passed beyond the bounds of humanity. This was not a place where humans belonged. The fine hairs all over Ricardt’s body slowly stood on end.

Ricardt had originally intended to hunt Broken Fang with just Roy and Ray, but it seemed they would need the help of local guides after all. None other than Count Cheska and his accompanying knights took on that role.

The six of them walked through that deeply unsettling forest, beyond the bounds of human territory.

It was still midday, yet the shadowed forest offered predators plenty of places to conceal themselves. It felt as though something might be lurking in the nearby undergrowth or behind one of the massive trees, waiting to prey upon them.

Whether they truly felt no such unease or were simply doing their best to hide it, the six continued onward slowly but steadily.

Then the vague wrongness emanating from the forest took on a form they could actually sense. A smell.

The party stopped in its tracks at the revolting stench, a smell steeped in fear that seemed to mingle filth with semen.

Count Cheska examined a nearby tree and said,

“From here onward. This is orc territory.”

There was no need for a close inspection. The tree was covered in unmistakable gouges. The marks alone were enough to convey the sheer brutality behind them.

“There should be groups patrolling their territory.”

Ricardt spoke.

“So if you mean to turn back, this is your last chance. What say you?”

What was there to decide? They had come here to hunt Broken Fang. Did the Count himself want to turn back, or was he merely asking one final time whether Ricardt truly intended to go through with it?

Recalling memories from his previous life, Ricardt said,

“Let’s set out bait, lure them in, and kill them.”

“Bait? A goat or a pig?”

Count Cheska asked in return. Naturally, they had brought no livestock such as goats or pigs with them.

“Orcs are stupid, but they are also methodical and cautious. A halfhearted attempt to lure them will accomplish nothing. We shall be the bait.”

“......”

Not only Count Cheska but everyone present fell silent. Their silence seemed to contain a question of its own: Did they truly have to go that far?

“What if we establish a hideout some distance from here, scout the surrounding area, take turns keeping watch, and ambush them when they pass by?”

Count Cheska offered the suggestion. Ricardt shook his head.

“That is precisely what I mean. But there is no hiding our scent. This is orc territory. We must proceed on the assumption that the orcs will inevitably notice our presence. Then we turn that against them and strike first.”

“They may already have noticed us.”

Roy chimed in. The boy was carrying various pieces of camping gear along with Raimund.

“No. Not yet. The size of an orc group’s territory varies, but their territories are enormous. Still, it is only a matter of time before they notice us.”

“How is it that you know so much, Commander?”

“Let us simply say I have some experience with this. We make ourselves a hideout and dig traps around it. Better to know they are coming than to suffer an unexpected ambush. It should be less frightening that way.”

And so everyone agreed to follow Ricardt’s plan.

Not one of them was ordinary. Their skill was one thing, but perhaps it was better described as boldness, or courage. Roy in particular seemed remarkable among them, especially considering how young he was.

Ricardt and the others established their hideout a considerable distance from the scratched tree. It was a small clearing surrounded by thick brush and densely packed large trees. That made it even more shaded and dark.

The party first put down their packs and pitched their tents. They did not light a fire yet, as the smell of smoke might carry. For their meal, they simply stirred grain flour into cold water until it thickened, then drank it.

Even that could not keep their scent from spreading. And when Ricardt thought of it that way, it was frightening in another sense. He knew nothing about where the enemy was, while the enemy could know where he was.

Ricardt drew his sword, which had never once failed him, and inspected it, while the others checked their nets, spears, harpoons, crossbows, and other equipment. They looked like hunting tools. Tools for bringing down some enormous beast.

Once their hideout was more or less prepared, they divided themselves into groups and decided on an order for scouting the surrounding area.

There were three groups: Ricardt and Roy, Count Cheska and one escort knight, and Raimund with the other escort knight.

Before they could even set out on their first patrol, however, the light faded abruptly. Even when they raised their heads to look at the sky, the densely tangled branches made it impossible to tell whether it was late afternoon or already evening.

The party lit a fire. There was one campfire, and six men sharing its warmth. The season was not yet cold enough to warrant lighting several.

Crackle, crackle.

The sound was like a lullaby, or perhaps like something leading them toward a peaceful death.

Everyone spread out their bedding and settled down to rest, sitting or lying comfortably. Count Cheska spoke.

“It feels as though we are waiting for a death we cannot escape.”

Ricardt snapped a few twigs between his fingers and tossed them into the fire before replying.

“Was there truly any need for you to follow me all the way out here and put yourself through this?”

“It is rather amusing to hear that from you, Commander. Should I not see you prove yourself with my own two eyes? Since you have staked your life upon it, it is only right that the man who witnesses it stake his life as well.”

“Have you an heir?”

Ricardt asked. Count Cheska glanced toward Roy, who was tending to his axe, before answering.

“I have a boy about his age. If I die, my son will succeed me.”

“Is he not still young?”

“Then why did you bring your disciple into a place this dangerous when he is still young?”

“No matter what happens, I will protect my disciple. But nothing can be gained without accepting risk.”

“The same is true for me. No matter how thoroughly one prepares for the matter of succession, there is no guarantee everything will proceed as intended. My own father died when I was young, and I succeeded him and made my way this far. Sometimes a father’s death becomes a profound lesson for his son. The heads of House Cheska do not flee from death. We simply stand and face it. My father died that way, I have lived that way, and my son shall live that way as well.”

“I never imagined such a distinguished house would exist in a place this remote. Whether they are open about it or try to hide it, most men parade honor before them while busily indulging their hunger for power behind the scenes.”

“Ha ha ha...... Men like you and me simply dislike such things, Commander.”

“Have you ever killed an orc?”

“A few times, when ones cast out from their groups wandered near my lands. When I first encountered that maddened rage of theirs, I could hardly sleep for some time afterward. I was young then and had no need to step forward myself, since my retainers killed them, yet I could never forget the gleam in their eyes. It is true. I am a coward.”

“But in truth, orcs are cowards as well. Greater cowards than anyone. They merely conceal it beneath madness and rage. Once those fade, there are few creatures so feeble. Much like humans.”

“Humans and orcs......”

There was something about the habits of orcs and the way they lived that faintly brought humans to mind. Orcs were merely far more blatant about it.

And so the night deepened. The party took turns standing watch through the night, and when morning came, they began making traps around the area.

They had little time and inadequate tools, so all they could do was dig holes in the ground and camouflage them with fallen leaves and the like.

Even that much was useful. If an orc suddenly fell into one, it would be easy to stab it to death with spears, and if several came at once, they would inevitably tumble over and become entangled with one another.

Some worked while others scouted around the scratched tree they had seen the previous day. It was brutally hard work. Campfire or no campfire, there was simply no way to hide the smell of their sweat as they worked.

Yet naturally, now that they actually wanted to find orcs, not a single one showed its face. Two days passed, then three, then four, and finally an entire week. All they heard were occasional roars echoing from somewhere far away.

Sleeping rough was tolerable for a day or two, but doing nothing except eat, sleep, work, and scout in a forest inhabited by monsters wore hard on the mind. Lasting an entire week was remarkable in itself.

They were exhausted, and their nerves were growing increasingly raw. Perhaps there really was some kind of miasma in the air.

Even so, none of them snapped at one another or started fights. They simply spoke less and less as the days passed, until eventually an entire day might go by without a single word being exchanged.

Then, a week and one day after they had arrived, when Ricardt’s hair had grown greasy and his face was streaked with grime, something finally happened.

He and Roy were keeping a firm grip on their nerves as they headed toward the scratched tree with swords in hand when, before they even reached it, they discovered a corpse. An orc corpse.

“Eek!”

Roy recoiled in horror. He had borne up steadily enough all this time, but seeing an actual orc with his own eyes made his heart lurch at its indescribably grotesque appearance.

Its sheer size was absurd, and its skin was green. Yet that massive body had been torn apart and crushed until it lay in a mangled heap. Severed pieces of it were scattered here and there.

More horrifying still was the fact that the lower half of its body had been damaged especially badly. There were numerous traces of fluids too vile to describe. For the record, the corpse was male.

Ricardt gripped Roy firmly by the shoulder and pulled him close as he examined the corpse.

But there was little need for any careful examination to see that something possessing overwhelming strength had done this.

It was not a troll. If it had been a troll, they would have heard such a massive creature moving even from their hideout. Then had another orc done this? They should have heard that as well. Even if the others might have failed to notice, there was no conceivable way Ricardt himself would have missed it.

That left only one answer. Whatever had happened, it had happened somewhere else, and the corpse had then been dragged here and dumped. What did that mean? No matter how he looked at it, it was a warning. But a warning to whom?

What had been done to the lower body in particular seemed less like the gratification of desire than deliberate degradation. It was a form of punishment, and a display meant to demonstrate just how terrifying the perpetrators were.

Ricardt calmly followed one inference after another. They had killed one of their own kind, defiled the corpse, and dumped it at the boundary of their territory. It was clearly not a warning aimed at humans. Most likely, it was meant for another group of orcs.

“Looks like a war has broken out.”

“Pardon?”

“Roy, look closely. And think. Think about why this is lying here. The orcs are at war with one another. Either that, or something close to it is happening.”

“Still, it is much bigger than I expected.”

“It is. That is why, ordinarily, fighting an orc is hardly even a contest. Humanity’s most powerful weapon against orcs is wisdom.”

“But then what do we do now?”

“First, let’s bring the others here.”

Ricardt and Roy abandoned their patrol and immediately returned to the hideout. After telling the others exactly what they had seen, they brought everyone back to examine the corpse.

Their reactions were much the same as Roy’s. They found it revolting and terrifying, and wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible.

Ricardt, however, was resolute.

“Let us cross the boundary.”

“This is the last ground upon which men may tread. Beyond this point lies hell.”

Perhaps because a full week of camping had left him mentally exhausted as well, even Count Cheska balked at the proposal.

“If we do not learn exactly what is happening here, we may pay a far greater price later. If the orcs are merely fighting among themselves, that is welcome news. But if this is a war of unification, then the County of Cheska will be next.”

His reasoning was sound, but after seeing what lay before them, anyone who still wanted to venture deeper into orc territory hardly seemed sane.

Yet there were times when, rather than making some grand resolution or steeling one’s courage, a man simply had to throw himself forward. The sort of moment when all one could think was, Ah, to hell with it.

“Then the days are short, so let us go while we still have daylight.”

Count Cheska finally spoke as though the whole matter irritated him. Just as his ancestors had before him, and just as his son one day would.

Perhaps House Cheska’s creed in the face of death was not courage at all, but irritation.

Ricardt smiled at the Count’s annoyance and said,

“Do not worry too much. God’s light reaches even into hell.”

****

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