Barbarian Quest

On top of the gorge, Urich exhaled his steamy breath, covered in wolf fur. The biting wind that was cold enough to crack up the thick flesh of the warrior smacked Urich's face.

"Hmm."

Urich, clutching his sword hilt, looked down. The destroyed section of Yailrud was visible.

‘If they want to pass here, they would have to come up to the gorge. But we’ve shattered all the ladders from here to the west.'

Ladders existed only at the entrance near the Arten outpost. Without crossing the mountain's midpoint like Urich and his warriors, there was no way to cross from the west to the Arten outpost.

'If they want to come to us, they’ll have to make new ladders or do the repair work to connect the bridge again.'

Urich, including himself, sent warriors periodically to scout above the gorge. It was an extremely hard task but necessary to prepare for any unforeseen situations.

'Now, the empire must not notice the situation at the Arten outpost. That's hardly a concern, though.'

Even if the empire finds out about the situation at the outpost right now, sending forces would take a long time. It would take them a month or two, at least.

‘We also have enough supplies here at the outpost.'

Supplies intended for the legion, which should have been delivered, were piled up at the outpost. That was enough for the tribal warriors and the formally slaves, now free mercenaries.

"Urich, I hear hoofbeats."

One warrior spoke. Urich and five warriors drew their bows.

"Three mounted cavalry."

The warriors' eyes narrowed. They pulled their bowstrings.

Envoys from the Western Legion rushed on horses from the opposite side of the bridge. They cursed upon seeing the destroyed bridge.

"What the hell happened here... kugh!"

The warriors' arrows poured down mercilessly. The horses panicked, and the envoys on the ground crawled as they bled profusely.

Creak.

Urich lowered a rope. Instead of ladders, he used ropes to traverse between the gorge and Yailrud. It required tremendous strength to travel between the gorge and Yailrud with just a rope.

"Who won the battle?"

After getting down to Yailrud, Urich pushed back his fur hood and asked. A soldier who was relatively less injured spat at Urich.

"W-who the hell are you!"

The soldier couldn't imagine Urich, who was fluent in Hamelian, was a barbarian from the west.

Crunch.

Urich drove an arrow deeper into the soldier's body.

"Kyaaagh!"

The soldier screamed and thrashed.

"Let me ask again, who won?"

Urich's gaze was murderous. He drew his axe and chopped off the soldier's ankle.

"Ah, ahhh!"

The soldier with an arrow in his back clutched his severed ankle, screaming. His foot was chopped off like butcher's meat.

"Who?"

Urich's question shortened once more. The terrified soldier blurted out everything.

"T-the legion won, of course! The barbarians were busy running for their lives!"

"I see. As expected, then."

Urich murmured. If they could have won a head-on fight, they wouldn't even have considered cutting off the supply route in the first place.

"P-please."

The soldier, clueless about what was happening, begged for his life.

Urich shook his head, swinging his bloodied axe.

"Sorry, just say your prayers. I can give you that much time."

"Please, please, spare me."

Urich squatted, tapping the ground with his axe, waiting for the soldier to prepare himself.

"Oh Lou, our father, please... have mercy on my s-soul..."

The soldier prayed, sobbing. Urich stealthily lifted his axe while the soldier focused on his prayer.

Crunch!

Urich swiftly beheaded the soldier. He also decapitated the heads of other soldiers who came as messengers and hung them on his belt around his waist.

Urich threw the bodies and horses off Yailrud.

"Hup!"

After finishing with the cleanup, Urich climbed back up to the gorge using the rope, where other warriors pulled him up over the edge.

"Why do you always bring their heads?"

A warrior asked. Urich just smiled and cremated the heads of the soldiers, not forgetting to give them a semblance of a funeral.

Urich and his warriors repeatedly cut off the legion's messengers.

"They must be anxious with the communication cut off, especially without supplies."

Urich smirked, descending near the gorge where the section of Yailrud was still intact. He and his warriors then used the connected ladder to comfortably return to the outpost via Yailrud.

Yailrud, the magnificent achievement of the empire and a pioneering road named after the emperor was under the control of the warriors.

"Georg, are you finished with the letter?"

Urich asked as he stepped into his tent. He bathed in a warm tub, washing off the blood. Blood floated on the surface of the water in the tub.

Georg was sitting at the writing desk in the corner of the tent. As one would expect from a slave of a scribe, he had excellent handwriting and writing skills. The letters he wrote looked like official documents to anyone.

'The smell of blood.'

Georg twitched his nose as soon as Urich entered the tent.

'Urich the barbarian.'

Despite being a barbarian, Urich had a remarkably moderate and civilized way of thinking. At the very least, Georg judged him not to be one who would kill indiscriminately.

"It’s ready. This should be enough to fool them."

The people of the outpost were wearing the armament of imperial soldiers. When imperial messengers came to the outpost, they exchanged letters at the gate and sent them off. It might seem odd, but no one would suspect anything immediately.

"Hmm, good."

After bathing, Urich approached naked to check Georg's letter with steam rising from his body.

'Such a formidable body.'

Instead of feeling embarrassed, Georg was overwhelmed by Urich's nakedness. Scars and muscles were so intertwined on his battered body that it was hard to distinguish between them. It was clear that Urich had survived wounds that would have killed an ordinary person several times over.

"You’ve got some serious scars."

Georg muttered. Urich scratched at his indented scars.

"Scars are my good luck charms. It shows that I didn't die even though I got injured like this."

"Surely you must have had some divine blessing."

"I hear that pretty often. About protection and blessings and whatnot."

Urich chuckled lowly as he dressed himself.

Georg speculated about Urich's background. Considering his extensive knowledge and understanding of the civilized world, he must have been a man who had crossed the mountains and traversed both worlds early on.

"That’s that, but why are you still here? It makes sense for the rest of the slaves, but you can read and write. With your skills, you could make a living anywhere."

"Everyone has their circumstances."

Urich didn't pry further.

Georg had become an important figure in the Arten outpost. As long as someone contributed in some way, they deserved a fitting respect.

* * *

The Western Legion's food situation had reached rock bottom. Despite the damage they suffered, they had won the battle against the barbarians. The nobles were intoxicated with victory, and even Commander Odinst lavishly distributed alcohol and meat to boost the soldiers' morale.

Three days after engaging with the confederation forces, Odinst and his officers started to sense something was off.

"The messenger sent to the Arten outpost hasn't returned."

"Nor have the supply wagons."

Receiving the reports from his subordinates, Odinst clenched his teeth.

'Could it be that Duke Langster is harboring a grudge against me?'

That was his first thought. Odinst had been cold toward Duke Langster. He considered the possibility that Duke Langster, having been treated like an old retiree, might have plotted something behind his back.

'No, Duke Langster isn't so petty. Moreover, sabotaging this expedition would mean death for both of us by the emperor’s hand...'

Odinst pondered before shaking his head again.

'Blinded by malice to the point of cutting off our supply line without thinking of the consequences? Is he planning to kill even all the nobles here?'

Odinst called for a reliable subordinate and sent him as a messenger. His men who had crossed the Yailrud on their horses hadn’t returned.

Ten days passed like that.

There was zero communication between the Western Legion and the Arten outpost. The nobles were the first to grow anxious.

"Commander! Let’s just retreat immediately! At this rate, we'll all starve to death."

"There seems to be some hiccups in the communication. Let's just wait a bit longer."

But Odinst was also anxious. Despite winning the battle, they couldn't advance and were just circling the mountain's base because of the delayed supply situation.

Odinst decided to send an infantry unit toward Yailrud. He ordered them to conserve their supplies as much as possible, and the light cavalry was split into groups of ten and sent westward for scouting. He had done everything that a commander could in this situation.

The infantry unit returned sooner than everyone expected.

"Yailrud has been cut off! The ladders leading up the gorge are all destroyed..."

Hearing this report, the legion was engulfed in shock.

"Yailrud has been what?"

"How are we supposed to go back without a bridge?"

"Quiet down. The bridge can be repaired. What's more important is how it was cut off.”

The nobles, isolated in the west without a proper understanding of the situation, were agitated.

‘Goddamned nobles.'

The undisciplined nobles did not adhere to the military hierarchy and control. However, they were still powerful, and Odinst had to appease them appropriately.

"Let's just conduct the repair work. Send the soldiers, Commander. We can't fight without supplies."

Odinst organized an engineering unit and sent them to the severed Yailrud.

'Duke Langster! If you really were the one who cut off the supply route, you will pay a fitting price.'

Odinst ground his teeth. Whoever it was that cut off the supply route, he planned to make them suffer all the pains of the world.

With the supply route cut off, the Western Legion's movement was severely delayed. Even half a month after the battle, they couldn't advance properly. The phrase "Western Conquest" seemed like a joke.

"The barbarians have occupied Yailrud!"

The engineering unit, which was sent out to repair the bridge, returned to the legion in a disastrous state. Only half of the hundred engineers came back alive. They also lost all the materials they had taken, which were going to be used for siege weapons if the situation called.

"D-dozens of barbarians shot arrows at us from above the gorge. It was impossible to carry out the work."

"Are you saying the barbarians have taken over Yailrud and the Arten outpost?"

Odinst slapped his knee. It all made sense now. But one question remained.

'How did they cross the mountains to attack Yailrud and the outpost?'

The entrance to Yailrud was guarded day and night by the legion. There was no gap for the barbarians to sneak in.

"It seemed like they climbed and then descended from the mid-section of the mountains."

That was the only possible route that the barbarians could have taken.

"They went across the mountains? If that was an option, why did we even build Yailrud in the first place?"

Nobles questioned, unable to understand what was happening.

An officer who brought up the subject pointed at the map, estimating the barbarians' route.

"Yailrud is a bridge that crosses the mountains, hanging off the cliffs of the gorge. What we cannot cross are the high peaks, which, in terms of Yailrud, correspond to the middle part. The barbarians cleverly cut off just that section. They likely climbed the relatively lower ridges and descended from the middle of Yailrud to head toward the Arten outpost. Even then, they must have suffered considerable sacrifices."

The officer’s explanation had the nobles collapsing in their seats.

"D-does this mean we can't go back home?"

"If the Arten outpost has completely fallen, then yes. We cannot return."

"What if we rebuilt the ladders at the sections of Yailrud that are still somewhat intact and climb the gorge?"

"If we could simply go through the gorge, we wouldn't have built Yailrud in the first place. The terrain is rugged, and the altitude varies greatly. We won’t make it."

"Are you suggesting we give up without even trying? And you call yourselves the imperial army?"

The nobles pressed the commander and officers.

"...I will lead the troops and attempt the climb. I will occupy the top of the gorge and prevent the barbarians from getting to Yailrud during the reconstruction."

One infantry officer stepped forward. His words had the nobles shouting as if they had found a hero.

"This man right here is the commander we need!"

Odinst was reluctant to approve the idea. This infantry officer was suggesting to lead five infantry units—five hundred men—across the mountains. If they fail to reconstruct Yailrud, it would be a fatal loss of forces.

‘They’re all expecting me to give the permission.’

He felt like the villain obstructing his capable subordinates' plans. The glares from the nobles were almost stinging.

Odinst tried to suppress his boiling anger and persuade the nobles. But due to the anxiety caused by Yailrud's damage, they were beyond reason.

The infantry officer who had bravely stepped up led five hundred men up the mountains. Their plan was to climb down the mid-section of the mountains and take control of the gorge above Yailrud, just as the barbarians did. If they could somehow secure the top of the gorge, they believed they could proceed with Yailrud's reconstruction work.

... And there was no word from that five hundred. Their bravery was buried in the mountains.

The Western Legion finally came to the realization.

There were no supplies, and they were isolated. The only thing they could do was to advance. Plundering for local supplies was the only way they could survive.

'We were too late with our judgment. Way too late.'

Odinst tore at his hair. Despite his young age, his hair came out effortlessly.

The legion's supplies had already run out. A decision had to be made before it was too late.

The Western Legion gave up on rebuilding Yailrud and advanced westward.

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