Barbarian Quest

Step, step.

Legion Commander Odinst entered the village site. He surveyed the desolate village as his red cloak fluttered in the wind.

The scouts who had come to check the village earlier rushed to Odinst upon spotting him.

"There's nothing left, commander."

Hearing the report, Odinst clenched his fist tightly, holding back curses to maintain dignity in front of his subordinates.

"Is there truly nothing left?"

"There are clear signs that they deliberately emptied the village and left. It seems like they took everything with them."

The site where the Western Legion arrived was the village of the Stone Axe Tribe. Once home to thousands, it now lay empty, with only abandoned pottery and well-trodden foundations for homes remaining.

Traditionally, westerners often relocated their villages when the land's resources were depleted, as they had no other choice but to wait for hunting grounds and pastures for their main livestock, goats, to regenerate the resources they needed. Moving an entire tribe was common, happening as often as every few years, or at most every few decades.

Migration of a large tribe the size of the Stone Axe was rare but not completely unheard of.

‘Scorched earth tactics...’

Odinst bit his lower lip.

A defensive tactic where the defenders empty out resources to starve the invading enemy to death.

‘How long have they been preparing for us? Since when did they know we were crossing the mountains to attack?’

Odinst wanted to scream.

The barbarians' preparations were thorough. The scorched earth tactic wasn’t something that could be pulled off overnight. It meant the barbarians weren't just moving as separate tribes but were operating systematically as a massive alliance.

‘This is not just the united forces. There's a command structure beyond tribal levels.’

The barbarians were employing a high-level strategy and tactics. They were intentionally cutting off supply lines, engaging in combat to buy time, and emptying settlements to prevent the legion from supplying themselves through plundering.

‘This can’t be common barbarian strategy and tactics.’

Indeed, Odinst's guess was correct. Without Noah Arten, no matter how brilliant Samikan and Urich were, such strategies would have been beyond their thinking. A strategist from the civilized world advanced the tribal world's strategic and tactical level by centuries in such a short period of time.

"Nothing left, you say..."

Odinst was now dreading to face the nobles and officers. Their sharp reproaches already seemed to stab at his spine.

‘You’re telling me this is all my fault?’

Odinst had made decisions that anyone would find reasonable. He never played the worst hand. Following precedents from the south and north, he made standard, logical decisions and acted accordingly.

It was just that the barbarians' moves were beyond Odinst's grasp. A commander fit for average purposes used average strategies at a time when an extraordinary commander was needed. And the nobles decided to blame Odinst for that.

Odinst decided to station the legion at the Stone Axe Tribe's site for the time being. They couldn't move rashly. They needed to attack a place where resources to plunder were guaranteed.

When mealtime came, the legion's soldiers nibbled on twice-baked hardtack as if they were dissolving it little by little. The lack of supplies began to affect the legion.

"The barbarians here must have been self-sufficient. Gather the men with hunting backgrounds."

As a last resort, the legion resorted to hunting and gathering. However, soldiers who went hunting sometimes returned injured by beasts or never returned at all, having lost their way. The meat gained from such sacrifices was minimal, and what little there was, was seized by the nobles, only further demoralizing the soldiers.

The light cavalry that was sent out as scouts showed no sign of returning. The plains, which they didn’t have a map for, were harsh toward the imperial army.

"Commander!"

Doleman woke Odinst.

Odinst opened his eyes from a light sleep. The area underneath his eyes was dark. He wasn’t sleeping properly due to the extreme pressure he was under.

"What is it, Sir Doleman?"

"The horses have collapsed."

Odinst jumped up and followed Doleman outside the camp.

"Ehem."

Odinst covered his nose. The smell of horse dung was atrocious.

Over a hundred horses lay collapsed, their tails covered in bluish-green dung.

The legion had about nine hundred horses, and their feed ran out in the blink of an eye. Horses fed on the plains' grass collectively suffered from diarrhea. The western grass must have been unfamiliar to them and their system. It would have been fortunate if only diarrhea had struck, but horses that ingested unfamiliar poisonous plants simply died.

It was an unforeseen situation. Odinst, with a sour stomach, looked over the fallen horses.

"At this rate, we won’t have many horses left."

Odinst looked at his cavalrymen.

"Slaughter any horse that's even slightly weakened. We'll use them for food."

"... Understood."

Doleman nodded.

However, this wasn’t enough to make the mighty Western Legion collapse. They conserved what little supplies they had and resorted to eating their warhorses which they put so much sweat into raising.

Odinst chewed on the tough horse meat as they marched westward. The nobles, too, dozed off on their horses from exhaustion.

‘We have to move more than the barbarians expect. We need to sneak up on their villages.’

Odinst and his soldiers were frustrated. They were confident they could win any fight against the barbarians, especially since the barbarian forces were already assessed once.

However, the outcome of wars wasn't determined by battles alone. At that moment, the Western Legion was wandering the plains without a map. With each passing day, the legion's strength significantly waned.

Three more days passed. Frequent rains made the imperial march even more challenging. Even the grand imperial army couldn't endure when both stamina was drained and rain was pouring.

"Youuuuu gooooddaaaaamn barbariaaaaans!!”

Odinst screamed upon encountering yet another empty settlement. It was a shout of rage, throwing away all dignity and prestige. He truly felt cornered.

"The soldiers are watching, commander."

An adjutant cautioned Odinst. He swallowed the rage that was moments away from exploding.

‘If I fail here, it’s not just my life that’s at stake.’

In history, Odinst would be remembered as an eternal loser. A commander who failed in pioneering even with an overwhelmingly superior force. The man who crossed Yailrud full of ambition was no more.

"A-any word from the scouts yet?"

"Most cannot return... And those who have reported they found nothing."

Finding westerners who were intentionally hiding away was difficult. During the rainy season, even their traces disappeared quickly.

In the plains where even their scouts were losing their way and failing to return, the legion was caught in a vicious cycle akin to a mire.

* * *

Twang!

Chikaka released the bowstring of his wooden bow.

Rain had poured until morning. Today, the air was so humid that horn bows couldn't be used, but the same limitation also applied to the crossbows of the empire's light cavalry. Their light crossbows also used glue that was weak against moisture.

"Kaagh!"

Chikaka's arrow hit a horse of a wandering imperial light cavalry. The light cavalryman fell and rolled on the ground while clutching his broken ankle.

"Pant, pant."

The light cavalryman drew his sword, facing the approaching mountain goat warriors.

"P-piss off! Get lost, you bastards!"

He screamed and struggled on the ground.

"What's he saying?"

"Sounds like birds squawking, doesn't it?"

The mountain goat warriors chuckled, shooting arrows into the limbs of the cavalryman.

"You damned dwarves. Demon offspring!"

The light cavalryman gasped out curses as he breathed heavily.

Chikaka cut the tendons of the cavalryman's limbs with a dagger. A yellow smile appeared beneath his slightly lifted wooden mask.

"Kuk, kuk, Kaagh."

The masked mountain goat warriors brutally and ruthlessly toyed with the light cavalryman before killing him. The cavalryman was left alone in the middle of the plains with his abdomen cut wide open.

Crunch, crunch.

Wild animals flocked to the spot where the mountain goat warriors had left, devouring the corpse of the light cavalryman.

"Whew, let's head back."

Chikaka whistled and laughed.

Chikaka and the mountain goat warriors scouted the plains in groups of ten and picked off the occasional imperial scouts they came across. As strong warriors and hunters, they were self-sufficient enough to roam the plains without needing supplies. The mountain goat warriors played the role of scouts of the alliance, observing the legion's movements and contributing significantly to the alliance.

The mountain goat warriors' achievements greatly elevated the status of the Phergamo Tribe. Although not officially part of the alliance, Chikaka, who led the mountain goat warriors, held a higher status than many tribal chiefs.

"The mountain goat warriors are coming back!"

Chikaka returned to the Blue Mist Tribe after completing the reconnaissance.

The alliance forces, with Belrua's joining, again secured over ten thousand warriors. However, feeding ten thousand warriors was an arduous task.

It wasn’t just the Western Legion hanging on by a thread. The alliance forces also stretched their food supply thin. The wildlife around the Blue Mist Tribe was nearly wiped out. Additionally, the alliance forces had the duty to support tribes that had migrated for their scorched earth tactic.

The alliance had to dig to the bottom of their reserved resources. Resources were requisitioned—practically plundered—from distant western tribes, as the fear of Samikan was profound shortly after the expedition, leading everyone to comply without protest.

"The sooner we have a decisive battle, the less cumulative damage we'll incur."

Samikan, propping himself up on his bedding, listened to the reports while touching his festering chest wound.

"Hah, you sure you’re not going to just die before that happens?"

Belrua laughed, looking at Samikan's condition. The wounded Samikan didn’t stop and relied on the shamans' medicine and refused to rest, even though it was obvious that was what he needed.

"I get that it was a nominal marriage, but it would be nice if you at least pretended to care."

"Oh, is that so?"

Belrua pulled out a dagger to slice some smoked meat and ate.

‘Samikan's power is still formidable.’

Belrua mused while chewing on the meat, observing Samikan's tent. The chiefs visiting to greet him were busy flattering Samikan.

‘Samikan's name is a symbol of power.’

Belrua had also invoked Samikan's name to requisition warriors and resources from the western tribes. She had threatened that Samikan's forces would sweep through them if they did not comply, and given past precedents, this was sufficiently persuasive.

‘The justification of defending against external invaders is also working in our favor.’

The reason for doing so was also clear. Samikan's existence transcended fear and became an object of awe.

Samikan convened another tribal council. As if they had been waiting, chiefs dressed in their finery gathered.

"According to the mountain goat warriors, the imperial army is very exhausted. They even found dead horses in droves."

Aggressive chiefs urged for an attack.

"Wouldn't it be better to wait until they become weaker? We’ve experienced it once already. They are strong."

There were also chiefs who objected. Conversations close to arguments made way, and translators were busy gesturing and translating.

After hearing all the chiefs' opinions, Samikan finally spoke.

"Noah, what do you think?"

"It depends on the situation at the Arten outpost. We don't know how long Urich can keep the supply lines cut. It's not a situation where we can make contact with him, either. If Urich loses the outpost and the supply lines reconnect, the imperial forces will regain strength. On the other hand, if Urich can hold out longer, it's better for us to wait for the imperial forces to weaken further."

Noah's words were sensible. Nods of agreement could be heard from various places.

Six-Fingered, wearing a deep hood, chimed in, waving his fingers.

"The dry season will come soon, Great Chief."

"Already?"

Samikan frowned.

Six-Fingered shivered for a moment, then looked at the ceiling before continuing.

"...The earth does not like invaders trampling it. The land will dry up, and the sky will turn a blind eye."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Placate the earth with the blood of the invaders."

Six-Fingered advocated for an attack. Reading the weather was the realm of the shamans. If Six-Fingered's words were true and the dry season was indeed approaching, it could not be ignored. In the west, strategies for the dry and rainy seasons were entirely different.

The word that the imperial army was cornered boosted the chiefs' morale. Furthermore, Six-Fingered, the highest priest of the alliance, also suggested an attack.

"I will give you three days to prepare for the deployment. Get your warriors ready."

As Samikan declared, the chiefs rose and shouted.

The warriors waiting outside for the outcome of the council also heard their reaction and roared.

"We attack!"

"We're going to attack!"

The warriors frolicked, spreading the news in all directions. The warriors, brooding over their defeat, gleamed at the chance for revenge.

After the council, Samikan told Six-Fingered to stay behind in the tent.

Thump!

Samikan, enraged, extended his hand to Six-Fingered.

"Kugh, ugh."

Samikan grabbed Six-Fingered by the throat and hoisted him up against the tent pole. Six-Fingered flailed with a pale face.

"Do not make statements that could influence the alliance without my permission, Six-Fingered."

Samikan was extremely angered by Six-Fingered's statement. Although he showed no such sign during the meeting, Six-Fingered knew this would happen.

"I-I'm sorry. I just w-wanted to say that the d-dry season is coming..."

Six-Fingered struggled to speak. Samikan slightly loosened his grip.

"Don't get cocky just because you've got a few subordinates now. I can replace a priest anytime. You are nothing. This is my last warning, Six-Fingered. Next time, I'll show you through action."

Samikan threw Six-Fingered down.

"I-I'll excuse myself now."

Six-Fingered staggered to his feet. Covering his bruised neck, he returned to his own tent.

‘He talks big, but he won't easily replace me.’

Six-Fingered shrugged and chuckled lowly.

Six-Fingered had been gradually building up his influence behind the scenes. While the alliance's warriors were fighting, he had gained the support of the other shamans and priests. Samikan knew this, which was precisely why he did not kill Six-Fingered for speaking out of turn.

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