Chapter 4

Chapter 4. The Time Is Now (1)
Balun realized why the chieftain and the tribespeople kept going on about “spoils.”
They thought he had brought Barel and his group back as prisoners.
It was so absurd he could hardly believe it.
He had explained everything clearly, without leaving room for misunderstanding, so why had they interpreted it that way? Was there some kind of defect in the information-processing devices inside these people’s heads?
Or perhaps there were simply several concepts missing from their minds altogether. Concepts like “helped,” “saved,” and “kindness.”
Balun hurried to clear things up. If this continued, the Red Fang Tribe might end up with “Ironclad slaves.”
“Chieftain? I think there has been some misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding? What misunderstanding?”
“They are not my spoils. I told you already. They were in danger, and I helped them.”
“Yes. You defeated all the mounted warriors. Therefore, you have the right to claim spoils. That is what war is.”
Turgan answered firmly. Balun replied at once.
“No, I mean, it was not a war. I told you, I helped them. How does saving people who were in danger become a war?”
“Balun. Listen well. In this world, all things are war. History is written in blood and struggle. We must always keep that carved into our hearts. Otherwise, we shall be devoured.”
Balun was left speechless.
'Do these people not recognize any kind of person other than victors and losers?'
It was a hopeless feeling. As if he were standing before a giant mountain.
A mountain that would not understand no matter how well he explained.
How in the world was he supposed to persuade those battle-obsessed lunatics?
'Forget persuading them.'
Balun quickly changed his strategy. Was there any reason he had to persuade them at all?
After all, the best kind of education was teaching at the listener’s level.
“Yes. That is right. They are my spoils. My prisoners.”
“I knew it...”
“That is what I thought.”
The tribespeople whispered among themselves and nodded, and Chieftain Turgan smiled in satisfaction as he patted Balun on the shoulder with his rough hand.
“Yes. Exactly. I am glad you seem to understand properly.”
“Then let me ask just one thing.”
“Ask.”
“I have the right to do as I please with the spoils I won, correct?”
“Of course. That is the right of the victor, and the right of the warrior. If a warrior who risked his life in battle were not even granted such a right, then there would be no reason for a warrior to be honorable.”
Turgan said it, and the other tribespeople all nodded in agreement.
At that, Balun grinned. That was exactly the answer he had wanted.
“Then that means I may exercise my rights as a warrior here and now.”
“Of course.”
As Balun stroked his chin, Turgan asked,
“What are you planning to do?”
“I am going to feed them well and let them rest. I am also going to treat their injuries.”
“What?”
“They are people who have just escaped death. They must be badly hurt and exhausted. I think allowing them to rest properly is the act of an honorable warrior. So.”
The atmosphere stirred uneasily.
Balun added one more sentence and drove it home.
“No one is to mistreat them. If anyone does, I will regard it as an infringement of my rights.”
As he said that, Balun swept his gaze across everyone present. No one could answer.
As the entire crowd stood there stunned, only Chieftain Turgan and the shaman Ulan were smiling.
As if they found him admirable.
***
Balun treated Barel and his group not as prisoners, but as guests.
He gave them a place to stay and had their injuries treated.
Of course, the treatment amounted to little more than primitive first aid, but since none of them were severely injured, it was enough.
Night fell in no time, and Balun treated Barel’s group to dinner. Tonight’s meal was wild boar, hunted by the hunting party itself.
The cooking was nothing special. They had simply roasted it over a bonfire and called it done.
Naturally, the meat was tough and reeked of game, but Barel and his men gnawed it all clean without leaving a scrap. Judging by the fact that they did not even grimace, they must have been very hungry.
After they finished, they even sucked the marrow from the bones, then noticed Balun watching them and grew so embarrassed they cleared their throats awkwardly.
Balun stared at Barel’s group, who were coughing awkwardly and flushing red, then spoke in the “language of the Ironclads.”
“You eat well.”
“Ah, yes. It is delicious. Truly.”
“Lie.”
“Pardon?”
“This meat is terrible. Very tough. Strong smell.”
“Wh-What? N-No, it was delicious! Truly!”
Barel waved his hands and smacked his lips as if to prove it, and Balun tilted his head.
He really thought it tasted good? This?
'He does not think I am threatening him, does he?'
That would be a little disappointing. Balun had only meant it as a way to build some rapport.
Honestly, it tasted awful. They had roasted wild boar without even seasoning it. How was that supposed to taste good?
“You ate well. Your wounds are better now.”
“Pardon?”
Barel froze for a moment. He had trouble understanding what Balun meant. That made sense, since this barbarian had strung together words with no regard for context.
But Barel possessed the intuition of a seasoned merchant. He studied Balun’s expression and pieced together the meaning from the words he had used.
So, if they were eating this well, then they must be recovering well. That was probably what he meant.
“Ah, yes. Thanks to you... Thank you. I truly do not know how to repay you.”
As he scratched his head, Balun waved a hand.
“Do not worry. Balun gets repaid anyway. Escape to civilization!”
“Pardon?”
“It is nothing.”
Balun caught himself. There was no need to reveal his true intentions already. Slowly. Step by step. He needed to build this up carefully.
'But are they really understanding me properly?'
That question began to bother him. He had studied the language hard, but he still did not know what level his skill was actually at.
He even wondered whether they might be misunderstanding what he said.
“Eat full and sleep. Must rest well to gather strength.”
“Yes. That is true. We will need our strength if we are to return...”
Barel trailed off. Balun looked at him curiously and saw that Barel’s face, lit by the bonfire, had grown dark.
That made Balun curious enough to ask,
“Why is your face dark?”
“Pardon?”
“You do not seem happy.”
“Ah, well...”
Barel exchanged glances with his companions. They let out heavy sighs. Just from that, Balun felt he could already guess what Barel was about to say.
“A serious problem has arisen. We lost most of our mercenaries when the bandits attacked us.”
“So?”
“I do not know whether we can return safely. We only have three mercenaries left. I do not know whether they alone can finish escorting our caravan safely... Hah.”
After finishing, Barel sighed. Balun looked at him and asked,
“Is your home far away?”
“Home... It is not that far. The problem is that we must cross the Gray Plains.”
“The Gray Plains...”
“There are many outlaws there. If we happen to encounter bandits, our lives will be in danger.”
“Hmm.”
At that, Balun folded his arms and nodded. He remained in that posture for a long time, thinking, then finally asked,
“Gray Plains very dangerous?”
“Pardon?”
“Gray Plains fighters. Are they strong?”
“Gray Plains fighters? What do you mean... Ah. If you mean the bandits, most of them are rather pathetic. With the exception of a few small bandit groups.”
Barel continued,
“A few bandit groups are fairly capable. The Red Wolf Band that pursued us was one of them. The ones you defeated, Lord Balun.”
“The ones on horses?”
“Yes.”
Balun nodded. So that was the name of those bastards. No wonder they had worn red headscarves.
“Their leader was supposedly a former knight. And not just that, he had even seen war. Of course, he is dead now, so he is gone from this world thanks to you, Lord Balun.”
Barel went on describing the bandit groups. One group had this trait, another had that one...
Balun listened to every word carefully. The speech was fast and filled with advanced vocabulary, so he could not interpret it perfectly, but it was not difficult to understand the general meaning.
'So basically, aside from a few of them, they are weak as hell. And these people just happened to run into one of the few exceptions, which is why they ended up in this mess.'
Balun stroked his chin. From the sound of it, these people really had been spectacularly unlucky.
“All bandits ride horses?”
“Pardon? No. The Red Wolf Band is the only mounted bandit group active in the Gray Plains.”
“The rest do not ride?”
“No. Why would they? If they had horses, they would sell them rather than ride them. Most of them do not even know how to ride in the first place.”
Balun nodded.
So that meant there were no more mounted enemies along the route, right?
'If they are not cavalry, maybe I can handle it. They are not regular soldiers, just a bunch of bandits. Even if there are one or two who can fight well, there cannot be more than that.'
Balun began calculating the possibilities.
He was calculating whether or not he could survive.
If he crossed this place called the Gray Plains and ran into bandits, would he live or not?
'I think I can do it.'
Hope swelled in Balun’s chest. According to the explanation, the risk was definitely low. Unless extraordinary bad luck piled on top of extraordinary bad luck, that was.
If he were being honest, he wanted to account for even that bad luck too, but he decided not to. It was impossible in realistic terms.
How could anyone live while controlling every variable?
Was he supposed to abandon a ninety-five percent chance of success because he feared a five percent chance of failure?
Balun wanted to be cautious because he wanted to minimize risk, not because he was some coward too frightened to do anything at all.
If that had been the case, he would never have hunted, and he would never have gone to war. A coward like that would never have survived a barbarian tribe’s way of life.
'Besides, there are still three mercenaries left. They will help in a fight.'
Balun made up his mind.
Now was the time.
“Well, even if the bandits are worthless, in our current state all of them would be difficult opponents. How can just three men possibly protect us?”
“I help.”
“Still, we cannot simply sit here forever, so we have to go... Pardon?”
Barel stopped speaking in mid-sentence.
“What did you say?”
“I help. Going home.”
“Pardon?”
“Balun is a strong warrior. Trust me. I can take you there.”
Balun thumped his shoulder hard with his palm. Barel stood there, too dumbfounded to answer for a long while.
“You do not want that?”
“Pardon? N-No, that is not it. It is simply so sudden...”
In fact, it sounded wonderful.
They had already seen how strong this barbarian was. He had slaughtered over thirty mounted bandits all by himself.
But why?
Why in the world was he offering to escort them?
He had already shown them more kindness than they deserved, and now he was offering even more?
“Would that truly be all right? It is a long journey. You would be leaving the safety of your tribe. It would be a very difficult challenge.”
“Exactly! That is perfect!”
“Pardon?”
“Ahem. That is not what I meant.”
Balun cleared his throat. His inner thoughts kept trying to spill out.
“Balun is a warrior. Warriors always challenge things. I want a challenge. That makes a great warrior.”
“Hm, I see. I understand what you mean.”
Barel nodded. He seemed convinced, even though Balun had only improvised an excuse.
“Do you allow it? Or do you not want it?”
“Since you put it that way, yes. I allow it. No, rather... Please help us.”
Barel lowered his head. Balun grinned and nodded.
Then he held out his palm.
“Then give it.”
“Pardon? Give what...?”
“Money.”
“?”
“Give me money.”
Balun rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. Barel’s expression turned blank with disbelief.
Had this barbarian just asked for money?
A barbarian?
No, more importantly, did he even know what money was? Has he ever seen currency in his life?
'And where in the world did he learn that gesture?'
The more he saw, the less he understood this barbarian.
“Balun takes you there. You give money. Very good deal.”
“Hah... Understood. I will pay you.”
Barel nodded. The sudden demand for money had startled him, but in the end, it did not seem to matter much. He could simply think of it as hiring a powerful mercenary.
“Must pay a lot.”
“Pardon?”
“How many mercenaries did you originally have?”
“Ah, forty.”
“Then pay more than what forty mercenaries would get.”
“Pardon?!”
“I am not a fool. If you try to cheat me, I might kill you.”
“I-I will pay.”
Balun drew a finger across his throat. Barel nodded shakily. The glare Balun gave him in that moment was terrifying.
“I-I will pay you when we reach the city. I will give you a generous sum, so please let me live...”
“No. None of that. You pay now.”
“Pardon? Ah, I do not have money on me right now. Once we reach the city, I can pay you, but for now...”
“Lie.”
Balun shook his head and pointed at the wagon standing beside them.
“I saw all your money. It is inside that wagon.”
Cold sweat ran down Barel’s back. When in the world had this barbarian even noticed that?
“Hurry. If not, I do not help.”
Unable to try any more tricks, Barel had no choice but to hand over the money obediently.
A money pouch filled with a mix of gold and silver coins.
As he tossed the jingling pouch into the air and caught it, Balun thought to himself,
'Yes. Now I have settlement funds.'
***
The next day, Balun rose early and went to find Chieftain Turgan.
Turgan, who had been tending his axe in the open ground in front of his house, greeted him.
“Oh, Balun. What brings you here so early in the morning?”
“I have something to tell you.”
“Something to tell me? What is it?”
“The prisoners I brought back, remember?”
“Ah, the Ironclads.”
“I intend to take them back to their homeland.”
“What?”
“Please allow it.”
At that instant, Turgan’s eyes narrowed.
Watching those narrowed eyes fill with suspicion and confusion, Balun thought,
'I have said it now.'
“I am deeply taken aback.”
“I imagine you are.”
“What are you thinking?”
Spilled water could not be gathered back up.
At this point, persuasion was his only option.