Chapter 6

Chapter 6. Negotiations Collapse, Death Is Mandatory!

The Gray Plains had long been a kind of no-man’s-land that countless nations paid no mind to, so outlaws ran rampant there. Even so, it had its own order.

That order was simple: people in the same line of work generally did not meddle with one another unless they had to.

That order had taken root because even men who treated other people’s lives like the lives of flies still treasured their own.

It was the natural result of a thoroughly rotten mindset: stay alive, spend years sucking travelers dry of their money and blood, and live well for a long, long time.

That order had produced one natural consequence. The bandit groups active on the Gray Plains were rarely replaced.

Unless the nearby lords organized a punitive expedition, the unspoken order of this place remained intact. That was, unless some fool got above himself, attacked a large merchant company, and was wiped out in return.

But as far as Barel knew, no such idiotic thing had happened on the Gray Plains in at least the past month.

Because he knew that, Barel had flatly told Balun that there were no bandits here other than the Red Wolf Band.

After all, there was no way a bandit gang that had not existed before would simply pop into being in less than a month.

There was also no chance that a bunch of hotheaded fools who could not even ride horses would somehow acquire mounts from somewhere and start handling them skillfully.

There should not have been any bandits on the Gray Plains.

There should not have been.

…And yet.

Why had bandits appeared here?

“Well, well. Not answering?”

“Hey, you bastards. When the boss asks a question, you answer. Want to die?”

“Hey, hey. Can’t you see their faces? They’re scared stiff. Looks like they might piss themselves, so take it easy.”

“Ah, boss, if we scare them just the right amount, they’ll listen better, won’t they?”

“I don’t want to smell piss.”

“That is true. Heh heh heh.”

Barel’s body had already gone stiff. Even so, the instincts of a merchant who had risked his life on trade journeys for more than a decade still worked faithfully.

In that brief moment, his eyes darted over the snickering bandits’ clothing.

Then he found one notable feature.

It was the black headscarves wrapped around their heads.

Bandits and black headscarves. In truth, that was not especially distinctive. The world was full of thieves who wrapped cloth around their heads because they wanted to flaunt a little individuality. That was even more true when the cloth happened to be black, one of the most common colors there was.

But if every single one of the men wearing those headscarves was on horseback, and they were searching for “a mounted group wearing red headscarves,” that was another matter entirely.

That was distinctive enough.

And Barel knew exactly who that feature belonged to.

“Balun. I know who they are. They’re the Black Fang Band.”

Barel ground his teeth. How could his luck be this terrible?

“Doug, the leader of the Black Fang Band, is the brother of Ralph, the former leader of the Red Wolf Band. He learned of his younger brother’s death and rode all the way here.”

That was not a guess. It was a certainty. Otherwise, there was no way to explain why people who did not operate on the Gray Plains were roaming the Gray Plains in search of red headscarves.

He was certain up to that point, but one thing still made no sense.

How had Doug learned of his brother’s death?

‘Could it be that they had some kind of artifact?’

Barel’s expression hardened further. If that was the case, it explained everything. The world of magic was boundless, and the power of objects imbued with magic was just as extraordinary.

If they had been carrying artifacts that told each of them whether the other was alive or dead, then yes, that made perfect sense. Those two bandit chiefs had been famous for how close they were.

“Balun. Those men are bandits as infamous as the Red Wolf Band. The odds of negotiation working are low. We have to fight. We need to do something, quickly—”

“……”

“Balun. Why are you not saying anyth—”

When no response came, Barel turned his head.

Balun was subtly edging backward.

“…?”

The two men met each other’s eyes.

Confusion appeared in Barel’s gaze.

“Balun? What are you doing right now…?”

“I was thinking of a way to kill mounted warriors.”

“What?”

“Red Fang warriors never retreat!”

Balun grumbled inwardly.

‘Damn it, this is humiliating. How did he catch me at exactly that moment?’

To be honest, he was scared.

How was he supposed to beat twenty cavalrymen on flat ground instead of rough terrain? Even if they were not trained regular soldiers, that still did not change the basic problem.

He had never properly fought cavalry before, but one look was enough to tell him this would be difficult.

No matter how he thought about it, this was a situation that called for running away.

That was why he had been trying to find the right moment to flee.

And he had been caught doing it.

‘He did not realize I was trying to run, did he?’

“Balun. It seems you did not hear me, so I will explain again. They are a bandit group called the Black Fang Band, and they are extremely infam—”

“You do not need to tell me. I heard everything.”

Pretending to be calm, Balun stepped forward.

After spending every day of his life filming a survival documentary with his own body, his ability to control his expression had grown to an almost peerless level.

The truth was that he was mortified, but outwardly he looked every inch the steadfast warrior.

“Balun means Wolf’s Fang. Those bastards are Black Fangs.”

“What?”

“Among all fangs in this world, Balun is the strongest!”

Balun looked left and right after blurting out whatever came to mind.

The three surviving escort mercenaries had stepped forward as if protecting the baggage wagon, swords and shields in hand.

‘They look a little weak… Can they actually fight?’

He was not reassured, but they were still better than nothing.

At the very least, they had not lost the will to fight.

What shone in their eyes was an unmistakable battle spirit.

In his mind, Balun measured the battle to come.

Four infantrymen against twenty cavalrymen.

It was a completely hopeless matchup.

If they fought head-on, they would lose every single time.

‘And the merchants… do not look like they know how to fight at all.’

At this point, there was only one option left.

Feeling his heart hammer like mad, Balun strode farther forward.

Barel and the mercenaries tried to stop him, but Balun remained adamant.

The bandits smirked when they saw him suddenly come out in front.

Straw sandals. Leather trousers. An upper body so bare it was almost naked. A large axe. And exotic features on top of that. It was an appearance unlike anything they had ever seen.

“What is with this giant?”

“He looks like a barbarian.”

“Where did they even pick up something like that?”

“Seriously. Barbarian mercenaries are not easy to find.”

“Hey, you monkey bastard. Get lost and tell your merchant company master to come out. Otherwise I might just separate your head from your neck right now.”

The bandits snickered and mocked Balun.

Balun merely stared at them without even blinking.

Slowly, he turned his head from side to side, as though searching for someone.

“Well, what is this? Still no answer? I am busy enough as it is.”

“Boss, he is a barbarian. He probably does not know the Continent’s Common Tongue.”

“Is that so? Hey, get lost! You will die! Shoo! Shoo!”

“You?”

Balun’s voice rang out suddenly.

The bandits flinched.

The pronunciation was somewhat clumsy, but it was unmistakably the Continent’s Common Tongue.

“What the hell? He can speak the Common Tongue?”

“Are you the leader?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m the leader. So what about it?”

“I see.”

Balun nodded and took another large step forward.

His face was expressionless, as though he did not feel even the slightest fear, and the bandits had just begun to recoil at that when he opened his mouth.

“Mounted warriors. I have a proposal.”

“A proposal?”

“Hand over your lives.”

“What?”

“I show mercy, and I am a good warrior. I do not show mercy, and I am a bad warrior.”

The bandits’ eyes narrowed.

His pronunciation was rough and his speech clumsy, but there was no way they could fail to understand what he meant.

“That bastard is threatening us right now, isn’t he?”

“It seems so.”

“Hah.”

Doug, the leader of the Black Fang Band, let out a disbelieving laugh.

Did that barbarian really not understand who was in a position to spare whom?

As expected of a barbarian.

“You do not like handing over your lives?”

“Boys. Do we really have to keep listening to this?”

“No. Let’s just get rid of him.”

Doug drew his sword with a nod, and his subordinates followed suit, pulling out their weapons as well.

Balun’s expression turned sour.

Anyone could see they were preparing to attack.

‘Ha, as expected, it did not work. Then again, why would they spare us? They are bandits.’

Balun clicked his tongue.

He was mistaken about one thing.

He thought his meaning had been conveyed properly.

He had intended his words to mean, “Please spare us,” but what had actually come out was a provocation aimed at the enemy.

From the very start, his meaning had been delivered in exactly the opposite way.

‘Should I drop to my knees and beg? Would they spare me then?’

Balun shook his head.

They did not look like the type who would spare anyone.

Just look at them licking their lips.

“Negotiations have collapsed. Death is mandatory!”

The instant the bandits were about to move, Balun shouted loudly and pulled a hand axe from his waist.

Gripping it in his right hand, he drew in a deep breath.

Balun’s solid, muscular chest swelled, and before the men could move, he swiftly hurled the hand axe.

WHOOSH!

“Uh—”

The hand axe cut through the air.

THWACK!

And buried itself vertically in Doug’s skull.

“Ah.”

Doug’s eyes flew open wide. His mouth fell open, and after letting out a dying groan, he tumbled from his horse.

THUD!

His corpse hit the ground in a pitiful heap, and the horse, startled by the impact, reared and shrieked.

The bandits’ formation broke.

But none of them could say a word.

How had he done that?

The distance had not been close, and yet he had thrown a hand axe and hit him?

“Balun killed the enemy leader!”

The shout that broke the silence hanging over the plains came from Balun.

“Come. Balun kills you all. There is only death!”

Balun pounded his chest with both fists and glared fiercely.

In that posture, he strode forward step by step, threatening the bandits.

Not one of them could speak.

Their faces were frozen in shock.

Their leader had died before they had even managed to respond.

Then Balun pulled out another hand axe from his waist.

Taking a deep breath, he made it as if to throw it.

That was enough.

“L-Let’s run.”

“Run?”

“Of course run! That thing is not normal! Didn’t you just see that? Even the boss died!”

“Fuck!”

The bandits yanked their horses’ heads around and fled for their lives.

Balun gave chase as if he meant to pursue them, and when he whipped another hand axe after them, they ran even faster.

“They ran.”

Smacking his lips in disappointment, Balun picked up the two hand axes that had fallen to the ground and came back.

As he brushed dirt and blood from them, he suddenly felt eyes on him.

“B-Balun…”

“You are incredible…!”

Their gazes were filled with awe.

Their eyes were so vivid they looked as though they might cry.

Balun pretended to be calm as he dusted off his filthy body, but inside, he was on the verge of fainting.

‘D-Damn. I lived. I survived.’

His plan had been to kill the enemy leader first and make the rest lose their nerve.

Fortunately, it worked.

“Search the corpse.”

“What?”

“Look for anything valuable.”

“Ah, yes!”

The mercenaries searched Doug’s corpse, while the merchants ran after Doug’s horse, which had fled some distance away.

Meanwhile, Balun barely managed to calm the violently pounding of his heart with his right hand.

With his free left hand, he felt around his groin.

His trousers were slightly wet.

When no one was looking, Balun rubbed dirt into the damp spot and scrubbed at it.

Then he snapped his head from side to side, checking the others’ reactions.

‘Nobody saw that, right?’

Only then did he let out a sigh of relief.

No one had noticed.

That was a relief.

He had almost done something truly humiliating.

If people found out he was a pants-wetter, how was he supposed to walk around with his head held high?

Of course, it was not as though he had actually fully wet himself.

It had only been a few drops.

But anyone could do that, could they not?

There was nothing strange about the sphincter loosening a little when fear and tension became too overwhelming.

Balun’s group thoroughly searched Doug’s corpse and took everything worth keeping.

There was one longsword, three daggers, the shabby leather armor the man had been wearing, and a small circular wooden buckler that strapped onto the forearm.

A backpack had been tied to the horse he had ridden, and inside were two silver coins, hard black bread, dried jerky, and more.

Naturally, all of it went to Balun.

A few people were tempted by greed, but none of them dared complain.

They also took Doug’s severed head.

Apparently, he had been a wanted criminal.

They said the Mercenary Guild would pay a bounty if they brought in his head.

And finally, there was the horse itself.

Balun had suddenly become the owner of a horse, something he had never expected in his life.

“Barel. Turn all of this into money.”

“What? What do you mean by— Ah, you mean you want to sell it.”

“That is right. Get a good price.”

“Yes, understood. Once we enter the city, I will sell everything and hand you the money.”

“Really?”

“What?”

“If you cheat me, I kill you.”

“Gah! O-Of course not! How could I ever cheat you, Balun?”

Out of everything, Balun kept only the buckler, the three daggers, the rope, and the severed head.

He intended to sell the rest.

He did not need any of it anyway.

The horse was a pity, but he did not know how to ride.

If he ever needed one later, he could simply buy another then.

“You truly are incredible. How can you fight so well…?”

“Move out. We still have far to go.”

“Yes!”

And so Balun’s group began making their way across the Gray Plains toward the city.

After that, they almost never encountered bandits.

They kept moving for a full week and met them only once more.

Barel had been right.

Meeting bandits at all had simply been monstrously bad luck.

Well, thanks to that, the journey itself was comfortable.

Barel was an experienced merchant, so he knew which routes were relatively safe, and that road was so safe that not even wild beasts appeared.

They camped with the group at night and traveled by day.

On the eighth day of that routine, they finally saw signs of something made by human hands.

A broad road.

And now and then, passersby could be seen moving along it.

At the far end of that road was something faintly visible.

“Balun! Look over there!”

“Hm?”

“It’s a city!”

At Barel’s words, Balun stuck his head out of the wagon.

“That is a city?”

“Yes! It is Milford! A city belonging to the Kingdom of Grandia!”

As they got closer, he could vaguely make out the silhouette.

Long city walls. Houses packed tightly together. People moving about.

At once, Balun’s face lit up.

‘A city! A real civilized city!’

A single tear of emotion slipped from Balun’s eye.

Ah, how much he had suffered just to survive in that blasted barbarian tribe.

When he thought about all the life-and-death struggles he had endured, the emotion rising in his chest felt almost overwhelming.

He would not have to live like that anymore.

This was civilized society, so surely it would be safe.

‘First I learn the language. Then I learn how society works and adapt. After that, I find a decent house and a decent job and live my life.’

By the time he had finished spreading the wings of his imagination, they had already reached the city wall.

The driver stopped the wagon, and two guards carried out a simple inspection.

From inside the wagon, Balun observed the scene and the surroundings.

The soldiers’ equipment. The people’s clothing. The architecture. The walls themselves.

‘This really does feel medieval, doesn’t it?’

Balun stroked his chin and nodded to himself.

The first city he had encountered was a medieval-style city.

Exactly the kind of European medieval city he had seen in movies and games.

He was not especially disappointed.

He had more or less expected something like this.

After all, he had grown up hearing stories about the Ironclads.

‘At least it is not a primitive society. I should be grateful for that.’

While he was thinking that, he suddenly heard arguing outside.

Balun stuck his head farther out.

Their voices reached him.

“I told you, you can’t!”

“Come on now, do not be like that. Please just let us in…”

“I said we can’t let a barbarian in. No means no, so stop talking so much!”

“What is the meaning of this? There has never been any rule like that.”

“Either way, get lost. Or dump that filthy barbarian bastard somewhere and come back.”

The words reached Balun’s ears in fragments.

It sounded as though they were talking about him.

“What is going on?”

Balun asked as he opened the wagon door and stepped outside.

At once, every eye turned toward him.