< Episode 131. How the Confederacy was formed (1) >
The midsummer sun was hot. Only the three of us, me, Yenrid and Jabrian, faced 1200 southerners regardless of the Viscount’s forces. I could feel the viscount’s eyes murmuring behind me.
“Go and convince them.”
The moment I spoke, Jabrian looked at me and said seriously.
“Are you sick?”
You punk.
Yenrid is staring at me. Yeah, I don’t understand.
“You don’t have to say it. You just have to convince them. Mostly, tell them not to loot here.”
“Does this make sense?” muttered Jabrian.
“Just tell him to die.”
she added
“Go.”
When I opened my mouth, Yenrid turned around. I didn’t give him any direction as to what was going to happen or what to do next.
That would have been pointless.
Now is the time when we need the courage of a man named Yenrid.
Well, if that doesn’t work, then I’ll have to find another way.
Yenrid trudges away from me. It would be a lie to say that I have no anxiety, but on the contrary, looking at his back gives me hope.
So far away from us, Yenrid began to ‘persuade’ the Southerners, and Jabrien saw it and asked.
“Are you going to leave him alone?”
From my point of view, Yenrid’s method was rough.
Although Jabrien is a Southerner, her lifestyle is close to that of a Central Continental. In the first place, her tribe is all about trading and wandering.
Wandering trading peoples are those who prioritize values other than battles.
In other words, she would not understand this situation even though she was a southerner.
“It’s going to be okay.”
I mumbled.
“It’s not okay at all.”
Jabrien responded to my words.
If this gets wrong, I will try other means, but it’s still okay. I just saw Yenrid knocking out three southerners.
I can feel the military spirit as if the Viscounts who stayed in the back was tense. There were also several people who were preparing for battle with swords and spears.
The method of persuasion is novel. It was not within the expected range, but seeing it in reality was thrilling.
What if that southern army rushes right away?
“What are you going to do if he provokes them?”
A frightened voice burst from the back.
I didn’t even have to look to know who it was. It was Viscount Dutch, who had been recovering his spirit in the meantime.
The recovered spirit seemed to burst again soon. He pointed to where Yenrid was and trembled.
If you entrusted me with the job, you should believe in me. If you don’t trust me, is this the extent of the trust between us?
Well, even if it was me, I would want to break my head right away if three people come and do this crap. If it wasn’t for the Wyze Knights, the Viscount would immediately want to arrest me and torture me for three days and three nights.
“If you don’t trust me, do you have any other means?”
Even if I told you, you must not believe me, so the only way was to show you directly, and I needed time to do so.
“If my Knight dies there, I will do everything in my power to stop them. Even at the cost of my life.”
Life is more important to me than honor. It’s always been like that.
“No, I mean, what the hell are you doing now?”
Viscount Dutch was half weeping. Words cannot persuade me, nor force can do anything about it. So, if I let her sit a little longer, I feel like crying.
“Viscount, how much do you know about the South?”
When I opened my mouth, Viscount looked at me and answered.
“As you may know, I started doing business with them. I’m sure it’s not every day you see someone as familiar as I am.”
No, you don’t know.
How the Confederacy was formed, and how was it possible?
Numerous historians have studied it.
I just heard it from the side, but it was easy to understand.
Southern laws and traditions, all of it prevented them from uniting, but on the contrary, it was their habits that made it possible.
I sent Yenrid there alone because I knew the beginning of the Confederacy. I’m not just comfortable with my Knight over there.
With a twist of my neck, I was ready to jump out of my skin right now. But there are people who look at me with anxious eyes, so I only have to show the appearance of a relaxed lord now.
“Don’t worry. He will write a new history here.”
Everything was in my head. Still, I can’t help being anxious.
Yenrid of my previous life was just a hero and treasure full of regrets in a distant place.
Current Yenrid is the one standing by my side. I have no intention of letting him die.
“What are you thinking about?”
asks Viscount. I showed him a relaxed smile. I’m used to acting in reverse from the outside.
“I’m just trying my best.”
It’s a habit of mine to find the best path I know.
I’m a pathfinder and a pathwalker.
A treasure hunter.
The path I am now walking is towards the treasure known as Yenrid.
‘How?’
Yenrid was worried. how to persuade What can he do against 1200 southerners?
He didn’t doubt Chris.
He let him do it because he could.
Whether it was treating sick Digo or cutting through enemy lines, he did it because he could.
He had a sense of finding the fastest and most efficient way. Yenrid trusted Chris.
Believing, he found what he could do.
‘With talk?’
Quite possible. He knows what Southerners are like.
Yenrid was lost in thought. It wasn’t long before he was able to draw a conclusion.
‘I don’t know.’
It’s not something that can be solved by using the brain.
Hmm.
It doesn’t have to be a talk.
He took out his axe, grabbed it, and sprinted forward. Yenrid thought that knocking them down one by one was the quickest way.
He walked alone towards 1200 enemies. Anyone who saw it would have shouted with certainty that he was a madman.
He was walking alone on a sunny road, but there was no one blocking him. Only after narrowing the distance by more than half did three people come out to greet him.
All of those who came out appeared to be warriors. However, one face had blue bruises, and the other two also showed scratches and torn wounds all over the upper body.
They were dressed only in their undergarments, with the tops off. Yenrid had turned his back on the South when he was a child, so he did not recognize the tribe.
He didn’t even want to know.
Scars with clumsy herbs attached to them, a wary expression on their faces, and an uneasy disposition.
Chris would have read all the circumstances and inferred the situation. But Yenrid didn’t have such a talent.
He was just doing what he was told to persuade.
“Go home.”
said Yenrid.
The southerner ahead opened his eyes and answered.
“Where are you from?”
Again, if it was Chris, he would have felt strange and reasoned about this question as well. Either, it was a question that showed there was more than one group attacking him, but Yenrid ignored them all.
“Go while I’m saying nicely.”
Not many southern warriors let go of their fists and said it with their mouths. It could be said that Yenrid had that aspect in his blood.
“You punk.”
And the other party was also a Southerner.
If it was Chris or Lind, a few words that would not even be called a conversation were exchanged, and then fists were exchanged.
After seeing the man with a bruise on his face rushing towards him, Yenrid took a step forward, blurring the sense of distance, and then slashed his head with the tip of the ax handle.
Hit!
Speed, strength, timing.
It was on a level that could not be matched. He fell to the ground with his eyes open.
The other two guys who saw it rolled their eyes.
“Kill him!”
“I’m going to rip you!”
One with a dagger, the other with his bare hands.
Smack!
Yenrid’s hand was unstoppable. He tricked the guy with the dagger as if he was cutting his side, and when there was a gap, he put the axe-clenched fist in his temple, and the other guy was hit in the waist.
Bang!
His hand, which has been properly hit on his forehead, passes through Yanrid’s waist and goes down. The one who was punched also fell off, so all three were quickly unable to fight.
He didn’t kill them because he asked to persuade them. Yenrid was faithful to his orders.
“Good.”
Admiring his skills when he saw the fallen three, he thought.
If the total number is 1200, there are 1197 people left.
Actually, the number was a bit more than 1200, so the calculation method was a bit messed up.
It was more fun to use the axe while counting how much was left.
There was no stormy assault with Yenrid walking alone . Only a few rough tempered southerners had come for him.
“Which root did this crazy guy come from?”
Yanrid, who wiped the sweat running down his forehead, raised his finger without answering.
Tick.
A day would have been short to knock down all of the 1200 them. A southerner with a club came at him.
It was at a level that was nothing better than the three a while ago. The result was the same as before.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
With a loud bang, the number of southerners who fell on the ground where Yenrid passed began to increase.
Three to five, five to ten, ten to twenty.
Since the beginning twenty people were beaten by one person. Southern warriors did not bow their pride.
1200 warriors were bound by one.
“Which root is it?”
“What’s your name?”
“Tell us!”
Everyone who comes forward is noisy. Yenrid didn’t answer.
He remembered the moment he had given his name to Chris. A shiver ran through his whole body.
It was then that he finally understood. He wanted to show himself by shouting his name that he was just holding it in.
He wanted to compete with the worthy opponent and get his revenge.
That was what he really wanted. He told himself to forget it and survive, but that was his parents’ wish.
It was only then that he realized that his wish was completely different.
The South was his root and his hometown. Even if he planted his roots in the land of Chris, the hometown of his soul would be south forever.
The moment he saw the people of that homeland, he was filled with joy. Yenrid was like any other Southerner, but different.
It was not his intention, but from the moment he left for the central continent, he was able to have a broader view of the South as one big place.
So it was natural for him to be happy.
And yet.
‘weak.’
All those who ask for his name are terribly weak. Yenrid set the standard.
There’s no name to tell these guys.
His name was not so low in value.
From sunrise in the morning until sunset.
150, the number of people that Yenrid beat down in one day.
A darkness called night came. The moon didn’t rise today and not an inch of light to be seen.
“Phew.”
Exhaling, Yenrid looked at the Southern army on the other side and said,
“Tomorrow.”
He didn’t say his name that day after all.
“I’m going out tomorrow!”
“I’ll go first!”
All the Southern warriors who were talking to each other shouted.
“That guy, I’m gonna open his throat. I am Varon of the ‘Fangless Wolf Tribe’!”
Everyone stopped talking at that call.
“If it’s Varon, it’s not my turn.”
Someone said
Caen looked at it and frowned. Contrary to words, the situation was not good.
A warrior who defeated more than 100 people in one day.
‘That’s a lot of bravery.’
The previous chieftain he served did a similar job.
He won the battle alone with the fifty warriors. It was possible because of his natural strength.
Even such a chieftain would shake his head if you asked him to defeat a hundred men by himself. There were only a few famous warriors in the tribe who were able to hold their own against three or four of them at a time. The ordinary warriors could not even fight a single battle.
‘My feet are tied up.’
If they had cornered them from the start, regardless of whether they had one or two, the Southerners’ army would have moved up.
‘I couldn’t help it.’
There was nowhere to go, nowhere to return.
There was no way.
Caen had to somehow get the land here. No one knew, but only Chris knew.
Their purpose was not to fight and loot, but to settle.
“If Varon loses, I will come forward.”
Someone comes out again.
“Ooh!”
“Ooh!”
As he stepped up, cheers rang. Some warriors stomped their feet on the floor.
“I am the Borte of the Poisonless Toad Tribe.”
He was a warrior as famous as Varon.
“Ooh!”
And despite the desperate situation, they raised their fighting spirit. Southern warriors were also the names of those who enjoyed the battle without bending even if they were broken.
That is why Caen was also like them. Because the South likes fights and stories like this.
For those without language, the myth of ancestors and heroes was like the only entertainment that made their hearts beat.
The story of a man who fought alone with 1200 people and a hero who defeated them.
All southern warriors wanted to be the main character.
“Then I will go next.”
Caen did not introduce himself.
Caen of the Fangless Crocodiles, was stronger than any warrior here.
Because he was a man who even earned the title of the best warrior of his tribe.
He was also the leader of this group.
“When the sun comes up and he comes out again, he will be a ripped deer!”
Caen said.
“Oooh!”
The southern people burst into a wild cheer. And the next day, as soon as the sun came up, the same guy appeared again.
A shaggy gray-haired man comes out with two hand axes around his waist.
Before Varon left, the five warriors slashed.
“Tsk.”
Varon pretended not to know and turned his head, and Borte saw it and clicked his tongue.
It is advantageous to watch your opponent’s battle before fighting.
Of course, he had seen him countless times the day before, but it would be much better if he could figure out if he was injured from yesterday’s battle, and where his weaknesses were.
So all five of them were warriors under Varon. It was a small trick, but no one stopped him.
Because this kind of action for victory is right and justifiable.
And all five warriors quickly fell to the ground, and Varon and Borte thought the same thing.
For some reason, the enemy seems to be more energetic than yesterday.
Mistakes are expected so if something doesn’t make sense then just try to understand the situation and make something up by yourself.
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