Chapter 35
#35. Giving the Homeless a Taste of Winterwald's Spicy Side
"Th-that makes no sense……!"
The shaman Gur's hand trembled as it gripped his bone staff.
Apparently, nine-tenths of the orc warriors who had set out as the vanguard had already been taken down.
'C-could the humans have done this? Was it a trap?'
Gur shook his head violently.
No. That couldn't be.
Of course, he had heard that some humans knew how to tame monsters.
But a monster or two was one thing; surely no one could control hundreds of monsters—enough to fill an entire forest.
Gur swallowed dryly, desperately denying reality.
'Yes…… They must have merely passed through the territory of a colony of enraged monsters by coincidence.'
In any case, it was a tremendous stroke of luck that they had sent the vanguard ahead to determine the forest's dangers.
If the unit he led and the main force had entered that hellish forest all at once, who knew how great their losses would have been……
The mere thought sent a chill down his spine.
"Go around it! Give up on the Black Forest and find another route!"
At Gur's command, the two thousand orc soldiers changed direction.
But before long, their march came to a halt again.
"Kurrk…… Lord Gur. There's a swamp ahead."
Where the orc scout pointed, an enormous swamp stretched endlessly into the distance.
Moreover… it seemed to be giving off some unpleasant bluish light.
Gur closed his eyes and sent the crow aloft to survey the terrain from the sky.
Steep cliffs and rugged ravines lay on either side of the swamp.
'······.'
Gur's expression hardened strangely as he gazed down at the swamp.
Perhaps it was the unique intuition of a shaman.
As he looked at the bluish swamp, a chilly sensation seemed to slowly creep up his spine.
'······Should we turn back?'
He swept over the terrain once more through the crow's eyes.
Going around this enormous swamp would take at least two more days.
Two days.
It was by no means a short time, but it wasn't impossible either.
Even if the orc warriors grew more tired, they would still be able to trample those weak humans beneath their feet.
Besides, Krok had already infiltrated Winterwald.
The foolish humans could never dream that a traitor was waiting to start a riot at the decisive moment and open the castle gates for them.
But……
Gur's brows twitched again.
'······Do we really need to go around it?'
Krok's Red Fang Tribe had reached Winterwald's ramparts safely in a single day.
If not for the Black Forest, they must have passed through this route.
The swamp's blue glow bothered him, but…… wasn't it still just a swamp?
"Just in case, check how deep the swamp is."
At Gur's command, one enormous orc lieutenant cautiously stepped into the swamp.
Splorch. Slosh. Slosh.
After walking a few steps through the swamp, the orc lieutenant turned around with a bright expression and shouted.
“Lord Gur. Kurrk. Shallow. Very shallow here. Easy to cross. Easy.”
"Hmm. Is it comfortable to walk through?"
"Kurrk! Not uncomfortable! Warm! Feels good! Kurrk!"
There was indeed a reason it had not frozen even in the North's bitter cold.
It seemed to be a swamp through which hot spring water flowed.
Hearing that, Gur let out a sigh of relief and raised his staff.
"······Good. So it's just a swamp after all. All troops, advance across it!"
"Kwoooooo!!"
***
At the report that the swamp was warm and shallow, the two thousand orcs, exhausted by the cold, cheered and rushed into it.
But they had no idea.
They could never have imagined that the sticky, warm swamp beneath their feet was the second trap dug by Kylan Winterwald, the Grand Duke of the North.
That's right! It had never been a naturally formed swamp in the first place.
When the orc invasion brought all construction in Winterwald to a halt, Kylan gave Viscount Argen, the civil engineering overseer, a single order.
Pour all the hundreds of barrels of slime that no longer had any use into the path the orcs would be taking.
Normally, slime used for construction hardened like steel the moment it touched the air.
But now, Eleanor's 'artificial sun' floating above the swamp was radiating intense heat and keeping the temperature high enough to prevent the slime from hardening.
"Kurrk…! It's a little sticky, but warm! Good!"
"Feet heavy! Still going fast!"
The two thousand orcs had reached the middle of the swamp and were lifting their heavy feet from the sticky slime when it happened.
Fwoooosh!
The little sun that had been warming the air suddenly went out.
The orcs had not even realized that there had been two suns in the sky to begin with.
So there was no way they would notice that one of them had disappeared.
They simply continued trudging through the swamp—or rather, through the construction slime—with blank, foolish expressions.
Meanwhile, a blizzard began raging madly across the sky where the little sun had vanished.
The North's biting cold felt as though it were slicing through their flesh.
When the King Slime's slime met the cold northern wind, it immediately began displaying its natural properties.
Krrrrrck! Kraaack!
"Ku, kurrk!? W-what was that sound!?"
"T-the mud…… It suddenly became hard as a boulder……!"
It happened in an instant.
The slime that had been sloshing beneath their feet hardened as solid as steel.
"K-kwaaaagh! My foot…… My foot's stuck to the ground!!"
The orc lieutenant at the front shouted in horror.
One foot was sunk into the swamp while the other rested outside it, on the hardened slime.
He had no choice but to remain standing in that awkward pose.
"Kurrk! I can't pull mine out either!"
"M-my foot feels like it's going to tear off! No matter how hard I pull, it won't come out!!"
The two thousand orcs trapped in the middle of the swamp screamed and struggled.
But brute strength could not overcome the adhesive power of slime cement, which could even bond steelwood trees together.
Orcs with both feet stuck, as well as those with only one foot trapped.
In the blink of an eye, they had all become statues in the middle of the vast swamp.
Gur, floating alone in the sky and looking down at the scene, gaped in astonishment.
"D-do humans use such wicked shamanic arts?!"
Gur shouted, his face ashen.
The incident in the Black Forest might have been one thing, but there was no way he could dismiss this as coincidence as well.
The screams of two thousand orcs erupting from every direction made Gur's head throb as though it were splitting apart.
The especially clever orc lieutenant whom Gur trusted most stood with one foot caught in the hardened swamp and whimpered like a child.
"Lord Gur…! A-am I going to have to live in this position forever!?"
"……."
Gur did not know either.
***
At the same time. The conference room in Winterwald's Grand Ducal Castle.
"Kwahahaha!!"
Kylan, looking down at the crystal ball, burst out laughing in front of his vassals—a rare occurrence.
Two thousand orcs were being displayed like statues inside the artificial swamp.
The second capture operation had succeeded perfectly.
Without a single drop of blood being shed by either side.
"Good. Very good."
Kylan clapped with a satisfied expression.
"About a thousand in the Black Forest, and about two thousand in the swamp. Tarkan's army, which was boasting about uniting all the tribes and whatnot, has less than half its forces left now."
There was no way to rescue the orcs stuck in the swamp without Eleanor's magic.
Subduing them could be handled slowly.
For now, Kylan decided to praise his beautiful wife first.
If he went even a single day without praising her, thorns would grow in his mouth.
"Eleanor. Your magic has incapacitated two thousand orcs this time. Viscount Argen, you and your workers have worked hard as well."
The vassals eagerly joined in, each offering a word of praise.
"Truly magnificent, Your Highness! Only Tarkan's main force remains now. Good heavens, I fear there are so few enemies left that the adventurers may become disappointed."
When Sir Walter threw out the joke with a hearty laugh, Cedric responded without letting himself be outdone.
"Kwahahaha! The adventurers won't even need to take the field! We still have more traps prepared, and our remaining stragglers will be more than enough for the knights of the Northern Defense Force and our orc soldiers!"
"Hoho, don't eat them all yourselves—let us get a share too! If we've raised the adventurers, we ought to give them some work!"
A burst of hearty laughter was still echoing through the conference room when it happened.
Kylan slowly rose from his seat.
In an instant, the atmosphere in the conference room sank, and the vassals' expressions turned serious.
Kylan seized the greatsword 'Frost Fang' hanging on the wall.
His blue eyes began to burn brightly.
"The decisive battle is in two days. Everyone, begin preparing to end this tedious war."
"Yes, my lord!!"
***
Two days later.
Great Chieftain Tarkan had finally reached the foot of Winterwald's magnificent ramparts with Gur and Karak.
He had lost half his forces pointlessly.
But Tarkan was not angry.
"······."
He merely gazed up at the ramparts with an indifferent expression.
If he had lost those troops fairly in a head-on clash, Tarkan would have been furious.
If the humans had trembled in fear and surrendered pathetically, Tarkan would have been disappointed.
But they had used traps.
It meant that although they lacked the confidence to face him head-on, they had no intention of submitting.
They were desperately resisting with whatever petty tricks they could devise.
"······Interesting."
The corners of Tarkan's mouth slowly lifted.
What he wanted was not simply food.
He wanted slaves he could put to work.
And not slaves who had knelt of their own accord, but slaves he had personally broken and forced into submission with his own hands.
A creature without any will from the beginning would merely become a helpless beast.
That was not what Tarkan wanted.
What he wanted was the pleasure of conquest.
That moment when a strong person who had held their head high knelt at his feet.
For one's will to be broken, one first had to possess a will.
It seemed that Winterwald's leader was a human with a will of his own.
With the enormous Black Dragon's bone axe resting on his shoulder, he slowly opened his mouth toward the ramparts.
"Humans."
His single, low-pitched word reverberated across the entire plain.
The knights atop the ramparts covered their ears, and even the orcs thought an earthquake had struck.
"I saw your little tricks."
Tarkan's eyes narrowed.
"Show me more. Show me how far you can endure with those petty tricks!!"
Tarkan had barely finished speaking when it happened.
Screeeech!
Even though the advance had not yet begun, the gate of Winterwald's first rampart began to open.
It was the work of the chieftain of the Red Fang Tribe whom they had planted as a spy.
Krok was making his move.
Wearing blue armor, he strode proudly out from inside.
The humans panicked and tried to close the gate, but Krok's subordinates had already seized control of the winches.
"Kurrk……! Great Chieftain! Here! I opened the castle gate as promised!"
Krok pounded his chest as he welcomed Tarkan.
Tarkan confirmed that the first, second, and third ramparts were all wide open and nodded in satisfaction.
"You've worked hard, Krok. I won't forget your service."
"Kurrk! Come inside quickly! It's all here! Delicious food, warm houses, and a great lord! We can have everything in here!"
Tarkan's brow furrowed slightly at Krok's excited cry.
"A great lord? You're referring to me, I assume?"
Tarkan sensed that something about Krok's words was subtly off, but with the gate open right before him, he had no reason to hesitate.
He raised his axe and slowly led the remaining two thousand orcs of the main force inside the castle gate.
As he passed through the first rampart, Tarkan swept his indifferent gaze across the top of the wall.
'······.'
There were fewer people than he had expected.
Despite having built such sturdy ramparts, there were only a handful of humans actually drawing bows above them. Most were mere foot soldiers who were not even wearing armor.
'······They must be hiding behind the ramparts and relying on them.'
The corners of Tarkan's mouth twisted mockingly.
It was the cowardly siege tactic humans always used: crouching behind thick walls and waiting for the orc army to grow exhausted on its own.
'Well, it doesn't matter. I'll drag every last one of them out anyway.'
It was as he was about to pass through the narrow gate of the second rampart.
Boom!! Kwang!!
The massive iron gate of the third rampart before Tarkan's eyes slammed shut with a thunderous crash.
Then the gates of the second and first ramparts they had passed through also closed rapidly.
"······."
Tarkan's footsteps came to a halt.
A massive rampart canyon, sealed shut before and behind them.
The orcs had fallen into another trap.
But Tarkan did not waver.
He merely looked up with indifferent eyes at Krok, who had swiftly climbed onto the wall.
"Have you betrayed me, Krok?"
Krok grinned from atop the wall.
It was no longer the face of the stupid, savage orc he had once been.
It was thoroughly that of a Winterwald citizen.
A smile steeped in capitalism.
"Betrayed you? Kurrk! My only lord is His Highness the Grand Duke of Winterwald!"
Krok shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Now's the time!! Let's give those homeless bastards a proper taste of Winterwald's spicy side!!"
It happened at that moment.
Swish—! Swish-swish—!
Something rose all at once from the ramparts that had seemed deserted.
One, two, ten, a hundred—
Hundreds of adventurers and knights who had been crouching and holding their breath inside the ramparts sprang into view from every direction, carrying bows and spears.
In an instant, every side of the seemingly empty canyon was covered in a sea of black-clad figures.
A perfect encirclement.
"······."
Tarkan slowly raised his head and looked up at them.
"Fiiiiire!!"