Chapter 37: Sound of Hooves
The retreat was a success.
A week of fierce battles.
32 dead. 112 wounded.
70% of the demonic beasts in the main border region had been eliminated.
At this overwhelming result, Ransen’s soldiers burned with pride.
“Hey, boss man! Bring the beer out quick!”
“Co on—! We got a fat reward, but if you’re this slow, we can’t even spend it properly!”
Welcod by the citizens, the returning soldiers holed themselves up in taverns from broad daylight, shaking off the stress that had piled up.
Their loud, elated laughter sparked the other free warriors in the taverns.
“...But are you sure they really wiped out the demonic beasts?”
“Exactly. To do that in just one week, I just can’t....”
So showed sour faces, while—
“But it must be true, right? Everyone saw the flood of small beasts pouring out.”
“Right. Unless you’d stirred up their nest inside, that number wouldn’t even make sense.”
—others judged more rationally.
As for Ransen’s soldiers, they only brushed off the mutterings of other warriors with boundless, leisurely bravado.
“Hey, hey. Have you ever driven a spear into the neck of a charging Deer-Ox?”
“Yeah, man. Or blocked a Taurund’s club with your shield? That thing was over three and a half ters tall.”
“If you haven’t, don’t talk.”
Just one month and a week.
Ransen’s army already had the flas of camaraderie and pride burning in their chests.
* * *
‘That was excellent.’
I was very satisfied with this operation.
Would an artist or a novelist feel this way looking at their own work?
Seeing the tactics and strategies I’d only imagined in my head co to life... thrilling! Nothing less.
Only 32 dead.
Despite how dangerous the mission was, the losses were far fewer than a normal beast subjugation.
It was because the formation held perfectly, providing enough defense.
And also because the Experts, who kept their strength intact, intervened in critical monts to save the soldiers.
All of it was just as I had intended.
Satisfaction. And more satisfaction.
I felt good, and when I ca ho and scrubbed off a week’s worth of gri with warm water, that was paradise itself.
Billowing warm steam followed as I headed toward the eting room.
I was tired, yes, but since Haarun, the Storm King, was aiming for Kinalo and Kashu, the situation was urgent. I planned to get the reports and imdiately draft a plan to occupy Kushan City.
But then—
“What’s wrong with your eye?”
In one corner of the eting table, Varen was lowering his head, awkwardly covering his face with his left hand.
“Ah... Hyung... it’s just....”
“Let see.”
He kept trying to cover his face, so I stepped closer and pulled his hand away.
“Who did this to you?”
Varen’s left eye was swollen black and blue.
A proper fist-mark, beaten badly.
What the hell? What was going on? This was supposed to be Varen of the Black Eyes.
He wasn’t the one hitting—he got hit?
But who could even land a blow on him in the first place, when he was a Peak Expert....
“Wait.”
Sothing strange caught the corner of my vision.
“Rivera. Turn your head.”
“Y-yes?!”
“Turn your head. Let see the left side.”
Our Baron Rivera twisted his neck awkwardly, showing only his right profile.
“Now.”
At last, with a resigned sigh, Rivera turned—and his left eye too... was blackened with a bruise.
Ah.
So you were hit?
By who?
...I was getting pissed.
“Who was it.”
“T-that’s....”
“My lord. The thing is....”
While Varen and Rivera mumbled, Seah cut in with a blank face.
“Yesterday. Varen oppa was beating so warriors who broke the rules, when so old man picked a fight with him.”
“An old man?”
“Yeah. So they fought—and he ended up like that.”
“And you just let that go?”
“He was too strong. If we fought seriously, the damage would have only spread. And the old man hadn’t broken any rules himself. You know how it is. In Roberland, it’s awkward to make a big deal over warriors throwing punches.”
“So.”
“After hearing the news, Uncle Rivera went to take personal revenge.”
“And ended up like that?”
“Yeah.”
I looked at Varen and Rivera, their heads hung low.
This wasn’t ordinary.
Two of the only four Peak Experts in our city ca back beaten.
Forget honor—this was personal. They hit my people?
Who the hell did they think they were?
“Take to him.”
It was no ti for a eting.
I rose from my seat, sword in hand.
* * *
The old man was drinking at , a tavern where many warriors gathered.
What really stoked my anger was how popular he was—warriors clustered around him, eagerly offering him drinks.
“Old man! You were amazing!”
“Exactly! To turn Varen of the Black Eyes into Black-Eyed Varen!”
“Seriously, who is he? With skills like that, his na should be famous!”
They were having a grand ti.
‘He beats up my people and gets cheered for it?’
I strode forward.
How should I start this?
Maybe just hit him first and talk later?
As I was weighing it, the old man’s eyes t mine.
“Ah! You’re here!”
He stood, face flushed red with drink.
At that, the warriors around him turned their heads—and their complexions drained pale.
Like a swarm of bees stung by smoke, they scattered back from the old man’s side.
Yes. That’s what you should do.
The Swordmaster who killed Kxias was in a foul mood—people ought to know to stay out of my way.
“Was it you?”
I asked, yet the old man only chuckled, his face utterly unruffled.
“At last, we et. I’m glad to see you like this.”
“You make it sound like you’ve been waiting.”
“I have. Pleased to et you. My na is Zahir, under the command of Lord Haarun, the Storm King.”
What?
The Storm King?
Zahir?
Murmurs spread through the tavern.
“Zahir of a Hundred Victories....”
“The strongest Expert....”
“Ah! That scar on his face! How did I not recognize him?”
“Wow....”
Zahir of a Hundred Victories.
I knew him well.
He was a warrior whose fa resounded across Norberju, in Roberland’s northwestern reaches.
A Peak Expert, yet one who fought duels against one hundred other Peak Experts—and won one hundred tis. The strongest Expert.
Around here, there were even warriors who respected Zahir more than a Swordmaster.
This was... unsettling.
So Haarun had sent Zahir to ....
But that aside—
“So then.”
I fixed my eyes on Zahir’s.
“You, the so-called strongest Expert.”
Could he see the blue flas flickering in my pupils right now?
“Why did you hit my people?”
Zahir of a Hundred Victories or not.
This wasn’t sothing I could just let pass.
“Hoho, forgive . Even at this age, I still can’t quite ta my hot blood... Lord Haarun scolds about it all the ti. Hoho.”
He laughed?
My mood soured further, yet Zahir went on glibly.
“The truth is, I ca here today as Lord Haarun’s envoy.”
“Envoy?”
“Lord Haarun holds Lord Ransen in very high regard. He asked to et you on a good day, to speak candidly and see if we might join forces.”
Wait.
So what he ant by joining forces was....
“You’re telling to beco the Storm King’s vassal?”
“Vassal, lord, master—what importance do such titles hold? What matters is that heroes et, exchange intentions, and weigh each other’s asure.”
So that’s what he ant.
Weigh each other’s asure—naturally assuming mine would co up smaller, so I’d beco the vassal. That’s what he was thinking.
So I just asked outright.
“If I beco his vassal, what’s in it for ?”
The answer ca without hesitation.
“Lord Haarun can take charge of excavating and selling the ruins for you.”
“Take charge?”
“Yes. With Lord Haarun’s connections and trade routes, you could gain far greater profit much faster.”
“And?”
“And then you would receive thirty percent of those profits. Without lifting a finger, you would amass great wealth. Surely that benefits both sides?”
...?
So basically, he coveted my Glowingsteel ruins, wanted to take them for himself, and give just thirty percent of the proceeds?
‘Good heavens....’
It was appalling.
Even if Roberland was a lawless continent, how could he make such a brazen proposal?
“And you call that good for ?”
Even at my blunt question, Zahir didn’t so much as blink.
“Of course. Under Lord Haarun’s protection, Kushan City would connect actively with the great market of Ailun, flourishing even more. And despite these benefits, Lord Haarun would not take a single coin in taxes.”
No taxes?
That was so slippery wordplay.
“Do you even know how much the ruins yield right now? More than one and a half tis the city’s entire tax revenue. If you take seventy percent of that, isn’t that already a massive tax?”
His reply was laughable.
“Of course it’s good. Under Lord Haarun’s protection, Lord Ransen, you will have your right to rule Kushan City guaranteed.”
!!!
Warriors who had been pretending not to listen, holding their breath in the back, erupted into a stir.
Katrina, watching from behind, even drew up her aura and strode forward.
“Hey... old man.”
She had tagged along, insisting she would take revenge for Rivera and Varen herself, and now she couldn’t hide her fury.
I held out a hand to stop her.
This was an answer I had to give personally.
Guarantee my rule?
So basically, “Do as you’re told or we’ll kill you,” right?
Well.
Fine.
Nothing had changed.
From the mont I ca here, I only had one answer prepared.
“Zahir.”
“Yes, Lord Ransen.”
“This is my answer.”
Baaaak!
Like lightning, my sword hilt struck Zahir square in the right eye.
Whoosh—crash, thud, bang!
Launched into the air, Zahir smashed through several tables and crumpled to the ground.
He rolled noisily, then lay sprawled, unconscious, not moving an inch.
His left eye was red and swollen already.
Hmm, at this rate it’d puff up thick, and that bruise would last at least a month.
Ah, finally, that felt satisfying.
“Toss him outside the city gates and scatter salt on him. He’s banned for life.”
“Ah... I was going to do that myself.”
Grumbling, Katrina hoisted Zahir over her shoulder and headed toward the gate.
Why was she doing it herself instead of ordering the soldiers? Planning to rough him up on the way?
“D-did you see that just now?”
“Even for a Swordmaster, to drop Zahir of a Hundred Victories in a single blow....”
“That’s not the point. He used the sword hilt. That was a show of force, aning he could’ve just taken his head off instead....”
The warriors whispered in shock.
But for , it was only natural.
Strongest Expert or not, no one could block a sudden, unprepared strike.
That was the Stage of Sword Support.
“Let’s head back. We need to et.”
In any case, now I was sure of it.
The Storm King’s aim wasn’t only Kashu City.
He was after Kushan City as well.
One way or another—
I needed to hurry the plan.
* * *
The military tent of Haarun, the Storm King.
In the middle of the firelit camp, soldiers keeping strict watch all around, loud laughter burst forth.
“Puhaha! Zahir, so you were thrown out like that? With your eye all swollen black?”
“...Please don’t laugh.”
Haarun, the Storm King, clutched his belly, laughing, while Zahir hid his bruised eye in embarrassnt.
“Still, that’s sothing. What, you couldn’t even dodge?”
“Dodge? I don’t even rember. We were talking—and when I opened my eyes, I was outside the gates. And to top it off, soone had scribbled on my face.... Hoo....”
“Wow. That Ransen kid—impressive, huh? Honestly, I thought you could kill a half-baked Swordmaster without breaking a sweat.”
“...He seems far beyond that level.”
“Looks that way. Hya~ And he’s got quite the temper, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. Even after hearing the offer, he showed no hesitation whatsoever.”
“A wild one. A beast. Right, there are always those types. No matter how much sincerity I show, they refuse to open their hearts.”
Haarun muttered as he sipped the wine set beside him.
“Such people only open their hearts after they’ve heard the sound of hooves.”
Da-gadak, da-gadak!
Right then, the sound of cavalry hooves filtered in through the tent walls.
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