Barbarian Quest

The Alliance Army quietly remained stationed in Hamel. As time went by, the citizens of Hamel naturally returned to their normal lives.

Urich retained the bureaucrats of Hamel and even used the emperor’s private funds to aid in the city's reconstruction.

‘Who would have thought the one who destroyed our city would work to rebuild it?’

The bureaucrats of Hamel, protected by Urich himself, played along with his contradictory actions regardless of how puzzled they were and used their well-developed system to help Hamel remain functional despite having its ruler changed overnight.

“We’ve captured anyone with the snake tattoo, Great Chief,” the chief of the Karkar Tribe reported to Urich. The Karkar Tribe, known for its strong warrior spirit, had always maintained a good relationship with the outstanding warrior Urich and had always supported him, even now when he was crippled.

The remnant Serpentines disturbed the city's order. They were no different than a criminal organization that took advantage of the city’s chaos. Urich deployed warriors to root them out.

‘This is what Trikee would have wanted.’

Urich, leaning back in his chair, nodded slightly.

Serpentism had deviated far from Trikee’s ideals and had seemingly regressed into barbarism. The lower class, filled with hatred and anger, justified their violence under the name of Serpentism. Urich did not tolerate such behavior.

The chief of Karkar tossed a leather flask of milk wine. Urich caught it and gulped it down.

“Of course! It’s the place we swept clean.”

Urich chugged the milk wine and tossed the empty flask aside.

“I want to settle there. Even in the west, our tribe is located on the outskirts. Unlike the tribes near the Sky Mountains with abundant forests and game, we will find no rest even if we return home.”

Marganu was the agricultural heart of the empire. Despite the devastation brought by the Alliance Army, many nobles coveted the land that remained fertile and was sure to flourish again in a few years.

Although Marganu was about to become a center of conflict, a group backed by the Alliance settling there would deter invasions for years as civilized people feared the Alliance. If the Alliance were to move once again, they would have no problem reducing a few kingdoms to rubbles.

Urich pondered, stroking his chin and pulling at his rough beard, before nodding.

“But can the Karkar Tribe alone control Marganu?” He asked the chief of Karkar.

“There are three or four other tribes that share our intentions,” the chief replied.

“I’m impressed you all managed to come up with such a great plan without me knowing.”

There was a hint of sarcasm in Urich’s words. Even the Karkar Tribe, close to Urich, had acted without his knowledge.

“Let’s be honest, I know you don’t care much about what we do, Great Chief.”

Urich burst into laughter at the chief’s words.

The Karkar chief, being quite close with Urich, was also the first to notice his indifference.

“I sincerely hope your settlement succeeds. If there’s anything you need, I will support you no matter what.”

“Those words are enough. What we needed most was the Great Chief’s blessing.”

The chief of the Karkar Tribe raised his fist in farewell. Urich watched him leave.

The Karkar Tribe, along with several small to medium-sized tribes, left the Alliance and headed for Marganu. Some civilized mercenaries also joined them, dreaming of settling there.

Following the Karkar, more tribes aimed to settle in the civilized world. The fertile lands of civilization where anything and everything grew with ease was worth abandoning their barren homelands for.

The Alliance Army slowly fragmented as each tribe claimed fertile lands that once belonged to the empire, but the Great Chief Urich did not hinder this trend.

Though the western tribes scattered to various lands, their tacit alliance remained. Even as time passed, their sons and grandsons would remember their blood ties.

‘…If enough time passes, who knows? Perhaps we too will crumble to dust before time.’

Urich smiled as he approved the settlement of yet another tribe, knowing that it would be difficult for the settled tribes to maintain their traditions.

Urich had crossed into the civilized world at a young age and had adopted values different from his brothers. In this new age, children of the west would be born in the civilized world and grow up unaware of the barren lands of the home of their ancestors. They would understand their roots only through the stories of their fathers and grandfathers.

‘They’ll likely become more familiar with shovels and hoes rather than axes and swords.’

It was his genuine hope. He wished they would value what they earned through sweat more than what they seized through bloodshed.

‘May they gain enough to share with others in this land…’

Warriors always took from others, but farmers could share what they had.

However, it was impossible to impose a farmer’s way on men who had grown up as warriors. A warrior could only die as a warrior, just as Sven of the north did. That was the right way for them.

One day, Belrua came to see Urich.

“Urich, I’m going back home,” she said.

“You stayed longer than I thought you would,” he replied as if he already knew this day was coming.

Urich looked down at Belrua from the emperor’s throne. They once stood shoulder to shoulder, but now there was a gap between them as wide as the distance they had fallen apart.

“There was much to see here.”

Belrua shrugged and smiled, and Urich smiled back.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

“I got enough.”

She had acquired the Imperial Smithy. The blacksmiths of the empire had no choice but to teach Belrua their skills, though some stubborn ones had bathed in boiling oil.

“So are we going to see some steel come out of the west?”

“It won’t be as good as the ones here, but still better than before, I suppose.”

The secret of imperial steel lay in Hamel’s high-quality iron and the effort of its skilled blacksmiths. They melted the iron in mechanical furnaces operated with watermills, and the craftsmen repeatedly hammered the heated iron countless times in order to forge it. To create a single sword, the smiths worked day and night, slowly cooling and hammering the blade. The more they waited and hammered, the tougher and more resilient the iron became.

Even if they were to implement the same process in the west, the facilities and quality of iron in the west couldn’t produce steel like the empire’s. However, learning advanced metallurgy was a significant leap forward regardless.

“You’re not settling here like the other tribes. I guess the Red Sand Tribe doesn’t need to move since they were well-positioned to begin with,” Urich said.

“What about you? You seem to be staying here endlessly,” Belrua asked in return.

“I’ll move when the time is right.”

“You’re like an old goat now. Not resting but staggering as you wait to die.”

“If I stagger, wouldn’t it be good for you?”

“…You’re still young, Great Chief Urich. Don’t act like you’ve got nothing to live for.”

Belrua felt sorry for Urich. Was it because he had achieved his goal? Or was it the frustration of becoming crippled? Urich lacked the energy he once had and showed no desire to move forward.

‘No matter what anyone says, Urich was a shining warrior. It was as if his entire body was screaming that he was alive.’

Belrua thought she might never see Urich again.

“Belrua, take this before you go.”

Urich pulled out the meteorite dagger. It was a treasure he had received from Belrua.

“I gave it to you as the Great Chief. I have no reason to take it back.”

“I’m not giving it to you. It’s a gift for Samikan’s son. There, is that acceptable?”

“I’m sure he’ll love receiving a gift from his father’s enemy.”

“Tell him to come find me with this when he’s ready to kill me. That way, it’ll be easier for me to recognize him.”

Belrua hesitated before putting the meteorite dagger into her pocket. With that, she too led her people back to the west.

The number of Alliance troops staying in Hamel was now just over five thousand. For now, a summon from the Great Chief would gather a large army, but over time, the cohesion of the Alliance would weaken.

Settled tribes would seek friendship with nearby tribes or lords of civilization, and Urich’s influence would not easily reach those who had returned home.

Hume observed Urich closely, thinking that he could not understand him at all.

‘If he were someone who coveted power, he would be wary of his forces dispersing like this.’

But Urich did not try to hold onto his power. He merely watched as his group scattered and became the seeds of the future. Even though he had the power to shake the civilized world again, he did not wield it.

Half a year had passed since the Alliance occupied Hamel. The civilized kingdoms had begun to wage war, fighting among themselves for land while leaving the Alliance untouched. The Northern Kingdom, which had just successfully established itself as an independent kingdom, was too busy consolidating its interior to worry about the wars happening in the south.

The Alliance that was once united around Great Chief Urich slowly diminished. Some groups disliked this change in the Alliance, and the voices of the warriors gradually grew louder.

“If I were the Great Chief, I would start a war immediately.”

“How much longer do we have to stay here?”

The warriors wanted to see blood. They were pure warriors who had neither settled nor returned home. Those who worshipped Urich like a god were the ones who grew more and more dissatisfied with the peace.

Discontent began to sprout. Even the myth-like achievements of Urich started to fade.

When Urich had just conquered Hamel, he was like a god to the warriors. Many would have jumped into flames at his command. If Urich had continued his conquests and achieved repeated victories, he might have truly become a god.

The Beast of the Apocalypse who had burned down the civilized world and reverted it to an age of barbarism—a terrifying god of disaster.

But that wasn’t what Urich wanted for himself. He stopped at being human.

On a fine day, Urich called for Gottval, who was one of the few people Urich could still talk to.

“Ah, there you are, Gottval. How’s the proselytization work going? Good?”

Urich was enjoying a picnic in the garden with women by his side who giggled, tickling his chest. Gottval was used to such scenes.

“The person I most want to convert is sitting right in front of me.”

“Isn’t it about time you gave up?”

Gottval sat in front of Urich. Urich had the women flirt with Gottval, but he remained unaffected, continuing his conversation with Urich.

“Priests have been placed beside the chiefs who settled in other lands. In exchange for reading letters and helping with internal affairs, they were granted permission to proselytize. Actually, some of the chiefs have already converted.”

Solarism quickly infiltrated the Alliance. Even warriors with military power had to adapt to the culture of the civilized world to survive, and the easiest way to assimilate into a new culture was conversion.

‘Conversion is the easiest way to gain recognition from the civilized people, just as I did.’

There was a time when Urich also claimed to be a follower of Solarism. For a foreign stranger like Urich, becoming a Solarist was a way to secure his status.

“How long will you stay by my side?” Urich asked Gottval.

“Until you find peace.”

The women laughed, covering their mouths at Gottval’s words.

“That sounds like a love confession, Father.”

Gottval only smiled at the women’s teasing.

“Quiet, women. Use your hands to peel grapes instead of running your mouths,” Urich said, opening his mouth.

The women found even his harsh words endearing. They liked Urich to an unusual degree, more than just loyalty to a powerful man.

‘I can’t really tell why, but Urich seems to have a charm that captivates women,’ Gottval thought as he watched Urich and the women.

After devouring a bunch of grapes, Urich leaned close to Gottval.

“I have a favor to ask, Gottval. You’re the only one I can trust with this.”

“If it’s something I can do, I will.”

“You know I have a kid, right?”

“A kid? You sure about that?” Gottval said with a rare hint of sarcasm.

“Well, the only one I acknowledge, anyway. No matter how many kids I have, I’m not a good father. I really am a terrible man.”

“King Varca would raise him well.”

“Probably. Although kids don’t grow up exactly as their parents wish… Anyway, Pahe… I mean Varca, is a king. He has tons of other responsibilities besides raising a child.”

“Indeed. King Varca is a man with big goals and will do many things in the future.”

“There’s nothing I can do as a father for my son. So, I want to at least give him the best teacher I know,” Urich said, then fell silent.

“Are you asking me to be that child’s teacher?”

“You’re asking even though you know exactly what I mean. Is that a rejection?”

Urich stared intently at Gottval, knowing how hard it was to find someone as learned and virtuous as him.

“It’s not that, but…”

“I can trust you with this. Varca will also be pleased if you become his teacher.”

“I will teach the child to be a devout Solarist.”

“If he grows up in the civilized world, that’s inevitable.”

“It’s a difficult request to refuse….”

As soon as Gottval agreed, Urich’s expression brightened.

“Thank you, you really are the best! I’ll have the letter sent right away!”

An excited Urich called for Hume, who took Urich’s dictation and wrote the letter.

Not long after receiving Urich’s letter, Gottval left Hamel. One by one, people around Urich began to leave.

‘Urich is acting strange.’

Hume, who had served Urich for half a year, felt uneasy. Looking around Urich, there were hardly any close associates left around him. His actions seemed like those of a man preparing for death.

‘And yet, I’m still here with him,’ he thought.

If a man like Urich were to die, there was no way his associates would be safe. The repercussions would be immense.

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