Chapter – 115
Contrary to expectations, the feared event did not occur.
The barbarians’ digging stopped just before they exposed the entrance to the laboratory.
Because of that, the scouts — who had braced themselves for death — felt the tension drain away and nearly slumped in relief.
“What are they doing?”
Carlyle frowned as he watched the barbarians’ actions reflected in the magic mirror.
“Ah.”
Kudo nodded as if this was something he understood.
“It looks like they’re performing some kind of ritual.”
“A ritual…?”
“Look.”
Kudo pointed to the old barbarian shaman visible in the magic mirror.
In the mirror, Erolga — the matriarch of the Predators tribe — was wearing the typical garb of a barbarian shaman and performing some kind of rite.
“It seems they’re trying to overcome the situation through a shamanistic ritual.”
“I see.”
Only then did Carlyle recall the barbarians’ cultural traits and grasp what was happening.
The barbarians were unexpectedly religious; they tended to rely heavily on their tribe’s shamans.
“So they determined that the warriors falling ill was caused by some supernatural phenomenon?”
“Probably.”
“Ha.”
Carlyle snorted.
If the barbarians had discovered the lab entrance, it would’ve been like a farmer stumbling on a rat while backing out of a barn — pure luck.
“But they’re not entirely charlatans. They’ve almost pinpointed where we’re hiding.”
“Not by luck?”
“Don’t underestimate barbarian shamans. They can’t cast the wide-area spells that continental mages use to wipe out foes at once, but they can be surprisingly potent at times.”
“Hmm.”
“Just in case, it’s best we stay quiet and watch.”
“Right. There’s nothing we can do anyway.”
Carlyle and his group held their breath and watched the barbarians through the magic mirror, tension coiled.
Fortunately for Carlyle’s group, nothing dangerous happened to them.
“What’s that?”
Carlyle frowned as he peered into the mirror.
The barbarians butchered three of their own warriors — treating them like livestock — and shoved the bodies into the pit they had just dug.
Then the shaman muttered something and performed the ritual.
“What on earth are they doing?”
Carlyle’s voice was full of disgust.
“Human sacrifice.”
“Human sacrifice…?”
Carlyle’s face twisted in incomprehension.
“Yes — offering people as sacrifices…”
“I know what it means, but they’re on our side.”
Carlyle turned his head away from the mirror — he couldn’t bear to watch. Even gruesome scenes in battle were hard to stomach, but seeing people slaughtered and dismembered like cattle was unbearable.
“Some tribes are like that.”
“What tribe is that?”
“They consider weak or incapable warriors as offerings to their ancestors.”
“That’s supposed to be their custom?”
Kudo described the barbarians’ actions with a blunt word.
A custom.
If sacrificing your own people, members of the same tribe, is not a heinous act, then what is?
“Crazy bastards.”
Carlyle shook his head and went to his room.
“I’ll rest — seems like nothing’s going to happen.”
He had no intention of watching the barbarian atrocity any longer and closed the door to his chamber.
It was the sensible choice. Watching those hideous sights any longer would have been bad for one’s mental health.
After finishing the ritual, Erolga spoke to the chieftain, Asnatal.
“Now that the ritual is done, the grievances of the spirits should be eased somewhat. Boil this herb and give the water to our warriors to drink.”
Erolga showed Asnatal a strangely shaped herb.
“You mean if our warriors drink water boiled with this herb, they’ll overcome the high fever and stomach pain?”
“Indeed.”
“Asnatal bowed deeply. “Wise matriarch, thank you so much.”
“This is a small gift I prepared. Please accept it. A token of my modest sincerity.”
Asnatal handed a sack full of gold coins to Erolga.
“How thoughtful,” Erolga said with a pleased smile.
“But why so many? This is too much.”
“Compared to your devotion to our tribe, it’s nothing. Please accept it.”
“If you insist, I will gratefully accept it.”
“When can our warriors recover?”
“Asnatal asked.
“If they drink the herb decoction and rest well for a day or two, they should regain their former strength.”
“As expected of the matriarch!”
Asnatal beamed and repeatedly bowed to Erolga.
“What are you waiting for! Order the warriors to harvest the herbs the matriarch taught us — now!”
“Right, chief!”
The Predators’ warriors left their camp at once to gather the herbs as ordered.
Meanwhile, Begman watched the Butcher tribe’s movements through the magic mirror.
“Hmm. Their behavior is suspicious.”
“Something wrong?”
“They brought a bunch of weed-like plants in sacks.”
Begman answered Kudo’s question.
“I wonder what they intend to do with those plants.”
“I’ll take a look.”
Marder used his sight link with Hugin to inspect the Predators’ camp in more detail and reported back.
“They’re boiling the plants and sharing the tea.”
“Boiling plants and drinking the brew?”
“Maybe it’s an herb?”
“If they recover, it’ll be bad for us.”
Begman’s face tightened.
“We need to speed up the attack. We can’t give them time to recover.”
Kudo urged urgently.
“That’s right. Attack quickly. Marder.”
“Yes, captain.”
Begman looked at Marder.
“Send a message to Sir Helen at once. Tell her time is short — they must attack within two days at most.”
“Understood.”
Marder summoned Hugin and tied a note to his leg, sending it to Helen.
“Let’s hope the reinforcements arrive in time.”
Carlyle, passing by, overheard the scouts and added a comment.
“Yes, we need the reinforcements to arrive on time. That’s the only way we can get out of here easily.”
“Let’s wait. Surely a higher unit won’t miss such a chance.”
“Pah. That’s because you haven’t spent enough time in the military,” Begman scoffed.
“What do you mean?”
“You think the military is a logical, rational organization?”
“Well… no.”
“Neither is war. It doesn’t go the way you think.”
“Are you worried?”
“Not particularly. I’m just saying you can’t assume things won’t go wrong.”
“Hmm.”
“If you’ve made a plan, execute it. If things go wrong, you’ll deal with it then.”
Carlyle nodded in agreement with Begman.
A few hours later.
“The reinforcements are coming!”
Marder shouted after reading the note.
“Finally!”
The near-dead scouts grinned broadly.
The lab’s interior had become filled with foul stench and methane gas was slowly accumulating — they could no longer hold out.
“When will they arrive?”
“Dawn tomorrow.”
“That’s perfect. We just need to hold on one more day.”
Carlyle looked as if he could finally breathe.
“Hey, Corporal Marder.”
“Mm?”
“Can I borrow that fellow?”
“You mean this one?”
Marder pointed to Hugin perched on his shoulder.
“Going to send a note?”
“Yes.”
“Go right ahead.”
Marder readily let Carlyle use Hugin without a second thought.
“Who are you sending it to?”
“A personal letter — nothing to worry about.”
“You’re not writing a love letter in this situation, are you?”
Begman eyed him suspiciously, but Carlyle ignored it and wrote the note.
“You can find the place, right?”
“Coo!”
“Good, be careful.”
With a flutter, Hugin flew out of the lab with Carlyle’s note tied to his leg.
“If we can hold on one more day…”
“We will,” Kudo said.
“Shall we do something else?”
“Like what?”
“Before our allies arrive, we could quietly take out the enemy’s main commanders. Even barbarians would flounder without leaders.”
“…!”
The scouts’ eyes lit up at Carlyle’s suggestion.
Assassinating key enemy commanders before the allied assault? Easier said than done. Barbarians weren’t foolish and would prepare for assassination attempts.
Still, if they succeeded, the effect would be clear.
Dangerous, yes, but…
“Probably possible.”
Kudo agreed with Carlyle.
“The hardest part of an assassination is infiltration. But we’ve already…”
“We’ve already infiltrated.”
Begman finished Kudo’s sentence.
“So the hardest part is solved — it might be worth a shot?”
“Yes, captain.”
“Hmm.”
Begman considered for a moment.
Even if they were already inside, assassination was no trivial task. There were professional assassins for a reason.
“Fine. Let’s do it. We’re scouts, after all — we can’t just sit idle until the allies arrive. We’ve enjoyed plenty of easy pickings; it’s time to earn our keep.”
When Begman decided, the scouts who had been half-dead perked up.
They were desperate for fresh air and movement after being trapped in the lab, so this plan came as welcome news.
“All right, everyone, gather round.”
“Yes, captain.”
The scouts closed in around Begman.
That night, after midnight, Carlyle and his group slipped out of the lab.
The new recruits Adrian and Second Lieutenant Melvin remained inside.
The scouts weren’t foolish enough to send inexperienced men on an assassination — not even for a small mission. Antiros the mage’s creation, Beatrice, also stayed behind. They couldn’t order the naive girl to kill someone.
“Move quietly. Don’t push yourselves. If you think you’ll be discovered, do nothing. Understood?”
“Yes, captain.”
“Let’s meet alive.”
With Begman’s warning, Carlyle’s team dispersed and moved toward their respective targets.
‘Quite the day for killing people.’
Carlyle thought as he walked.
There was no moon, fog hung heavy, and a fine rain fell.
On a night like this, even the most vigilant sentries would find it hard to detect infiltration. For attackers, there could be no better conditions.
