Chapter 109

Chapter 109

'Smileless' Orgnal was a warrior rich in combat experience. He had been taking assassination inquiries ever since the war ended, which allowed him to maintain his sense of killing.

The instinct for murder was crucial for a warrior. No matter how much one sharpened their skills through spars and training sessions, without the experience of real killing, they could never become a true warrior. To be a real warrior, one had to be able to ruthlessly take the life of their opponent. Hesitation was something that could be felt in the sword of a warrior unaccustomed to killing.

'I am the one to fear in Yabhorn.'

Everyone in Yabhorn feared Orgnal. They shrank away in his presence.

Even the Imperial soldiers didn't dare provoke Orgnal. The northerners followed strong warriors, and provoking Orgnal could lead to a riot. In the days of clan society, Orgnal would have been a war leader or a tribal chief.

The tide of the times was cruel. The north was no longer a world of warriors. The strength of a warrior alone could not grasp everything. Warriors who would have been glorified in the past were now mere street thugs.

"Keeeuf!"

Orgnal took a deep breath, waking his mind. His reminiscing of the past ceased in an instant.

"You there?"

Urich shook Orgnal's collar. Orgnal's face was swollen and puffy.

'What happened?'

Orgnal's memory was fuzzy from being struck in the head. He couldn't even recall what had just happened.

'My men...'

Orgnal's followers lay sprawled on the ground. Some had their limbs severed.

"Smileless Orgnal? So, you really don’t smile, huh? But look, you're smiling so pretty right now."

Urich grabbed the corners of Orgnal's mouth and pushed them up and down. Orgnal felt his vision warping. Without a sense of direction, he was unable to stand properly.

‘Did he beat me?'

Bits of memory started coming back to him. He couldn't stand by as his cousin was being beaten by a foreigner. So, he challenged them to a fight.

'I was confident. We outnumbered them, and I didn’t think my skills were lacking compared to them.'

Orgnal had witnessed an unreal scene. Each swing of Urich’s arm sent one of his men flying.

‘I drew my sword.’

Only then did Orgnal look at his right hand. His fingers were all broken. He felt a searing pain.

The moment Orgnal drew his sword, Urich threw his axe, hitting Orgnal's hand. The back of the axe struck, not severing the hand, but breaking the fingers and making him drop the sword.

"Ughhh."

Orgnal grasped his shattered fingers. The bone fragments that were piercing through the skin were sharp and jagged.

Thump!

Urich struck down on Orgnal's face with the base of his fist. Orgnal screamed, clutching his face. The impact burst one of his eyeballs, making a squelching noise. His collapsed face was grotesquely distorted.

"Orgnal... lost...."

The tavern buzzed. Orgnal's gang was decimated in an instant with all of them suffering clearly serious injuries.

"Now, no one will interrupt me cutting off your hand."

Sven spat on the floor and raised his axe. The scammer screamed in terror.

"Wait! S-stooop! Ahhhhh!"

With a swift motion, Sven swung his axe. Like meat on a butcher's block, the scammer’s hand dropped to the floor.

"A-aaahhhh!"

The scammer rolled on the floor, screaming, clutching his severed wrist. Blood splattered in all directions.

The northerners watched the bloody scene with wide eyes. The thrill of slaughter they had forgotten was right there. Their hearts pounded and their blood boiled. They too had once lived on battlefields tangled with blood and iron. Urich and Sven possessed the warrior spirit they had lost.

"Sven, you should also cut off his tongue."

"There's no need to intervene in every fight that breaks out over a drink. Clean this up."

Gremor gestured to his soldiers. Urich and Sven were let off without any punishment.

'If I had been an unknown barbarian warrior, Gremor would have tried to arrest me. In fact, I wouldn't have even been allowed inside the city walls.'

Gremor harbored goodwill toward Urich, purely based on his reputation. Urich was a famous warrior, and Gremor wanted to befriend him.

"Let's go back together, Urich," Gremor said again as he yet again greeted Urich warmly.

"Who is that guy? Why is the guard commander being so nice to him and letting him off the hook?"

The soldiers following behind were muttering in confusion.

"I heard he was the winner of the last Hamel's Jousting Tournament?"

"Why is someone like that here? Normally they would be in the Order of Imperial Steel."

"Who knows."

The Hamel Jousting Tournament was well-known even among common soldiers. Its winner would be welcomed even in the Order of Imperial Steel.

"I didn’t think that tournament was going to come in handy in a place like this."

Urich shrugged his shoulders. His experience in the jousting tournament had become a significant asset for him. Many people knew his name, and their reactions were usually favorable.

Back at the mansion, Gremor prepared a banquet as he removed his armor. He generously offered good wine and salted meat.

"I was planning to deal with Orgnal soon myself, anyway. In a way, you've done my job for me."

Gremor was also unperturbed by the murder Urich had committed. It would have been an issue if an Imperial had died, but everyone injured or killed in this incident was a northerner.

The mood of the drink table warmed up. Gremor praised Urich's skills, elevating his mood. Urich, feeling good, kept drinking.

"By the way, just out of curiosity, is your destination Mulin?"

Gremor asked cautiously, thinking Urich was a northerner.

'Rumor has it that the Prince of Porcana, no, he’s the King now. Anyway, he is on friendly terms with him.'

Gremor had a reason for being overly kind to Urich. Although Urich was a barbarian, he was a jousting tournament champion and had connections with royalty. Establishing a connection here could be beneficial in the future.

"Sven, where were we heading again?"

Urich, responding to Gremor's question, tilted his head and asked Sven.

"Marldalen."

Sven answered briefly and got back to his drink. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the gathering with Gremor, but it was an undeniable truth that the commander's goodwill had made things easier, so he attended without a fuss.

"Ah! Marldalen! I’ve heard the timber from there is of excellent quality!"

Gremor pretended to know what he was talking about. However, the north's specialties really were timber and fur.

“And what about going to Mulin? Is there a reason we shouldn’t go there?” Sven asked sharply. Gremor hesitated before answering.

“Soon, there might be a military clash with Mulin. Mulin is still inhabited by northerners who haven’t submitted to the empire. Until recently, there had been no trouble between us and them, but lately, warriors from Mulin have started attacking trade caravans and raiding villages within the empire’s northern domains. The situation has worsened to the point where the northerners themselves are asking us to exterminate Mulin’s warriors.”

Sven’s eyes widened, but he soon nodded.

‘It’s not that surprising. We were always enemies with each other, after all.’

Before the empire’s invasion, the north was divided into various tribal alliances. Resources were always scarce in the north and raiding each other was a part of life. In this cycle, weaker tribes disappeared while stronger ones survived.

Ironically, the northerners started to develop a unified identity only after the Imperial invasion. Faced with a common formidable enemy, the northerners began to unite. But before a unified north could fully form, they were defeated by the empire.

“We’re not heading to Mulin,” Sven declared.

“That’s a relief. There are caravans passing through Yabhorn heading to Marldalen. If you want, I can connect you with them. Traveling with a caravan could be more convenient for many reasons. The northern winter is harsh, especially for travelers.”

Gremor offered kindly. Sven, despite his dislike for the imperial invaders, did not show hostility toward the amiable Gremor.

‘But to think that Mulin’s warriors are attacking fellow northerners.’

Sven bitterly smiled. The taste of the wine turned even more bitter. Mulin had long been a sacred place for northerners. Even the warring northerners behaved themselves in Mulin. It was, after all, the resting place of Ulgaro.

It had been five years since Sven left his homeland. Not an extremely long time, but much had changed. Now, it was an era of chaos, a mixture of barbarism and civilization. It was overwhelming for those resistant to change.