Barbarian Quest

Chapter 299

Gottval took out a piece of paper and wrote something on it.

“Urich.”

As his lips moved, so did the letters. The words on the paper spelled out Urich's name.

‘Are you really dead? If so, at least appear before me as a ghost.’

Gottval knelt before the makeshift altar with the sun emblem.

“Lou, if Urich’s soul is wandering, please take pity and take it in your embrace.”

The proper funeral rite of Solarism would be to find the body and cremate it, but since Urich's body could not be recovered, Gottval wrote his name on paper as a simple tribute.

“Father, justice has been served. The civilized have won, and the barbarians have been defeated.”

“Basha, justice is not such a shallow thing.”

“They invaded and burned our land! If they are not evil, then who is? Barbarians are not children of Lou like us; they are beasts!”

Teaching someone was always a difficult task. Prejudices built from experience were hard to break. Basha had lost everything to barbarians, so how could she possibly view them positively?

Gottval looked at Basha, knowing the contradiction and difficulty.

“If we define invasion as evil, then the empire itself is the source of all evil. The empire was the one who attacked the west first, so strictly speaking, the Alliance is simply continuing a defensive war. Urich did not come here to conquer. He came to ensure the safety of his homeland.”

Basha hesitated, speechless. A mere farmer’s daughter had no way of knowing the intricacy of the war, hence her belief that the barbarian invasion was the start of it all.

“...Then who should my hatred be directed at? Are you saying they did nothing wrong? Are you saying the beasts that killed and raped our people have no sin?”

“That too is a sin. But we, as civilized people, are more mature and advanced than them. Just as an adult does not respond to a child’s outburst with equal anger, we must help those ignorant ones realize their wrongs.”

“That is nonsense! Even if everyone is killed, will you still say that? Barbarians do not deserve to be by Lou’s side!” Basha shouted and tried to snatch the paper from Gottval’s hand.

“Basha! Urich is someone worthy of respect! I saved him at the cost of my arm, but I would have done so even at the cost of my life.”

“That damn barbarian!” Basha yelled in frustration.

The commotion caused the sun emblem to fall to the ground in the struggle between the two.

“Forgiveness is difficult while hatred is easy.”

“If you forgive and embrace the barbarians, then I will reject you! I have heard Lou’s voice!”

“That is your problem, Basha! Do not justify your hatred in Lou’s name!”

Basha's eyes trembled. She grabbed the dagger from Gottval’s waist and drew it.

“Corrupt priest...”

Gottval, missing an arm, struggled to fend off Basha’s attack whose eyes gleamed emptily.

Creeeak.

Basha pushed Gottval’s arm upward, locking eyes with him.

“You too have been corrupted by the barbarians and cannot see Lou’s true will...”

The blade aimed for Gottval’s neck. He barely held Basha back with one arm.

“Basha... Is this truly your choice?”

“Go ask Lou when you die. He will tell you who was right.”

Basha, having gone through several hardships, was stronger than an average woman. Gottval, who had a build slenderer than most and left with only one arm, struggled.

Flap!

The tent flap burst open. Varca, who had come to pray, was shocked to see Gottval and Basha struggling and rushed in.

“What is the meaning of this!”

Varca kicked Basha in the side. She rolled and crashed into the corner of the tent.

Schring!

Varca skillfully drew his sword and placed it against Basha’s throat.

“You’re the king of heretics consorting with barbarians. I bet you snuck into bed with them every night, am I wrong?”

Basha grabbed the blade with her hand and cackled.

“You’ve finally gone mad! Are you really trying to kill Brother Gottval, who took care of you?!”

Varca, not knowing the full story, did not hesitate to blame Basha first with his absolute trust in Gottval along with the fact that Basha had been at the forefront of the Imperial Army.

Varca raised his sword high, ready to cut off Basha’s head in one swift move. The King of Porcana was not a little boy who hesitated to kill.

“Please spare Basha, Your Highness.”

Gottval, having composed himself, intervened.

‘If we retaliate against Basha for attacking me, it would be like condoning her revenge.’

To teach someone, you had to set an example. Gottval strode forward and grabbed Basha by the shoulder.

“Basha, Urich is the leader of barbarians who plunder civilized people and violate women.”

“...So you do know that,” Basha sneered.

“But that Urich also sometimes feels pity for a girl hiding in a wooden barrel and shows mercy. That alone doesn’t erase all his misdeeds, but at least you are alive because of it.”

Basha’s shoulder trembled. She gripped Gottval’s wrist tightly.

“W-what do you mean by that? What are you trying to say?”

“Why do you think Urich, a barbarian who ruthlessly kills children and women, spared you on the battlefield and even showed you the kindness of treating you so generously?”

“Bullshit! Stop it! Enough!”

Gottval continued to hold Basha and speak.

“Urich remembered you. He pitied the girl trembling in that barrel. In that moment, he must have seen you not through the violent eyes of a warrior, but through Lou’s.”

Varca stood with his sword ready, wary that Basha might rebel.

“Do you think I’d believe such nonsense? It makes no sense that the barbarian who saved me is Urich...”

Basha’s words trailed off. Her heart pounded.

“That’s how we know it was Lou’s will and a miracle, Basha. We humans cannot hear His voice while we’re alive. We can only vaguely glimpse His intentions through the events that happen to us.”

“Shut up. Please, stop...”

Basha clutched her head as if she would tear out her hair, curling up.

‘Basha looks like she is about to break.’

Gottval had waited until Basha was ready to accept the truth, but he couldn’t just watch her sink deeper into the swamp of hatred.

‘Urich.’

Gottval left Basha alone for a moment and tried to burn the paper he had written Urich’s name on in the candle flame.

“Your Highness!”

A man’s voice boomed from outside.

‘Did the Imperial Army launch a counterattack or something?’

Varca also rushed outside. A knight who received the messenger’s report pointed toward the Alliance camp.

“T-they’re saying that Urich is alive! The barbarians have launched a full-scale attack against Hamel!”

The swift-footed barbarians were already running toward the gates of Hamel.

“What is this about Urich being alive?”

Gottval followed Varca out and looked toward Hamel, but the news of Urich’s survival was still uncertain information.

“Your Highness, are we joining the barbarians?”

The knight awaited Varca’s response.

“Prepare for battle. We will also join the fight once the gate breakthrough is confirmed.”

Varca did not rush out immediately. He was a king, and he had to prioritize the safety of his nation and soldiers over Urich. If the gate couldn’t be opened, charging it would be a suicide whether they had thousands or tens of thousands doing so.

‘Please be alive, Urich.’

A man on the throne must separate emotion from judgment. Varca learned how to make a king’s decision through experience and learned that the path the heart takes isn’t always the correct one.

* * *

It didn’t take Urich much time to break through the city gates. He and his warriors rushed the ten or so soldiers below the gates before they could brace for the clash.

Urich, wielding an axe, charged into the soldiers. It was as if he was certain that the enemy’s spears and swords wouldn’t touch him.

“Ah, aaaaah!”

As the hulking barbarian charged, the soldiers screamed with none of them able to keep their composure as they frantically thrusted their spears. In their panic, they were decapitated by Urich’s sword.

“Uuuuuurich!”

The warriors followed, shouting Urich’s name. Despite his position as Great Chief, Urich always led from the front. He proved that the Great Chief of the Alliance was the warrior of warriors not with words but with steel.

“Georg, go!”

Urich grabbed a relay horse and called for Georg. Georg staggered but managed to mount the horse.

“Live, Urich.”

“You can’t say that. You’re the one who needs to save me.”

Urich slapped the horse’s behind with his blood-stained hand.

Georg bowed his head and spurred the horse. He leaped over the moat even before the drawbridge was fully lowered.

“Get to the top of the walls! They’re targeting Georg!”

Urich, without taking a moment of rest, climbed the wall. The sentinels who were shooting their crossbows at Georg panicked when they saw Urich.

Urich grabbed a soldier by the head and hurled him over the wall. The soldier flailed in the moat below.

“Don’t let him escape! Shoot him down!”

Not all the knights had left their posts. The knight commanding the wall shouted as he saw Georg.

Thwip!

The arrow barely managed to reach Georg. A moment later, he would have been out of range.

“Good, now, just one more shot... ah, aaah

The soldier firing the crossbow screamed as he sensed someone behind him. Urich had torn through the soldiers on the wall. With every step he took, wounded soldiers fell to either side of the wall.

“You must be the famous Urich! I shall face you!”

A knight blocked Urich’s path as he rampaged through. The wall was too narrow to pass without killing the opponent.

“I am the eldest son of the Bastal House... Ack! D-do you not even have a bit of h-honor...!”

The knight couldn’t finish his sentence. Urich’s sword pierced his neck.

“Yeah, yeah, have fun dying your honorable death.”

Urich swung his sword sideways, causing the knight to spew blood as he fell off the wall.

‘Georg.’

Urich looked at Georg, who had been knocked off his horse by an arrow.

“Georg! Get uuuuuuup!”

Urich shouted while his hands continued the slaughter. The warriors following him guarded his sides, assisting him.

Urich’s voice echoed loudly, seemingly reaching Georg who twitched.

Georg awkwardly stood up. His shoulder felt like it was burning, but he pushed forward. He was propelled by Urich’s roar and advanced in unstable, yet certain steps.

“Did you shoot that arrow at Georg?”

Urich approached a soldier holding a crossbow as he left a path littered with corpses behind him, leaving no place to step.

“U-uuuuuh.”

The soldier threw down the crossbow and jumped into the moat.

‘I have to live. That man in the infamous Urich.’

The soldier splashed in the moat, lifting his face above the water, but his relief was short-lived as his face turned pale upon realizing what was waiting for him to look up.

“Hey, if you threw away a weapon as valuable as your life, you should die.”

Urich aimed the abandoned crossbow downward and shot the soldier.

Thwack.

The soldier, hit in the head, sank to the bottom of the moat. Urich grabbed both sides of the crossbow and casually snapped it in half.

“Urich, there are torches coming this way.”

The gate was secured, but the real battle was just beginning.

Urich and his warriors had to defend the gate against the numerous incoming Imperial soldiers.

“How many of us do we have left?”

“Twenty-two,” a warrior answered.

... And when Urich took a moment to catch his breath, he was alone.

His breath was labored. Exhaling darkened his vision, and inhaling brightened it.

He twitched his fingers to sense that the blade of his axe had become dull from blood, and the sword edge was surely nicked.

“Hey, you guys all dead?”

Urich’s body was drenched in blood as if he had bathed in it. In front of the gate was a mire of flesh and blood.

“Zrakin, did you die?”

Urich poked a fallen warrior with his sword. There was no response. The body, lifeless, slumped like a puppet that had its strings cut.

“If you’d trained harder, you might have made it through like me, you idiots.”

Urich chuckled. He used his sword as a cane, standing awkwardly.

The imperial soldiers who were scattered all over Hamel swarmed like locusts. There had already been four skirmishes at the gate, but the main force of the Imperial Army, which had moved toward the imperial palace, hadn’t reached the gate yet.

“H-he’s alone! That’s Urich! Urich himself! He’s nearly dead.”

Several patrol soldiers flinched and shouted. They had thought Urich was dead, but here he was, standing right in front of their eyes. But what was more important to them at that moment was the fact that the reward the emperor would give for killing Urich would be unimaginable. The soldiers’ eyes glinted with greed.

Urich, panting, glared at the soldiers.

“Ah, a man can’t do anything without a healthy back.”

Urich grimaced as he tried to straighten his back. Despite his words, his expression was serious, and cold sweat poured down his face.

He felt around his waist to check his injury and felt that the flesh and muscles around his lower back had split open, revealing the bone.

Drip, drip.

Blood and sweat dripped from Urich’s chin to the ground.

“Let me give you a tip. Seize your opportunity with the courage to overcome fear. I am Urich, the man the emperor is so desperately trying to kill. Take my head while I’m selling it for cheap because this is going to be your last chance.”

Urich winked with one eye. The soldiers stiffened, their expressions tense.

“T-that bastard is crazy!”

Urich’s ears perked up, but it wasn’t the insults of the imperial soldiers that he was listening to.

“...and just like that, you’ve missed your chance.”

Urich pointed his finger. An arrow flew over his shoulder and struck the soldier in the head.

Clip-clop.

It was the sound of mountain goat hooves.