Chapter 436 – Progress (1)
The disputed lands of the Ownerless Land are unique in that "wars above a certain scale" are determined by agreement of the factions, and for that reason, there exists a place specifically for official meetings.
So-called mediation zone───the city of Medilon.
It is run by those belonging to no faction, who remain neutral, and mainly take on the roles of "society of negotiation" and "judges of war".
An unspoken rule.
If anyone ignores such things and runs amok as they please, they will not live long, that much is certain. At least, that has always been the case until now.
Dugudug, dugudug, dugudug.
Following the powerful pounding of ferocious horses, a luxurious carriage raced down the road.
The intimidating momentum startled the nearby citizens, who scattered in fright, some even colliding with the stands of shops.
Fruit spilled everywhere.
"Damn it, wha──hic!"
The merchant, who reflexively cursed, hastily shut his mouth.
The carriage, speeding away, bore a familiar flag fluttering in the wind.
The eastern great lords.
Normally, inside a twin-horse carriage would only be one great lord attending the meeting and their guard, but… this time, there was one more passenger.
"Smell of blood."
Muttering while gazing out the window, the great warrior of the North grinned savagely.
In the corner of the carriage lay a double-edged sword.
Muscles split and cracked beneath the hide of a mighty magical beast.
Beneath his thick mane of hair were fierce eyes.
This barbaric man was like a wild predator, and being crammed in such a narrow space was uncomfortable in every way.
A kind of instinct, perhaps.
Seated on one side of the carriage, the great lord, "Count Cheolp", rested his elbow on the window frame, chin propped on his hand, eyes narrowed.
'He's been eating, sleeping, embracing, and killing in the East… what whim brought him along this time? Did he just want some fresh air?'
The great warrior of the North rarely leaves the far northern edge of the central continent.
All he ever did was guard the great lords or act as their executioner, while enjoying a life of wealth and indulgence.
For such a man to follow to a meeting was an unusual affair indeed.
"Hmph."
He may be a beast, but not a difficult one to handle.
As long as his necessary desires are satisfied, he usually obeys orders without complaint. A beast you can control is, after all, no different than the sword in your hand.
But since he was not a merely obedient pup… Cheolp always carried wariness toward the great warrior of the North.
The carriage gradually slowed.
It came to a full stop at the entrance of a hill north of Medilon.
"We have arrived, my lord."
The hulking guard disembarked first, surveying the surroundings, then Cheolp, whose thick body was marked by both muscle and fat, stepped down.
The great warrior of the North did not move.
Though he had come of his own accord, his role was only that of a temporary guard, so he was unnecessary for the meeting at hand.
Then, someone called out.
"Arrived early, I see."
A man in his fifties, already waiting, waved from where he sat perched on a rock.
He wore plain light armor and a dark sword at his hip. His long-scarred face bore the marks of age and many battles.
The sovereign's closest aide, the Mercenary King.
At the sight of him, Cheolp furrowed his brow and snorted.
"Hmph, the sovereign sent a snake."
"Haha, harsh words after so long. Your temper seems to have grown as much as your muscles and fat."
The Mercenary King chuckled with a cluck of his tongue.
Outwardly, he might look like a good-natured middle-aged man, but inside he was nothing but cruel and black-hearted.
How many had died by his mercenary arts?
'What scheme is the sovereign plotting now?'
Cheolp felt deeply unsettled by the sovereign's intent.
Not long after, another carriage arrived.
The Southern Alliance. Gideon.
In effect, the head of the South. A giant had come.
The Mercenary King and Cheolp each spoke a word.
"Gideon. We heard of the calamity with the Diamoon magic tower, which is in alliance with your side. Deeply regretful."
"You must have been desperate indeed. Never thought you would come yourself."
The meeting was convened mainly due to the death of the Diamoon tower master, and the exposed weakness of the South, which others sought to devour.
The prey of the day, Gideon, smiled gently.
"Beasts have gathered, having caught the scent, but we cannot simply sit back and watch, can we? We must drive them out somehow."
He likened the other factions to beasts.
The Mercenary King nodded, agreeing, while Cheolp sneered.
Then it happened.
A fourth carriage appeared, one that had not even existed a few months earlier.
Thud.
The ruler of the North, Liam Arein.
The young lord, still fresh-faced, stepped into Medilon, with a "green-haired woman" as his guard.
"…knows no place."
At the appearance of the much-discussed rising power, Cheolp's eyes chilled cold.
***
At the summit of Medilon's hill stood a towering construct, and upon climbing 47 steps in total, a single "single-story building" appeared.
A place built solely for meetings.
Only two people from each faction may enter. The representative of the faction, and one guard.
Mediation among factions was the responsibility of a mediator dispatched from Medilon.
East, West, South, North.
Once each direction was filled, the mediator spoke clearly.
"From the West, the Mercenary King. From the East, Count Cheolp. From the South, Lord Gideon. And… from the North, Lord Arein. I confirm your attendance as representatives."
Normally, being recognized as one of the pillars through the mediation zone was not easy, but this time was an exception, handled quickly.
The holy one of the Eastern Continent, Asher.
The mighty status of a Magus carried weight even in the Ownerless Land, and it was by relying on him that Liam Arein was deemed qualified.
In any case, the purpose of the meeting was clear.
War.
The subject was the massive mine that the Southern Alliance and the Diamoon magic tower had hidden away.
"This time───"
"Spare us the useless greetings, mediator. Everyone is here for the same thing, the Southern Alliance's massive mine. What we want is the conclusion."
Cheolp cut off the mediator's words, baring his fangs.
"Speak, Gideon. Whom will the Southern Alliance wage war against?"
The faction singled out by the majority was granted the right to choose their opponent.
War is business.
Rather than indiscriminate slaughter and territorial conquest to expand lands, as in ages past, controlling war under some measure and treating it as a regulated affair maximized profits.
On a global scale, that is.
Everyone knew the Ownerless Land was created out of the world's necessity.
All eyes turned.
"..."
Gideon gave a small nod.
At the signal, the mediator took out a rolled parchment and spread it wide.
"I shall now deliver the opinion of the South."
Words written in ink.
The content was somewhat shocking.
"The Southern Alliance has decided to abandon ownership of the massive mine."
"…What?"
"In exchange, they demand a competitive war in the disputed region."
***
The existence of the massive mine had already become an open secret.
That alone was a grave misfortune, and on top of that, the Southern Alliance had yet to fill the power vacuum left by the Diamoon magic tower.
To withstand both East and West was impossible.
With the North as a new force added, all the more so.
But even so, they could not refuse war.
What mattered was mutual agreement.
In other words, refusing war also had to be agreed upon. Choosing flight meant surrendering immense rights and wealth.
In the end, whether they fought or not, massive loss was unavoidable.
So the South made their decision.
If so, then give up an arm or two, enlarge the board, and plunge into a mud fight.
The mediator spoke.
"The competition will proceed in the form of a conquest war within the disputed region, each faction seizing the territories of the others. There are two conditions for victory. Either secure the most territory within the time limit, or eliminate all other factions, and in the end, gain ownership of the massive mine."
And the victorious faction would be granted the right to refuse any war demanded by the other three factions for five years.
In other words, once they obtained the massive mine, no one could take it away immediately.
The Mercenary King asked.
"So, instead of being picked apart piece by piece, you offer the massive mine itself as the prize of war. A difficult choice indeed. Then what is it the Southern Alliance desires?"
Whatever is said, it is a matter of profit and loss.
To abandon the mine's ownership for nothing, in the name of avoiding war, made no sense.
"The demands of the Southern Alliance are as follows."
First, after the completion of development of the massive mine, 23 percent of the annual output must be paid to the Southern Alliance for the next five years.
Second, 30 percent of the tax from territories in the disputed region whose ownership changes during the competition must be paid to the Southern Alliance for the next three years.
Third, the above two demands must still be fulfilled even if ownership changes hands midway.
In short, as the host faction of the competition, the South sought to both avoid war and minimize its own losses.
"Ha! Scheming that's closer to desperation."
Cheolp bit down on a thick, hand-rolled cigarette and lit it.
"If everyone doesn't agree, won't this so-called competition fall apart? If even one refuses, what will you do then?"
"What else? We fight. Ten years, twenty years… until one of us is dead."
Gideon made clear his stance, that if the competition was rejected, they would resist with everything they had.
Cheolp inhaled the smoke, sinking into thought.
'Honestly, not bad.'
In many ways, it was enticing.
The right to refuse war for five years in case of victory, and with some luck, not only the massive mine, but vast territories of the disputed region could be seized, leading to enormous profit.
Of course, sharing profits with the South for several years was unappealing… but the advantages far outweighed such flaws.
"Well, fine. I accep──"
"The North accepts the South's proposal."
Liam, who had been quietly listening, was the first to voice his agreement.
"I also agree. Haha, a competition war, is it? A grand-scale war after so long, delightful."
So too the Mercenary King.
Now only the great lord of the East remained.
Cheolp glared at Liam, who had cut him off, then crushed the cigarette into the ashtray.
"I accept."
"In order, the North, West, and East have agreed to the South's proposal. I ask you now to sign the letter of consent being presented."
With prepared blades, they drew blood from their fingertips, leaving an eternal mark.
The Mercenary King stood for the Sovereign, Cheolp for the great lord Gerdom. They had been ordered to secure the right of war no matter what, so they did not hesitate.
Liam Arein and Gideon, possessing the main authority of their factions, left their fingerprint and name.
Then Cheolp spoke to the mediator.
"There's one thing I'm curious about."
"Please, speak."
"That northern ruler over there, as I recall, he has no territory in the disputed region. In that case, what happens? He just needs to seize others' lands?"
"By the rules, yes."
"Well, how convenient. No need to defend, only attack. No need to divide his forces. Not that a trifling faction with no siege equipment could accomplish anything."
Cheolp openly mocked Liam.
The boy who had suddenly become ruler of the North was utterly displeasing to him.
Truthfully, laughable.
Not even the holy one himself, just some whelp daring to sit at the same table as he.
"Normally, your head would have been cut off by now, but riding the holy one's back, you've climbed high indeed. Has there ever been a lord so lucky?"
"..."
"And your guard is a woman… judging by her appearance, a mage, yes? I've never seen her, but her looks are outstanding."
"What exactly are you implying."
At Liam's voice, steeped in displeasure, Cheolp twisted his lips.
"I'm saying perhaps that woman seduced the holy one. Otherwise, no matter how much of a puppet he needed, why would he take in the likes of you? In that sense, she intrigues me."
He licked his lips.
"If you plan on using that woman as bait in a pinch, I advise offering her to the East. Do so, and I might show some leniency in the competition. Ah, don't tell me that was the holy one's intention in sending her? My, my. Clever enough, as expected of a Magus."
Cheolp insulted and belittled Liam, while staring at the woman guarding him with a sticky gaze.
Slightly disparaging the holy one was just a bonus.
Step, step.
Then the woman moved.
As she strode toward Cheolp, the mediator interjected.
"Physical clashes may only occur with mutual consent."
"I consent."
Liam gave permission.
His voice was deeply emotional.
To back down here would be shame indeed. Naturally, Count Cheolp did not refuse.
"To be ruled by emotion. You are indeed unfit to sit here."
Cheolp gestured.
Permission was given.
His hulking guard grinned, exuding threatening momentum, but the woman expressionlessly stretched out one arm.
Her slender fingertips touched the guard's right side.
"Haha, what are you──"
The mana flowing beneath surged, activating the circuits throughout his body.
Mado
The woman, Isabella, drove her mana straight into the guard's body. The resistance of flesh was instantly overwhelmed, his body rendered powerless.
With a flicking motion of her forefinger and middle finger──
Thunk.
A sound of rupture came from inside his body.
The shattering of an organ.
His liver, connected to most of the nerves, suddenly sprouted a finger-sized hole, and the guard, stiffening, dropped to one knee.
"Get lost."
Immediately after, Isabella struck his face with the back of her hand.
Kwooooom!
Hit head-on by unnatural strength, the guard blasted through a wall and fell below. Gasps of shock filled every watching gaze.
At some point, Isabella had stepped forward, and without hesitation, seized Cheolp's nape.
It was a slender arm.
With Cheolp's bulk, breaking free or even snapping it should have been easy.
If his opponent had been an ordinary mage.
"Guh…?! …grhh, ghhk…!!"
Her pale grip dug into Cheolp's throat. No matter how he thrashed, there was no escape.
Kwaaang.
Isabella slammed the great lord's head into the table, tilting her own.
"Whose name did you dare speak?"
Crack, crack.
From Cheolp's neck came ominous sounds.
***
The ground of the Black Volcano quaked.
Deep-blue life-drained earth was torn apart, the mighty aberrant beasts that had pursued prey all met death.
Huge craters formed everywhere.
Witnessing for the first time the power of a transcendent, Linus muttered.
"Couldn't we… have just taken the Red Volcano, instead of coming here to the Black?"
"What, you want me to start a rebellion, you one-armed disciple."
Even for a true-born dwarf, that much was beyond discussion.
At any rate.
After casting his spells, Verden felt unburdened.
It was no longer possible to reveal his full strength at the Adventurer's Guild training grounds or in some quiet place.
In that sense, the exploration of the Black Volcano was refreshing.
[Long live His Majesty.]
Amid Alpha's praise and stiff applause, it happened.
"…?"
Verden's mana detected something.
Quickly descending, he used
Gharun peered into the pit and immediately retrieved something.
"This is…"
A very old pickaxe.
Rust had eaten it badly, but its shape remained intact. Such was the property of certain alloys dwarves often worked with.
And faintly, there lingered the crest of the Red Volcano Clan.
"We've found a trace."
About six days since the exploration began.
They had discovered the tools of the dwarven expedition, which had marched toward the Black Volcano fortress some 250 years ago, never to be seen again.
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