Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 74

“Back, are you? Looks like things have calmed down.”

Having made a grand display of resolution to change, Walm found his realistic options for a destination were limited. For starters, he needed to discard the option of holing up in his room from morning.

“Thanks to you. I’d like some water.”

He hadn’t cared while his brain was numbed with alcohol, but now he felt a severe thirst.

“What kind of whisky you want with the water?”

Gangut, without hesitation, offered more drink options. Walm almost spoke his thoughts aloud – what did Gangut think of him? But considering the actions of Walm over the past year, it might be a natural suggestion.

“Just water.”

This time, at Walm’s words, the innkeeper’s eyes widened as if he had seen an undead like Wraith.

“Water, you say. Are you still feeling unwell?”

Not drinking alcohol was enough to warrant concern for Walm, who could only laugh at this point.

“I’m thinking of quitting drinking.”

He managed a smile with his stiff facial muscles, but it was more like a twitching mask than a smile.

“That’s serious.”

Gangut exaggeratedly spread his hands and disappeared into the kitchen, soon returning with water in a ceramic container. Walm transferred it to a wooden cup and quenched his thirst.

“I’ll also have some simple food.”

“Doesn’t sound like you want just a snack this time.”

Gangut disappeared into the kitchen again. In about ten minutes, he set out a tray with food: thickly sliced bread, a stew of turnips and beans, thinly sliced pickled cabbage, and intestines stuffed with crushed lamb, seasoned simply with salt.

Walm devoured the food mindlessly, chewing and sending it to his stomach. It had been a while since he had a proper meal. His stomach, now accustomed to alcohol, protested with pain at this new visitor. Still, having finished his meal, Walm took a few sips of water. Gangut stood by like a waiter.

“It’s quiet in the morning.”

“Of course, you were about the only customer who would drink from morning.”

“Hey, Mr. Gangut.”

“What’s with the formality? It’s creepy.”

The innkeeper narrowed his eyes, casting a skeptical look at Walm.

“Is there any work that pays?”

Walm’s acquaintances in this foreign city were extremely limited. The innkeeper was about the only one he could consult.

“You’re asking me… Well, there was a boost in soldiers at the border during the Great Rampage, but now the buffer zone folks have it under control. There’s also no new recruitment for additional work at the magic silver mine that was a topic a while back. Other than that, maybe adventurers?”

“I hate adventurers.”

He said bluntly. Walm had no fond memories of adventurers. After a series of killings, the only adventurers he knew had perished in Dandurg Castle.

“Watch your mouth, most of my customers are adventurers. I’m a former adventurer, you know?”

Walm didn’t know that the innkeeper was a former adventurer.

“My apologies. Is there nothing else?”

“Not with that look of yours. There’s no decent job.”

Gangut took his time looking Walm over from his toes to his head. Despite trying to keep up appearances, his beard was overgrown, and his hair was roughly cut by Walm himself. He was aware of it, but it was unexpected to be told directly that he looked suspicious.

“How can you talk to a customer like that?”

Walm protested half-jokingly, and the innkeeper immediately fell silent. It wasn’t that his protest had been accepted, but rather the innkeeper seemed to be pondering something.

“…You’ve changed, haven’t you? Well, if I find you a job, I’ll introduce you. I’ll bring you more food, so take your time to think.”

◆

In the archipelago countries, the voice of Edgar de Dalimarcus, Viscount and head of the Dalimarcus family, which oversaw the border with the collapsed Highserk Empire as well as the Demonic Territories, resounded with anger in the room.

“Don’t joke with me! A letter as an ultimatum?! And there was never any intention of negotiating from the start!”

Edgar’s anger showed no signs of subsiding as he tossed the opened letter onto his desk. The content accused the Dalimarcus family of unjustly claiming the jointly developed Demonic Territories with a faction of the former Highserk Empire’s remnants, demanding the transfer of control.

“Carving out the Demonic Territories is a duty of our kind. Unjust, you say? This is no mere land where the forces of the Meizenaf House once retreated from the Demonic Territories. Settlements have begun, and the mining of mithril has already started.”

There was a river extending from the Demonic Territories into Meizenaf territory, where magic silver in a sandy, fine granular form could be harvested. The source was believed to be a magic silver mine upstream, and the Meizenaf House was indeed eager to conquer the Demonic Territories. Yet, all their attempts had been thwarted by powerful monsters.

Things changed with a Great Rampage, which occurred a year ago, instigated by the extinct Felius. This shifted the habitats of the monsters, allowing Highserk soldiers to seize control of the extensive magic silver mines, and Edgar, governing the Dalimarcus territory, collaborated with them for mining operations.

Some in his household were dazzled by the magic silver, desiring to oust the Highserk soldiers and operate the mines independently. However, Edgar quashed these opinions.

Despite losing most of its territory, the fervor of the Highserk soldiers, maintaining a precarious hold on the southern borders of the old Highserk, was extraordinary. With a force of 1,500, engaging these battle-hardened Highserk soldiers would risk severe losses.

After many twists and turns, Edgar managed to contribute troops and funds, successfully mining mithril with his desperate neighbor. Just as things were starting to run smoothly, the idea of having it snatched away was intolerable.

Neither Dalimarcus nor Highserk had simply usurped past expedition routes to reach the magic silver mine. The accusation was utterly groundless.

Though harassment had been frequent in the past, direct combat had been avoided. Now, an ultimatum came, and they had probably already gathered a significant force to make sure the ultimatum was fulfilled. Throughout history, east and west, the immense profits from magic silver have driven people mad.

Maintaining the mine required not only organizing miners but also sustaining formidable military strength. There was truth in the saying that overwhelming wealth could lead to one’s downfall, but for Edgar, a lord albeit of a lower rank, bowing his head and begging for mercy in the face of clear aggression was not an option.

“They have already gathered their troops, exceeding 6,000.”

“They’ve even employed mercenary groups and 2 well-known adventurers.”

Upon his retainer’s report, Edgar assessed the situation. The Meizenaf House, both in terms of territory and rank, was superior. The best Dalimarcus could muster, even with a full call to arms, was about 2,500 men.

The only good news might be that the Highserk side had promised to contribute 500 volunteers for mine defense. Highserk couldn’t spare more soldiers, needing them to maintain their defense lines against the transformed Demonic Territories of their homeland.

“Avoiding war now seems impossible.”

Subjugation or war – without escalating to plundering or rioting in urban areas, the central government’s response would be sluggish. It was merely a fight over territorial rights, and given the Meizenaf House’s habit of diligent contributions and donations, Edgar couldn’t expect fair mediation from the central government swayed by gold.

“We must resolutely refuse!”

“Count Meizenaf fears being economically surpassed by our control of the magic silver mine. That’s why they’ve resorted to such aggressive tactics.”

If Edgar were to accept Meizenaf’s hardly negotiable threats and show compliance, he might still gain a small portion of the profits. But this would make recovering the significant initial investment impossible, and face resistance from their collaborators, the Highserk soldiers.

Once considered second-rate, the northern countries had a different stance on war. Edgar had experienced the strength of the Highserk soldiers throughout the year. Opposing them would mean equal or greater losses, and the disappearance of those containing the Demonic Territories.

Showing weakness could lead to being abandoned by his vassals and family. He wasn’t a pacifist to the extent of willingly giving up the magic silver mine. Determined, Edgar stood up, his anger palpable as he declared,

“War it is! Begin assembling the troops. Spare no expense. We’ll show the greedy Meizenaf House what we’re made of!”

“Let’s do it!”

“We’ll strike down the greed of Meizenaf with our swords.”

With encouraging responses from his retainers, Edgar reaffirmed his resolve. The Great Rampage had quieted, but the turmoil it sparked continued unabated.

Translator – Lyxxna