< 97. Warlord Meeting (1) >
*
In the middle of the camp, a large tent perched on a small hill served as a kind of inner sanctum. A wooden fence encircled the hill, and atop it stood a structure covered with animal hides.
The capital of the Federation of Nobles. For the nomadic Beastman Nobility, who live in tribal communities, the concept of a “capital” might feel somewhat foreign. Their capital should be understood as a kind of diplomatic arena.
Most of the clans belonging to the Federation of Beastmen are scattered across this vast wilderness. The camp of this federation is a sort of council where the elders, representing each clan, gather to minimize disputes within the alliance and discuss future courses of action.
An institution created for the loose agreement of “At least let’s not fight among ourselves.” It doesn’t hold any particularly grand authority, but it serves as a minimal safety net to prevent the proud and arrogant Beastman Nobility from self-destructing.
Fernandez chuckled as he looked at the Beastman warriors pointing their spears at him at the entrance of the wooden fence.
*
Last night.
“Five people.”
“Five clans, you mean?”
“No, literally five people, Master.”
Fernandez tilted his head at Partak’s words. If five elders from different clans were summoned to the Warlord Meeting, didn’t that mean they had influence over their entire clans?
But Partak spoke slowly, very carefully.
“Our clan is one thing, but the situations of the other clans are different. While five elders have submitted to me, that doesn’t mean I’ve subjugated their entire clans.”
“…What?”
From Fernandez’s memory, in his previous life, Partak was a Beastman who had formed a massive warlord faction. In his prime, there were many Beastman clans that submitted to him, drawn by his Hellish Magic and power.
Of course, even though Kirhas had risen with the Kalini Clan and unified the Federation of Beastmen, leading to a civil war that shattered Partak’s faction, at this time, Kirhas was still under his command.
‘Is it due to pressure from other clans?’
-That seems to be the case…
Information was scarce. It was an event from too distant a past and too far a region from his time of activity. Fernandez tapped the table.
“Who is it? Who’s causing trouble for you?”
“The resistance from the Kadihor Clan is fierce. They currently hold the mainstream power base of the alliance and are the largest warlord faction.”
Partak hesitated, as if lacking confidence. It wasn’t just that simple. Fernandez narrowed his eyes.
“What else?”
“The fact that they’re part of the Empire’s dove faction.”
“Empire? Weren’t they allied with Kirzat?”
“The Beastman Federation makes a living by hiring out as mercenaries in this war… But they don’t particularly submit to Kirzat’s Sultan. The Empire’s officials are very uncomfortable with our alliance’s participation in the frontline…”
Fernandez finally understood the situation. The Empire’s dove faction. Whether they were receiving money from the Empire or had some secret agreement, they were leading the alliance’s opinion to not participate in the war, siding with Kirzat.
‘If it were due to religious beliefs, that would be one thing, but this is tricky.’
If it were a religious resistance against corruption, Fernandez could handle it. He had once received Shield’s blessing, was fundamentally an Inquisition Officer, and was also a saint of Vaitas.
But if the reason for resisting Partak’s corruption was due to worldly desires, there was no solution. Secular politics couldn’t be resolved by relying on religious authority.
The situation was getting complicated. Fernandez slammed the table and stood up.
“Bring me the map, Partak.”
“The map…? Do you need the Great Wilderness’s reversal?”
“Yes. And mark the locations of the dove faction clans on it.”
Fernandez felt a strange sensation as he watched Partak hurriedly unroll the parchment. It was like setting up chess pieces on a board. It reminded him of the feeling he had when he sat on the throne long ago.
‘Resistance makes conquest more enjoyable, doesn’t it? Isn’t that right, Faijashi?’
-Using demon followers for business… Yes, it brings back memories.
The current Great Wilderness, where numerous nations are vying for interests, is even seeing the Beastman Nobility on the brink of internal strife.
Chaos. Fernandez smiled slowly as he looked at the map of the wilderness. He couldn’t help but enjoy this situation.
*
“State your identity, human.”
“I’m a hunter under the protection of the Pufftus Clan. I requested entry to attend to Elder Partak.”
“There was no mention of a human coming.”
“I’m from the White Country’s Beast Clan. I can abide by the rules of the Great Ger.”
At that, the guard flinched and lowered his spear. A hunter from the White Country’s Beast Clan wasn’t someone you could easily point a weapon at, whether due to strength or background.
Fernandez shrugged and passed between the guards.
“Kirhas, hurry up.”
“Yes, si… Oh, sorry! Honey!”
Kirhas stumbled over her words and quickly caught up. She was the key to this plan.
‘She’ll make a splendid signal flare.’
*
A large, detailed map of the Great Wilderness covered one wall of the grand meeting hall. The elders, with sullen expressions, stood with their arms crossed, whispering among themselves.
Golden ornaments hung here and there, and the walls and tables were adorned with taxidermied game and massive animal tusks.
This opulent meeting room was now filled with an uneasy atmosphere and commotion.
“Silence! Silence!”
An old Beastman, his ears half-torn and his fur completely white, shouted. He slammed his finely crafted cane on the floor.
“The Kirzat army has retreated once more. The skeleton bastards in the north have achieved another victory. Kirzat is finished! The Sultan no longer has the troops or the ability to sustain the war!”
“So what are you suggesting? That we join hands with those skeleton freaks?”
“Our ancestral gods will be furious!”
“Ancestral gods? What ancestral gods do we have left?”
“Blasphemy!!”
“War isn’t waged by gods, but by the blood of our young warriors!”
Despite the old man’s shouts, the room was instantly filled with chaos.
The liver was once again engulfed in chaos. The elders of each tribe were shouting, their voices almost like roars.
Partak sat quietly with his arms crossed, scanning the faces of the elders. Hawks, hawks, doves, hawks, doves.
A thousand tails. Scared mutts.
Partak’s mouth twisted. The elder leading the meeting raised his voice once more.
“Enough! Where was the last reported location of the skeleton army?”
“I heard they were entrenched near the Russell Gorge. The gorge is one of Kirzat’s deepest supply routes! We must send reinforcements there!”
As one elder shouted, the elder sitting across from him smirked.
“Nonsense. Tutankhamun Gartep, that dead skeleton, wouldn’t dare confront Kirzat head-on unless he’s gone mad! He’s got the Empire’s border at his back! If they moved, it’s not to attack Kirzat but to absorb it!”
Hawk. Partak looked at the elder who had just spoken. He was one of the third forces not yet absorbed but eager to participate in the war.
Partak was a hawk from the Kirzat faction. But the elder speaking now was from the Darik Clan, a neutral faction profiting from mercenary work.
“If we sit idle, we’ll lose our influence over Kirzat! Once isolated in this arena, where else can we turn? Friends, wake up! If we cower to protect our tribal lands, we’ll be surrounded and annihilated!”
“Stop talking nonsense! The Sultan has been our long-time ally!”
“The Sultan is wise and cunning. From Kirzat’s perspective, he’d rather see the Empire fall and receive war reparations than dominate the Great Wilderness! But have you forgotten the message sent by Tutankhamun Gartep, that skeleton?”
At those words, the room fell silent. They recalled the Pharaoh’s message that had arrived days ago.
[Leave or submit.]
The Pharaoh only needed the vast lands of the Great Wilderness. He had no interest in those who lived upon it. If he offered the Sultan support and trade routes in exchange for the Sultan ceding control of the Great Wilderness…
Partak frowned. The alliance between those two, and their victory. At the end of it, the Federation of Nobles would face destruction.
“Therefore, I believe we should support the Empire instead!”
“Have you considered the distance between the Empire and us? What help can the Empire offer us?”
“The Empire’s enemy is facing the Empire. That means we can strike their rear!”
“Are you suggesting we attack Kirzat now? If the Sultan decides to act, our federation will be crushed!”
Partak watched as the meeting descended into chaos. The elders’ arguments all had merit. The current situation had deviated far from the prolonged stalemate between the Emperor and the Sultan.
In this cauldron of chaos, it was nearly impossible for the old elders to reach a consensus.
“Partak Blackfang!”
An elder, clearly fed up, suddenly shouted his name. He glared at Partak with a face full of discontent.
“You called this meeting! You said it was time to make a decision! So why are you just sitting there in silence?”
“Indeed! Do you have any wise counsel?”
“Wise counsel.”
Partak chuckled. They were trying to shift responsibility and end the meeting ambiguously, looking for excuses to tell their tribes. Old dogs. Partak wore an expression that bordered on insulting in the high council chamber.
“We will choose neither the Emperor nor the Sultan.”
“What are you saying?”
Hawk. Partak looked at the shocked faces around him. Since he hadn’t shared this information beforehand, the Kirzat hawks felt betrayed.
Meanwhile, the neutral hawks smiled, and the Empire-leaning doves were already preparing to oppose him before he even finished speaking.
Partak glared at each person with a powerful gaze and spoke firmly.
“We must look at the bigger picture. The Emperor cannot be our Chieftain, nor can the Sultan.”
“Sounds like you want to be the Chieftain yourself.”
“Do you really think I’d do that? There must be someone better.”
The position of Chieftain of the Federation of Nobles had been vacant for decades. In this federation, a battleground for politicians, it was nearly impossible to be unanimously elected as the leader by the tribal chiefs.
However, there was a way even without the chiefs’ agreement. Partak slowly opened his mouth.
“I have received a vision.”
“Ha! A vision? A vision, you say? Have you become a prophet now?”
“A vision of our ancestral gods returning to walk among us. A vision signifying the hunting season!”
Even the elders who had been looking at him favorably, or with shock or anger, burst into laughter. Despite their mocking laughter, Partak’s expression remained unchanged.
“You must have misheard the whispers of demons. Partak Blackfang! I know you’ve been in league with those damned hellspawn for a long time!”
“Be grateful. The only reason you haven’t faced the judgment of the Temple of the Gods is because you still hold the status of an elder in the Federation of Beastmen! If you can’t prove your words now, you might lose even that status due to old age!”
“Of course, I will. I’d be happy to. Let me introduce you.”
-Thud, thud.
Partak’s ears perked up. He heard the dull sound of metal boots echoing from the hallway outside the meeting room.
The spell of obedience etched into his body was screaming. His master had arrived! Partak reached out toward the entrance of the meeting room.
-Swish.
The tent’s door opened. A faint light from outside seeped in, casting long shadows of two figures entering the room.
The elders flinched momentarily as they looked at the two. A strange pressure. An intense presence weighed down on their souls.
The overwhelming pressure unique to beings whose existence transcended mortal deeds dominated the room.
“Greetings, elders of the federation.”
-Thud.
A young man spoke. His low, resonant voice. And soon, what he held in his hand shimmered brilliantly under the light.
One of the elders who saw it muttered softly.
“…Is that…? The real thing…? The real thing?”
“Yes.”
-Thud.
The young man placed a golden jackal mask on the table. At that moment, it was as if the voice of the Jackal God echoed in the ears of all the elders present.
[Serve me…]
“The one blessed by the God of the Hunt, Kadán. The last descendant of the fallen Kalani Clan, and the hero under the protection of Vaitas. Let me introduce you. Kirhas Hearttaker.”
Soon, the woman standing behind the young man walked in, her emerald-green eyes gleaming.
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