High Orcs (2)
As they passed through the main gate and entered the stone-walled village, a settlement of stone buildings greeted the group.
“Ha ha ha! Catch me if you can!”
“You little runt! If I catch you, you’re a goblin!”
Children of the High Orcs darted between the houses, playing their games.
A goblin waddled by, balancing a water jug on its head.
Loud laughter echoed from the houses, mingling with the clatter of weapons being polished and the aroma of roasting meat carried by the wind.
In the distance, atop a cliff, a two-story stone building, likely the chieftain’s house, puffed smoke from its chimney.
Aside from their size and skin color, the scene was not so different from a human village.
Lucia observed the scene with fascination, murmuring to herself.
“According to the records of the Holy Knights, High Orcs live in tents… It seems reality often differs from what’s written.”
“It used to be that way. But tents are cold. Cold drains our strength. We must conserve our strength for battle.”
The High Orc warrior chief responded to her musings.
Even as the other warriors dispersed to their homes, the chief remained to guide the group.
“Fascinating. Do you know when this change happened?”
“The current Grand Chieftain made the change. He said High Orcs are a race that fights freely.”
“A race that fights freely. The Grand Chieftain must be a noble… no, a strong and impressive figure.”
”…Yes, he was.”
The warrior chief’s voice trailed off, a shadow passing over his rugged face.
But only for a moment. He quickly shook it off and continued leading the way with brisk steps.
Bjorn and Akasha hurried to keep up, and soon the group arrived at a spacious stone house.
The warrior chief scratched his shiny bald head and opened the door for them. He spoke.
“This is the guest house. You’ll have to wait until the meal is ready. There are other guests here, so get along.”
“Other guests?”
“A smart wizard, though not very muscular. I’ll call you when the meal is ready!”
With that, the warrior chief left, his steps heavy.
Dalen raised an eyebrow. Another visitor in this remote High Orc village?
“Who could it be?”
“No idea.”
He sensed two presences. One was faint, almost elusive.
Considering Dalen’s keen senses as both a warrior and a mage, this faint presence belonged to someone of exceptional skill.
Instinctively resting a hand on his belt, Dalen led the group into the house.
Whoever had come to this secluded mountain valley likely had extraordinary abilities or motives.
Whether their purpose would hinder his journey remained to be seen.
To find out, he would have to confront them face-to-face.
Maintaining a slight tension, he walked through the narrow hallway into the living room, where his thoughts were pleasantly shattered.
Not in a bad way, but in a good one.
“Dalen? What brings you here!”
The person flipping through a thick tome in the living room was none other than the master of the Elgaia Tower.
A grand mage who had once been on the brink of death, now revived as Dalen’s familiar.
It was Felber Valentino and his apprentice, Tommy.
The living room was stacked with hundreds of thick tomes.
While the group rested and recovered from their journey, Dalen caught up with Felber on what had happened since they last parted.
The steam rising from the coffee cup had long since cooled. Felber, his brown eyes gleaming, listened intently to Dalen’s story, finally letting out a weary chuckle.
”…Ha ha, the Witch of the Vines, you say. It really feels like the end is near. Enaxagus has always been a malevolent god tempting many, but I never expected Rafilem and Sume to step into the fray.”
“That’s why we’re here in the Teeth of the World Mountains.”
“Why here?”
“There’s a way to gain the power to face Sume’s demon army at the High Orcs’ sanctuary.”
Dalen sipped his half-cooled coffee as he spoke.
He hadn’t yet revealed their exact destination to the group, but there was no need to keep it from Felber, his familiar.
After all, Felber had glimpsed parts of Dalen’s past cycles through his grand domain powers.
The contract with the familiar had been forged after a life-risking battle with a true dragon, believing Dalen to be a regressor.
‘If I mention going to the High Orcs’ sanctuary, Bjorn will probably freak out.’
Of course, having achieved their initial goal of contacting the High Orc tribe, it was about time to bring it up.
“By the way, what brings you here, old man?”
“I’m here for some rest and recuperation. There’s no place with better water and air than here! The people are a bit simple-minded, but they’re friendly.”
Come to think of it, I had heard he was traveling the northern mountains for recovery after receiving herbal treatment in Revivach.
Bjorn had mentioned hearing about it from Galleos, the merchant leader.
‘The influence of the merchant leader is growing.’
Volkma Galleos, who had expanded his trade network from Revivach to the Elgaia Tower and the orchards of Philophon, now even dealing with the Holy Knights.
Though his personal combat skills might be lacking, his influence and growth were such that he could be called a hero.
Who would have thought that a chance encounter while taking on a merchant escort job to pay off gambling debts would lead to this?
Like Felber, this was an unprecedented possibility that had never emerged in previous cycles.
“Moreover, continuing my research in these high mountains has led to some unexpected insights.”
“So that’s why your presence felt different.”
“Ha ha, isn’t it the same for you? When we first met, you were a mercenary who didn’t know a single spell, and now, not even a year later, you’ve reached the mature fourth rank. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
Dalen smiled silently, raising his coffee cup.
Nearly a year had passed since he first set foot in the labyrinth city.
It felt like just yesterday that he passed through the bronze gates with nothing but a worn-out armor, a hand axe, and a sword.
In the time spent dismantling cults and completing significant commissions, including those from the Holy Knights, he had reached a point where he could vaguely envision the position of a transcendent.
‘But it’s still not enough.’
He had climbed so high that it was embarrassing to compare to the beginning.
In none of the hundreds of past cycles had he grown as quickly as this.
Yet, the rank of a transcendent remained just out of reach.
And before the power of the malevolent gods, he was still as helpless as ever.
”…”
But he would not give up.
If he had intended to hesitate now, he wouldn’t have chosen this path in the first place.
The opportunity to live as a strong mercenary had been there from the moment he awoke in this world.
Kicking that aside, he had crossed countless lines of death, and through endless effort to become stronger, he had reached this point.
The destination still seemed distant and uncharted.
But it was undeniably closer than before.
What he needed to do now was to fill the vast domain with possibilities, opening the path to the fifth rank.
To do that, he had to continue as he had, uncovering the remnants of hundreds of past cycles to gain new possibilities.
The corpse to be retrieved from the High Orcs’ sanctuary held one of the most outstanding possibilities among those remnants.
“It seems you have a lot on your mind. Understandably so.”
With a warm, grandfatherly smile, Felber stroked his beard.
“Rising again after hundreds of failures against an overwhelming evil is no easy feat. You’re doing what no other transcendent has managed. I would have gone mad in that endless cycle.”
“Who knows? Maybe this really is the last time.”
“Yes, perhaps it is. That’s why the burden on your shoulders feels heavier. But do you know what’s most important when your mind gets this tangled?”
”…What is it?”
Dalen scratched his chin and asked. Felber smiled and finished his coffee.
Then he said.
“Good people. And good food to share with them.”
Bang, bang, bang!
“Guests! The meal is ready! Come out!”
The warrior chief’s voice boomed from outside.
It was time to eat.
The group was led to the chieftain’s house.
It was customary for the High Orcs to serve a grand feast to first-time visitors.
After winding along a gentle mountain path, they arrived at the chieftain’s house perched on a cliff, where the meal was already perfectly prepared.
The chieftain, who had been waiting at the table, stood up with open arms as soon as he saw the group.
“Guests! Welcome! I am Chieftain Tarum! Welcome to the Cliff Hollow Tribe!”
“Thank you for your hospitality. We are…”
“Introductions can wait! We must eat before the food gets cold!”
”…”
“Sit down! Holy Knight friend!”
Lucia, momentarily stunned and frozen, was almost lifted into her seat by Dalen. Only then did she bow her head, her face flushed red.
“Heh heh, young love. It’s a wonderful thing.”
“That’s right! Mealtime is the best time!”
“Exactly. The chieftain knows what’s up!”
“Thank you, wizard! You’re as sharp as ever!”
As the grand wizard, now fully accustomed to the high orc culture, chatted with the chieftain, the rest of the group settled in, and the feast began.
The meal was nothing short of a banquet.
Spread across a wide stone table outdoors were dozens of wooden bowls filled with a variety of dishes.
While the menu was primarily meat-based, there were also grain and vegetable dishes, and even a dessert that resembled a fruit tart.
“This is delicious! There’s nothing like a good meal!”
“Eat up, guests!”
“They say an orc who dies with a full belly has muscles that stay strong!”
With the high orcs’ hearty traditional brew flowing, the warriors around the table quickly devoured the food.
It wasn’t long before empty bowls began to appear everywhere.
But there was no risk of running out of food. Goblins scurried around the table, swiftly replacing empty bowls with new dishes.
A little further away, several goblins were roasting an entire pig over a fire.
In the small kitchen attached to the chieftain’s house, the clatter of cooking continued without pause.
“Ahem, these are quite the delicacies. Did you make all this yourselves?” Bjorn asked, impressed as he sampled various dishes.
The high orc chieftain shook his head vigorously.
“We only hunt! The goblins do the cooking! Our tribe’s goblins are famous for their skills!”
“Well, they’re better than most chefs.”
“Eat plenty! Even a dwarf might grow taller if he eats enough! A sharp mind can fight more with less wear on the body!”
”…”
The feast went on for over two hours.
By the time the sun had completely disappeared behind the mountain peaks, leaving only the cold breath of eternal snow in the air, the deep indigo sky was filled with countless stars trembling as they gazed down at the earth.
“Even the stars seem cold,” remarked a young dragon, only a few months old, in a voice full of innocent wonder.
“Thanks for the meal, chieftain!”
“I’ll come back when you have new guests!”
“Let’s go hunting together before then!”
By the time the food on the stone table had been replaced about four times, the warriors began to head home one by one.
A gentle silence settled over the stone table once the boisterous green giants had left.
The crackling of the campfire and the clatter of dishes being washed in the kitchen provided a soft backdrop.
Lifting a mug the size of a small barrel, the chieftain suddenly remembered something and spoke naturally.
“Human. Why did you come here?”