Purplish moonlight brightly illuminated the path ahead.
At the end of that road, flickering lights suggested a village.
"The Mad Tribe, right? They were favorable toward integration."
The northern natives generally lived scattered in tribal units. And the places they settled were mostly strategic military points. This had been a stumbling block to the Empire's northern expansion.
The Empire's approach had been to capture small tribes and win over large ones. The village before him belonged to a major tribe with over 300 households and some 3,000 people.
What had seemed close enough to touch was actually quite a distance away.
"Did I lose my touch after that short break?"
He grumbled to himself and kept walking. It was only after a good while that he finally reached the village outskirts.
The village had the typical setup of a wooden palisade around a low hill.
"This should keep out monsters or humans alike, no problem."
Looking up from the end of the road, the palisade seemed quite imposing.
Perhaps his presence had been noticed.
"Halt!"
Torches flickered atop the palisade as a native tongue rang out.
Brad, who had spent his life serving in the north, replied calmly.
"Just a lone traveler. Heading to Westguard."
"Extend your hands and approach slowly."
A moment later, Brad emerged into the torchlight from the watchtower, looking every bit the traveler he claimed to be.
They seemed to confer among themselves, and more time passed.
"We'll trust your word for now. But we won't let you into the village until dawn."
"Understood."
"Very well. You're permitted to rest against the palisade until morning."
'Not bad.'
Considering he was an unfamiliar visitor, it was a reasonable response.
Brad raised a hand in silent acknowledgment and scouted a spot below the palisade. He cleared the gravel, spread his cloak, and set down his pack. By then, a few warriors with spears approached.
"Need any water, by chance?"
"I won't refuse."
Thud.
At a gesture from who seemed to be their leader, someone set down a water jug.
"Thanks to you, I can wash up. Mind if I build a fire too?"
"Cooking's fine."
They were hospitable, but their wary gazes were plain. The warriors scrutinized his appearance thoroughly.
"Westguard, you said? I've been to that outsiders' village a few times. Hmm?"
The man's eyes lit up as torchlight revealed Brad's face.
The veteran knight who had devoted his life to northern expansion had graying hair, a gray beard, and an imposing build. He exuded an aura rarely seen.
"Might I have your name?"
"Brad Cahill."
The leader's eyes narrowed, then widened in recognition.
"The outsiders' chieftain?"
The former Westguard fortress commander, Brad Cahill, nodded.
"Now that you mention it, your face rings a bell. Weren't you one of the warriors who escorted the tribal chief last harvest festival?"
"Y-yes. But why are you alone?"
His expression screamed utter incomprehension.
Brad gave up on complicated explanations and spread then dropped his arms.
"I'm on my way back from punishment for offending the grand chieftain."
"I see."
To them, the fortress commander was a chieftain. Explaining the complex hierarchy with the metaphor of 'grand chieftain' had been wise.
"Hmm. Wait here a moment. I'll report to the chief."
"Better after dawn."
"That wouldn't be right. No need—let's go straight to the chief. Tohuman! Tohuman, where are you?"
"Here."
"You get the situation? Hurry and relay it."
"Yes."
The lithe warrior vanished swiftly with his reply.
"From now on, you're our tribe's guest. This way."
"Then I'll accept your hospitality."
Brad nodded, gathering his cloak and pack again.
Creak, thud.
The heavy gate closed behind them as they passed through the palisade.
The village looked much like any other, with buildings lining both sides of the main road. Humans prized efficiency, after all—truly, places where people lived were all the same.
As he walked following their lead, Brad fell into thought.
'These are savages? What fools.'
They invoked the gods' names from safe havens to judge the world and purged those against their interests. Perhaps the Empire's capital was the true hub of arrogance and savagery.
True to the nature of power, the tribal chief's dwelling stood at the road's end.
As they drew near, light appeared at the window and the door opened.
Brad greeted first in fluent native tongue.
"I was just passing through, but this unannounced visit... I only seek a night's lodging."
"I don't know your business, but it's good to see you again."
The silhouette in the light approached with an outstretched hand. One hand shook, the other embraced each other's back.
"Come in. We'll provide drink and bed."
"My thanks for your kindness."
"It's no kindness—just returning the favor. Good work, Yanip."
"Yes, I'll take my leave."
The warrior departed, and the chief chuckled, pointing to the door.
"Hahaha, come on in."
But the welcome ended there. Silence fell the moment they entered the building, broken only by their footsteps.
Once seated, the chief's words were a mild rebuke.
"I don't know much about outsiders, but I figure people are people everywhere."
"..."
The chief's roundabout manner resembled diplomatic rhetoric, with dignity rivaling the Empire capital's sly nobles.
"It wasn't intentional. Since it's come to this, let's share that drink you promised last time."
"Exchanges are good. Let's do it."
No excuses or apologies. The other didn't want them anyway. The mood softened as it became a bid for private gain.
Benefits flowed from those in power.
Food arrived, bottles were set. Gentle conversation flowed, punctuated by laughter.
Thus the night deepened.
The next afternoon, he woke late, shaking his head.
"Honey mead, was it? Lingers a while."
"Fermented goat milk tea. Good for hangovers."
He downed the drink from the handmaid, and his head cleared.
"Anywhere to loosen up a bit?"
"...?"
The handmaid blinked, cute in her confusion.
Brad picked up his sword from the side, and she smiled, pointing to the door in understanding.
"The training ground's in the back yard. I'll show you."
The north's sunlight bit as fiercely as its cold. In the shade behind the chief's house, family and off-duty warriors mingled, warming up.
The shirtless chief was among them.
Brad stripped off his shirt without hesitation and gripped his sword.
His swordsmanship seemed ordinary at first glance.
He slashed and thrust, pausing, jumping high, crouching, leaning back—repeating. Simple, but solid fundamentals honed by slaughter made it lethal.
The once-warrior-chief recognized it.
"Impressive—a true warrior's spirit."
"Huff, huff. Too kind."
"The sword doesn't lie. No need for modesty with friends."
Brad caught his breath and glanced at the chief. The chief eyed him back.
Both torsos were covered in scars.
The strong leave no scratches. If they do, there's one reason: they clawed up from the bottom, surviving countless brushes with death.
The ease between them wasn't just from last night's drinks.
"The sword is honest—well said."
"All truth is simple."
If sword insights could be put into words so easily, the world would be full of superhumans. Yet it neatly captured the essence.
"Couldn't agree more."
"On that note, let's review last night's talks."
"...!"
The chief nodded toward one side of the yard, where elders waited.
"You've worked up an appetite—time to eat. And sort things out, as discussed. Sit."
"Greetings."
"Heh heh heh. Hearing the chief's praise, I wondered... impressive indeed."
"Allow me to introduce: this is the outsiders' chieftain, who arrived alone from afar last night. And these are our tribe's elders."
"Hoho, just the old folks who throw some weight around the village."
"Ahem. Weight? We're past that."
The elders were casual. It implied respect for the chief's leadership and openness to benefits.
As they sat, servants brought wooden tablets.
Brad tensed inwardly.
'Could this be...?'
A spring breeze tickled his neck.
He tried recalling drunken words, but his head throbbed. Had sly natives played him? A hollow laugh escaped.
"Hoho."
"Peace and stability by promise alone? Who knows. But you braving the perilous road alone earns trust."
His release from prison had become a solo risk for negotiation. He didn't deny it.
Thankfully, no real trouble arose.
"Ahem. I'll read the summary."
The chief read aloud from the tablet.
"Westguard and the Mad Tribe agree as follows. One: Joint response to external threats. To this end, 50 warriors dispatched to Westguard."
No issue. Free mercenaries, even. The Mad Tribe seemed buoyed, interpreting it as recognition of their strength.
"One: Trade expanded from 10 to 20 wagons. Limited to those stamped by the chief."
Brad smiled back at the glancing chief.
'Even if I'm ousted, I can handle this.'
Uncertain about resuming command, but it built on prior efforts and benefited the earldom.
"One: Mad Tribe accepts Westguard script. Provide housing for teachers and ensure safety."
More items followed, all confirmations of ongoing matters.
"Hoho, no more monster worries."
"Now we can feed our children properly."
The natives weren't fools. The Empire's aggressive outreach brought economic perks and security.
Pride had been the hurdle.
But the narrative of 'Westguard's chieftain braving dangers alone' accelerated things.
Their literary flair deserved respect.
"Thus, the Mad Tribe declares itself part of the alliance."
The chief glanced post-reading; Brad nodded subtly.
Soon, drink and meat covered the outdoor table. The chief hefted a barrel himself.
"A joyous day—drink freely."
"Hoho, thanks to our guest who came so far."
Brad raised his cup with a smile.
Thus came the second night with the Mad Tribe.
The next morning, Brad startled awake.
"Gah."
A woman slept beside him, round shoulder peeking from the blanket, breathing softly. The handmaid from the past two days.
"Mm."
She stirred in the morning sun, sitting up. The blanket slipped, baring beautiful breasts.
Brad closed his eyes; the girl rubbed hers.
"I'm Paulina. Paulina Mad."
"Mad? You have a family name?"
He swallowed hard.
Most natives lacked surnames—like many imperials—yet capital folk used it to demean them. Ruling natives did use them.
"The chief's kin?"
"First daughter of his third wife, Arenna."
The chief's granddaughter, then.
"My rudeness."
"You were no rude guest. I tempted you."
Her hand caressed his cheek.
"A beautiful night."
"..."
The man, caught off guard in his indiscretion, was speechless. Her eyes laughed at him.
"I have a wife."
"Hee hee."
She patted his cheek and rose.
"Don't worry. No claim of ownership from one night."
'Phew.'
Relieved, he steadied his rattled mind. Her elegant dressing was mesmerizing.
"Outsiders stay faithful to one mate for life, I suppose."
"Y-yes."
Not strictly, but no place to quibble.
"So, how was last night? I loved it."
"Me too."
"Hahaha."
She laughed throatily, as if conqueror in that moment.
"I'd like to repay such a beautiful night."
"No need. It was beautiful for me too."
Paulina, dressed impeccably, bowed gracefully.
"Then, guest, I'll prepare washing water."
"Think it over and tell me later, whatever you decide."
Her smile deepened.