Chapter 161: Withdrawal
The remaining tribal chiefs looked at one another, but kept their silence with a shared, unspoken understanding.
The beastman king moved on to assigning the other positions.
The Blood Night Tribe would take the left flank. The Steel Fang Tribe, the right. The Fang Tribe would hold the rear, guarding against a Dragon Kingdom counterattack.
With the vanguard position — the most dangerous one — already settled, the other chiefs didn't have much to complain about. It wasn't the front of the dying line. They could live with it.
The council continued in an atmosphere that was tense but functional.
The beastman king worked through the assignments. The tribal chiefs accepted their orders one by one.
Finally, the beastman king raised a hand.
"Go and prepare. The army moves at first light tomorrow."
The tribal chiefs filed out. One by one the figures disappeared through the tent flap.
The sound of footsteps faded.
Only the beastman king and Jaka remained in the tent.
Jaka stood with a slightly distant expression, his pale gold leopard ears flat against his head, his tail moving with faint, uneasy swings behind him.
"Your Majesty..." He opened his mouth. His voice was a little dry.
The beastman king raised a hand and stopped him.
"I won't leave you at a loss." The beastman king began to lay out his promises. "Half of the Giant Claw Tribe's grazing lands go to you after this is over. The Dragon Kingdom's territory — your tribe gets first pick."
His eyes held Jaka's directly, and he looked thoroughly magnanimous and sincere.
"You only need to hold that dragon down long enough for the other tribes to surround it. I give you my word — the Swift Wind Tribe's casualties will be compensated by the beastman nation, and your share of the plunder will be doubled."
Jaka listened to the promises. A complex expression moved through his eyes for a moment — but he quickly arranged his face into something that looked like being moved.
He knew what this was. Empty promises.
The Giant Claw Tribe's grazing lands?
Urgov was dead, but the Giant Claw Tribe still existed. Those bear-beastmen weren't going to hand over their territory easily.
The Dragon Kingdom's territory?
If they couldn't win against this dragon, there was no Dragon Kingdom territory to divide.
But Jaka had no room to refuse.
His tribe had lived beside the Iron Fang Tribe for generations.
If he turned down this "opportunity," the Swift Wind Tribe would not survive the beastman king's anger.
"This subordinate... will comply."
Jaka went down on one knee, lowered his head, and his tail went still — hanging loose and flat against the ground.
The beastman king looked at him and gave a satisfied nod.
"Rise and go prepare."
Jaka stood, stepped back two paces, then turned and walked out of the tent.
The tent fell quiet.
The beastman assault stopped abruptly with the sound of a horn.
The last wave of beastman warriors who had just reached the top of the wall dropped their scaling ladders and crude battering equipment and turned and ran back toward the dark mass of the army in the distance.
On the walls, the Dragon Kingdom's soldiers were still holding their shields up and spears ready, breathing hard. Their gazes moved from those retreating shapes back to each other.
"They're... retreating?"
A young soldier murmured it, disbelief in his voice.
The veteran beside him didn't have the energy to answer. He was leaning heavily on his spear just to keep himself upright.
The smell of blood still thick in the air was all the record needed of how brutal the fighting had been.
The four members of Crystal Tears were sitting on the stone steps inside the wall.
Glaxton leaned against the stonework, his heavy spellbook open across his knees — but his eyes were on the beastman formation pulling back in the distance, his brow creased slightly. The hem of his robe was thick with dust. He had cast several spells in succession on the wall just now, and the cost hadn't been light.
Malcolm sat beside him, his massive steel shield resting against his side. Several deep claw marks had been added to its face during the fight. The thick veins running up his heavy arms stood out clearly — he hadn't been conserving his strength.
"They pulled back." Malcolm's voice was low, like a stone rolling across ground. "But not because the assault failed."
Eda Alicia was crouched at the bottom of the steps, wiping the blood from one of her short swords with a piece of old cloth. Those slightly unfocused eyes of hers were pointed at the beastman army in the middle of its retreat.
"...That's right." Her reply drifted out, as though she were talking to no one in particular. "The formation is too clean. They chose to withdraw."
Glaxton spoke up immediately: "That horn call... wasn't like anything I've heard before. The tone — that was a direct order from a chief."
"For the beastman king to order a withdrawal at a time like this..."
Malcolm turned his head and looked up at Cerabrate, who was sitting on the top step.
(TL: his name is Cerebrate not Serabure, sorry about that)
Their captain was leaning against the wall battlement, his silver-white armor marked with dust and a few shallow scratches. His sword was laid across his knees. His gaze was somewhere far away — he was clearly thinking.
"...It's Lord Aindra." Malcolm said the answer that everyone already knew. "What exactly did he do inside the beastman nation? Whatever it was, it forced the beastman king to pull his forces back."
"..."
Cerabrate's voice came across.
"That guy—" It was flat, a little muffled. Even his cowlick seemed to have absorbed its owner's mood, drooping slightly. "The message didn't say what he did."
Malcolm was quiet for a moment, then spoke: "Captain, should we move out while we have the chance? Harass the beastman rear — it'd be some support for Lord Aindra."
Cerabrate glanced at him.
"You think I didn't think of that?" There was a trace of frustration in his voice. "That guy... Lord Aindra specifically said to stay in the city and not go anywhere. Something about 'the front line cannot afford a single mistake.'"
He mimicked Lucian's delivery on that last phrase, bearing down on the word "mistake" in a way that was clearly practiced.
Malcolm gave a slight nod. Understood.
Eda Alicia finished cleaning the second short sword. Those slightly dazed eyes settled on Cerabrate's face for a moment.
"Captain..."
"What?" Cerabrate's voice was still flat.
Eda Alicia tilted her head. That delicately-featured elven face took on an expression that was simultaneously guileless and very sincere.
"You've been in a bad mood since earlier. Are you thinking about the queen?"
Cerabrate's pupils contracted sharply.
"What?" His voice jumped half a register. "No, I was thinking about something important."
Eda Alicia blinked. "But every time you mention Lucian, Captain, your tone gets really strange."
"How is it strange?" Cerabrate pushed back on instinct.
"It's like..." Eda Alicia tilted her head and thought about it. "Like... 'I could have done that too, so why wasn't it me' kind of feeling."
Malcolm finally lost the battle and let out a short, muffled laugh from somewhere in his chest — but it was brief, and he quickly covered it over with a dry cough.
Glaxton lowered his head and buried his face behind the cover of his spellbook. His shoulders shook at intervals.