Chapter 15: Undercurrents

“Why hasn’t that guy, Ilot, shown up yet today? Could something have happened?” Seeing that the other person had relaxed, Komer quickly changed the subject.
“What could possibly happen to him? He wakes up near lunchtime every day, spends afternoons causing trouble on the streets or hanging around bars. I think he’s really forgotten that he’ll be kicked out just like us soon. Or maybe he really intends to go back to the Mogan Plateau to become a scapegoat?” Puber complained.
“Hmph, life on the Mogan Plateau isn’t that easy. Maybe it was peaceful a couple of years ago, but will it stay that way forever? Orcs aren’t kind people. Their desire for wealth and a better life is their greatest driving force. With that drive, it’s already a blessing to escape unharmed. Just look at all those abandoned castles along the defense lines and the bones scattered everywhere—you’ll realize how many soldiers from the Kingdom of Nicossia have been sacrificed in this bottomless pit over the past hundred years. Once those fortresses fall to the orcs, death is the only outcome waiting for them.” More than three years in exile had added a touch of weariness to Komer’s youthful face, but it also taught him many harsh realities.
“Sigh, is this really the only two paths we have?” Puber was also troubled. Without a strong body or talent for martial arts, perhaps ending up as a mediocre minor official for life was his best fate. Yet he still hoped for some miracle to change his seemingly doomed destiny.
“Let’s see. Maybe the God of Fate will favor us unlucky ones sometimes. I don’t want to be looked down upon in this city of Sepulus. If I get the chance, I’d rather go out and try my luck.” Komer’s words carried double meaning as he gazed southward. The setting sun cast golden light on the sea outside the port, and the shifting hues of the twilight sky kept changing under the sunlight, creating a spectacular sight.
But Puber, preoccupied with his own thoughts, didn’t notice the hidden meaning in his words. He thought Komer was still trying to avoid this sad place.
“Fate? Would the God of Fate favor us?” Puber asked in confusion. “I’m a practical person. It’s better not to pin our hopes on those illusory fantasies.”

Heavy footsteps echoed at the door of the bar. Elot’s burly figure appeared in the doorway. Seeing his two companions already seated by the window, he snapped his fingers at the bartender and pointed to the Ranfenwode tequila on the bar before sitting down beside them.

“I’m late. I heard some news that hasn’t even made it into the newspapers yet.” He took a large gulp from the glass served by the waiter, smacked his lips in satisfaction, and then spoke in a rough voice.

“Enough, stop making excuses. Look at your shoulder—the straps of your leather armor are torn. Still trying to fool us? Who doesn’t know your ways? Where did you go fighting again?” Pube ignored his explanation and simply took a big drink from his glass.

Elot awkwardly glanced at his torn left shoulder strap, scratched his head sheepishly, and said angrily, “Pube, can you at least give me some face? As soon as the boss gets back, you expose my flaws right in front of him. That’s really unfair.”

“Hmph, how dare you say that. If you know what you’ve done, you should correct yourself. Acting recklessly like this won’t benefit you at all.” Pube wouldn’t budge. “You’re about to reach adulthood. Do you plan to keep living aimlessly even then?”

“What else can I do? Pube, I’m not like you. I don’t have your talents. Financial statements and administrative tasks give me a headache. I guess my only options are to end up on the streets or on the battlefield—either as a beggar or as a skeleton on the frontier.” Elot was in a bad mood, his words filled with desolation and self-mockery.

“Hey, Elot, what’s wrong? You seem off today.” Komer immediately sensed something was amiss.

“I was playing cards with the son of the grand duke’s steward earlier and heard that there’s fighting again in the north of the kingdom. The orcs have breached the northernmost fortress. Three castles have fallen, with over eight hundred soldiers killed, including a viscount and two barons. One of those castles was where I used to serve. It seems my comrades have all served the kingdom loyally.” Elot showed a rare look of distress, his tone turning sad as he thought of his former comrades now turned to dust—separated from him just a few months earlier, including his respected superior.

“Oh?” Komer and Puber were both surprised. The north had been quiet for several years. Though they knew it couldn’t remain peaceful forever, the entire kingdom, from top to bottom, hoped to maintain this harmonious relationship with the orcs on the Mogan Plateau in the north. But it seemed like a fantasy—they never understood why those seemingly foolish orcs refused to keep peace with the kingdom. Every few years, they would launch attacks from the south. For the sake of the kingdom’s dignity, countless brave warriors sacrificed their lives in each war.
“What’s the reason this time?” Komer and Puber asked in unison.
“I don’t know. It’s said that this time the orcs had no reason at all, not even any signs. It wasn’t until two castles fell and all the soldiers were killed that news reached us. Right now, the Kingdom’s Fire Shadow Knights and the Royal Golden Oak Infantry Regiment in the capital of Jazair have already entered combat readiness. I heard His Majesty the King has also issued a recruitment order to form a large mercenary force and ordered troops from various regions to be sent to the north to deal with the orcs’ provocations.” Eilot’s eyes sparkled with excitement, clearly captivated by this war that involved the entire kingdom. Though war was full of danger, it was the best stage to showcase a warrior’s abilities. Who would want to give up all honor and retreat? Even if the odds were heavily against them, they should fight hard to fulfill their mission.
“Those orcs can’t stand the loneliness anymore. That’s the kingdom’s weak point. Just a few castles can’t withstand their fierce attacks. The north is in trouble,” Komer said coldly. During his more than three years in exile, he had also visited the Mogan Plateau in the north. Though he hadn’t gone deep, he had dealt with orcs before. Their astonishing physique, strong bodies, and agility akin to jungle beasts showed him the huge gap in physical strength between orc warriors and human warriors. This wasn’t something training could fix. Faced with the orcs’ attacks, the kingdom could only defend passively, and such defense seemed utterly ineffective under their relentless provocations.
“I heard that this time the orcs even used a battering ram. I wonder how they came by such an advanced weapon? And who provided it to them?” Eilot lowered his voice quietly, scanning the surroundings. There were only some drunk patrons around, and no one seemed to notice the three of them. He clearly knew this news would cause a huge impact.

“What?!” Both Komer and Pupber were stunned by Eirot’s words. Orcs could use battering rams? How could they possibly have battering rams? And how would they know how to use such devices?
“Well, not many people are aware of this yet. That guy spilled it to me while drunk. He advised me not to join the royal army, saying that the Royal Second Infantry Regiment—the Iron Cross Infantry—is being reformed and recruiting again. He thought I’d soon turn adult with no prospects, so I’d want to join them.” Eirot said proudly. “I’m not that stupid. I need to assess the situation first. Orcs are already fierce enough, and now they even have battering rams. Going there without any plan would be suicide.”
“The kingdom is in trouble. If the orcs can truly develop and produce these things that were originally unique to us mortals, then the kingdom really needs to consider moving the capital. If the orcs break through the defenses and march south, it will be a disaster.” Pupber looked worried.
“No, that’s unlikely. There’s never been any record of orcs being able to produce any devices over the past thousand years. Even the simplest weapons and tools are smuggled in from the dwarf territories. If they really had this ability, they would have used it long ago—there’s no need to wait until now.” Komer firmly denied it.
“That’s not necessarily true. What if the orcs developed it recently?” Pupber countered, disagreeing with Komer’s view.

“That’s also unlikely. If orcs really developed those on their own, it’s impossible they would use just one in battle—they could have produced countless of them over the years!” Komer waved to the bartender at the bar to refill his drink, shaking his head affirmatively. “All things are born naturally, and through survival of the fittest, each has its own strengths and weaknesses. That’s why the world is so diverse. This is true in nature as well as in human society. If one group had absolute advantages, there would likely be no room left for other races on this continent. It can be said that we mortals have the most balanced abilities and traits overall, but we are the weakest in terms of vitality. Orcs naturally have strong survival skills; physically and in terms of vitality, they are several times stronger than us mortals. Yet for thousands of years, they’ve still been trapped on the northern plateau under the rule of kingdoms—why? Because by nature, they lack discipline and the wisdom to innovate and develop, which are their innate flaws. Moreover, we mortals can use magic, something they fear the most, to strike at them. War isn’t a matter of individual strength; it requires comprehensive overall strength, so they have no chance of winning.”

“Then could it be that the battering ram was provided by the dwarves?” Eirwen interjected. The appearance of battering rams among the orcs was also a huge shock to her. If the orcs used them on a large scale, the castles along the kingdom’s northern borders would face destruction, and the kingdom’s end would truly come. She had witnessed the orcs’ combat prowess firsthand, and recalling those brutal scenes, even Eirwen, who was quite confident in her own strength, still shuddered.

“That’s unlikely.” It wasn’t until the bartender left that Komer replied in a somewhat uncertain tone. Clearly, he was also puzzled, but such an impossible event had indeed happened. “Although the dwarves are skillful, they’ve never really studied or shown interest in these large-scale engineering devices. What interests and drives them are weapons and crafts. I don’t think they have the ability to create such things. Only we mortals—more precisely, only the mortal nations and forces on this continent—would be interested in them. Creating a functional battering ram requires quite complex craftsmanship and technology, and even the cost of materials is enormous.”

“The boss is right. Even if the dwarves could do it, they probably wouldn’t dare defy everyone just to supply it to those orcs. They would face hostility from all the mortals on the continent, and they surely wouldn’t ignore that,” Pube agreed as well.

“Dwarves have always been timid and cautious. Though there are people in this world who would sell anything for profit, it seems unlikely for dwarves to do so. They’re not only fearful but also quite stubborn, unwilling to easily change the rules they hold dear. So if they really broke this taboo, it could cause turmoil across the entire continent. I feel the continent has become too quiet lately—excessive calm is often a precursor to major storms. But maybe greater turmoil would be more beneficial for us insignificant people.” Komer picked up his glass, savoring the slightly bitter liquid. This mildly bitter beer felt very comfortable to him; the refreshing sensation on his lips and teeth always helped sharpen his thoughts.

Ilot and Puteng couldn’t help but exchange glances, both filled with surprise. They noticed that Komer seemed like a different person after more than three years in exile. Aside from the occasional hint of his former unrestrained nature in his words, what struck them most now was his gloomy determination. It seemed his changes over these three years had been so profound that both Ilot and Pube found it hard to understand what their leader was thinking.

Seeing their astonished looks, Komer knew his words had caught their attention again. Perhaps having encountered too many new things over these three years had subtly changed him in every aspect. Even he felt he was no longer the same reckless and indulgent second son of the Lessor family he used to be. Whether these changes were good or bad, Komer didn’t know. He only knew he was no longer the person he used to be and could never return to that lifestyle. From the day he left Sepulus City filled with grief and anger, he was no longer the original Komer.