novelraw Chapter 106 : Chapter 106
Chapter 106 : Chapter 106
Chapter 106: Verbon Fortress (4)
The Rockturtle Tribe warriors keeping watch atop the fortress walls rubbed their eyes at the bizarre spectacle unfolding before them.
“What in the world are they doing?”
Instead of attacking, the duke’s allied forces were holding a drunken revelry in front of the fortress.
“Hahaha!”
The soldiers’ laughter echoed up to the walls.
With meat in one hand and a tankard in the other, they traded jokes and banter.
Some even danced merrily to the music.
“Are those bastards mocking us?”
“They’re begging to die!”
The warriors, enraged by the allied forces’ attitude, grew agitated.
They were ready to fling open the gates and charge at them.
“What’s the commotion?”
At that moment, Grumbak himself ascended the walls.
He surveyed the battlefield with a grave expression and spoke in a resolute voice.
“It’s a trap. They’re waiting for us to open the gates. Fire arrows.”
The warriors promptly carried out the order.
A rain of arrows poured toward the allied forces.
As if expecting this, shield-bearing soldiers emerged from both sides, forming a defensive line.
―Ting ting ting!
Confirming this, Grumbak reiterated to the warriors not to lower their guard.
“Did you see? They’re trying to provoke us. Don’t take the bait. But keep a close watch on their movements.”
After ordering the walls to be held, Grumbak quietly descended.
Yet he realized this wasn’t a simple provocation.
The act of holding a revelry.
Its purpose was to disrupt the morale within the fortress and sow confusion.
‘Heriel, no matter what tricks you pull, I won’t hand over this fortress.’
However, the allied forces’ actions weren’t merely about lowering enemy morale or causing confusion, as Grumbak assumed.
The duke, mingling in the revelry while observing the fortress, quietly fixed his gaze on the dense forest to the left of the walls.
‘Evan, don’t overdo it.’
At that very moment, while the front of Verbon Fortress was a raucous scene, deep in the forest along the fortress’s edge, a hole had been dug.
Within that dark tunnel, two men worked silently, sweating profusely.
“You bastard! Using me for mere digging?”
“Should I order you to shut up too?”
The man who sighed in response was Evan.
The one grumbling beside him was Gaiard.
They were digging a tunnel to infiltrate the impregnable Verbon Fortress.
“Please, just dig quietly. Do you realize how important this is?”
“Why don’t I just go out now and smash the gates or walls? What kind of nonsense is this?”
Evan continued speaking as he shoveled dirt.
“Ugh… Do you think this is a few hundred years ago? The world’s changed a lot. This isn’t an era where one person’s strength can do that anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
Gaiard was puzzled why Evan and others of similar caliber couldn’t breach a single wall.
Evan explained the difference between Gaiard’s era and the present.
“Critical defensive structures like that fortress or the royal castle are coated with Ebora Solution.”
“Ebora Solution? What’s that?”
Despite his long life, Gaiard had never heard of Ebora Solution.
“It’s a long story… It’s a rare liquid only obtainable from across the sea. It’s made using the properties of the Ebora Mushroom, which nullifies mana itself.”
“Such a thing exists?”
“Yes. And that’s coated on Verbon Fortress. So, whether you swing a sword aura or even the famed Ernst casts a meteor, it’s useless.”
Up until 200 years ago, wars on the continent were defined by individual strength determining the outcome.
A single powerhouse could face thousands or tens of thousands, deciding the war’s fate.
In that era, a mage and explorer made a monumental discovery.
It began when he fell into a cliff known as the World’s Rift during a shipwreck.
Miraculously surviving, he found a strange mushroom he’d never seen before at the cliff’s base.
Starving, he ate it without hesitation, and something bizarre happened.
No matter what spell he cast or how he summoned mana, there was no response.
Initially gripped by shock and fear, he soon realized the cause was that strange mushroom.
This was the discovery of the most powerful mana-nullifying substance in world history, the Ebora Mushroom.
“The solution extracted from that mushroom ended the era where individual strength dominated. That’s why nations began developing siege weapons.”
“Is that true?”
Gaiard asked, still incredulous.
“It is. That’s why the duke and other lords are racking their brains like this.”
“If such a thing exists, how was your academy breached so easily?”
“I told you, it’s extremely rare. And who’d have thought they’d attack the academy?”
“Fair point. It was uncharacteristically cunning for them.”
“Anyway, unlike the academy, this place is meticulously coated with Ebora Solution. You can’t just break through.”
Ultimately, human warfare had returned to its origins, an era where strategy was paramount.
Especially in sieges like this.
“Fine, let’s say brute force won’t work. Why are you doing this grunt work? Aren’t you a little count?”
“Because if this plan fails, we’re in big trouble.”
The strategy to breach Verbon Fortress hinged on two key points:
how quickly they could break through, and how few soldiers they would lose.
However, these two goals were inherently incompatible.
A swift breakthrough required sacrificing many troops.
The problem was that expending strength here would make it impossible to strike the Kandahr main force’s rear.
For this reason, Evan sought to minimize losses and resolved to undertake the most dangerous task himself.
“Then do it alone. Why drag me into this? Do I look like some werewolf digging like a dog?”
“No, but you’re strong, right? You dig better than me! Stop arguing and dig. We’re short on time.”
“I swear, you won’t die peacefully. I’ll make you wish you were back on the Coast of the Dead.”
“Do what you want.”
Evan dug silently.
Gaiard glared at him briefly, then sighed and shook his head.
“Let’s say we infiltrate through this tunnel. What guarantee is there that no one will be around when we surface?”
The duke’s revelry was meant to distract attention while Evan dug.
While it succeeded in diverting eyes, it couldn’t redirect footsteps.
“Good point. You’re right. I don’t have clairvoyance, so I can’t pinpoint an empty spot to emerge.”
“You’re doing this knowing that, betting on luck?”
Gaiard asked sardonically, but Evan calmly drove his shovel into the ground again.
“There’s some truth to that, but at least when we surface, their attention will already be diverted.”
He had already instructed the duke on another distraction tactic.
“So let’s dig like our lives depend on it until dawn.”
“What a pathetic fate…”
While the duke continued the revelry into the night, Evan and Gaiard dug their tunnel beyond the fortress.
***
As midnight approached, the duke ended the revelry and retreated to the main camp.
Back in his tent, he unfolded the letter Evan had given him.
He reflected deeply on Evan’s words.
―This letter must be delivered by someone skilled, like Sir Jismon.
“Hm…”
The duke sighed, rereading the letter’s contents.
‘Honestly, I heard he wasn’t exactly kind. Yet he wrote this. If he spoke like this openly, he must’ve caused quite a bit of friction…’
The duke carefully folded and sealed the letter.
Then he turned his gaze outside the tent.
“Summon Jismon.”
Soon, Jismon entered the tent.
“You called, Duke?”
“Jismon, you need to take this letter to Verbon Fortress.”
“Understood.”
Jismon accepted it without question.
But as he turned to leave, “Jismon.”
The duke called him back.
“Yes? Is there something else?”
“Don’t hand the letter directly to their chief. Give it to the gatekeeper. And… come back quickly.”
Jismon looked puzzled but nodded without further questions.
“Understood.”
As he left the tent, the duke grabbed his sword and stepped out.
‘I have my own role to play.’
***
Jismon, carrying the duke’s letter, stopped before Verbon Fortress and shouted loudly.
“Open the gate! I bring a letter from Duke Heriel Theron!”
For a while, silence reigned beyond the gate.
But soon,
―Creak.
The gate slowly opened.
Jismon entered alone.
As soon as he did, the gate began to close again.
“No, I’m leaving immediately. Deliver this letter to your chief.”
The warrior guarding the gate frowned.
“You won’t deliver it to the chief yourself?”
“No.”
“Hm… Alright.”
As the warrior took the letter and headed toward the chief, Jismon turned his horse.
He slipped through the slightly open gate and rode out.
―Clop clop clop.
Riding swiftly back to the camp, Jismon fell into thought.
‘The duke wouldn’t overlook the courtesy of delivering a letter in person. So why tell me not to? Was he worried they’d take me hostage? Why me specifically?’
Soon after,
a beastly roar erupted from within the fortress.
‘What the—?’
Startled, Jismon looked back.
The gate swung wide open, and warriors poured out, their gazes fixed on him.
“Capture that man! Don’t let him escape!!”
Instead of engaging, Jismon spurred his horse toward the camp.
Completing the duke’s order was his priority.
‘What was written in that letter to make them rage like this…?’
But there was no way to satisfy his curiosity.
The letter had been delivered, and only the duke and Evan knew its contents.
And that letter read:
⌜To Grumbak Stone, Chief of the Rockturtle Tribe.
We accepted your challenge and faced your warriors fist-to-fist without hesitation.
Hiding behind thick armor was never even a consideration.
And now, facing your warriors, one truth has become clear.
Who is the true warrior?
You must know the answer by now.
You offered us a chance to flee.
Now we extend the same offer to you.
Cowards are accustomed to running with their backs turned, after all.
So go, Grumbak Stone.
As a defeated man,
and no longer a warrior.
Evan Lafard.⌟