The Third Son of a Medieval Knight Family Chapter 47 - Tribal Conflict (12)

Yugrichi threw down the weapon he was holding with an extremely irritated expression.

The warrior prostrating before him could barely breathe properly and pressed himself flat against the ground.

“Are you calling that words right now! Bring him before me immediately, immediately!”

“Yes, yes!”

“I can’t stand the sight of you, so get the hell out of here!”

As the warrior disappeared crawling away, he could no longer contain his anger and swept away the objects around him with abandon.

“That damn wolf bastard! I knew he’d cause trouble someday, but to act this way?”

The Grand Chief of the steppe, Yugrichi, picked up the sword he had thrown again when the face of a man grinning unpleasantly came to mind, unable to contain himself.

“You’d better remember that defying me ultimately leads only to death, Bohdan!”

The Grand Chief’s gaze turned toward the distant horizon.

---

“He must be absolutely furious by now.”

Bohdan grinned, baring his teeth.

The surroundings were full of noisy commotion, but Bohdan showed no concern whatsoever.

Rather, he was enjoying this moment.

The smell of burning wooden houses, the fishy scent mixing blood and metallic odors invigorated his entire body, and the screams of enemies and the terror-stricken voices of people became the sweetest music.

“Chief! We’ve finished cleaning up this area!”

A warrior appeared covered in blood and made his report.

From his uninhibited behavior, it seemed the blood wasn’t from his own injuries.

Bohdan nodded with satisfaction.

“Good, then shall we gradually move to another place. Prepare.”

“Yes, Chief!”

As soon as he finished speaking, he began to continue what he had been doing.

“Please… mercy! Mercy!”

Stab!

The old village elder, who had once ruled a large village, was begging for mercy before Bohdan.

However, he casually ignored the plea and thrust the sword he was holding into the elder’s neck.

“Gurgle…”

With a rattling sound, the elder fell to the side.

Bohdan retrieved his sword and slowly walked over to examine the modest outdoor banquet area set up on the head table.

“Hmm.”

There wasn’t much, but Bohdan found some honey wine that looked relatively delicious among them and drank it straight without even pouring it into a cup.

‘Grand Chief… things will never go according to your will. Who decided to end the war on their own? It won’t be that way.’

He soon threw away the bottle and began glaring somewhere with burning eyes.

It was the direction where the Grand Chief’s military tent was expected to be installed.

“The war will continue. Until we break the principality bastards and we—no, I—rise to the highest position!”

Bohdan’s face contorted with ambition.

That’s when it happened.

Someone quietly walked up behind him and spoke.

“Chief, is this really alright?”

Bohdan turned around.

The old warrior Kulak was standing quietly.

He looked up and down at Kulak with a displeased expression.

Due to the flying ashes, his face was covered with soot, but there were hardly any bloodstains visible.

“Kulak, your body is clean. Perhaps you didn’t fight?”

“…Chief. What kind of fight is this? It’s just play, nothing more than hunting. The Grand Chief will be furious.”

“That damn Grand Chief, Grand Chief! Just whose subordinate are you anyway! My tribesmen should naturally follow my words, shouldn’t they!”

“…I’m just worried about the Chief. To deliberately provoke the principality and wage a bigger war. This isn’t the way of the wolf…”

Bohdan’s face reddened for a moment, but he soon sighed.

Then he opened his mouth again, grinding his teeth as if trying to appease Kulak.

“Kulak, wise and sagacious Kulak. I know your concerns well. But isn’t this already decided? For our tribe to become the rulers of the steppe again, to avoid being stuck in that damn countryside village tending sheep for life! Why don’t you understand that right now is the perfect opportunity!”

“…”

“The Grand Chief is only looking out for his own interests. He’s babbling that now that we’ve plundered enough, retreating this much can avoid making complete enemies of the principality. Cowardly. It’s cowardly thinking! Right now when their power is faltering in the steppe, if we don’t smash their foundation, those bastards will crawl back in like insects.”

“…Chief.”

“And they won’t stop. If that happens, how far will we have to retreat again? Like my father did, like my grandfather did, giving up the steppe, and giving up more! Now if we even give up that remote Uley land, where on earth will we live!”

“…I apologize, Chief.”

“Remember this, Kulak. The Grand Chief is never on our side. Those bastards will only look after their own tribes and absolutely won’t care whether other tribes live or die. I’m different, Kulak. I, I intend to become the firm ruler of this steppe. Without treating any tribes as expendable! Without suffering humiliation from the enemies of the steppe! I intend to become such a powerful father of all the steppes!”

“I understand, Chief. That grand dream of yours…”

Kulak looked at Bohdan with a seemingly pitying expression.

However, the chief paid no attention and extended his hand.

“Follow me, Kulak. I need you. I can never accomplish this alone. Even if I’m cursed as heartless and cruel, I sincerely believe this path is for our tribe. Will you support me, Kulak?”

Kulak looked behind Bohdan with somehow distant eyes.

Having once served Bohdan’s father and grandfather as well, he had now become an old man, and Bohdan, who had once been busy toddling and laughing, had grown into a hero with ambition, ruthless enough to boldly abandon even his own child.

‘I’ve grown old too…’

Kulak bowed his head and wrapped Bohdan’s hands with both of his.

“I had forgotten for a moment. The foremost wolf, Kulak. The path the Chief takes, I will follow to the ends of hell.”

“Mm…!”

Bohdan smiled with satisfaction once more.

Then he carefully lowered the sword he had raised.

Kulak seemed not to notice, but it no longer mattered.

Blood began to drip slowly from the blade to the ground.

Drop!

As blood fell into the puddle that had seeped from the elder’s body, Bohdan opened his mouth again.

“Speaking of which, about that knight we discussed in the last meeting.”

“Are you referring to Viktor Kobarov?”

“Ah, that knight. According to Ibuti’s words, he will surely return to this land.”

According to the former warrior leader Ibuti, who was still in confinement after suffering humiliation, the knight named Viktor would surely come to the east with additional principality forces.

Normally he wouldn’t have cared much about whoever came, but after hearing Kulak mention separately that the knight named Viktor was indeed from the village that had once kidnapped his daughter, Bohdan had been strangely conscious of that knight.

Even more so after hearing the story that he had broken through the encirclement of warriors led by Kulak and escaped.

“I’ve found something on my own. Kulak, it wouldn’t be bad for you to take a look. Since it’s a personal matter for me to keep worrying about…”

“Your command.”

When Kulak bowed his head, Bohdan nodded.

“One warrior plundering a village found a surviving bloodline from the Kobarov family hiding.”

“Hmm… is that so?”

“Well, I just casually threw them to my daughter as a target for venting her anger… if they’re still not dead, go check. What kind of person this knight Viktor is, whether there are any weaknesses… Kulak, use your judgment to handle it.”

As those words ended, Kulak’s eyes began to gleam.

---

“Count! It is truly an honor beyond measure to meet you like this!”

A knight with an utterly exhausted expression entered the camp with a bright smile.

Behind him, several knights and soldiers were waiting while displaying banners.

The knight’s appearance looked better than expected, but the dark circles that had descended almost to his nose and his bloodshot eyes seemed to represent the mental suffering the knight was experiencing.

“Stop for a moment! First reveal who you are.”

Although they had already received word through advance messengers that forces would come to meet them, such procedures were important to the principality’s nobles.

Much more so when meeting a high noble like a count.

Since he was leading an army and the count himself was unpretentious and disliked formalities, the military tent was relatively modest and many procedures had been omitted, but things were different when meeting external nobles not under the count’s command.

Not only Mikhail but even Viktor were standing fully armed behind the count.

The knight meeting the count directly was limited to one person, and it was necessary to fully display the count’s power and dignity to him.

True to the count’s unusual veneration of martial prowess, his knights were uniformly excellent and their equipment was superb.

“I was born as the fifth son of Baron Ilivarkov, served for ten years as a squire to Sir Lusimov, the most faithful knight of Viscount Odor… had experience suppressing the peasant rebellion of Birmin with the most trustworthy squires… and so now I am a knight serving Viscount Odor, Uliya Ilivarkov, Count. Once again, it is an honor beyond measure to meet you like this.”

Along with a long and verbose self-introduction, the knight Uliya offered a perfect Old Empire-style greeting.

Mikhail, watching this, muttered with displeasure.

“He came as a noble rather than a knight, is that it? The eastern nobles are famous for this, but really.”

“Famous?”

When Viktor beside him murmured questioningly, Mikhail also answered in a low voice.

“I didn’t mean to insult you, but… look, we didn’t come here to meet that knight, and we’re not visiting Radovitz to hold some social gathering. When His Excellency put knights forward to receive that man, it was precisely a declaration of such intent. But that fellow can’t even read His Excellency’s intentions and is observing noble etiquette first, so how should I put it… it’s provincial.”

Mikhail’s face darkened slightly.

The count was appropriately responding to and treating the knight called Uliya without concern, but he could see clearly.

The count was slightly displeased.

“I heard the eastern lords are quite urgent… did they deliberately send a signal? A bluff that they’re still healthy? Or really…”

Hearing Mikhail’s muttering, Viktor let out a hollow laugh.

Unlike the rural society he had been in, it seemed the principality’s nobles lived in more complex and difficult ways than expected.

‘The councilors of Permikoff would be better at this rate.’

For Viktor, who had not received proper training as either a noble or a knight, it was something difficult to get used to easily.

Perhaps sensing this mood.

Mikhail patted Viktor’s shoulder and said.

“Don’t worry too much about it. They have a strange inferiority complex and tend to be obsessed with such ceremonies to an unusual degree. Just look at how they deliberately offer Old Empire-style greetings? Ah… I absolutely didn’t mean to insult you…”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Mikhail looked at Viktor anew.

Come to think of it, Viktor was a noble from the east, but he had surprisingly little interest in his fellow countrymen.

‘Well, everyone has their circumstances…’

Mikhail turned his head forward again.

The audience was finishing.

“Then, Your Excellency. I will convey this matter well. I’ll send another envoy, so if you could wait just a moment…”

“Ah, wait. Stop that.”

The count shook his head and stood up.

“Yes, yes?”

The knight called Uliya made a foolish sound, but the count carelessly waved his hand and continued.

“It’s urgent now, so it would be better to handle such formalities later. Report immediately upon return. Tell them I’ll lead the army and open the castle gates.”

“Ah, but Your Excellency! This is unprecedented! Moreover, the preparations for the banquet aren’t even…”

The knight cried out in surprise, but the count didn’t even blink.

“Why wouldn’t there be precedent? Do you know more about history than me? Do I need to have a scribe show you the records for you to be satisfied?”

At the count’s point, Uliya stammered and couldn’t say anything.

“Enough, prepare immediately.”

When the count politely but coldly issued an order to leave, the knight had no choice but to return with drooping shoulders.

Viktor nodded.

“Setting aside other things, His Excellency is certainly spirited.”

“Haha, that’s also why His Excellency is popular.”

For the rough knights of the north, it would be difficult to find another lord who suited their temperament as much as Count Yakobski.

As the other side of the coin, he seemed to give an unpleasant impression to the central nobles…

“Anyway, they’re all obsessed with Old Empire fashion trends… dignity isn’t created that way. Isn’t that right?”

Mikhail rather mocked them while defending his lord.

Viktor just nodded.

When the count gave orders, the knights and mercenaries quickly prepared to enter the castle.

And finally, the gates of Radovitz opened.

One of the few fortresses not fallen to the barbarians, the gathering place of resistance where the eastern lords had assembled, the so-called ‘beacon of hope’—they had finally set foot inside.