81

Not knowing how long it would take, I first butchered the rabbit I had caught.

I dug a hole to bury the discarded parts, built a hearth, washed my hands, and prepared the iron plate.

Lighting the fuel I had brought, I quickly smeared fat on the plate and placed the cut meat on it.

I carefully sprinkled salt and pepper, listening closely so as not to miss the timing to flip the meat.

The soldiers on the castle wall were bewildered by the monster suddenly starting a barbecue, but I was too busy grilling to care.

These days it was becoming something of an art form, so even a slight mistake was unacceptable.

And so, I was focusing when I heard the sound of the castle gate opening.

Reflexively looking over, I saw about five people walking toward me.

One was the old man from earlier, and the rest were two men and two women.

Since they were all armed, I couldn’t tell who the representative was.

Using an iron skewer, I deftly flipped the meat and lightly sprinkled salt and pepper on the cooked side.

(Now that I think about it, there’s also the option of squeezing citrus on it. I’ll have to get some next time, wherever I can.)

My attention drifted a little toward the meat, but I still kept them in sight, so there was no problem.

One of them pointed at me grilling and laughed, apparently realizing what I was doing.

She looked like someone I could talk to, I thought as I prepared some dishes.

The other three looked at me with disgust, while the remaining woman’s expressionless face made her stand out and easy to remember.

As they got closer, even while watching the meat I could make out their features.

The men were easy to read: one a burly, obvious soldier, the other a bearded, pot-bellied bigwig—let’s skip describing the old man.

The women were the expressionless slender one and the laughing voluptuous one.

My guess was they were Number Two and Number Four, or maybe Number Five.

Given the military uniforms, I couldn’t be certain—that was a shortcoming in my training.

“Hey, I hear you want to talk with us,”

The glamorous blonde beauty in uniform spoke, standing before me as I grilled.

Pants weren’t bad, but if she’d been in a miniskirt it would’ve been even better.

I looked up thinking that—and my thoughts froze.

I simply reached out my hand without saying anything.

Two of them immediately raised their guns in response, but she held them back with one hand and, standing tall, looked straight at me without even glancing at my extended arm.

I took off her cap; her semi-long blonde hair swayed slightly in the wind.

(…Ha, this is beyond uncanny.)

Spitting image—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call her the living double of my sister.

If her hair were a little longer, I might have hugged her on the spot.

Overcome by nostalgia, emotions almost welled up, but suddenly it was as if a switch flipped, and I returned to calm.

I put her cap back and flipped the meat.

Taking out my notepad, I wrote:

“Felt like I’d seen you somewhere before. My apologies.”

“Oh my, monsters these days hit on people, huh?”

At her words after reading the note, the three behind her waved their hands in denial, like saying, “No, that’s not it.”

Taking it as an invitation to banter, I played dumb in a monster-like way: “What does ‘hit on’ mean?”

“It means trying to pick up the opposite sex. So, what did you want to talk about?”

Her tone became slightly more casual, but with her voice overlapping with my sister’s, the resemblance only grew stronger.

Before searching for the relevant page in my notebook, I cut a piece of meat and held it out to her.

She popped it into her mouth without hesitation, complaining, “A bit tough,” as she swallowed it down.

“I want information gathered by humans about the orcs.”

“No. I don’t know what your goal is.”

She refused the moment she saw the note.

(An immediate answer, huh? Between her unhesitating bite of meat and this boldness, she’s definitely from my bloodline.)

Now that I thought about it, Mother was like this too, and my sister resembled her a lot.

My younger sister had been a bit shy, but when she steeled herself, she reminded me of Mother as well.

Cutting off a bite for myself, I opened the page I’d prepared and showed it to her.

“Right now, the forest orcs are increasing too much. I want as accurate a count and their locations as possible.”

“That’s why I said no. Tell me your purpose. Your purpose.”

As I struggled with the tiny notebook in my hand, she suddenly asked, “Ah, can you slice that part thinly?”—of all things, a request for more meat.

I paused, filleted a piece of meat into two, and seared the red interior on the iron plate.

“They’ve increased far too much. I judged some culling is necessary. For that, we request the information humans have.”

“‘Request’? …Do you even know what that word means?”

She made no attempt to hide her displeasure upon reading the note, but this was among the scenarios I had anticipated.

I hoped she’d forgive the slight semantic overreach, as I checked the doneness of the meat and wrote a new line in my notepad.

“I see, you understand words. You just can’t speak, right?”

At her question, I let out a goofy “Guaaah,” and she started laughing.

“So, you want to cull the orcs because there are too many. That’s why you want their numbers and locations, right?”

I nodded to her words and skewered a piece of grilled meat to offer her.

She brushed aside her blonde hair with one hand, bit the meat off the skewer, and chewed.

Even as a beauty, her slightly wild way of eating suited her.

(Sis was like this too—anything she did looked picturesque. With her great figure, it was chaos in the streets with guys flocking around.)

I recalled once being punched due to a misunderstanding, and as an apology she’d treated me to expensive meat.

“Hmm… but that raises one question. Why are you culling the overgrown orcs? And since you want numbers and positions, you intend to leave some alive, right?”

“Extermination isn’t the goal. I want to reduce their numbers and maintain the forest’s balance.”

After reading my prepared note, her gaze turned sharp.

“Would you say the same if humans started developing the forest?”

Showing her the page that said “Depends on the situation and place,” she seemed to ponder for a moment.

Crossing her arms pressed her ample chest together, but because she looked too much like my sister, I couldn’t see her that way.

“Then… how much would you allow?”

Oh, I hadn’t expected that question.

Or rather, I didn’t think she’d ask so specifically.

Put bluntly, asking that could be seen as drawing a “line in the sand.”

I didn’t know how much territorial ambition the current Furon Council had, but I couldn’t imagine they weren’t thinking about regaining the old lands.

This fell under “politically awkward questions.”

The old man’s openly troubled expression showed he understood that much.

I exhaled deeply and scrawled on the memo paper.

“Beyond the fortress I destroyed, there’s farmland. For now, be satisfied with that area.”

She looked at the note and raised her cheek in a grin.

Seeing her face reminded me of my sister, and I could see what she was thinking.

“I see. I suspected there was a reason the orcs could maintain their increased numbers, but I didn’t have confirmation.”

To my additional note, she smiled and said, “Correct.”

In other words, she was also saying:

“We hardly have any information on the orcs.” —This was one of the worst-case scenarios I had anticipated.

Her next line was easy to guess.

“There’s one thing I want to ask… Since you understand language and appear before us like this—can I assume negotiation is possible?”

Getting too close was no good.

My combat power was something a nation would desperately want.

I couldn’t sell myself cheaply.

Even if the Furon Council carried Imperial blood, I couldn’t allow myself to be conveniently used.

I “belonged to the Fullretos Empire,” not the Council-State.

That was the boundary I had drawn for myself.

I couldn’t overturn it.

Thus, I wouldn’t engage in unbalanced deals.

“Forget it. If you intend to rely on me, I demand an equivalent price. And you can’t prepare compensation worthy of my work. Therefore, no negotiation.”

If they had information, I’d take it and act on my own.

Even without it, I’d act on my own.

If they had information and wanted me involved, a joint front wasn’t impossible.

But if they had no information and just wanted to rely on me—that was no different from hiring a mercenary.

My combat strength exceeded moving an entire army.

Then the reward had to be immense, if not on the scale of a national budget.

It wasn’t the same as mercenaries asking for help.

Since it was the military asking, I had to respond accordingly.

Perhaps understanding what I meant, she sighed and raised her hands in a gesture of surrender.

With those resentful eyes, she asked, “Are you really a monster?” but seemed to have given up on using me.

(So gallant… truly feels like my sister’s descendant.)

She shone a little too brightly.

I wanted her to be alive too.

But that was that; this was this.

If there was no information to gain, there was no point in staying here.

I quickly finished the grilled meat, put out the fire, and started cleaning up.

“…There’s only one piece of information I can provide.”

I didn’t stop cleaning but silently listened.

Either way, if I was going to reduce orcs, it was likely a plea to hunt some pigs somewhere.

“The orcs have been increasing for quite a while… but they only started intruding into human territory a few years ago. From that time, a certain individual has been sighted repeatedly.”

That wasn’t what I’d expected—it sounded pretty important.

“We call it the ‘Emperor.’ Not a King, but a higher-ranking individual. Based on sightings—it’s probably a monster on par with or even above you.”