LUW 62

Chapter 62

He finished speaking and slightly furrowed his brow.

The Hakan tribe was certainly belligerent, but they were also politically calculating and had a strong survival instinct.

They knew their position better than anyone else, so it was unlikely they would move first without provocation.

Yet, they had chosen to act precisely when the border was left unguarded—something even Pierre found suspicious.

There were several other things that couldn’t be explained either.

If he wanted to understand their intentions, he had no choice but to face them directly and speak with them.

He had prepared a few methods to help ensure the conversation went smoothly, but whether the Hakan tribe would accept them was uncertain.

A brief silence passed before Cecilia muttered softly.

“…I hope the conversation goes well.”

“That’s why we’re going, so don’t worry too much.”

Pierre gave her a gentle smile, trying to reassure her.

But soon his gaze shifted quietly toward the window.

Under the dust-filled sky, makeshift tents came into view beyond the ridgeline.

They had arrived at the border.

On the canvas of the half-covered tent, the Hakan tribe’s distinctive emblem faintly revealed itself.

And finally, the carriage crossed the threshold into Hakan territory.

Beyond the sharply cut sandstone ridges, the tent flapped in the wind.

This was the meeting place with the Hakan tribe.

Pierre brought the carriage to a stop on the leeward side of the ridge, where it was relatively protected from the wind, and rose from his seat.

“Cecilia, stay here and wait.”

“Oh, I can—”

“No.”

Unlike before, Pierre firmly refused.

Cecilia flinched and nodded quietly.

Just bringing her this far had likely been a significant decision for Pierre.

Insisting on accompanying him to the meeting site would have been unwise, unless she was completely unaware of the gravity of the situation.

Pierre turned to Leo and gave him a slight nod.

“You come with me.”

Leo frowned slightly but rose silently without complaint.

Instead of heading straight for the tent, Pierre walked toward the supply wagon.

As he approached, Ian—who stood at the door—bowed to Pierre and silently opened it.

Inside the narrow and gloomy carriage sat Zilgerk, his hands bound.

He sat motionless, like a corpse, and slowly raised his head as Pierre’s presence approached.

Through his disheveled, long hair, his dead-fish gray eyes sluggishly stared past Pierre’s shoulder.

“…There’s a sandstorm. Are we at the border?”

Pierre entered the carriage without answering and closed the door behind him.

The space was far too cramped for his tall, broad frame. Just sitting down filled the interior.

“There’s no time, so let’s get straight to the point. Have you noticed any strange movements among the Hakan tribe lately?”

Zilgerk looked at him with a twisted smirk.

“I’m more of a specialist at catching those beast bastards, so I don’t know much about their ecosystem.”

Pierre stared at him without responding.

Zilgerk shrugged and continued.

“But I suppose that’s not the right way to put it. There was something strange, I suppose.”

He turned his head, looking toward the closed wooden door of the carriage—gazing as if recalling a familiar landscape.

“About a month ago, a large group from the Hakan tribe moved south.”

“Their route?”

“To the southern tip known as the Valley of Death. As you know, it’s a barren, rocky area where not even grass grows—so desolate that even the Hakan rarely enter it.”

“…It’s not even properly marked on maps.”

Pierre’s expression darkened.

If what Zilgerk said was true, it wasn’t just a routine movement.

That region was isolated, with rugged cliffs and wastelands, but it also bordered the southern edge of the Empire.

Just a little further south was the Empire’s second-largest maritime trading hub.

Pierre’s eyes sharpened.

‘A place where trade ships and merchants converge. Also one of the most poorly defended stretches of the imperial coastline.’

Zilgerk quietly added:

“The Hakan are extremely cautious. They never move without a reason. If they did, there must be a good one.”

Pierre narrowed his brow, lost in thought.

Hopefully it was just a reconnaissance or patrol—but he couldn’t rule out the possibility of pre-deployment for war.

“Anything else come to mind?”

“There is.”

Zilgerk exhaled shortly and nodded.

“One of the Hakan sub-tribes disappeared. Whether it was for war preparation or an internal purge, I can’t say—but it was odd.”

“…I see.”

Pierre nodded slowly and rose from his seat.

Just as he was about to open the door and step outside, Zilgerk’s relaxed voice floated toward his back.

“The Hakan aren’t the type to reason with. They’re beasts. You’d better be careful.”

As he opened the door, Pierre replied briefly.

“It was the Empire that made them beasts. They’re people with reason, too.”

* * *

Outside the carriage, Pierre paused briefly to collect his thoughts.

Ian approached him cautiously.

“My lord, preparations are complete. We’ve provided food and water as you ordered, and they’ve calmed down somewhat.”

“…Good. Make sure they remain comfortable. If they get hurt, we won’t be leaving here unharmed. You escort Cecilia’s carriage. I’ll enter the meeting with Biern.”

“Understood.”

With those concise instructions, Pierre headed toward the makeshift tent set up by the Hakan.

Leo, who had been waiting near the path, came into view.

Pierre gave him a sideways glance and said curtly:

“You’re coming in with me.”

Leo openly frowned but followed behind Pierre in silence.

With Biern and Leo at his side, Pierre entered the tent.

The atmosphere inside was immediately different.

A piercing tension stung his skin.

On either side stood Hakan warriors holding weapons that reeked of blood.

Spears, axes, machetes—each one bore the scars of real combat.

They made no effort to conceal their hostility.

In the center, a semi-circle of what appeared to be tribal leaders sat, and at the very center was the largest man, wearing the skull of a massive beast atop his head.

His body, draped in well-cured animal hide, bore the scars of hundreds of battles.

He was the king of the Hakan tribe.

“A man of the Empire—how brave. To walk into enemy territory unarmed.”

One tribal leader scoffed.

“Would be satisfying to skin that pale hide.”

Another grinned menacingly.

At those words, Biern’s hand shot to the hilt of his sword in outrage.

Then the king in the center spoke slowly.

“Silence, all of you. He is a guest who has come from afar.”

He looked at Pierre and gestured with his chin.

“Sit. I don’t like looking up.”

The seat offered was a patch of old leather on the ground.

Biern’s face tightened and his jaw clenched.

“Bring a chair. He’s not someone who should sit on the ground.”

At that, the Hakan king chuckled softly.

“This guest seems to not understand his position.”

“What did you say?”

“The ground you’re standing on is Hakan land. I decide the order here.”

As soon as he finished, the warriors on both sides lowered their stances.

Like beasts ready to pounce at any moment.

In that tense instant, Pierre calmly stepped forward and placed his right hand over his chest.

“King of the Hakan, please forgive my knight’s rudeness. I respect that this is your land.”

As he bowed politely, a faint smile crossed the king’s lips.

“At least one of you understands your position.”

Pierre met the king’s eyes quietly and sat on the floor.

Biern, still visibly uncomfortable, eventually followed and sat awkwardly.

Leo sat silently, and the tent grew heavy with tension once again.

It was the Hakan king who broke the silence.

“Stranger, I hear you are a grand duke of the Empire. A great man, second only to the emperor—what brings such a person to this barren land?”

His lips twisted faintly.

“And to summon me, no less.”