Chapter 159: The Dwarves

The negotiations between the tribes went well. The alliance took a new tribe under its wing, promising protection and a fair share of spoils.

Urich slept soundly with a woman in his arms. There was no need for force, as many women desired Urich's strong seed. Just as it was a man's duty to become a warrior, it was a woman's mission to bear strong warriors.

"Sigh."

Urich woke up to the morning dew. He climbed up to the fence, only to find the warriors on guard busy nodding off.

"Wake up, you idiots."

Urich kicked the sleeping warrior's behind.

"Ah, I-I wasn't sleeping."

The warrior hastily claimed.

"If you somehow miss an attack because you were too busy sleeping on your job, you'll pay for it with your head."

Urich issued a stern warning. Failure in guard duty could cost lives. Urich had seen too many cases like that.

"People here have built the fence quite high. It can’t possibly just be for keeping out wild beasts."

A warrior muttered. Urich agreed with the observation.

"That's something Samikan will ask about today."

The negotiations with the new tribe took the entirety of last night. The discussion about the fence had to be set aside.

"Hmm?"

Urich squinted at the sunrise. He tapped the shoulder of the warrior beside him.

"I see something."

The warriors on guard also frowned.

"A mountain goat?"

Urich shouted. He saw a brown-haired mountain goat, though seeing one wasn’t the surprising factor.

'There's someone on the goat’s back.'

It was blurry from the distance, but it was clear someone was riding the goat.

The goat circled the village from afar. A goat wasn't an animal meant to be ridden by a person. If Urich tried it, he would snap the goat's back.

"Shit, it's really fast."

The warriors grabbed their bows and ran out, but the goat had already disappeared into the distance. Confused, the warriors looked at each other and then up at Urich.

"Urich, what do we do?"

"Wake up Samikan!"

Urich looked southward, where the mountain goat had vanished. He felt a chill. There were those in the west who also tamed animals for riding.

Urich immediately went to find Samikan. Samikan greeted Urich with a sleepy face.

"Oh, Urich. Let's have breakfast together."

"Now's not the time for breakfast. Call the chief of this village."

"I will, but I hope it's something worth skipping breakfast for."

"I spotted a mountain goat."

Samikan frowned.

"That’s it? That’s what you’re making such a big deal about?"

"There was a person riding it."

"What?"

Samikan was puzzled.

"The person I saw tame goats for riding. The people here have to know who they are."

Interpreters and tribal chiefs gathered one by one. They too heard the situation from another warrior.

"A person riding a goat? Are you sure you didn't just see a stray goat from the herd?"

"The goat circled our village and passed by. It was definitely scouting us, and someone was definitely on its back."

Urich was certain. The other warriors who were also at the fence made the same testimony. The tribal chiefs exchanged glances and shrugged.

"These people say they're human hunters."

The final interpreter spoke.

"Human hunters?"

"What does that even mean? Are you sure you didn’t misinterpret what they said?"

The chiefs were skeptical, but the interpreter was adamant.

"The fences around the village were built to keep out those human hunters."

"What? Ask them for more detail."

The chief who explained about the human hunters pounded his chest in frustration. The conversation was slow due to needing to be translated twice.

Eventually, the chiefs discussed the human hunters over breakfast. They sipped on a sticky meat porridge, listening intently.

The locals called the warriors who rode mountain goats and wore wooden masks human hunters. They were warriors from somewhere in the south.

"They wear wooden masks and ride around on the back of mountain goats. And they are also terrifying warriors skilled with various weapons."

Urich, who was quietly listening, raised his hand for a question.

"Even if they're small, a grown warrior riding a goat? That's nonsense, isn’t it? Are you sure they’re not using children? They're hiding their faces with masks, right?"

The interpreter relayed Urich's words. After a while, the interpreter spoke again.

"According to them, they've captured a human hunter and removed his mask before, and it was a fully bearded adult. Although they’re shorter than our chests, their ferociousness is extreme enough for the village people to fear them.”

The warriors murmured at this explanation. It sounded utterly bizarre.

"Dwarf monsters."

"They built their fences because they were scared of some dwarves? Hah, how pathetic is that?"

The warriors laughed, but the chiefs didn't find the fact that they were dwarves amusing.

"This isn't something to take lightly. If they're warriors who ride goats, their mobility must be incredible."

Samikan muttered. He had heard stories from Noah about the empire’s cavalry. The zebras of the west were too wild to tame, but the dwarves had apparently tamed goats for riding.

"Why do they call them human hunters and not just raiders?"

The translation went back and forth again.

"They say their goal isn't looting. They kill people to prove their bravery, taking their heads with them. They are literally hunting humans."

"Hah, that’s impressive."

Urich laughed. It would be a mistake to underestimate these dwarves for their small stature.

"They've noticed the fence is down, so they'll probably attack us tonight."

Urich welcomed these words. He had seen giants in the north and dwarves in unfamiliar lands of his homeland. Excitement pounded in his chest.

"Let them come. We'll show them the strength of real men. If they're half our size, their dicks must be half as well!"

Urich stomped his foot and shouted, and the warriors raised their hands in response.

"Tell them to bring it on!"

"Woahhh!"

The warriors armed themselves and waited for nightfall. The warriors on guard stood vigilant, eyes wide open, not dozing off.

* * *

The warriors better known as human hunters were of small stature. Even fully grown adults looked similar to ten-year-old boys. They didn't believe that physical size determined a warrior's capability. Instead, they proved their prowess by killing larger men with their smaller bodies.

Creak.

The human hunters pulled and checked their bowstrings. They lifted their wooden masks all the way to the top of their heads, grinning at each other. Their skin was darker than that of typical westerners.

The human hunters called themselves the Phergamos, which meant 'small feet' in their language. The Phergamos were an isolated tribe, so much so that even the closest tribe couldn't understand their language. To reach their actual dwelling, they had to ride their mountain goats far south.

"Let the hunt begin, my brothers."

One of the Phergamos warriors said to the others, lowering his wooden mask with a boyish, joyous face. The mask, modeled after a tree ghost, had elongated eyes and mouth, giving off an eerie vibe.

The Phergamos warriors mounted their goats, grabbing the reins. The goats bleated loudly.

"Kwaaa!"

There were about fifty Phergamos warriors, all mounted on battle goats.

Not all goats were suitable to be made battle goats. The Phergamos selected healthy male goats, feeding them a special diet developed over generations and subjecting them to rigorous training. The meticulously raised battle goats were larger and sturdier, capable of carrying a Phergamos warrior across the lands, roaming at great speeds.

The battle goat was the Phergamos warrior's greatest asset. They regarded their goats as their own brothers.

"Let's show those no-good tall louts our strength."

The Phergamos warriors rode out on their battle goats. They preferred long to medium-range weapons. Due to their small stature, no amount of training could help them best the taller men with spears and swords.

Creaaaak!

The Phergamos warriors grasped their short bows. They pulled the bowstrings with a strong force that was hard to believe came from their small frames.

Thwip!

The arrows of the Phergamos warriors poured into the village fort. They had seen the village fence smashed in the morning.

'The village has already been hit by raiders once. Easy pickings.'

The Phergamos warriors were not after food or wealth. They simply killed to flaunt their strength.

Thump, thump, thump.

A rumble spread throughout the village. The Phergamos warriors sensed something was off and pulled their goats back.

"Fire!"

Samikan shouted from inside the village.

This was not in the calculations of the Phergamos warriors. They had no idea there were five thousand warriors stationed inside the raided village. It was a careless mistake of scouting only the perimeter fences as usual.

Whoosh!

A literal rain of arrows fell upon the Phergamos warriors. It was a shower that even the small-statured warriors couldn't weasel around. About fifty Phergamos warriors were hit by the arrows and tumbled to the ground.

"Arghhhhh!"

A barely injured Phergamos warrior frantically pulled the reins, fleeing. He looked back at the village, where torches flickered. An enormous number of warriors were visible.

"With a wide shower like this, even the quick ones shouldn’t be able to dodge the arrows."

Urich walked out of the village, looking at the strewn dwarfs.

"Grab the ones that are still breathing and get them patched up."

The alliance’s warriors began to clear the battlefield. Their chatter was non-stop.

"They really are dwarfs, huh? These guys are shorter than my little brother."

"They have a child's body but their faces are old. Truly freakish creatures."

"Where in the hell did these monsters come from?"

The warriors chatted as they moved the dwarfs.

"Watch out!"

Despite being hit by arrows, the goats suddenly stood up, ramming the warriors with their horns. The sharply curved horns were as good as any other weapons. A warrior screamed as his intestines were pierced by a goat's horn.

"Gaaaagh!"

Urich threw his axe at a goat's neck. The axe buried halfway into the goat's neck, yet the goat continued to thrash wildly.

"What kind of goat is this ferocious?"

Urich, who had thrown the axe, said with a dumbfounded look. He drew his sword and decisively cut the thrashing goat's neck. The sensation of cutting through was thick.

'These aren't ordinary goats. They're larger and more muscular. Like the bred horse species back over in civilization.'

The warrior pierced by the goat's horn was as good as dead. His excrement flowed from the burst intestine across his abdomen.

"Ask the shaman for some strong medicine. When your mind starts to fade, I’ll end your pain without any suffering."

"Dying by a goat's horn, I don’t even want to face my father on the other side... Keke."

The warrior laughed helplessly in the face of death.

The shamans of the alliance treated the injured dwarfs. Though most were dead, a few showed signs of recovery.

"They are a cursed tribe."

Some shamans didn't hide their disdain and disgust toward the dwarfs. To them, dwarfs were merely aberrant humans.

"Whether they are cursed or not, they're no ordinary folks. Even the elasticity in this short bow is no joke."

Urich remarked as he examined the dwarf's equipment, noting the considerable craftsmanship. The practice of domesticating goats for riding alone indicated the tribe's unique culture and technology.