by Mamare Touno
Behind such statements lay the fact that, although the goblin tribes of the Ouu Mountains had been a source of headaches for the people who lived in those mountains for a very long time, they hadn’t launched an invasion that had taken them outside the mountains in the past eighty years. They were one of the mountains’ dangers, true, and local residents found them inconvenient, but they weren’t a serious problem for those who lived down in the foothills.
The goblins had been “sealed” in the Mountains of Ouu this way because the Adventurers regularly attacked them, paring away their fighting strength.
Because the lords of the areas near the Ouu Mountains understood the importance of letting the Adventurers strip the goblins of their military power, they paid significant sums in bounties every year.
When Elder Tales was a game, quest requests such as “Eradicate the goblins,” “Attack a goblin settlement,” and “Take back goods from the goblin tribe” had been made through the town’s taverns, and Adventurers had headed into the mountains, drawn by the rewards.
However, that hadn’t happened this year. The Adventurers hadn’t touched a single one of the requests involving the goblin tribes of the Ouu Mountains. Consequently, the League of Free Cities—and in particular the lords whose territories bordered the Ouu Mountains—had started to advance their conspiracy theory: That the invasion itself was a plot by the Adventurers.
Of course, the reality was different.
Since the event the People of the Earth called the May Incident and the Adventurers called the Catastrophe, the world had been going through inexorable changes. The Adventurers had been pressed to the limit in their efforts to adapt to these changes, and they hadn’t had time for other things. In the process, it was no wonder that various quests had been left relatively untouched compared to when this had been a game.
The explanation that the Adventurers had left the goblins to their own devices not out of malice but because they’d prioritized coping with some sort of trouble, was widely shared even among the People of the Earth. However, it was also true that lords whose territories were being assaulted by a horde were emotionally unable to let this explanation satisfy them.
And so—
“It really is true, then?”
“Yes. The Knights of Izumo…are gone.”
“They don’t exist? Do you mean to say they’ve been annihilated?!”
“We don’t even know whether they’ve been annihilated or not. No corpses or traces of battle have been found. They’ve simply disappeared. ‘Spirited away’ might be the best way to describe it.”
This was an affirmed fact.
They were still waiting impatiently for additional information regarding the Knights of Izumo, however.
The Knights were one of the Thirteen Global Chivalric Orders. They were the guardians of the world, the ultimate military force created by the good human races. They were Ancients, mysterious superhumans that had been created through an old magic now lost; they lay dormant in the bloodlines of the People of the Earth, and their births, when they occurred, seemed miraculous.
The Thirteen Global Chivalric Orders were bands of heroes composed entirely of these Ancients.
Because they were the guardians of mankind, they took no part in conflicts between lords or other People of the Earth. They also wouldn’t put in appearances for incidents along the lines of demihumans attacking a village. However, during large-scale disasters or mass invasions by demihumans, they’d sally forth as they always had, nearly without exception, protecting the human world.
It was these heroes, the Knights of Izumo, who had vanished.
The fact had come to light a month after the May Incident, but because the matter was so serious, information about it had been strictly regulated in the League of Free Cities. At first, a conspiracy of the Ancient Dynasty of Westlande had been suspected in the Knights’ disappearance, but the miniscule amount of information that trickled in from their spies had made it clear that the Ancient Dynasty also seemed upset by the incident.
The Knights of Izumo were the only one of the Thirteen Global Chivalric Orders specifically known to the lords. No doubt the other twelve Orders were acting as guardians of the world in other countries, but at the very least, none of them had ever appeared in Yamato.
And now, the Knights of Izumo were gone.
All of the several fortresses they’d used as their bases of operation were deserted. The scouts had reported that they’d found no sign of combat, and that it hadn’t felt as if there’d been preparations for a hasty expedition, either.
They’d simply stepped out for a walk one fine day and had failed to return.
That was the impression they’d been given by the sense of casual, everyday routine that had remained there, crystallized.
“But…then…in that case…”
“Hmm…”
Several lords clawed at their heads.
Goblin demihumans. A huge tribe, well over ten thousand strong. Of course, these numbers wouldn’t be impossible to beat back, provided they camped on the plains, and all the armies of the League of Free Cities went into battle against them.
However, the Goblins were currently heading south through the mountains, and there was no telling where they’d strike. It might be the town of Hitachi or the town of Fourbridge, or they might turn back and mount an attack on the castle town of Urumiya.
Like many other towns belonging to Eastal, these were fortified cities with high castle walls that guarded the lords’ mansions and the city streets alike. While it depended on the number of soldiers and townspeople, if they thoroughly concentrated on defense, they could probably protect themselves from most enemies. However, that said, when asked whether a city could defend itself from more than ten thousand goblins on its own, they had no ready answer. In the first place, there was the problem of supplies, and more than anything, their spirits would probably be broken.
They’d been counting on the Knights of Izumo.
The town that was currently in the most painful position was Tsukuba.
The goblin plunder tribe that had been sighted was believed to be in the mountains just a few dozen kilometers away from Tsukuba, as the crow flies.
The other human towns that were likely goblin destinations were, as stated earlier, Hitachi, Fourbridge, the castle town of Urumiya, and an unfortified fishing town with no lord: the village of Choushi.
Or perhaps—
“Or perhaps Maihama, hm?” Duke Sergiad muttered, putting a strong, bony hand to his chin.
From where they were, in the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice, Maihama was located beyond the ruined city of Eastal, toward Zantleaf. In the worst-case scenario, from the position where they’d been sighted, the goblins would be able to attack it in two or three days’ time.
The upshot was that the goblin army’s invasion was cutting deep into the throat of the League of Free Cities.
No, from the League of Free Cities’ perspective, they’d actually allowed them to invade that far.
The thorn was already in a place where it would be impossible to remove without bloodshed. The poison was on the verge of rotting the areas close to the League’s heart.
A stifled hush hung over the Council.
It was a very bitter silence.
The conference had begun late at night, and as they exchanged heavy words, it continued into the small hours. Considered rationally, it was already far too late to be holding conferences. The enemy was a few days away from a large number of cities.
Now that it had come to this, there was nothing for it: The lords of Eastal, the League of Free Cities, would have to join forces, send their troops out together, and surround and destroy the goblin army.
However, doing so would require an astronomical number of sacrifices. Cavalry units would be nearly useless in the mountains and forests, where visibility was bad. Moreover, the heavy cavalry, whose main combat method was charging, would be powerless.
It would also be diffic
ult to fight as a large group. The lords’ allied forces would be fragmented, and many of their troops would be lost in battle with the goblin tribe. The mountains were perfect for lurking and hiding, and it was possible that, even after all that, they’d still let the goblin tribe escape. There was no guarantee that the lords’ forces would be able to annihilate them.
In that case, would it be all right if all the lords simply returned to their territories and confined themselves to their castles? The answer was no.
Of course, most of the cities would be able to withstand sieges that lasted several months. However, the goblins could attack nearby villages and settlements and burn the fields while keeping the fortified city surrounded and under attack, and then hide in the mountains before reinforcements arrived. Their goal wasn’t the occupation of the city; they were after food and property. In that sense, they were more like a band of armed refugees than an army.
It was as if the problems of the mountainous northeastern Yamato Archipelago had been laid bare. With topography like this, it would be extremely difficult for a huge organization like an army to work together in a coordinated fashion.
As he rubbed his aching temples, Sergiad thought to himself.
I suppose the conclusion reached by the Lords’ Council will be an encircling operation, with the consent of all lords… There’s nothing for it but to prepare to lose many soldiers and adopt a strategy of defeating the enemy no matter the cost to ourselves. …In that case, though, the problem will be determining which lord will fire the first arrow…
“Fire the first arrow” sounded good, but the role was incredibly close to that of a sacrificial pawn.
First, a fortified city, somewhere, would be surrounded. That city would shore up its defenses and resist the goblins. The goblins would wear themselves out trying to conquer this stronghold. The lords’ alliance would then encircle the goblin army and annihilate it.
From a military standpoint, this was the correct strategy.
It was nearly the only feasible way for them to wipe out the goblin army. However, the strategy required the sacrifice of a fortified city.
The most likely candidates for the sacrifice were, first and foremost, the town of Tsukuba, and then the city of Maihama, which Duke Sergiad governed.
All of the lords were aware of this.
However, they were hesitant to say it.
It was easy to say “be surrounded,” but it was equivalent to telling them to accept the fact that the nearby villages, and the fields and orchards they’d cultivated so desperately, would be reduced to dust and ashes. In addition, there was a good possibility that many of their citizens would lose their lives. “Sacrifice yourself” wasn’t the sort of thing they could say easily.
“…I-in accordance with the charter of the League of Free Cities, we seek the aid of the Lords’ Council.”
Marquis Kilivar of Tsukuba’s voice was nearly a shriek.
However, even at that voice, most of the lords responded by wordlessly averting their eyes.
“Th-that’s it! Akiba! We have the town of Akiba! Let’s make them use their forces to annihilate the goblins. We must! After all, aren’t they the cause of all this?!”
Marquis Kilivar, half-despairing, screamed as if to prevent the silence from crushing him. At these words, several of the lords seemed to show interest.
Hmm…
Sergiad’s expression also remained stern, but he closed his eyes and thought.
Marquis was right.
His thoughts up until now had been bound by the existing framework of the League of Free Cities. However, at present, there was a new element in the picture: the town of Akiba and its Adventurers. They might be able to find some effective way to cope with the situation.
That said—
Although their existence was a powerful weapon for the League, at the same time, it was a double-edged sword. No one could guarantee that the Adventurers themselves were a controllable force.
Was it all right to ask beings like them for help? If they asked for aid, they’d have to tell them everything. …Including the fact that their deterrent, the Knights of Izumo, was absent.
Adventurers were powerful, after all.
If they felt so inclined and decided to declare war on Eastal, the goblin uprising would be nothing compared to the disaster they would trigger. The circumstances were too unclear for them to tell the Adventurers that the Knights of Izumo, who should have been able to restrain them, had disappeared.
Personally, Sergiad didn’t think it would be a bad idea to trust the three young men who had come to them as delegates.
Michitaka had the air of a wealthy merchant. He seemed to be the sort of person who was big enough to absorb short-term loss for the sake of a good cause and his own merchant’s code.
The youth who had called himself Shiroe seemed scholarly, but his essence was like a well-tempered sword. No matter the difficulty, once that sword was drawn, no doubt he’d slice clean through his obstacle.
Then there was Krusty. The young man who organized the Round Table Council was no knight. Heaven had blessed him with more talents than could be expressed by the word knight. On the other hand, however, the depth of light and darkness to the young man called Krusty had a density that even Sergiad, at the age of sixty, could not see through.
Of course, he had to draw a firm line between his own personal goodwill and his decision as Sergiad Cowen, Leading Lord of Eastal, the League of Free Cities, Ruler of the City of Maihama, and the greatest noble in the East. In addition, it wouldn’t do to mistake the three representatives’ personal good faith for the political decisions of the town of Akiba.
To say nothing of the fact that the Ancient Dynasty of Westlande is undoubtedly keeping an eye on this situation…
Several lords were with Marquis Kilivar, who was loudly insisting that the Adventurers be sent into battle. A smaller number of lords argued against it, bringing up the matter of the Knights of Izumo and saying that it would be a bad idea for reasons of secrecy.
However, the majority of the lords expressed doubts regarding realistic means: It would be a fine thing if the Adventurers went into battle, but how were they to actually draw them onto the battlefield? They didn’t have any reward or power of coercion that could make it happen.
All in all, the council buzzed like a prodded wasps’ nest.
The confusion did not die down until the next day, when Shiroe and the others received the report from Nyanta, who was away at summer camp.
3
The morning after the lords’ conference:
A telechat from Zantleaf informed Shiroe and the others of the emergency outside the Eastal convention.
It wasn’t clear whether Nyanta’s report had been the first. At roughly the same time as Shiroe, Michitaka and Krusty were also contacted by their own guild members.
The Zantleaf Peninsula was under a large-scale attack by demihuman tribes.
At this, Shiroe and his companions had returned to the living room to hold an emergency measures meeting. The only people present were Shiroe, Michitaka, Krusty, and a few other Adventurer representatives—their attendants were either on duty guarding the conference room or out gathering intel.
Simultaneously, an emergency Round Table Council had been convened in the Round Table Room on the top floor of the guild center in Akiba. In this way, even though there was a great distance between them, and although it was slightly inconvenient, they were able to hold a jury-rigged Round Table Council by using telechat relays.
“Situation first.”
In response to Michitaka’s demand, Shiroe read off notes he’d made regarding the information they had at present.
“Attacks by multiple demihuman species have been confirmed on the Zantleaf Peninsula, beginning this morning. Sixty-seven players from the town of Akiba, including new players, are currently there for a summer training camp. The invading forces from the sea are sahuagins. Although their total numbers are unclear, there a
re several hundred at the very least. There is a large-scale plunder tribe composed mainly of goblins in the hilly, forested area at the peninsula’s center. This one is at least ten thousand strong.”
“Ten thousand” was easy enough to say, but it was a preposterous number, a number that would give even ordinary players vertigo.
The basic unit for group battles in Elder Tales was the party. This was a tactical unit used when fellow Adventurers pooled their strength and worked together in a coordinated manner, and its upper limit was six members. When leaving on an ordinary adventure or tackling a dungeon, the Adventurers of Elder Tales coped by forming such parties.
However, sometimes, events or quests that couldn’t be handled by six-member parties came up. For times like these, Elder Tales had a system known as “raids.”
There were several levels of raid, but the most typical was a “full raid,” made up of four small, six-person units—in other words, parties—joined into a group of twenty-four players. Almost all heroic battles in Elder Tales had been fought in this configuration.
When the Debauchery Tea Party had won their griffins in Hades’ Breath, it had been the result of a twenty-four-member raid.
There was another unit that surpassed even full raids: “legion raids,” in which four of these twenty-four-player companies were joined together. Very few examples existed in the history of Elder Tales. It was a group unit intended for ultra-large-scale live events, for extreme difficulties, or to respond to national crises.
It was hard for a total of ninety-six people to cooperate, and it was impossible for a normal player to even grasp the general state of the battle. Commanding took enormous courage and great tactical sense.
Goblin levels were by no means high, however.
They were mob monsters, and a level-90 player could easily handle several dozen of them on their own. However, no one had even heard of a group whose total numbers were a hundred times that of a ninety-six-member legion raid.
“Not only that, but these numbers are mere estimates. I believe the actual numbers are even greater.”
