SML Ch 15

Chapter 15

“This is the largest ratman village I’ve ever seen.”

On a night lit brightly by a full moon, Reynald let out a deep sigh as he peered down at the ratman village from the top of the hill. The village was far larger than he had imagined. Hundreds of mud-and-straw houses were clustered together, and large buildings—likely used as warehouses—were scattered throughout the settlement.

He had seen many ratman villages during his time with the subjugation force, but never one as well-organized as this. Around the outskirts of the village stood a reasonably built wooden fence, and although the houses were made of mud, most of them looked as sturdy as the homes built by humans.

Reynald looked at the houses, their roofs generously thatched with straw, and sighed once again. At this point, you could almost believe it was a human village.

“Don’t go into the ratmen’s houses. Some of them stay behind to care for their young. We’re just sneaking in to rob the warehouses.”

“Aren’t there any guards watching the warehouses?”

“There’s one stationed at each warehouse. If one of them spots us, it’ll cause a ruckus, so we have to knock them out.”

“…Knock them out?”

“Yes. Isn’t that obvious? We can’t just let them be.”

So they weren’t planning to kill them. Whether they killed them or knocked them unconscious, as long as they could successfully steal the grain, it didn’t matter. Considering that they couldn’t even make use of the ratman meat if they did kill them, this seemed like the cleanest approach. Reynald rather liked the sound of that.

“There are five warehouses in total, but we usually only hit the three located to the north and west of the village. Even if we tried to take more, we wouldn’t be able to haul it all back to the keep anyway.”

“Makes sense. So the group splits into three teams?”

“Yes. We move in groups of seven. We throw the rope ladder with hooks over the fence, climb over, steal the grain, and then escape on our own. Getting back to the keep is each person’s responsibility.”

“And what happens if someone can’t escape?”

“If someone can’t escape? Uh, well… they’ll figure something out, I guess? The ratmen are probably still tired from fighting the lycanthropes, so with a bit of luck they might manage to get away. If they’re unlucky, they might get eaten—but, well, that’s just how it goes, right?”

With an innocent smile, Volant casually laid out this brutally cold reality. It sounded heartless, but in such a desperate village, Reynald understood there wasn’t much room for sentiment. He said nothing in response.

For now, Reynald decided to follow along with what these young men had always done. When dealing with matters so far removed from common sense, it was wiser to trust the actions of those with experience.

The youths split into three groups and began to scale the fence. They threw rope ladders tipped with hooks over the wooden barrier, climbed up after confirming the hooks were secure, and then hauled up the ladders after the last person climbed over, before jumping down to the other side. They’d use the same method to get back out later.

Reynald headed toward the northwest warehouse along with Volant and Lyndon’s group. They moved carefully to avoid making any sound. As they approached the warehouse, Reynald kept his eyes on the village. From a distance, it had already looked well-built, but now that he saw it up close, the place really was in good condition. If it weren’t for the overwhelming stench of rat droppings, it could almost pass for a human village.

“There’s the warehouse. Wait here a moment.”

Two young men stood in front of the door and knocked, while Volant pressed close to the side of the entrance, sword raised. As the knocking sound rang out, squeaking noises echoed from within the warehouse. After a moment, the door opened. A ratman, surprised to see a human standing at the threshold, tried to swing its club in defense—but unfortunately for it, Volant, waiting in ambush beside the door, was faster.

Volant struck the ratman on the head with the butt of his sword, and with a shrill squeak, the creature collapsed helplessly. Volant pulled a small sack from his pocket and slipped it over the ratman’s head, while the other two youths tied up its limbs with rope and tossed it into a corner of the warehouse. It was all done with expert precision.

“We’re all set.”

Reynald followed the youths inside the warehouse. Upon seeing the volume of grain stored within, he fully understood what Lyndon had meant before. These ratmen were apparently quite skilled at farming. There was no other explanation for how so much grain could still be stored, even with winter already behind them. Dozens of wooden crates were packed full of wheat.

“Good grief, they’ve even got iron farming tools.”

Clicking his tongue, Reynald eyed the tools hanging on the warehouse wall. Back during his time with the subjugation force, the ratmen he encountered usually used tools made of stone—but here, they were using tools made of iron. At this point, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to imagine them raising oxen and plowing fields. Of course, that probably wasn’t the case… hopefully.

Lyndon, acting as if it were only natural, began stuffing the tools into a sack—likely to bring back and use at home. But as Reynald took a closer look at one of the tools, he noticed something odd.

“Wait a second.”

“Yes?”

“These tools… were they made by modifying weapons?”

“Probably. I bet they used weapons they took from the swine tribe.”

Reynald took the hoe Lyndon handed him, utterly speechless. Looking closer, he saw that it was a makeshift contraption—a dagger blade tied securely to the end of a wooden stick. It looked usable enough for farming, but its origin was unmistakably that of a weapon.

‘Well, considering where ratmen could get tools from, that makes sense.’

Reynald was ready to accept it at face value, but then he noticed another strange detail. Now that he thought about it, it was odd. Even if the ratmen had taken the weapons from the swine, where had the swine gotten them? And on top of that, the craftsmanship of the dagger was so crude, it was hard to believe it had been forged by a human blacksmith.

His suspicions growing, Reynald casually asked Lyndon:

“Where do the swine get their weapons? Do they raid nearby villages and take them?”

“What? Oh, I don’t think so… I’ve never heard of them raiding villages.”

“Then that doesn’t make sense. If not from human villages, then where could they possibly get iron weapons—”

Mid-sentence, Reynald’s expression twisted as a grim realization dawned on him. If they weren’t looting weapons from humans, then there was only one answer left: they were making them themselves. Unless, of course, those pigs had somehow learned to create something from nothing.

“Lyndon.”

“Yes?”

“Is there a mine in this domain? An iron mine, I mean.”

“Uh, a mine? Do we have one of those…? I don’t think so.”

“Then how in the world did the swine get their hands on iron to make weapons?”

“…Well, maybe there is one. You’re amazing, Lord Reynald. We’ve lived in this domain for decades and never knew such a thing even existed!”

“But if the mine is located where the swine live, then it doesn’t really matter, does it? We can’t make use of it anyway.”

Reynald looked at Volant’s guileless face for a moment, then let out a sigh so deep it could have sunk the earth itself. The fertile land that produced abundant grain had been seized by the ratmen, and an iron-producing mine—its size unknown, but evidently of decent quality—had been taken by the swine, and its existence had gone unnoticed. At this point, one had to ask: what place did humans even hold in this domain?

“…Let’s just grab the grain and get out of here.”

“Oh, you’re going to help too, my lord?”

“What do you think I followed you here for?”

Reynald, having lost the will to say anything more, began scooping up wheat into a sack. At this point, it wasn’t anger or frustration anymore—it was sheer sorrow.

As Reynald sighed and silently packed the grain, the clueless young men looked at him with puzzled expressions, wondering why their lord was suddenly acting that way. The only one perceptive enough to catch on was Alex. After a moment of contemplation, he cautiously approached Reynald and spoke.

“By the way, my lord.”

“What is it?”

“Come to think of it… the fact that our domain has a mine—that’s actually pretty incredible, right?”

“You’re the only sane one here, apparently.”

At first, Reynald had thought Alex was the strangest of the bunch. He was about to say so, but instead, he simply shrugged.