Free Web NovelChapter 9: Chapter 9: From the North
Based on the two elders’ stories, Ron had pictured Barbarians as ancient peoples like the Vikings or Huns. To agrarian civilizations, they might have seemed savage and uncivilized due to geographical and cultural differences, but at least they were rational enough to be negotiated with.
But looking at the frenzied group before him, Ron had the distinct suspicion that they were some kind of holdover from early humanity.
"Just like goblins," Delaford sneered. From beneath his cloak, his yellowish eyes stared intently at the group opposite them, his hand ready to grab his shortbow and arrows at a moment’s notice.
This group of people might have even more in common with him.
"I’d advise you to get lost," Ron said, mustering his courage. You couldn’t show any fear with people like this; otherwise, they’d treat you like an animal and put you on their "prey" list. "My tribe isn’t far from here. Offend me, and I’ll have you thrown right back to that bitter, frozen wasteland you came from!"
"Delaford, tell them, how many people do we have again?"
"We have over two hundred men!" Delaford, getting the hint, shrieked immediately. "Ron is here to negotiate with the local Lord! If you dare get any ideas about him, we’ll run you out of this place!"
But Delaford wasn’t like a human such as Ron. Ron’s bluff was tinged with apprehension; after all, he knew his so-called "tribe" was actually just a group of goblins, whose fighting strength was no match for these guys who looked like small giants. That’s why his tone was a little weak.
Delaford was different. He was a goblin himself, and from his perspective, a mere four or five people were nothing to be afraid of! He truly believed that under his boss’s leadership, they could crush these "big goblins that just happen to look like people." So, every word he yelled was straight from the heart!
And the men opposite him took his words as truth. Their Horror Wolf Tribe hadn’t been here long and had spent most of that time lording it over everyone in the refugee camp. How were they to know what powerful factions were in the area? Delaford’s boisterous act had actually managed to fool Harlek and his men.
"T-two hundred men?!" Harlek stammered, stunned and uneasy. "The land here is that rich? The herds of game are that plentiful? A single tribe can support two hundred people?!"
"Chieftain, even at our peak, our tribe only had a little over a hundred..." one of his tribesmen said, his face paling. "And that’s not even mentioning our state now—"
Although the ones who had escaped to this place were their core members and elites, the so-called Horror Wolf Tribe was down to only about ten people. The group with Harlek already represented half of their total manpower.
"Fine, you’re lucky today!" Harlek spat. Though he was already retreating, he had to get in a final threat. "We’re not letting you off because we’re scared, but because our hands are full! Now scram, and don’t let me see you here again!"
As he spoke, the men quickly gathered their things and hurried away, vanishing from sight after rounding a few tents.
"So greedy," Aive muttered from behind Ron. "If I were still at my peak, I’d never have let them just..."
"Okay, okay, we get it. You were super strong ’at your peak’," Ron cut in with a laugh. "Let’s go see if we can get into town. Maybe we can find a shop that sells Healing Potions. That should fix you up, right?"
"It would, but..." Aive glanced at Ron, hesitating. "Healing Potions are very expensive. I’m afraid..."
"That’s not your problem to worry about," Ron said with a wave of his hand. "Let’s just focus on how we’re getting into town first."
After leaving the refugee camp, the group walked straight to the town gate. It was already crowded with refugees who had fled from all over. Six or seven men who looked like guards were struggling to maintain order.
"Didn’t you just come here the day before yesterday?" a guard sitting behind a desk shouted, rapping his knuckles sharply on the wood. "When I say you can’t pass, I mean it! You keep coming back and causing trouble. One more time and we’ll run you off!"
As Ron squeezed through the crowd, he saw a person with crimson-red skin standing before the guard acting as an Inspector. A long, thin, pointed tail twitched restlessly behind him, kicking up small clouds of dust.
"Sir, please, I’m begging you! Just let me in!" the person pleaded, his voice cracking. "I’ve come a long way to get here. I’m not a refugee, I’m really here on official business!" frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
"Hah, I’ve seen plenty of your kind these past few days," the Inspector sneered. "You say you have official business? Where are your identification papers?" freeωebnovēl.c૦m
"I... I lost them."
"Fine, then. Where are your official papers? Any letters?"
"I don’t have anything in writing. I’m here to deliver a message!"
The Inspector’s lip twitched. "Fine. Then who sent you?"
"I-I-I..." The man looked like he was truly about to cry. "I can’t tell you. I really can’t!"
"See?" The Inspector gave him an I-knew-it look. "Request denied. Now move along!"
When the man turned around, Ron got a clear look at the pair of protruding bumps on his forehead.
"Those aren’t from some knock on the head," Aive said, noticing Ron’s curiosity. "Those are his horns. They’re just a bit small."
"He’s a Demon Descendant, or a Tiffling."
"A Tiffling?" A look of realization dawned on Ron’s face; the things he’d read in books from his past life were finally connecting to the world around him. "It seems Fromm Town isn’t too fond of Tifflings, huh."
"To be precise, almost no town welcomes Tifflings," Aive corrected him. "They have the blood of devils flowing in their veins. They’re natural-born criminals, like rats. No one wants to find them in their pantry."
"Aren’t you a Mixed-blood yourself?" Delaford chimed in disdainfully, prompting an angry Aive to try and smack him.
"That’s different!" Aive’s voice rose, though she was careful not to let the Tiffling hear. "We’re just rarely entrusted with important responsibilities, but we have no problem living a normal life—whether among humans or Elves!"
"But them... they are disliked no matter where they go."
"Ha, just like us!" Delaford chuckled, completely unfazed.
After all, other races also considered goblins to be natural-born criminals, but such talk didn’t bother them in the least.
For what felt like the umpteenth time, Ron stopped the back-and-forth squabbling between this pair of masterminds and led them to the Inspector.
"Hello. We’re an Adventurer Squad looking to enter the city to resupply."
