Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C20

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Chapter 20: Expansion, Part 1

Though was but a small extension of the into the civilized world, it was not vast by any measure. The woodland surrounding the four lumber mills could be traversed in as little as half a day or at most a full one.

The westernmost lumber mill, claimed by Brandon, was known as . News of its capture spread swiftly through the forest within hours, carried by the panicked retreat of the .

Suddenly, the mountainous woods grew restless. Cave dwellers stirred uneasily, their movements betraying an impending upheaval—

And naturally, word reached the ears of the chieftain of this cave dweller tribe. Tagib hailed from one of thirteen noble bloodlines among the cave dwellers, making him the natural choice for their . His skin was darker even than that of his elite warriors, and he adorned himself with long feathers—trophies taken from during battles against the .

But now, seated upon his , Tagib paid no heed to these once-prized plumes. With slender fingers, he absently stroked a skull mounted atop a stick, its hollow eye sockets framed by feathers. Irritation flickered across his face.

Five years had passed since he’d ascended as leader of this tribe, breaking away from his paternal clan. Yet trouble had dogged him when claiming territory for his people, forcing them into habitual migration—a common practice in the Underworld. By chance, however, they discovered one of the many paths leading to the surface.

Though the fabled surface world held little allure for Tagib, he decided to take the risk. After adapting briefly to life aboveground, his kin began to realize that humans were not nearly as fearsome as legends suggested. Emboldened, they seized control of the four lumber mills nestled within the forest.

This act, however, ignited the wrath of the local lord—Baron Grudin. Twice, human forces clashed with the cave dwellers in the forest, yet Tonygel’s ragtag army and the baron's private militia proved no match for Tagib’s warriors. Defeated and driven back, Grudin eventually swallowed his pride and sought peace talks.

Cave dwellers had no use for timber, but Grudin could not afford to lose access to it. Tonygel relied on the steady supply of wood to support Ampersal; failure would bring swift retribution from Earl Jandel, his powerful father. Thus, despite the financial loss, Grudin devised a solution: trade.

Though it seemed absurd for a lord to purchase resources from his own lands, silver mined nearby served as valuable currency both above and below ground. Tagib craved wealth to expand his tribe, and so a clandestine agreement was struck. For years, this arrangement persisted, hidden from prying eyes.

Tagib relished such dealings. Though his warriors had repeatedly humiliated Grudin in battle, forcing the baron to grovel, none of this masked the harsh truth: his tribe was small. A mere few thousand iron-rank fighters comprised his entire population.

Tagib was cunning. Through careful observation, he came to understand the human world far better than most of his kind. While Tonygel might lack a force capable of driving them out, venturing deeper into human territories would invite disaster. alone housed nearly seventy thousand souls scattered across its lands, let alone all of Tonygel. Attacking human settlements could provoke retaliation on a scale beyond imagining.

Tagib understood that this land belonged to a nation—a concept equated in his mind with Yhaggoroth itself—and it filled him with trepidation. Even knowing of Grudin’s silver mine, he dared not seize it. Instead, controlling three lumber mills brought him a steady flow of silver, which he used to bolster his tribe. One day, he dreamed, they would return underground.

For Tagib, returning to the Underworld remained his ultimate goal. Tonygel might tempt greed, but it was not their home.

Yet misfortune loomed. On this day, the chieftain found himself facing an unexpected challenge. Having grown accustomed to stability, he disliked provoking conflict with humans, especially now that his tribe showed signs of prosperity. War would draw unwanted attention, exposing their presence to neighboring powers. The more he wished to avoid confrontation, the more trouble seemed to seek him out.

That afternoon, a messenger arrived with grim tidings: humans had once again invaded the forest. Not only had they captured a lumber mill, but over a hundred of his tribesmen lay dead.

Fury surged through Tagib. He ordered every able-bodied fighter to assemble while simultaneously calming himself to gather intelligence on the enemy. The defeat unsettled the cautious witch doctor, prompting him to summon his most trusted advisors.

First to speak was an elder draped in bear fur. To human eyes, "elder" among cave dwellers simply meant hunched, frail limbs marked by white stripes. This elder bore the name “Clawhorn,” bestowed by Tagib himself—a title referencing a stealthy subterranean lizard renowned for cunning and efficiency. Clawhorn had defected from a rival tribe, a common practice among cave dwellers who revered strength above loyalty.

“From the reports of our retreating kin,” Clawhorn rasped, “humans wield wizards. —dark elves often employ them against us underground. Had we more witch doctors on the front lines, perhaps fewer would have fallen.”

“How many foes?” Tagib asked.

“Two to three hundred.”

“A paltry number,” Tagib sneered. “That human, Grudin, must grow weary of life if he thinks mercenaries can cow me.” His voice dripped venom. “We’ll crush these insolent sellswords first, then deal with that pathetic lord. I’ll show no mercy—nor leave the southern silver mine untouched.”

“Such actions will provoke retaliation,” Clawhorn cautioned.

“No matter. Mobilizing their forces takes time. We’ll plunder the mine, then vanish underground. Let them dare pursue us!” Tagib scoffed.

The elders exchanged silent signals via their unique vibrational communication. Another cave dweller spoke up. “How do you propose dealing with these mercenaries?”

“I shall lead personally,” Tagib declared. “A trifling matter of magic.”

Rising to his feet, he proclaimed, “By tonight, those humans will pay in blood for every fallen tribesman.” His shrill voice echoed through the chamber. The elders bowed their heads, offering no dissent.

To them, these humans were indeed courting death.

Unbeknownst to Tagib, the rumors he deliberately spread misrepresented reality. Over three thousand cave dwellers currently inhabited Bearman Forest. Against such numbers, even Tonygel’s combined armies would falter. Perhaps reinforcements from Earl Jandel’s domain or Eruin could tip the scales—but Tagib knew better. Grudin couldn’t mobilize external forces without leaking information.

What remained in were merely the gathered mercenaries they’d anticipated. Clearly, Grudin had rallied hired blades against them. But if the baron believed this sufficient to shake their foothold, he would soon regret it.

What Tagib failed to grasp was that Grudin had already paid dearly—not for the cave dwellers, but for Brandon, who stood before them now, equally familiar with their weaknesses.

From the outset, the tide of battle shifted direction.

---

The fight at Horseshoe Herb Lumber Mill ended early. Those cave dwellers who fled left behind only the elderly, infirm, and weak—no match for the mercenaries.

Even so, the final assault on the lumber mill exacted the heaviest toll of the campaign thus far. Over thirty mercenaries were injured, ten killed.

Yuta, Frein, and Clenxia exhaled in relief after confirming victory. They were veterans of countless battles, yet such minimal losses bordered on miraculous. Without Brandon’s intimate knowledge of the underworld denizens, triumph would have been impossible—or come at far greater cost.

This skirmish with the cave dwellers hadn’t been part of their original plans—

Thus, the leaders’ emotions were mixed. They fought not entirely willingly for the young lord. Cold Fir Barony should have held no sway over them, yet circumstances bound them together.

Exchanging glances, Yuta, Frein, and Clenxia shared wry smiles tinged with resignation.

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