Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World - Chapter 456

Chapter 456: “Savages”

Makarov had not expected that in his first week as principal, he would encounter an unforeseen situation.

Wild men in the forests on the north bank of the Weiss River? This was something no one had anticipated.

He and the militia platoon leader, Kajit, led a team along the forest paths frequently used by the loggers, heading north.

Starting from Northwatch Town, they traveled for about two hours—a journey that normally took less than an hour. However, due to their search, the journey took longer.

“We’re approaching the spot reported by the woodworkers,” Kajit pointed ahead.

Makarov looked in the direction Kajit pointed and saw a clearing in the forest ahead, scattered with many short stumps.

He took out his binoculars and carefully scanned the area.

“There seems to be signs of a camp up ahead. Kajit, have everyone form into combat teams and stay alert.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Makarov!”

Kajit relayed the orders down the line. The militiamen from both factions readied themselves for battle, drawing bows and unsheathing swords.

The group slowed their pace, cautiously approaching the logging site.

“Hey there! Are you people from Alda?”—suddenly, a loud voice came from ahead.

The militiamen stopped and looked at each other.

Not only was the phrase in the Ordo language, but it was also in the authentic Northwestern accent.

Kajit looked at Makarov, waiting for his commander’s order.

Makarov frowned, thought for a moment, and finally said, “Respond to them. Ask for their identity.”

Kajit pulled out his megaphone used for addressing the militiamen and shouted, “We are militia under the jurisdiction of Lord Paul Grayman of Alda. Who are you?”

The response came quickly from the other side, “We are members of the Northern Exploration Fleet!”

The Northern Exploration Fleet, known to all the militiamen present, was no secret. The lord had dispatched three fleets to explore the world, and their departure had caused quite a stir, gradually becoming common knowledge throughout the Northwestern Bay.

Kajit asked loudly, “How did you end up in the forest? Where are your ships?”

This at least confirmed that the others were not wild men.

“It’s a long story. We first encountered a plague in the far north, then one of our ships sank after hitting a reef, and the remaining ships were frozen in the harbor due to the weather. So, some of us took the land route, crossing the Rocky Mountains back to the Northwestern Bay.”

After several rounds of questioning, neither side detected any problems with the other, so they cautiously made contact and further confirmed each other’s identities.

“Lieutenant Boris Makarov, principal of the public school and head of the conscription station in Northwatch Town, I am pleased to meet you.”

“Stanford, commander of the Northern Exploration Fleet, I am also pleased to meet you.”

Their hands firmly clasped together.

Members of the exploration team emerged one by one from their hiding places.

Makarov, looking at the group of “refugees” in front of him, said with some sympathy, “I must say, fellows, your situation seems quite dire.”

Indeed, they were all disheveled, their clothes somewhat tattered.

Stanford said helplessly, “The last place we repaired was in the dwarf tribe on the Rocky Mountains, and since heading south, we’ve passed through forests and swamps. This condition is already quite good. I never expected that the forest in the northern part of Alda, beyond the north side of the Rockies, would be so desolate, occasionally encountering native tribes there.”

Makarov’s eyes widened in surprise, “Dwarves? You’re saying you encountered a tribe of dwarves?”

Those were creatures even more “legendary” than wild men.

“Yes, dwarves, the legendary dwarves. We’ve seen them.”

Stanford said with a smile, “Not only did we see them, but we also brought one along.”

“Brought one?” Makarov was astonished.

A muffled voice spoke up, “Let me speak for myself! Hey! You, the tall human, look here!”

Makarov located the source of the voice and quickly spotted a short, stocky figure.

Though short—only reaching his waist—the figure was very robust. To Makarov, the dwarf seemed to have no waist; his body was shaped like a barrel, with a round head, thick arms, and a torso that conjured the word “rotund.”

The dwarf in front of him had a bushy beard that almost covered his face. Combined with Stanford’s words, it seemed due to the lack of grooming during their journey. The other members of the exploration team weren’t much better. The thick fur coat the dwarf wore made Makarov subconsciously think of him as some exotic animal brought back by the exploration team, rather than a sentient being.

“Is this… a dwarf pet you’ve captured?”

His words enraged the already short-tempered dwarf.

Waving his large fists furiously, the dwarf shouted, “I understand your language, you tall stinker! How dare you treat the noble Imar Mason as a pet of you humans! I must teach you a lesson!” He then charged forward.

Stanford, quick to react, along with Matthew who was equally quick, grabbed one of Imar’s arms each. They exerted their full strength, knowing well the immense power of a dwarf, especially when angered.

Imar grunted and struggled against the two men.

“Lieutenant, please apologize to our dwarf friend. He’s not some pet,” Stanford, his face red, requested Makarov.

The dwarf’s fury made Makarov nervous—not out of cowardice, but from the natural trepidation and caution one feels in the presence of an unfamiliar intelligent being.

There was also a hint of amusement.

Regaining his composure, he quickly said, “Please forgive my rudeness and ignorance, dwarf friend. I’ve never seen an intelligent being other than humans in all my years.”

Stanford addressed the still angry dwarf, “See, Imar, the lieutenant has apologized. Let’s not hold it against him.”

He whispered, “Look at the people he brought with him, all armed with knives, swords, and crossbows!”

Imar finally ceased his outburst, crossing his arms and huffing heavily.

His gesture made the militiamen behind Makarov chuckle quietly, finding the stout, barrel-like figure amusingly cute in his anger, especially with his final “huff.”

Makarov declared, “Alright! The ‘wild men’ matter is settled! Mr. Stanford, it seems you and your team urgently need rest. Follow me; it’s just an hour’s journey south to Northwatch Town.”

“That’s great! My team and I have longed for a proper hot bath. Also, I need to meet Lord Grayman as soon as possible.”

“You will meet him soon enough.”