Overwhelming Firepower

King Ragnor was impressed by the portrayal of the barbarians. He had met with several chieftains before and knew about the cultures of a few tribes.

What was being shown right now seems to be the basic culture most Barbarian tribes have. He once tried to change the minds of his people that barbarians were honorable people, who, despite their different views, were true warriors.

Unfortunately, to those who haven’t seen a real barbarian, the stories of old that had been ingrained in their mind could not change that easily.

He, the king, was unable to change the minds of the people with his words alone. Even after showing the people one of the barbarians and explaining their culture, most would not change their thoughts.

Yet here right now, his people, from children to adults, commoners to nobles, their perception on barbarians were changing in real time.

King Ragnor could not help but smile as he watched everyone’s reactions. ’Lucen Thornehart, truly a genius beyond imagining.’

He was pleased that such a genius had been born in Norvaegard. With someone like Lucen here, the future of Norvaegard seemed brighter.

’As long as we survive the upcoming chaos, Norvaegard will surely prosper.’

While the King was thinking about such things, the first prince’s focus was something different.

’What is that brat thinking?! To make the barbarians seem human, like us? To make them look like better warriors than us? Is he perhaps going to gather the barbarian tribes under the banner of the Thorneharts?!’

The First Prince’s fingers curled slowly against the armrest. His eyes scanned the stage, trying to look for someone, but he could not see Lucen Thornehart anywhere.

’Is that brat from a ducal household truly trying to overthrow us Vaelgards?’

The First Prince forced his expression to remain neutral, even as unease crept into his chest. The rumors, this play, he did not like that there was a battle happening that seemed to ignore royal authority.

While the first prince was feeling anxious, the second prince, despite his stoic expression, had his eyes sparkling. He was looking at the stage intently without wanting to miss a thing.

The first princess, who was known to have no interest in most things, was actually watching the play with great interest.

The Third prince, on the other hand, the youngest, was talking to the second princess with an excited voice.

The Third Prince leaned closer to his sister, barely able to keep his voice down. ”Are barbarians truly such people? Filled with pride and honor.”

The second princess, who was well-read, scratched her head. ”The books have never said much about barbarians except that they find meaning in battle. Their behavior and culture are said to be more closely related to orcs than to other humans... Seeing them act like that in Sir Lucen’s play... Maybe what was written in the books is simply biased.”

***

”Heh, to think he was able to convey the barbarians’ honor-based culture like this. Maybe in the future, more barbarians be welcomed in Norvaegard. With that, I might be able to fight another chieftain sometime soon.”

Kaelvar Runescar murmured to himself.

***

While the royals and nobles were thinking, scheming, and talking to one another, the play continued onward.

The next scenes shown were about how the former knight, now called Xolik Ogihaadaa, was trying to integrate into the Red Wolf Tribe.

They showed him hunting, learning the language of the Red Wolf Tribe, their customs, their way of life.

The audience were amazed by the content of the play. Such details of Barbarian life were a first for many of them.

They showed how Xolik slowly became one with the tribe. He would cheer with them, he would mourn with them, he would share glory with them.

This was a completely different life from what he had lived before. In the past, he was with subordinates who trusted him, but he did not know much about them. He knew the cheers of the people, but never cheered with them.

This was the first time he had felt the warmth of true acceptance. The illusion started shifting, showing the passage of time. Winter passed, and spring came. Several cycles were shown.

Illusions showed Xolik at a fire pit, sitting cross-legged with other warriors, carefully sharpening chipped blades.

His movements were practiced and efficient. When a young warrior handed him a poorly balanced axe, Xolik adjusted the haft, corrected the weight, and returned it without a word. The young man’s eyes widened as he tested it, then bowed deeply.

Another scene followed. Xolik helped repair weapon racks after a storm, reinforcing joints with techniques learned from fortress armories.

The elders watched in silence as the structure became sturdier than before. No one questioned his methods. Strength and results spoke louder than tradition.

He trained with the tribe’s warriors, not as a knight teaching barbarians, but as a warrior exchanging blows with equals.

As the audience continued to watch, they noticed something. Ever since coming to the Red Wolf Tribe, no one had given Xolik, the former knight, an order.

Yet, he was always there when weapons needed care, when hunts were planned, when the wounded returned from skirmishes.

He had truly treated the members of the tribe like they were all part of a large family. He also taught them how to raise cattle, and despite his limited knowledge, he was also able to teach them how to farm.

The barbarians who could not do such things before, relied on raiding and pillaging to get what they needed.

This was one of the reasons why they kept on attacking the places with stone walls, since they knew there was a lot of food there.

Still, after being taught how to farm and raise cattle, most of them were not interested or did not want to do such things that did not involve battle, but after some convincing, the women and children started doing those things.

The life of the people in the Red Wolf Tribe had improved greatly. The rate at which they died had lessened as well.

A few warriors felt like the change in their culture wasn’t that good, as they might forget their roots as warriors. When those few spoke to the elder about it, the old woman laughed and then suddenly shouted at them.

”FOOLS!” Her roaring voice echoed in their ears. ”Tell me what the purpose of a warrior is? Is it simply to find glory in battle? NO! A warrior’s purpose has always and forever been to protect himself and the people around him. To show honor to those who seek it, to face death with no regrets.”

The young warriors shifted uncomfortably, some staring at the ground, others exchanging uneasy glances. The elder looked at them and sighed as she continued.

”To be a warrior is to be ready to die at any time. To be a warrior, one must know when to draw one’s blade and when to sheath it. It would seem that all of you have only understood a part of what it means to be a true warrior. Still, do not be discouraged, you are young, and it is part of growing up to learn. Apologize to the warrior Xolik and learn from him, instead of shunning his ways.”

The young warriors bowed their heads and immediately went to Xolik to apologize. After that scene, no one in the tribe doubted Xolik’s ways again.

The scenes continued to shift until one day, Xolik heard from one of the warriors that his old home was being attacked by a neighboring kingdom.

The curtains then fell, and after a few seconds it rose once more. It then showed the scenery of the once tall walls being breached.

The enemy had entered the city and the people were screaming as they run. The soldiers who had entered the wall were created using illusion spells, and they were very creepy looking.

They were wearing armor, but they did not wear helmets. Still, despite their faces being out, the audience could not see their faces clearly.

All the audience could see was a dark shadow face, with the white of their eye and the deep black pupil. They each had a creepy grin on their face as they slaughtered the civilians.

Looking at the enemy soldiers the audience felt uncomfortable, and the children started trembling as they hugged their parents in fear.

The knights who were supposed to be protecting the people had either died or fled in fear of their own lives.

The curtain once again fell, and in a few seconds rose to show the scene of an official pocketing as much gold as possible.

The official then fled with his family. When he saw a commoner blocking his path in fear of the enemy soldiers asking for help, instead of helping the commoner the official kicked him.

This scene had started to make a few commoners watching feel a bit of rage.

The illusions shifted again.

This time, the stage showed a narrow alley. A mother clutched her child to her chest as armored boots thundered past.

She pressed herself against the wall, whispering prayers through tears. A pair of enemy soldiers stopped. They looked down at her.

The grin on their shadowed faces widened. The illusion cut away before anything was shown, but the sound of screaming lingered a moment too long before fading. The curtain fell again and rose only to show the burning of the beautiful city.

The voice of the narrator then echoed in everyone’s ears.

”In the end, as the officials ran to save their own, as their knights fell to the ground unable to protect them, the people of the kingdom deeply wished for a hero to appear. The city burns as the people cry for a savior.”