[LSB] Chapter 108: First Contact With the Gnarfolks

“Do you think they’re friendly?”

“Why don’t you go and ask, Cyrus? They’ll probably think you’re just one of them.”

Another day passed, and Julian’s party was drawing closer to gnarfolk territory—or at least, that’s what they thought.

Right now, they were sprawled out on their stomachs atop a rocky plateau, careful not to cast shadows under the bright sun. The heat radiated off the stone beneath them, but none of them dared to move, their eyes locked onto the scene below.

They were overlooking a camp filled with large people all taller than Julian, horns jutted from their heads, and thick, reptilian tails swayed behind them.

It would seem, perhaps, that Julian and the party were already in gnarfolk territory, or at least at its borders.

“This is weird,” Cyrus whispered, carefully crawling back a few steps and making sure the gnarfolks wouldn’t spot him as he stood up.

“What’s weird?” Juliet followed suit, also crawling back to speak with Cyrus, who had his eyes narrowed and was looking at the chat.

“I’m pretty sure we still have a day’s journey before entering gnarfolk territory,” Cyrus said before pulling out a map from his bag, his eyes quickly scanning it before he looked around to confirm where they were, “Yup. We still have a day or so. Gnarfolks usually don’t leave their territory, and they definitely don’t hunt this far since monsters here are too high level for food and aren’t worth the hassle.”

“Uh, that’s not true,” Juliet shook her head, “Vokhborns are a nomadic people.”

“Do they look vokhborns to you? Vokhborn skin is extremely white.”

“Uhh…” Juliet slightly leaned to get another look at the gnarfolk, and their skin was a shade of green, “Right… Well, maybe they’re searching for something? From the looks of their camp, they’ve been there for a fair bit.”

And while the two were talking to themselves, Julian, who was still lying on the ground and looking at the gnarfolk camp below, glanced at them and said,

“Maybe it has something to do with the Order of Artemia’s expedition? The soldiers from the tavern mentioned it before, about the Shield Saint. And judging from their weapons, they were made for combat. Perhaps it’s weird because you realized they haven’t used the weapons even once in an actual fight? From the chips and marks on their blades, they’ve only used it to hit soft wood. Their armors are also completely clean.”

Both Cyrus and Juliet stared at Julian’s back for a few seconds before looking at each other. Their eyes, narrowing in confusion before Cyrus put his map aside and said,

“I’m not you, Julian. I wouldn’t notice something like that and—wait…” Cyrus’s eyes turned wide, “The thing you made about the Order of Artemia somewhat makes sense. Wait a minute…you’re making sense!? Are you still Julian? What happened to our Sword Junkie!? What did you do to him!?”

Even Juliet, who had utmost respect for her master, gasped in shock. Her eyes were wide open as she turned her focus back to Julian.

Unbeknownst to the two of them, aside from the assessment on the gnarfolks’ weapons, he wasn’t actually the one who thought of the connection between these gnarfolks camping outside their territory and the expedition of the Shield Saint—it was MEGAN, who actually already snuck her way into the camp in her tiny spirit form.

[Julian, I see several objects and documents inside the tent with the same insignia. From what I looked up, it’s an insignia of one of the five main chiefdoms of Drakhelm, Zerschanvil.]

‘Drakhelm?’ Julian asked, completely ignoring Juliet and Cyrus’s antics.

[It’s the gnarfolk country farthest from hyum territory. To reach it, you’d have to pass through another nation—the mountainous country of Bjorngrim—or travel by sea.

According to the forums, Zerschanvil is a military chiefdom.

Also, Julian, I noticed something on their tents. There are markings where something was torn away, and judging by the seams, it was their insignia. That means whatever they’re doing, they’re trying to keep it as incognito as possible.]

‘Hmm.’

[This is why I like Artemia, everything here happens accordingly. This might have something to do with our bridge quest, Julian. I have to say, being an avatar spirit slash computer hybrid has an insurmountable benefit.]

Yes.

Undeniably, MEGAN has always been Julian’s greatest strength. But now, she has become even more so—he has been learning how to not rely on her ever since she merged with the avatar spirit of Helionis, but of course, Julian and MEGAN had been together for a very long time.

It was already in their nature to co-exist with one another.

And at this point, she was more like an ally.

An ally that has access to the internet even from Artemia, that is.

Ironically, MEGAN had managed to connect through Julian’s eyes and use Humanity Engineering’s chat feature to access their servers undetected. But of course, she was careful not to actually touch any of Humanity Engineering’s data—they would definitely find out.

She solely used it to connect through the internet, undetected.

When she found out she could do that, she boasted nonstop to Julian, and even the Avatar of Helionis, who had no idea what she was so proud about. But once MEGAN explained it to her, she was so impressed that she also wanted to do the same. But alas, only MEGAN was capable of it.

[So, what do you want to do, Julian?] MEGAN asked as she continued to scan the camp undetected, [Should we approach them?]

‘Return to the forge for now.’

[Alright!] MEGAN took one final look before her flames just withered away. Julian, who was still overlooking the camp, finally crawled back to finally talk to his party members.

“Let’s avoid them,” he said, “According to Silvie, they’re from a military chiefdom from Drakhelm. Most probably traveling covertly.”

“Drakhelm?” Cyrus’s eyes turned wide, and he gasped loudly for the people in the chat, “But you need to traverse an entire gigantic mountain just to get there, or you ride a ship… which gnarfolks hate with their entire being. And a military chiefdom, hmm. I smell a conspiracy. We should definitely check this out.”

“Are you crazy?” Juliet rolled her eyes and groaned when she heard that, “The two of you just said they’re from a military city, they’re warriors.”

“Uh uh. You see, that’s true…” A small smirk crawled on Cyrus’s face as he raised a finger and wagged it right in front of Juliet’s face, “...But you see, gnarfolks, no matter what country they're from, travel alone once they reach level 50. The only time high-level gnarfolks gather together is during war.”

“Does… that mean a war is happening!?” Juliet gasped, but Cyrus immediately shut her down with a look of pity.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, causing Juliet’s eyes to twitch and glare at him. Cyrus didn’t mind at all, however, and even smirked at her as he continued explaining, “First of all, most of the gnarfolks and even the ones on watch duty are young. And second, Julian said that their equipment is completely brand new and never been used in battle—that could only mean that group is composed of low-level kids. What do you think, Boss?”

“Why are you also calling him Boss now?” Juliet narrowed her eyes at Cyrus before focusing back on Julian, “I’m supposed to be the only one calling him that. But… what do you think, Boss? Should we… approach them?”

***

The group discussed the pros and cons of making contact with the gnarfolks, and after what seemed like half an hour, Julian was now approaching the gnarfolk camp… alone.

He walked toward the encampment with his palms up—a universal gesture of surrender, shared by all the races of Artemia and Earth, signaling that he meant no harm.

But, of course, the gnarfolk guards didn’t see it that way. Without hesitation, they unsheathed their massive swords, their thick, chainmail-covered tails sweeping in front of them like shields.

But rather than advancing or approaching Julian, they banged their armored tails on the ground several times to call and wake their comrades from their tents.

Julian, however, remained still, stopping a few meters away from the guards. He didn’t speak, didn’t gesture—just waited. Waited for the rest of the camp to stir. Waited, most of all, for their leader to appear.

The once-quiet camp erupted into chaos. The ground trembled slightly beneath the weight of gnarfolk warriors scrambling to arm themselves, their heavy footsteps drumming against the earth. Julian watched as they rushed about, donning armor, securing weapons.

But soon, they all stood in front of Julian.

Now that they were all in front of him and he was getting a better look and feel for them, Julian finally realized why most hyums fear the gnarfolks.

The smallest among them still stood a full foot taller than Julian. Their shoulders were broader, their hands massive—larger than their own faces—with an extra thumb positioned beside their pinkie fingers.

Four horns jutted from their heads—two large ones crowning the top, while two smaller ones curved near their temples, bordering their foreheads just above their ears. Despite their monstrous stature, their facial features bore a striking resemblance to hyums—save for their bright green skin, of course.

Cyrus had mentioned they were young, but they hardly looked it.

Among them, one figure stood out the most. The tallest of the group—a towering gnarfolk with a thick mustache—loomed at least three feet above Julian. His long, red hair, braided into multiple thick strands, cascaded all the way to his ankles. Some of the braids swung around his muscular tail, the strands brushing against its armored surface, producing a soft, slithering hiss with every movement.

And from how the crowd split when he stepped forward, he was their leader.

The guards who were slamming their tails on the ground also stopped, bringing in a sudden silence as their commander stood in front of them.

He carried no visible weapons—no sword, no axe—but that wasn’t entirely true. He did have weapons—his gauntlets were fitted with bladed claws, each finger sharpened to a lethal edge. And from how they hummed to Julian, they were made from incredibly strong materials.

The commander caught Julian’s gaze lingering on his gauntlets before shifting his eyes to Julian’s raised palms—empty, unarmed. His gaze briefly flicked to Julian’s waist, checking for hidden weapons. Finding none, he let out a deep sigh before meeting Julian’s eyes once more.

“You have made your intention for peace clear, hyum,” the commander said, his voice almost a growl, “But I must tell you that whatever you seek, you will not find it here in our camp.”

“My friends and I only want to talk,” Julian said calmly. The commander quickly looked behind Julian when he heard that, and Cyrus and Juliet quietly exposed themselves from the large rock they were hiding above. The two of them also showed their palms. The commander glanced back at his men for a moment, and then shook his head before pointing his tail outside the direction of their camp.

“Whatever you seek, you will not find it here in our camp,” the commander repeated his words, “Leave, while we are still showing the diplomacy you hyums love so much.”

Julian did not move at all, even as the commander stretched his fingers and took a step forward. The commander narrowed his eyes, trying to see how the hyum in front of him would react, but Julian did not move at all and there was absolutely no change in his expression.

Instead, he slowly lowered his left hand, which caused everyone to raise their weapons, with the guard even marching forward.

Before they could pass their commander, however, the commander halted them to stop as soon as he saw the Mark of Searadyn at the back of Julian’s hand.

He continued to watch Julian’s hand as he placed it on the bottom of his chin. And then, the commander’s eyes widened in shock as he saw Julian pull out a transparent blade from it.

Julian carefully stretched his hand to the side, extending the blade. And then, with a twist, he shifted Searadyn’s Veil into a small shield and said,

“I am a blacksmith of a unique class, and I am here for a quest. I swear upon my weapon that I hold no malice against you and your people.”

The commander narrowed his eyes at Julian, and after a few seconds, he stepped forward along with his guards and stood right in front of Julian, looking down on him.

“You…” He growled at Julian, and then… from beneath his thick mustache, a smile happily crawled, “Why didn’t you say so, Ironsmith?”

[LAST CHAPTER] <-----> [NEXT CHAPTER]

AUTHOR NOTES

I can feel it, gnarfolks are bros.