Barbarian’s Adventure in a Fantasy World
Chapter 128: The Isolated Village (2)

Chapter 128: The Isolated Village (2)

The group passed through the forest until a small village came into view.

Ketal murmured under his breath, “It’s a tiny settlement.”

Yet, the place looked nothing like any village he had seen before. The other towns Ketal had visited were all clean and well-organized, with carefully planned houses and orderly roads, almost like miniature-planned cities.

However, this one was very different. Houses were scattered randomly, and the narrow lanes threading between them appeared to be little more than trampled paths. Large boulders jutted out here and there as if no one had bothered to remove them.

Ketal took in the sight and said, “It doesn’t look like the village is in good shape.”

Many of the homes, made of wood and straw, leaned so precariously that they seemed ready to collapse at any moment. It was an aging, rickety village hidden in the depths of the forest. Ketal gave a quiet smile.

A place like this is a must in a proper fantasy world, he mused. He felt oddly satisfied, but a question lingered in his head. “Why is there a village here, of all places? It doesn’t look like a viable location at all.”

The poor terrain didn’t lend itself to farming, and communication with neighboring settlements seemed difficult. While the setting had a certain rustic charm, it also promised constant inconvenience.

“It’s probably because they had nowhere else to go,” Naflas answered, and motioned for the group to move in. They walked toward the village, and unsurprisingly, stirred a commotion as soon as they reached its entrance.

“B-barbarian!”

“Aaah!”

Startled villagers shouted and scattered. Naflas showed no surprise; he knew people often reacted to barbarians with fear and alarm. To them, it had to have felt like a monster had invaded their homes.

“W-why have you come here?”

“Go away!”

A handful of villagers armed themselves with makeshift weapons—wooden spears and pitchforks. None of it looked especially threatening, though. Their skinny arms shook, as if from malnutrition, and they wore tattered, strained clothes that seemed on the verge of falling apart. The whole scene was pitiful.

“Step back, I will handle this,” Naflas said, turning to Ketal.

“Alright,” Ketal replied, taking a step backward.

Naflas moved forward, adopting a polite tone. “We found your village while traveling and mean no harm. We only ask to stay for a night. Of course, we will pay you for it.”

The formality of his speech and his priestly garb made one of the villagers, who was wielding a pitchfork, widen his eyes.

“Are you a follower of some deity?” he muttered, glancing repeatedly from Ketal to Naflas. “A priest traveling with a barbarian?”

Bewilderment spread among the villagers. Naflas understood their confusion. Even he had to admit that a priest of Kalosia and a barbarian made for a strange pairing. Eventually, a middle-aged man pushed forward, trying to calm himself.

“I... I am the village chief. May I ask which god you serve?” he asked Naflas.

“I am a priest of Kalosia, the God of Lies and Deception,” Naflas answered while nodding.

“Oh,” the chief said, voice faltering.

A moment of hesitation passed, and the chief’s face flashed with the same revulsion he had shown Ketal.

Naflas let out a bitter laugh. “Again, we are not here to cause trouble. I swear it on Kalosia’s name.”

“Hmm...” The chief still looked uncomfortable.

Seeing the man’s reluctance, Naflas was about to give up when Ketal stepped forward.

“Please,” he said in a low, solid voice. “We won’t harm you.”

“O-okay, please come in...,” the chief stammered, struggling to keep his composure.

The group was shown to an empty house.

Ketal grinned, “They’re kind folk, letting strangers stay.”

Naflas and Hayes stayed silent. The place they had been given was little more than a flimsy shack, barely standing and in danger of collapse. Even so, Hayes sank onto a straw bed and stretched out her aching legs.

It felt good just to have a roof above her head, no matter how fragile it was. Ketal, for his part, had been guided to a different house.

After a moment, Naflas murmured, “No matter how I look at Ketal, he seems decent. He has a great personality, too. Hayes, are you sure you aren’t mistaken? I can’t see anything wrong with him at all.”

Throughout their two weeks of traveling, Ketal had never caused any trouble. In fact, he had been remarkably considerate of them. It was difficult to believe he might pose a threat, as Hayes had suggested before.

“That’s not what I meant,” Hayes said firmly. “You simply do not know him the way I do, Naflas. And I am not saying he’s a bad person. I’m grateful to him, and I don’t hold any grudges.”

She thought back to all the help she had received from Ketal.

“But that doesn’t mean he’s the gentle soul you imagine. His values differ from ours, and most people wouldn’t understand him. Please just keep that in mind, if you plan to rely on him,” Hayes continued.

Naflas paused, stroking his chin. He still couldn’t detect any actual problems with Ketal, but Hayes’s warning made him reconsider.

Maybe my first impression was too strong, and I’ve been seeing everything in a positive light, Naflas thought. He decided to be a little more objective going forward.

***

The next day, the moon set and morning sunlight filtered in.

Ketal asked Naflas, “Did you rest well?”

“Yes,” Naflas replied in a subdued tone.

Ketal smiled. “That’s good. Rest is crucial when we have so far left to travel.”

Naflas gave a noncommittal nod. They were about to settle their bill and leave the village when an uproar broke out at the entrance of the village.

“Come out!”

“Where is the chief?!”

Rough voices rang out, laced with obvious hostility. Three men clad in ragged leather armor stormed in, swinging rusty swords in a threatening manner.

“If you don’t come out, I will kill you!” one bellowed.

The chief bolted out of his home. “Wh-what’s going on?!”

“What’s going on?” echoed one of the intruders, twisting his face into a terrible scowl. “Your monthly tribute still hasn’t come in!”

“W-we barely have enough food to survive. We have nothing left to pay—,” the chief began.

“Shut your mouth!” one man roared, cutting him off. “That’s not our problem! We’re protecting this village, so you owe us. Got it?”

The intruder glared at the chief, who started trembling.

Ketal watched the entire scene play out and muttered, “They really are just bullies.”

To his surprise, the man who had shouted spun around and snapped, “Who the hell said that? Who do you think you are?”

The intruders scanned the area, quickly locking eyes with Ketal.

Ketal gave them a calm, friendly wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“Huh...?” one of them said, eyes going wide. They seemed rattled, as if they weren’t sure they had seen him correctly. After a confused moment, they stammered, “W-we will be back, so you’d better have the payment ready next time!”

They shuffled away in a hurry, leaving the villagers behind.

Ketal merely observed them, then turned to Naflas with a faint smile. “It seems this village has its fair share of problems.”

***

“So, what’s going on in this village?” Ketal asked the village chief, who was still trembling.

The man stammered, “It’s... our problem. You do not need to concern yourself.”

Ketal spoke in a quiet but steady voice. “Sometimes it helps just to tell someone. There’s a chance we might be able to help.”

“Uh...” The chief’s gaze went unfocused before he finally began to speak in halting tones. “We’re being harassed by bandits.”

“Bandits?” Ketal repeated, his eyes lighting up.

“There are quite a few of them,” Naflas remarked calmly. “Most official guards and mercenaries focus on managing the nearby Dungeons, so they rarely keep the roads past the villagers safe.”

That meant bandits and thieves could easily set up along the unpatrolled routes.

“Yes, there’s a group of bandits that’s been here for years, and they recently discovered our village. Now they show up to demand all sorts of things.” The chief nodded as he sighed. “We tried to fight back, but we do not have the weapons or strength to face them. They also have a strong fighter among them, so we’re forced to hand over what little we have.”

The chief’s shoulders slumped, his thin arms shaking from hunger and despair.

“Can you ask a nearby town or a local lord for help?” Ketal asked the chief. “That’s usually what people do when they can’t handle things on their own.”

It was a reasonable question. The lord of the Barcan Estate once asked Ketal himself to help a neighboring village before.

“Well...,” the chief stammered as his face darkened. He couldn’t seem to find the words.

Naflas stepped in, offering an explanation. “Remember when you first saw this place and wondered why anyone would build a village here? The reason is simple. They’re refugees who fled their lands.”

“Refugees?” Ketal echoed.

“Any village close to a noble’s estate has to pay taxes set by the local ruler,” Naflas went on.

Though the kingdom offered some protection, that was rarely enforced. Many couldn’t survive the oppression or exploitation, so people often ran away to places where they wouldn’t be found or followed. That was exactly how this village came to be.

“I see,” Ketal said, stroking his chin in thought. “So they can’t ask for help, even if they wanted to.”

“Yes,” Naflas nodded.

Nobody was going to assist people who had run away from their obligations. Their fate was either to keep being robbed by those bandits, return to the lords they once fled, or risk everything by fighting back.

Logically, it wasn’t a problem that Ketal and Naflas needed to solve. Many such villages existed—people who ran from their duties and ended up preyed upon others who had also cast aside social obligations and turned to banditry. As Naflas prepared to leave, Ketal suddenly spoke up, his voice ringing with energy.

“This is terrible!” he declared. “They’re being bled dry by bandits!”

“Huh? Y-yes!” The village chief looked shocked at Ketal’s fervor.

Ketal pressed on, undeterred. “This must be destiny, so don’t worry—I’ll help you!”

“What?” Naflas exclaimed, eyes going wide.

***

The chief appeared utterly flustered. He had never expected Ketal to help. He kept asking if Ketal was serious, and each time, Ketal nodded in earnest.

Overwhelmed by gratitude, the chief repeatedly bowed and thanked him.

Meanwhile, Naflas caught up with Ketal in private. “Why are you doing this?”

Ketal spoke without hesitation. “Apologies for not discussing it beforehand. You can leave first if you’d like. I’ll handle this quickly and catch up.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Naflas replied. “I want to know your motive. Why help them? These people don’t technically have any right to demand protection.”

From a practical perspective, Ketal had no reason to intervene. The villagers had abandoned their original homes, shirking responsibilities and obligations in the process. Now they were simply at the mercy of another group who’d also rejected the existing social order, only from the other side.

There was no particular reason for Ketal to get involved—at least not according to the values Naflas was used to.

“Why would you do this?” Naflas pressed. He could somewhat understand why Ketal had decided to help the Church of Kalosia, given that Hayes had been traveling with him and there was some familiarity between them.

However, these villagers were complete strangers. Narrowing his eyes, Naflas resolved to figure out Ketal’s true intentions from his answer.

Ketal, for his part, felt no need to overcomplicate the situation.

I just want to see real bandits in a fantasy world and find out how they live, he thought. It’s not like I have a grand noble reason.

Still, he had to provide Naflas with something more acceptable than saying that he was doing it purely out of curiosity. Searching his memory, he recalled a phrase he’d seen in countless stories.

“Does a person need a reason to help another in need?” Ketal asked him.

Naflas’s eyes widened at the question.