Kurachwichwi kurarara!

Kaang! Kaaaang! Bang!

The orc horde swarmed in and hammered the gate with their weapons as if they'd smash it down any second.

"We're short on arrows! Aim true! Loose!"

Up on the wall, Talman's voice rang out rough.

The battle had raged since evening.

"Die, you runaway pigs!!!"

"Just! Get! Lost!!!"

On top of the wall, the mercenaries fought hard, loosing arrows.

The inner wall made a good barrier, but orcs were monsters that knew how to use their heads.

A band of orcs came at them fast, carrying crude ladders.

Hundreds of them, at the very least.

And that wasn't the end of it.

Kurarara kuwawawawawawa!

Their howls were drawing in more of their kind from all around.

"Y-Your Lordship. Is there no one else in the castle?"

"As you can see."

The knight—the castle's lord, for now—was perfectly calm.

He's not a lunatic, is he?

Jerome's head was a jumble.

The lord was chomping away on tough jerky.

He tore off hunks of black rye bread—so hard you had to soak it in water to eat it—and swallowed them.

He looked less like a lord than a starving beggar.

Even with the orcs pounding the party, he wasn't the least bit shaken.

He just chewed his bread and jerky with a look of pure bliss.

His eyes were even welling up.

Now and then, when the orcs went berserk, he scowled.

Every time those black eyes flashed, Jerome's heart dropped into his stomach.

He looked like he was about to do something drastic.

He was quiet for now, with food in his hands, but he didn't look like a nice person.

Even his outfit was the kind of thing that had been in fashion ten years ago.

At last, the knight with no armor finished eating.

Only now did he rise smoothly to his feet and pick up a weapon.

My stomach was good and full.

Even hard, tough jerky and bread tasted this good.

Hunger really was the shortcut to loving any food at all.

If not for the orcs howling and the sound…