Bonechewer sounded rather vulgar to humans. Anyone with even a little culture—or a cultured person in the family—would object to someone giving himself that name. Yet it was no ordinary name in the continent's history, especially not to the people of Transia.
After all, the gnoll king who had conquered most of the continent and nearly destroyed human civilization during the Fourth Black Calamity, 110 years ago, had been called "Bonechewer."
When Murphy spoke the "true name" of the short gnoll before them, it wasn't just Triss who goggled. Even little Ashina, who knew only a smidgen of history, stared at him wide-eyed.
But she was clever, so she quickly understood what Lord Murphy was planning.
Good lord!
He was going to prop up a faction and use it to bring about an internal collapse—peaceful evolution!
"Explain yourself!"
Triss demanded, having caught on as well.
"Do you mean it's surnamed 'Bonechewer'? Or that it comes from the 'Bonechewer Clan'? Those are two different things. The Bonechewer Clan is still in the Dark Mountains, and it's one of the largest gnoll clans.
"I've heard they're vicious even to their own kind. If you let this fellow make a false claim like that, things will not end well for him."
"But this is Transia, not the Dark Mountains. No matter how powerful the Bonechewer Clan is, it can't interfere with Transian domestic affairs. At least, not yet!"
Murphy waved a hand, keeping his enigmatic smile.
"I've been thinking. If my soldiers and warriors clear the gnoll dens one by one, it'll take too long. Maybe we can use a smarter approach and end Transia's gnoll scourge faster.
"Perhaps even eliminate the threat once and for all.
"If the Black Calamity really is inevitable, then instead of waiting for the first warlord in