Chapter 35
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 35
‘...What exactly am I looking at?’
Raymond blankly recalled the events of three days ago.
After his confrontation with Tristan, Lucian had led the mercenaries toward Greve City.
“I’ve received intelligence that the enemy might raid Greve City as a diversion. Everyone, pack up. We move out!”
The mercenaries, most of whom had never even seen a platinum coin up close, grumbled but followed orders obediently. They had already witnessed Lucian’s capabilities firsthand, and they knew he was good for the extra pay if things got hairy.
Raymond had been impressed by how easily Lucian handled the mercenaries, but the problem started after that.
“I’ll give you the coordinates for where to move if an actual attack occurs. When there’s no combat, just rotate through the watch at a relaxed pace.”
The orders weren't just lenient; they were downright lax.
Raymond, who had expected Lucian to prepare a rigorous defense, was stunned. If this was the plan, what was the point of bringing the mercenaries at all?
“Third Young Master, even if we aren't preparing for a full-scale siege, shouldn't we at least tighten the security more than this?”
“I just did.”
“No, I mean a proper military deployment. Isn't the attack expected in just three days?”
At Raymond’s plea, Lucian gave a small smirk.
“These mercenaries are split into tiny units of barely a dozen men. Even if I force them to drill together, they won't find their rhythm in time. It’s better to establish a minimum set of rules so they don't trip over each other in an emergency, rather than causing friction by forcing them to cooperate. The mercenaries will be more comfortable that way anyway.”
“That only works if you can control them on the fly. As far as I know, you have absolutely no experience on a battlefield, Third Young Master.”
“There’s a first time for everything. For me, that time just happens to be now.”
Raymond sighed at Lucian’s confident declaration.
It was true that Lucian always had a plan, and he certainly possessed the nerve and initiative to carry it out. However, commanding soldiers on a battlefield where blood and flesh flew through the air was an entirely different matter.
‘People are not pieces on a chessboard. Even elite soldiers who have undergone grueling training sometimes fail to follow orders. How much worse will it be for mercenaries?’
Even if a commander remained stoic in the face of death, expecting the rank-and-file to do the same was asking too much.
An army’s morale depended on how much training they had endured, how much they trusted the comrades standing shoulder-to-shoulder with them, and their certainty of victory.
Unfortunately, the mercenaries under Lucian’s command met none of those criteria.
‘They’ve never trained together, they’d split over a few coins at the drop of a hat, and they know nothing about the enemy attacking them. If things go wrong, they’ll fall into chaos and destroy themselves.’
The only saving grace was that the mercenaries couldn't afford to abandon Lucian and run. If Lucian died as a result of their desertion, Grand Duke Sigmund would undoubtedly hunt down every single one of them and tear them limb from limb.
The mercenaries knew this well, so while they might panic, they wouldn't flee.
‘If it comes to that, I’ll have to take over command and salvage the situation. It will be an expensive lesson for the Third Young Master.’
Fortunately, the Black Mage didn't seem to know the mercenaries had moved to Greve City. Since he was likely sending monsters to raid what he thought was a defenseless city, their numbers probably wouldn't be overwhelming. As long as the forces didn't scatter, they could somehow hold the line.
That was what Raymond had thought while he waited.
“You idiots! What are you doing, daydreaming?! Move if you don't want to die!”
“I told you not to leave such a gap with the man next to you! Do you want to get gutted?!”
“Do I have to kick your asses to get you moving?! Support any section that looks like it’s buckling!”
As if to prove all those worries were for nothing, Lucian was sprinting across the field, commanding the mercenaries with precision.
Individually, they might have been capable, but as a group, they were a disorganized rabble. Yet, Lucian was handling that rabble as if they were his own limbs.
The mercenaries, though bewildered by the rapid-fire succession of orders, moved exactly as told.
‘Incredible. Despite the urgency of the situation, those rough mercenaries are following him without a single complaint.’
Hugo, who was mixed in among the mercenaries, marveled at his master’s skill. By driving them relentlessly, Lucian left them no room to think of anything else, all while staying on the front lines to verify his orders in real-time.
Under such pressure, the mercenaries had no choice but to be swept along by their employer’s will.
And that wasn't all.
“Grrrk!”
“O-oh, it’s up...!”
Squelch!
“You moron! Don't let your hands rest!”
The moment a Gnoll scrambled up the shallow wall, Lucian’s sword flashed. As soon as he confirmed the Gnoll was falling back with a slashed chest, Lucian delivered a sharp slap to the mercenary’s cheek.
Slap!
“You idiot! I told you to stay sharp! Do you want to die?!”
“I-I’m sorry...!”
“Shut up and hold the line! You won't get a second chance!”
Having plugged the gap that was about to break, Lucian pushed the mercenary back into position. This had already happened several times. Whenever a spot looked dangerous, he would sprint there, intervening with perfect timing to provide support.
He was so seamless that the Black Lions, who had been dispersed nearby to step in if the line broke, found they had nothing to do.
‘Is he perceiving the entire battlefield? In this chaos, he knows exactly where the weak points are and what kind of support is needed?’
“Graaaagh!”
“Hup!”
Hugo flinched at the sudden screech of a Kobold climbing up and swung his sword. The Kobold, its chest sliced open, fell to the ground with a scream. If he had been a beat slower, Hugo might have been the one injured.
‘I almost messed up just by losing focus for a second.’
His heart hammered against his ribs. He had experienced more than enough killing in the underworld, but a first-hand battlefield was chilling even for him. This wasn't a murder fueled by anger or a grudge; it was a storm of chaos where the only goal was to kill the enemy in front of you.
If he didn't keep a tight grip on his sanity, even Hugo felt he would be swallowed by the madness.
“Hugo! You still alive?! You didn't piss your pants, did you?!”
Suddenly, Lucian’s voice reached Hugo’s ears. The sheer lightheartedness of the tone made Hugo burst into an involuntary laugh.
“Yes! I’m fine! I can keep going for a long time yet!”
“Good! You’ll see this sight until you’re sick of it once you become a knight, so get used to it now!”
“Hearing you say that, I feel like I’m already used to it!”
“Don't get cocky and die! Watch your back while you fight like your life depends on it!”
“That’s a bit contradictory, isn't it?!”
“Hahaha!”
Laughter erupted among the mercenaries at their exchange. Startled by the sudden mirth, Hugo realized only then that the tide of battle had completely turned.
Monsters remained, but most were now corpses strewn about; the survivors could be counted on one's fingers. Even those were merely mindless beasts climbing up without any strategy. The mercenaries, now relaxed, began to pick off the rest with ease.
Thrust!
“Grrr...!”
A spear pierced the nape of the last remaining Gnoll. The twitching creature soon went limp and fell onto the pile of corpses with a heavy thud.
“Phew, phew!”
“Is it... over?”
The mercenaries wiped the sweat from their brows and looked at each other. After such a whirlwind of violence, it was hard to believe it was really finished. Everyone’s eyes turned toward their commander, Lucian.
Lucian stood before them with a smile and shouted.
“Men!”
“....”
“Rejoice! The victory is ours!”
After a brief silence, a thunderous cheer shook the entirety of Greve City.
“Waaaaaaaah!”
Jude, the Black Mage, bit his thumbnail as he heard the cheers echoing from the distance. Where exactly had things gone so wrong? He had come to secure sacrifices, only to lose every single creature he had painstakingly tamed.
His insides burned so fiercely he felt as if a hole were being bored through his stomach.
“...Lord Jude, should I fire off a big one now?”
“A big one? Now? Are you kidding me?!”
Jude barked at Colin’s tone-deaf suggestion. It might have made sense before the attack on Greve City, but now that the fight was over, it was pointless. What was the gain in hitting the enemy when the chance to procure sacrifices was already gone?
“Do whatever you want! I’m sure they’ll love it!”
“Is that so? Then I suppose I should.”
CRACKLE!
A flash of light accompanied by a sound like a thunderclap erupted beside him. Jude gasped, trying to say something, but the light shot out faster than he could speak.
Simultaneously, a shockwave slammed into his entire body, followed by a searing pain. Only after he realized he had collapsed did Jude open his mouth.
“G-grk!”
Instead of words, bloody foam bubbled out. He tried to chant a spell and form a hand seal, but his hands wouldn't move. With a desperate effort, he managed to lift his right hand, but it was a gruesome sight. The skin was charred as if roasted, and it was convulsing uncontrollably.
“‘Do whatever I want.’ That was a wonderful instruction. So I did as I pleased, and you’ve been roasted much better than I expected.”
“Grrr! Y-you...!”
“You should have been more careful when making a pact. When a contract is this full of holes, it’s hard not to take advantage of it, even if one doesn't want to. I hope you learn a lesson from this.”
Though, of course, it was already too late.
Colin sneered at the dying Jude. Jude tried to retaliate by forming a seal with his mangled right hand, but it was futile. His half-charred lungs could no longer utter a single proper incantation.
After several seconds of pathetic struggling, Jude the Black Mage breathed his last, roasted to a crisp.
“Tsk. A mere Black Mage daring to use me.”
Colin spat on Jude’s corpse and let out a sigh. Once the brief joy of victory faded, he was left with the bleak reality of his future. Colin himself had merely been manipulated by the Black Mage, but the Empire Liberation Front wouldn't see it that way.
“Once they find out I botched the job, they’ll lump me in with this dead guy and try to kill me. I guess I have to find another place to lay my head.”
He wondered how many times he had been a wanderer now. The tasks his master had left him before dying were still piled high, but he had no time for research, let alone a place to rest. It was a miserable existence.
Lamenting his fate, Colin brushed off his robe and stood up.
“Waaaah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”
“...Do those guys never get tired? Well, I suppose they’d be happy after fending off that many monsters.”
He let out a hollow laugh at the mercenaries’ jubilant shouts. Mercenaries were notoriously poor at group combat unless they were elite units. Yet, someone had led that motley crew and fended off a monster horde with almost no casualties.
‘Whoever the commander is, he’s a remarkable man. If possible, I should seek refuge with someone like that.’
Colin shook his head, dismissing the thought. He had never met anyone who lived up to his expectations. In his experience, the way of the world was that those with talent lacked status, and those with status lacked talent.
‘Heaven is truly unfair. To give someone that kind of ability and then have them waste it as a mere city guard.’
Pitying the guard captain he had never even met, Colin departed from the Yellow Forest. He hoped his next destination would allow for a slightly more comfortable life.
At the edge of the now-silent Yellow Forest, only the lightning-charred corpse of the Black Mage remained.
“What? Fifteen minor injuries and zero deaths?”
“Yes. It was a crushing victory.”
“This is impossible...!”
Tristan’s face turned beet-red as he crumpled the report in his hand. Greve City had no proper defensive structures other than a pitifully low wall. And they had repelled a horde of over a hundred monsters there? Leading a band of mercenaries who had never even worked together?
“There must be a mistake! Even so, these results make no sense!”
“I doubted it at first as well, but it turns out the report was written by the Black Lions themselves.”
If the Black Lions had written it, it meant the same content was being sent to Grand Duke Sigmund. Unless they were insane, they had no reason to fabricate a report.
With trembling hands, Tristan smoothed out the crumpled paper.
—Fifteen minor injuries. Zero deaths. Approximately 140 Gnolls and Kobolds repelled. No civilian casualties; minor damage to the walls and gates.
The more he read it, the more his head spun. The achievement was staggering, and yet there was no mention of a mage anywhere. He had maintained the cover-up perfectly while ensuring no one was sacrificed.
That fact made Tristan feel even more wretched.
‘If there were no sacrifices, then what was the point of my scales? The decisions I’ve made until now...’
He had believed it was right to sacrifice the small for the greater good. But if the small didn't need to be sacrificed in the first place, what did that sacrifice mean? Had he shed blood unnecessarily because of his own poor leadership?
“Gaaah!”
“Y-Young Master!”
“First Young Master!”
“I’m fine, stay back!”
Tristan pushed away the approaching servant and clawed at his hair. He felt as if his head would explode if he didn't endure this kind of pain. By the time he stopped, a handful of his hair lay on the floor.
“...Prepare to withdraw. We are returning to Kelheim.”
Tristan gave the order in a lifeless voice. The monsters the enemy intended to use as soldiers were annihilated, and internal strife had broken out due to the Black Mage’s betrayal. Even if the magic capable of destroying walls still existed, they wouldn't be able to use it now.
Since the enemy’s forces were gone and the reason for hiring mercenaries had vanished, there was no reason for Tristan or Lucian to remain.
‘A bitter homecoming.’
He had wanted to go home so badly, yet he felt no joy. The moment they returned, the standing of Lucian and Tristan would be completely different than before. Of course, their positions wouldn't flip because of this one incident. However, it was safe to say Lucian had pulled close enough to look for an opportunity to overtake him at any moment.
“It’s chilling.”
At the spine-tingling sensation, Tristan instinctively rubbed the back of his neck. Though he hadn't realized it, his hand came away wet with cold sweat. It was as if his body was telling him that the time when he could take the position of Family Head for granted was over.