A Nightmare Spilling from the West
A Nightmare Spilling from the West
Whether due to my achievement in breaching the outer fortress or not, I wasn't made to run around as part of the unit again after rejoining them.
I suppose they'd taken my measure in combat. Rather than deploying an individual who'd simultaneously broken the outer wall and seized air superiority as a common soldier, they seemed to have decided to treat me like an army unto myself. The reaction felt close to, "You've earned your laurels, so get plenty of rest, and then we'll hope you pull off another one."
Fighting Demonfolk of roughly similar caliber held little meaning for me anyway, and I also wanted to prepare for the battle against the main force steadily making its way here, so I readily accepted their goodwill and chose to rest.
As a result, I was currently lying on a field bed that didn't feel like a field bed at all, inside a tent a general might use, thoroughly savoring the comfort.
"The hell was it about me and armies that kept upgrading my sleeping arrangements?"
During the march here, I'd lived out of the tent I'd personally brought along, not wanting to give the impression I was receiving special treatment. But when they told me that earning merits and then refusing rewards would make me a bad example to the soldiers, I couldn't exactly refuse.
Luxuriously washing up and lying down to rest, even on a battlefield, was all well and good, but I wasn't as tired as I'd thought. Eventually, I found myself furtively getting up, donning my equipment again, and stepping outside.
Outside was still hectic. Being situated extremely close to the half-shattered outer wall, the noise of the battlefield carried far more clearly than I'd expected. And for a command post set back from the front lines, every single person was dashing about with their guard fully up, never loosening their tension for a moment.
Thanks to that, it wasn't hard to grasp that this was the daily reality for the Silver Eagle soldiers who'd endured years on the front lines against the Demon King's Army. The soldiers on Ragnis's side had given off a comparatively stronger vibe of being dazed and spiritually worn down, which made the contrast stand out even more.
"Oh? You've earned such merit, and yet you're heading somewhere without even resting?"
Before I'd gone to Ragnis, I'd figured no one would bother to acknowledge me, but Ranje appeared out of nowhere and shattered my expectations.
"Being on a battlefield, I couldn't quite settle my nerves, so I was about to move around a bit. I see you're at rest as well, Sir Ranje."
Familiar faces I'd seen earlier by the siege ram were passing by in front of her. Unlike everyone else around, who were moving about in full battle gear, they had all stripped off the armor that looked heavy just to behold and were walking around in only their clothes, making them stand out sharply.
"That's right. One of the few privileges of the siege ram unit."
"You stake your life and get to rest if you come back alive. Can you really call that a privilege?"
She shrugged her shoulders as if it were nothing, and hearing her, another knight behind her cut in with an incredulous tone. Without even turning around, Ranje lashed out with a backward kick and struck him precisely in the shin.
"There's nothing for you to do here anyway except walk around the encampment. Would you care to share a meal? You must be hungry after running around so much."
And then, as naturally as anything, she proposed we eat together. It was an invitation I hadn't received even once during the entire march here.
What her offer implied could have been deeply significant, so I glanced at the other knights to gauge their reaction. But they, too, had stopped walking and were simply staring blankly, with no apparent sign of objection.
"The ones who'd gripe about sharing a meal with the man who put on a show like that all got themselves killed during the charge. Let's go. I know it sounds like I'm bullshitting you, but our kids here are surprisingly decent cooks."
"...Well then, I won't refuse."
I'd been the one who'd used belonging to a different unit as an excuse to slap a regimental commander across the face, yet Ranje and the other knights truly didn't seem to give a single shit. Continuing to be the only one feeling awkward would only dampen the mood, so I strode as confidently as I could, matching her pace toward the mess area situated at one side of the command post.
Yes. A mess area. Astoundingly, the Silver Eagle Independent Combat Brigade, unlike most conventional armies, didn't operate on a system where ingredients were distributed to soldiers to cook for themselves. Instead, they had a system where a rear support unit prepared meals for the combat troops.
It wasn't as though they'd hired outright non-combatant professional chefs to move with them. It was closer to soldiers with comparatively less combat strength doubling up the work while setting up camp. But considering that in my past life, dedicated cooks only came into being in the modern era, this was undeniably a ridiculously unique environment.
"Given that the forces capable of properly fighting the Demon King's Army are so few in number, a lot of things have changed quite a bit, starting from the organizational structure. Unusual, isn't it?"
"'Unusual' doesn't quite cover it, I think... Are all the armies on the front line like this?"
"The very front lines probably are. I can't say for certain, since we haven't personally rotated through every single front, but... if they don't do this, they can't keep going."
"Keep going?"
"Do you know what common trait the bastards who survive a long time on the front lines share?"
It was a rather out-of-the-blue question, but even if she'd given me time, it wasn't the kind of thing an answer would come to mind for. So I just pretended to ponder for a moment, then meekly shook my head to say I didn't know. At that, Ranje nodded, as if she hadn't really expected an answer anyway, and readily replied.
"They absolutely cannot feed themselves properly. Pushed to their physical and mental limits, they have to shove something down to survive, but they can't do it. Insomnia, anxiety, all sorts of symptoms, but for some reason, on the front against the Demon King's Army, a lot of problems cropped up specifically around eating. That's why things changed, from what I understand. Rationing out ingredients was pointless because so many would lie about having eaten, so they started making the food and having us eat it together. At a set time, on a set schedule, with everyone else."
Some kind of PTSD, was it? I wondered why the hell the issue would manifest specifically with eating, but I didn't think I'd learn the concrete reason, so I just nodded. At that, perhaps thinking I'd fallen silent because the topic had grown heavy, another knight beside us smiled wryly and cut into the conversation.
"Why are you talking about such grim things and killing the mood for today's hero? I've always said it. It's because they don't even have the strength to hold a spoon and just collapse."
"That actually happened to me. After barely surviving a situation where I thought I was dead and coming back, I didn't want to waste what little strength I had starting a fire and cooking up a meal that looked like hog feed."
"These bastards are a bit weird, sure, but it might not be entirely wrong, actually. Because when they were fed like that, there really weren't any who refused to eat, after all."
Each of them casually tossed in a word, and the mood lightened. In the meantime, a neatly prepared stew was served. One taste confirmed that Ranje had been right to be confident—it was indeed very edible.
I was the type who believed that when you're struggling and exhausted, you should at least eat something delicious to pick yourself back up. This was definitely good enough to lift my spirits for days.
"It's good. You can really feel how much effort the cooks put into it."
"Oh? Honestly, I'd thought it wouldn't suit the palate of an esteemed person who just left the capital. Looks like you've got overflowing talent for being a battlefield soldier, sir?"
Even from that brief exchange, I couldn't feel any knightly solemnity from these people, who tossed out jokes as easily as adventurers or mercenaries. Personally, I rather liked it. But something in what he'd said caught my attention, and I couldn't help but let out a hollow laugh and ask back.
"An esteemed person?"
"Aren't you? Even just briefly being in the capital, the rumors were all over the place. That you entered the Ogatorf household as a child and received elite education, this and that, that you moved as a close aide to the Margrave of Levien, and so on."
And at that, I burst out laughing. There was barely any wrong information, yet the conclusion got twisted into something else entirely.
"Don't tell me...?"
"Yes. I'm a commoner."
Me, a noble. The adventurers I'd beaten the shit out of so far would be laughing their asses off.
Contrary to my expectation that they'd be moderately surprised and then move on, the reaction was a bit explosive.
"For real?"
"For real. I was born and raised in a small village near Ogwen in the west. My parents were former adventurers, but at the time, they lived as hunters, so strictly speaking, I suppose I'm a hunter's son."
Was it really that shocking? Every one of them had stopped eating mid-bite and wore expressions as if they'd suffered a sudden loss of comprehension. One of them kept tilting his head before finally asking, as if he simply couldn't understand.
"But there isn't a village near Ogwen?"
For a moment, my expression almost soured before I could stop it.
Truthfully, our village was a place that didn't even appear on most maps. I figured more people would've been unaware of it even when it was still standing. I believed the man had spoken with that kind of intent, but actually hearing it said like that didn't make me feel very good.
"There was. It was such a small village that only those who knew about it, knew."
"Ah, I see. But... you said 'was'...?"
"The Demon King's Army smashed it all to pieces on their way through, so now it's gone. That's the reason I'm here."
Whether few people knew of it, or whether it was covered up as a hidden history where the Demon King's Army had reached a remote corner of the west and then pulled back—none of that was my concern. So I stated it plainly, and the air instantly froze solid.
The knight who'd joked about me being an esteemed person dropped his head and started staring only at his bowl of stew. The others wore serious expressions, their faces a mess of tangled emotions. I hadn't intended to jab at them like this, so I was a little taken aback. In that moment, Ranje swept her gaze over all of them, nodded lightly, then resolutely licked her spoon clean and smacked the joking knight right on the forehead with it.
"Did you know and say that on purpose, you dipshit? If Sir Ega brushed it off like it was nothing, you should've let it slide naturally and changed the subject. Instead, you sit there keeping your damn mouth shut, killing everyone's appetite."
"Ah, even for me, that's a little..."
"Oh, fuck off, you moron."
The more I watched, the further removed from knighthood this scene became. I didn't want the mood to go to total shit on a battlefield either, so I laughed it off and played along, after which the atmosphere finally loosened up.
But some of them were still awkwardly staring off into the distance, literally looking at a faraway mountain as they pointlessly gazed at the outer fortress of Levien. I'd been watching them, wondering when the hell they'd turn their heads back, and that was when I caught the sudden sharpening of focus in their previously slack eyes.
"Isn't that a wyvern?"
At that single phrase, everyone who'd been idling about turned their gazes beyond Levien's outer wall as if on cue. I was no different, and thanks to that, we could clearly see the two wyverns rising up from the inner fortress.
But wait... was it just me, or was one of them heading this way?
"It's coming here."
Fortunately, it didn't seem to be my imagination alone.