Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Black Armor Company
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When Dale regained consciousness in the darkness of night, he found himself in a very familiar world.
“You’ve finally come to see me?”
A girl with the horns of a black goat was there. Her jet-black dress fluttered as she frolicked through a world of biting cold.
“I’ve been waiting, big brother.”
She smiled like a child greeting her father returning from a business trip.
Seeing that smile, he recalled a story his father, Lord Black, had once told him.
“Do you know of the World of Truth?”
The forbidden realm one must reach to attain the 9th Circle.
“Kyahahaha!”
At his words, the girl burst into laughter, as if she couldn't contain her amusement.
“What’s so funny?”
In response to Dale's question, the girl clutched her stomach, still laughing, and answered.
“Well, of course.”
As if she couldn't stop laughing.
“Because I was born in that very world.”
“……!”
Dale drew a sharp, quiet breath. He finally understood. *The Book of the Black Goat* was no mere grimoire. And the incarnation of thought before him was no avatar created from the mind of a common mage.
Had Frederick the Undying also reached the World of Truth?
Then how many mages had reached that realm so far, and why, in all the continent's history, had no '9th-Circle mage' ever appeared?
“Then you too…”
Dale asked again.
“Were you one of the demons in that world?”
“Demon? What’s that?”
The girl tilted her head innocently. After a moment, she answered, a cold sneer on her lips, as if she were looking down at an insect.
—As if a mere mortal, bound by the fetters of thought, could ever hope to comprehend ‘us’?
“……!”
An oppressive aura, incomparable to anything he had felt before, radiated from her. Tentacles shot out from beneath her skirt, beginning to devour Dale's world. It was a darkness like peering into a bottomless abyss.
“You know, I…”
The girl drew closer, moving to embrace Dale.
“I like you, big brother.”
The young girl hugged Dale, her lips close to his ear as she whispered.
“Your solitude, your loneliness… they’re so lovely I can’t stand it.”
It was not the voice of a little girl. It was the voice of a woman, filled with ecstasy and obsession.
“So, I’ll stay by your side.”
But he felt no warmth from the girl's body embracing him.
“I’ll be a ‘good girl’ who listens to everything you say.”
A sensation of cold, biting chill and darkness seeped into his heart.
“…What is your name?”
Dale asked, immersed in that sensation.
“Shub.”
“Shub…”
With her answer, a fierce wind began to rage once more. It was a gale so strong he couldn't possibly stay on his feet.
When he came to his senses amidst the wind, Dale was in his bedroom.
His heart was throbbing. The heart entwined by three circles.
‘Three circles…?’
No, that wasn't right. The thought made him realize. It hadn't fully formed yet, but above the three circles was the undeniable imprint of a 'fragment of a circle.' And he could also see the tentacles constricting that very fragment.
As a 3rd-Circle Master mage, the realm of the 4th Circle was beginning to reveal itself to him.
To reach the 3rd Circle by one's early twenties was a talent bordering on miraculous, and for those without such talent, the 4th Circle was a realm they might never reach in their entire lifetime.
And now, that very 4th Circle was within reach of a mere eleven-year-old boy.
His growth was so staggering that even the title of the Empire's greatest talent felt inadequate.
***
Some time later, at the barracks of the heavy infantry, including Lord Yones.
“Ahhh, this liquor is damn good!”
“Nothing beats the taste of a drink after being drilled to death!”
“The food’s great, too. Makes all the hard training worth it!”
“Kuhaha, getting to eat meat every day is the life!”
Raising good soldiers was similar to raising good warhorses. It wasn't just a matter of working them relentlessly; systematic management, including quality meals, was essential.
It was a luxury they couldn't have dreamed of in their former lives as mere mercenaries.
With their bodies and skills growing by the day, the shabby appearance of mercenaries was nowhere to be found.
A heavy infantry unit of a hundred men.
While their individual martial prowess couldn't compare to that of a knight, their systematic defensive formations were powerful enough to halt even a cavalry charge.
“The eldest son of a ducal house is really something else, huh.”
“You can say that again.”
Thoroughly drunk, the mercenaries started talking about their commander. Lord Yones took a swig of liquor and nodded.
“At first, I thought he was just an arrogant brat full of himself…”
“Hey now, our deputy. Feels like just yesterday you were whining about getting your ass handed to you by a kid!”
A mercenary cackled, taking a gulp of his drink.
“Shut up, you damn bastard.”
Then he recalled the moments he'd seen the 'Black Prince' on the battlefield.
“How is he an ordinary kid in any way?”
“Well, yeah, he’s the Empire’s greatest genius, after all!”
“What’s a Lord Yones to him? Even the world-renowned Night Raven Knights struggle to keep up with our commander.”
The day he single-handedly annihilated an Orc Warlord during the demon migration.
Furthermore, when they heard the ducal castle was under attack by an elder of the Black Magic Tower, the hundred mercenaries had hastily armed themselves and fought alongside the Night Raven Knights.
There, Lord Yones had witnessed the 'monsters of House Sachsen' mercilessly slaughtering their enemies.
And the one to whom those very monsters swore fealty and knelt without a hint of doubt.
It was something that couldn't be fully described by terms like 'the Empire's greatest talent' or 'genius.'
An incarnation of the absurd.
“…Well, for us,”
one of Lord Yones's mercenary subordinates chimed in.
“A commander who drills us hard, feeds us well, and clothes us well is the best.”
“And the eldest son of House Sachsen is our commander!”
“Guess latching onto the right person is the way to go.”
“To the commander!”
“To the deputy commander who got his ass kicked like a dog by the commander!”
No matter how harsh and severe the Night Raven Knights' training was, the mercenaries were not ignorant.
They knew the fate that awaited mayflies who neglected their training, lacking any semblance of discipline or military conduct, on the battlefield.
That was why they understood the value of the Night Raven Knights' harsh teachings. On top of that, they were provided with lavish meals in abundance, and even suits of heavy armor that they, as mere mercenaries, could never have dreamed of.
A hundred-man heavy infantry unit, personally cultivated by the renowned 'Black Prince'.
“Besides, he’s even got hair down there now. He’s a proper man, isn’t he!”
“Kuhaha, you’re right about that!”
It was at that moment.
“How long are you going to keep talking about ‘down there’?”
A clear, very familiar voice cut through the mercenaries' crude jokes. It was their commander, the leader of the heavy infantry, who didn't hesitate to walk to his subordinates' barracks deep in the night.
His black surcoat fluttered wildly in the night wind.
“C-C-Commander!”
Their new commander, Dale, stood there. The mercenaries' faces froze, drained of all color. An incredibly awkward silence fell once again, but Dale paid it no mind.
He calmly walked among them and spoke to the stiffly frozen Lord Yones.
“Take this drink.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Awkwardly, he accepted the cup Dale poured for him.
“Drink up.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Silence fell.
“I remember your performance against the elder’s death knights.”
“We only did what was necessary for our commander and House Sachsen!”
a mercenary shouted after the silence, and Dale smiled quietly.
“Speaking of which, it's about time we decided on a name for the unit.”
The name they had originally used was the Kennet Mercenary Company, a rather uninspired title.
While it was common for lower nobles to use their family name to build a reputation, the situation was different for a 'ducal house.' Carelessly using a ducal family's name carried significant risks.
After considering this, Dale spoke.
“From this day forward, we are the ‘Black Armor Company’.”
And there stood the hundred heavy infantrymen, clad in the black armor of House Sachsen. Black Armor. A name that symbolized House Sachsen more clearly than any other.
An armed organization that would handle the entire, wide-ranging scope of a client's needs to wage war. A war-proxy corporation.
The name that would become the continent's foremost private military company (PMC).
“Ooh, the Black Armor Company!”
“For the Black Armor!”
“For the commander!”
At the name, the mercenaries cheered like excited children.
***
“The Black Armor Company?”
Duke Sachsen asked, and Dale nodded.
“You intend to raise a mere mercenary band?”
“It’s not a mere mercenary band.”
Dale shook his head at his father's question.
“What I envision is a mercenary organization that possesses ‘operational capabilities superior to its clients’.”
“Operational capabilities superior to its clients?”
His father tilted his head at the unexpected words.
“Typically, mercenaries are little more than headcount fillers, supplementing forces according to their employer's orders.”
Even for the most powerful and renowned mercenaries, the basic concept doesn't change.
“However, the product our Black Armor Company intends to sell is not ‘soldiers’.”
“Then what will you sell?”
Dale answered.
“Victory in war.”
Not just victory in battle. Victory in war.
“Upon receiving a client's request, we will intervene in ‘the entire operational process necessary for the client to win the war’.”
To intervene in the entire operational process as thorough professionals of war.
Nobles would not typically surrender their pride to mere mercenaries. Planning major strategies and tactics was their role, and the value of mercenaries was simply as pawns to carry out their orders.
But there was one final piece that made this absurd concept possible.
“As the eldest son of House Sachsen, they will have no choice but to submit to the hierarchy.”
It might be different for a lower noble or a second son, but for the eldest son of a great lord to personally lead a mercenary company was not just rare, but practically unheard of. And this was none other than the heir to House Sachsen, the 'Black Prince,' hailed as the continent's greatest genius!
Dale's talents were not limited to the sword or magic, and by now, people would surely know this fact.
Beyond his individual capabilities lay his outrageous strategies and his talent as a military strategist.
A genius of war.
And so, Dale once again explained his vision for the 'Black Armor Company,' just like an entrepreneur detailing a business plan to an investor.
Carefully recruiting each mercenary to train them into the finest elite, and securing the funds and capacity to perform missions that went beyond mere combat.
In addition, supplementing House Sachsen's cavalry forces for organic combined arms tactics was also essential.
He had to use everything at his disposal. Naturally, the name of House Sachsen was no exception.
“What do you think?”
Dale asked again.
“I believe it's an investment well worth the risk.”
“A truly unexpected form for an organization.”
At Dale's words, Duke Sachsen stroked his chin, intrigued.
“A mercenary company that acts as a proxy for war itself…”
In any case, combat was an indispensable part of Dale's training. Therefore, Duke Sachsen had no reason to refuse. Furthermore, the sheer 'scale of investment' from a father worried about his son was enough to make even Dale gasp in astonishment.
‘As expected, being born with a silver spoon is the best.’