Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Withdrawal Order
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It was hard to believe, but no one doubted Carlyle.
Carlyle's appearance was proof enough.
He looked as though he'd been completely submerged in blood from head to toe. Who would dare deny it?
He looked like a man who had just been on a killing spree...
“I'm going to go wash up. Ugh.”
Carlyle made a disgusted face.
And for good reason.
Not just his hair, but his entire uniform was drenched in the enemy's blood, causing red droplets to drip to the ground with every step.
[Notification: Progress for has reached 90%! (9/10)]
One more battle and he would finally escape the rank of a mere private, but Carlyle couldn't care less.
“Private Russell. Bring Private Carlyle a new uniform.”
“Yes, sir!”
Russell scrambled! He dashed toward the barracks.
“Private Carlyle.”
“Yes, Sir Helen.”
“You've done well. As your commander, I commend you for your actions.”
“Does that mean I get a reward vacation?”
“A reward vacation…?”
“Someone told me you get a reward vacation if you distinguish yourself.”
“…”
Helen looked dumbfounded.
To think he'd be asking about a reward vacation in a situation like this...
“Let's discuss the vacation after the situation is resolved. This isn't the time for such conversations.”
“So, are you giving it to me or not?”
“I'll give it to you. At least ten days.”
“Understood.”
“I grant you a period of rest. Reorganize yourself.”
“Yes, sir.”
Only after getting confirmation of his reward vacation from Helen did Carlyle head to the well.
*Splaaash!*
As Carlyle poured a bucket of water over his head to wash away the blood, the hatchling sleeping in his coat sprang out.
From the hatchling's perspective, it had been suddenly doused with water in its sleep, so its surprise was understandable.
“Hiss! What in the world was that? And what happened to you?”
“Oh? You're still here?”
“What?”
“I didn't even know you were there.”
Carlyle said nonchalantly.
“What do you mean? You didn't know I was there?”
“My butl—... I mean. Your master was going through all that trouble, and you didn't even show your face. I thought you'd run away or something.”
*Splaaash!*
After saying that, Carlyle lifted the bucket and poured more water over his head.
“I was sleeping, you know?”
The hatchling bristled at Carlyle's pointed remark.
“You can sleep through that? While your master is fighting for his life?”
“I'm a newborn, I get sleepy! What do you want me to do?”
“Excuses.”
“What? Excuuuses? Hiss!”
The hatchling flapped its wings and swung its front paw at Carlyle.
*Pok!*
“...?”
Carlyle tilted his head.
“Hiiiisss!”
The hatchling swiped its paw twice more.
*Pok! Pok!*
“...?”
Far from hurting, it didn't even tickle.
“Here, use this.”
“Thank you.”
Russell approached and handed Carlyle a new uniform and a towel.
“But, uh…”
“Yes?”
“Were you… always that strong? How did you handle all those enemies…”
“It was only possible because the conditions were right. I'm not usually that strong.”
“R-Really?”
“Yes.”
Carlyle said, wiping the blood from his face with the towel.
All the while, the hatchling's assault on Carlyle continued.
*Pokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpok...*
“What's with him?”
“I don't know.”
“He looks angry.”
“Seems like it.”
“I think you should try to calm him down…”
“It'll spoil him.”
Carlyle replied, wringing the blood from his hair with the towel.
*Pokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpokpok...*
“By the way.”
“Yeah?”
“Is it possible to transfer a reward vacation?”
“Shouldn't you ask Sir Helen about that? Leave is at the commander's discretion. But why? Do you have someone you want to give it to?”
“Not really.”
Carlyle changed into the new uniform Russell had brought, as if it were no big deal.
‘*Come back alive. I'll share a day or two with you then.*’
He had been looking forward to his vacation so much...
To the point that Carlyle was even considering sharing his own reward vacation.
“I'm going to get some rest. Call me if anything happens.”
“O-Okay.”
Carlyle trudged off to the barracks.
‘*I should rest while I can. Something's bound to happen soon.*’
Expecting the enemy to launch a large-scale offensive, Carlyle lay down on his cot and closed his eyes for a moment.
***
Meanwhile, Byron, the messenger from Bowden Fortress, arrived at the 2nd Army Command of the Decaron forces and immediately met with Commander Rebechk to deliver Helen's letter.
The letter detailed the discovery of a powerful black mage's activity and requested reinforcements as a large-scale offensive from the Butcher Tribe was expected.
“A black mage…”
Rebechk's expression grew serious.
Fighting barbarians was a daily affair, but a black mage was a different story.
This was a matter for Grand Duke Guntram, the ruler of Decaron, or even the kingdom itself to handle, not something Rebechk could deal with at his level.
“As commander, I order you to relay this message to Commander Helen of Bowden Fortress: withdraw all forces immediately.”
“Sir…?”
Byron couldn't believe his ears.
“Withdrawal… you say?”
“Why, is something wrong?”
“I-If I may be so bold… I believe you may have misread the letter, Commander.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Sir Helen requested reinforcements, she did not ask for permission to withdr—”
“This son of a bitch.”
Rebechk shot up from his seat, strode over to Byron, and grabbed him by the collar.
Standing 190 centimeters tall and weighing 120 kilograms, Rebechk had the strength to lift a man like Byron with ease.
“Gak, k-kuhk!”
Byron dangled in the air, choking in pain.
“A mere messenger dares to question his commander's orders…”
“Kuhk!”
“Is this how Captain Helen trains her subordinates?”
“N-No, that's not… gack!”
“If that's not it…”
*Squeeze!*
Rebechk tightened his grip on Byron's collar.
“Are you, a lowly messenger, also looking down on me because I'm a son-in-law by marriage and not a true Sigmund?”
“G-guuuhhh!”
“I'll let it slide this once. But if you question my orders again, I'll snap your neck.”
*Thud!*
Byron was thrown violently to the floor.
“Kuuugh!”
Byron let out a pained groan.
“I'll say it again: there will be no reinforcements. However, I will grant permission to withdraw. Tell Captain Helen to return to headquarters with all her troops immediately. I will report the matter of the black mage to high command myself, so make that clear.”
“Y-Yes, sir. Kuuk!”
Despite the feeling that his whole body was shattered, Byron gritted his teeth and forced himself up.
Every minute, every second was critical.
He had to deliver the withdrawal order as quickly as possible.
‘*Dammit! A withdrawal order instead of reinforcements! He's sending them all to their deaths!*’
Byron fumed inwardly as he left the command post.
But since Commander Rebechk had issued a withdrawal order instead of sending reinforcements, there was nothing a mere messenger could do.
The only thing he could do was deliver the order as fast as he could...
‘*I just hope nothing happens before the order is delivered...*’
Just as Byron was thinking this and heading back to Bowden Fortress.
“Hey, you!”
One of Rebechk's adjutants urgently called out to Byron.
“You're the messenger from Bowden Fortress, right?”
“Yes, that's right.”
“Then wait here for a moment. There might be additional orders.”
“Don't tell me the commander has decided to send reinforcements?”
Byron's face lit up.
“Sorry, but that's not it.”
“Ah…”
“Still, it doesn't seem like a bad order for you, so just wait a bit. It won't take long.”
“Understood.”
Not knowing what was going on, Byron simply waited for the order.
“Private Byron, was it?”
“Ah, yes.”
After waiting for nearly two hours, Rebechk's adjutant returned and spoke.
“As of this moment, you are…”
“Th-That's…”
Hearing the order, Byron was too shocked to speak.
***
“...Of course.”
Carlyle was awakened by the noise coming from outside the barracks.
He'd thought it was suspiciously quiet. It seemed the enemy's large-scale offensive was imminent.
“How can you sleep?”
“*Snoore...*”
Carlyle muttered in disbelief, looking down at the hatchling curled up in his coat.
One moment it was huffing and puffing, furious, and the next it had apparently tired itself out and fallen asleep.
“Carlyle! Wake up!”
“I'm up.”
“We're in big trouble! Get out here! Now!”
“Coming.”
Carlyle replied to Russell, who had come looking for him, and slowly sat up.
‘*Getting up just to die.*’
The thought made him snort.
In Carlyle's judgment, now that things were kicking off, death was a foregone conclusion.
The Butcher Tribe, or the black mage Crowley, had clearly attacked. How long could a place like Bowden Fortress possibly hold out?
Unless reinforcements arrived, the annihilation of all troops stationed at Bowden Fortress was a certainty.
Of course, that didn't mean he had any intention of doing nothing and just letting himself be killed.
If he was going to die, he would make it as difficult as possible for the enemy, wearing them down in the process.
‘*Yes, just as you said, I'll try to take one more with me.*’
Carlyle recalled Grand Duke Guntram's words.
— *Even if you weep in fear, weep inwardly. Even if you wish to live, do not beg for your life. If you must die, die with honor, die with style. Die so gloriously that you will be remembered for generations as a proud member of the Sigmund family.*
‘*A more meaningful death than being hit by a truck, I suppose. Heh.*’
With that thought, Carlyle left the barracks.
*Murmur, murmur!*
“Ugh!”
“We're all going to die! We're going to die!”
The battle hadn't even begun, yet the fortress was already in an uproar.
‘*This is already the worst.*’
For soldiers, morale was paramount. With an atmosphere like this before the fighting even started, the outcome was as clear as day.
“What's going on?”
Carlyle asked the scouts as he climbed onto the ramparts.
“See for yourself.”
Begman pointed ahead.
“Hm.”
Carlyle let out a sound as if savoring the sight before him.
“We're all going to die.”
“Yes, we're all going to die.”
Begman said, as if agreeing with Carlyle's assessment.
It was a perfectly natural conversation.
In front of Bowden Fortress.
Hundreds of barbarian warriors and undead monsters stood in neat ranks.
This meant the Butcher Tribe and the black mage Crowley had joined forces.
‘*So this is why this region falls into the barbarians' hands a few years later.*’
Carlyle realized what the hidden backstory of the game's scenario was.
It seemed the black mage Crowley had been able to grow powerful enough to threaten even Decaron by colluding with the barbarians.
“Even if we're going to die, we can't just die for nothing.”
Carlyle took the green brick from his coat and descended from the ramparts.
“Where are you going, Private Carlyle?”
“Got to try something.”
“...?”
“I'm going to try and raise the fortress's defense. It would have been much better if the walls were made of stone… though they'd probably be breached anyway.”
Carlyle answered Helen's question, then borrowed a field shovel used by the sappers, dug a hole in the center of the fortress, and buried the green brick inside.
“Private Carlyle, what in the world are you…”
Helen looked utterly perplexed, but she figured he must have a reason and let him do as he pleased.
In the meantime, the enemies—the barbarian warriors and the undead monsters—began to move simultaneously.
It seemed some sort of agreement had been reached between the commanders, Chieftain Jarkan and the black mage Crowley, before the battle.
“Th-They're coming!”
No sooner had someone shouted than a sound that shook the very earth began to echo.
*Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!*
A full seven barbarian warriors were casting [Wrecking Charge], rushing toward Bowden Fortress.
*Kra-kooom!*
The moment the seven Wrecking Charges collided with the wooden palisade walls.
*Paaaaaang!*
A powerful shockwave erupted from the walls, sending the Wrecking Charges flying far into the distance.