Chapter 161
Chapter 161
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 161
Chapter Title: Rapid March and Bait
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 161
Over 30 kilometers a day.
Eugene's army moved at an astonishing speed.
The mercenaries who had crossed the sea were all in high spirits, seasoned veterans of real combat.
The knights were in a similar state—most had faced Eugene directly in Maren or on the Kalsbargin Peninsula, so they faithfully carried out his orders.
In short, elite soldiers thirsting for glory were loyal to their commander, making slow marches impossible. Even the Beowulf warriors, famed for their speed and tenacity, were amazed.
But the ones most shocked were the prisoners or hostages who had joined the army.
"Lord Bonmer? Is something wrong?"
As Lorraine tilted her head, Bonmer, lost in thought with a stiff expression, startled and turned to her.
"No. It's just... I'm a bit surprised by His Grace the Duke's army."
"Well, they're all mercenaries, but their gear is good, and their discipline is as strict as any regular army."
Though not a true knight, Lorraine had the makings of one, enough to embark on a knight's errand.
Even during rest, she nodded approvingly at the troops maintaining orderly ranks.
"That's not the only thing surprising me."
"Huh? Then what is it?"
As Lorraine showed curiosity, the direct heirs of the vassal families under the Bartla Ducal House gathered subtly.
In their position, little different from hostages, they felt a strange camaraderie with Lorraine and Bonmer.
Bonmer glanced pityingly at the vassals' sons and daughters and spoke.
"These aren't originally His Grace's soldiers. They're all mercenaries from different origins. Many even hail from regions at odds with each other."
"Uh... so?"
"Yet under His Grace's banner, they move in perfect unison, like a long-seasoned army. They show absolute obedience not just to the Duke, but to his direct knights as well."
"......"
Lorraine and the heirs still didn't quite grasp it.
Most lacked experience commanding troops, either as knights, lords, or high officers.
They assumed underlings naturally obeyed high nobles like themselves.
Suppressing a sigh, Bonmer continued.
"Mercenaries follow contracts by default, but such thorough adherence is rare. During the Codex War, the Continental Church's army retreated not just due to supplies, but a broken chain of command."
"Chain... of command?"
"Yes. Their army had over ten commanders. They advanced together after crossing the sea, winning battles, but after a month, they scattered. We picked them off one by one. By the war's end, they couldn't even locate their own allies who crossed with them."
"I-is that true?"
"Yes."
It was hard to believe, but plain fact—and common when mixing forces from different affiliations.
A supreme commander with the authority to freely wield thousands was exceedingly rare.
"Yet Duke Bartla commands this vast army like limbs. Their skills are fine, but no great difference from the Codex invaders. His Grace alone makes them far stronger."
"......!"
Lorraine and the heirs gaped in disbelief.
"The Duke doesn't rule this army through fear. Frankly, I've never seen a noble with such clear rewards and punishments, so fair and upright."
The heirs nodded in unison.
They had all gotten back the money and goods extorted by the "Golden Ghoul."
Even Lorraine had felt deep respect for Eugene then.
"Those knights and mercenaries know it well. That's why they truly serve His Grace. So I..."
Bonmer trailed off, closing his mouth.
As a Fransil knight, he couldn't say aloud that Duke Bartla seemed poised to rule Brantia.
"All units, move out!"
"Rest over! Advance!"
Galpredic's order relayed through mercenary captains to each unit. The troops instantly halted rest and prepared to march in perfect order.
Including the Jubo Merchant Company, nearly a thousand strong, they began moving in under a minute. Lorraine and the heirs swallowed dryly.
They had seen it many times, but Bonmer's explanation made it newly impressive.
"If it were me......"
"Could I ever manage that?"
Unlike the Duke's army moving as one, their own family troops—barely dozens—always dawdled. The heirs sighed inwardly.
* * *
"Hmm. Something feels off."
"Yeah. It's like they're blatantly luring us in."
"Master, I think so too. Strong water smell left behind."
As Mirian flitted about, Eugene and Galpredic exchanged looks before a campfire out barely two days.
Beowulf scouts had found it.
"Hoofprints suggest about ten? No more than fifteen at most."
Lanslo agreed with Galpredic's sharp scan of the ground.
"Yes. All knights, so twice our speed. Leaving traces on purpose means a sizable ambush force possibly."
"Heh! Brodia royals? Honorless scum. Royal knights pulling cowardly ambushes. Hey, Lanslo, that's normal for Brodia?"
Galpredic sneered; Lanslo shrugged.
"The Brodia royals and Fransil House are bitterly at odds. Fransil were once Brodia vassals long ago. But during the Codex War, they defied the royal summons and seized the widest farmlands amid the chaos. Irreparable since."
"Bastards all the same, then."
"Precisely."
Eugene pondered Lanslo's reply.
Obvious bait traces, plain to see.
"And they know our strength to some degree, yet pull this?"
"What will you do? Infantry-heavy, we'll be dragged at their pace otherwise."
Eugene looked up as Lanslo broke his reverie.
"Can't let that happen."
He turned to the waiting troops.
Knights and Beowulfs gazed hotly.
'Ah! Lord Eugene's looking at me!'
'Send me, please!'
Their eyes burned with itch for glory.
"Pursuit..."
Eugene averted his gaze from the intensifying stares, settling on Galpredic.
"Just you and me, Galpredic."
"Awesome! Kra ha ha ha ha!"
As Galpredic roared victoriously, everyone surged forward regardless of nation or race.
"Isn't that too much!? Give us a shot too!"
"Your Grace. For tracking, we elves excel. And we're mighty fast."
"Nonsense! For pursuit, us siblings top Brantia. And Dark Lord, you promised fun fights?"
"Your Grace. This holy knight's blade hasn't rusted."
Amid the market-like clamor, Eugene sighed.
"Listen up. The ones with Leo Ma Fransil know our order of battle somewhat. Yet they left traces. Means they're prepared for something."
"W-well, still..."
"Mmm."
They remained unconvinced.
Eugene considered clamping down with force and authority. Then an idea struck.
Snap!
Shoulders squared, Eugene swept them with steady, fervent eyes, raising his voice.
"Rescuing the Fransil heir is vital! But! Don't you have an even greater mission!?"
"......!?"
"Saving one man pales to unifying Brantia! You are my precious troops! I, your commander, won't tolerate wasting strength needlessly!"
Ooooh......
His voice, hot as their gazes, set blood boiling.
"I command! Attack the Brodia royals! No prisoners! Make them pay for daring threaten me! In the name of Yan Eugene Bartla! Conquer them!"
Chaeng!
Wolfslayer drawn vigorously flashed in the light.
Woooaaargh!!!
Kieeeek!
One odd cry mixed in, but humans, elves, Beowulfs alike went berserk at the fiery assault order.
Lorraine and Bonmer especially teared up, deeply moved.
'Ah! His Grace thinks so highly of big brother. A bit scary, but magnificent.'
'To think such an honorable knight of knights lecherous? Fie! Bonmer, foolish wretch!'
Unintended, but from this moment, the two became Eugene's fervent followers.
* * *
"Lord Helmund! Edrail Monastery soon."
"Hmm. Good. By now, pursuers half a day behind?"
"We paced it, so likely."
"Heh."
Federick smiled satisfied at the Brodia royal knight's reply.
As Eugene guessed, Federick left traces deliberately. He had plans for any pursuit too.
'Infantry core, so whole army won't chase. At most, his vassal kin and Beowulfs.'
Then hold the monastery interior, bar the self-proclaimed Duke's vassal kin from entering, deal with wall-jumping Beowulfs first.
Killing Beowulfs was simple.
Silver-tipped arrows coated in wolfsbane juice.
Silver alone lethal to Beowulfs; specially processed wolfsbane juice poison equivalent.
His vampire knights couldn't wield silver, so he gave twenty of thirty silver arrows to Brodia knights.
Knights adept with longbows could sufficiently cripple Beowulfs, if not perfect shots.
Then personally judge the clueless continental kin's upstart vassal.
'At worst a banneret? Hmm. Should've stopped in Brighton for details?'
Federick shook his head.
Time too short; risked not just Bartla but Fransil pursuit too.
'Plan: pick off key Bartla and Fransil figures, widen their rift. No overreaching... Hm?'
He turned at a sound in his ears.
Thudududu......
Hoofbeats grew louder; rear scout vampire knights raced back.
"High Lord! Lord Helmund!"
"What?"
Sensing trouble, Federick asked. The vampire knight halting before him shouted urgently.
"Bartla Duke's pursuit force near! Arriving soon!"
"Ah!"
Leima, head bowed sullenly at the report, snapped up.
But Federick brimmed with leisure.
"Oh? The pups are capable. Vassals too? Knights?"
"N-no! Just... two knights."
"Hah!"
Federick barked involuntary laughter, a cold smile spreading.
"Truly clueless fools. What can two do? Anyway, Leima Ducal. Seems your brother-in-law abandons you. Whatever shall we do?"
"Urk!"
Federick turned from Leima's twisted face to the vampire knights and Brodia knights.
"Merely two? Won't even warm up. Scrap monastery fight. Kill them here."
Wooaooh!
The thirteen knights roared.
"......Huh?"
Federick's eyes, pleased, narrowed upward slightly.
Something intensely familiar yet alien prickled his senses.
(To be continued in the next installment)