Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: A Bluecoat Beyond Bluecoats (2)
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Merchants who had been setting up stalls outside the fortress for several days came to find me.
"We're thinking of heading north now."
It wasn't anything surprising.
In this forward line where supply issues had cropped up, anything they sold would fetch top dollar. It was only natural for merchants to seek out places where they could turn a bigger profit.
If not for my request, they would've headed to the front lines ages ago.
I left Jamal in charge of the fortress and led ten Bluecoats to escort their caravan.
Honestly, things up here felt a bit uneasy.
We Bluecoats had been busy sweeping up the remnants, but after what happened a few days ago, I couldn't shake the worry.
"Oh dear. You don't have to come along yourself, Lieutenant."
"This is for all our benefit, so don't feel burdened."
No one knew when supplies would normalize again, so until then, we had no choice but to rely entirely on civilian caravans.
That meant we had to make sure they got through safely.
With time to kill before the transfers arrived at the fortress, I stuck with the caravan all the way to the forward patrol units.
"Whoa! Supplies! It's supplies!"
Long-range cavalry patrols came galloping up, kicking up dust clouds from afar, and let out cheers at the sight of the caravan's wagons and carts.
As expected, the situation was even worse up at the very front.
"This is as far as we go. Stick with them from here, and you'll reach our fortress safely."
"Oh man. We're always putting you in our debt, Lieutenant. How can we ever repay you...?"
One of the merchants sidled up and slipped a pouch into my hand.
"No, you didn't have to..."
"It's nothing much. We all chipped in together—just our way of showing thanks."
I hadn't volunteered as escort expecting this, but flat-out refusing now would just embarrass them.
And I wasn't the type to stand on ceremony that much.
"...Well, if you insist."
Ahem.
I cleared my throat and tucked the pouch from the merchant into my coat.
My pocket felt heavier, and somehow, I felt a bit more like a man.
"Heard the news. Wishing you the best of luck."
"Call on us anytime if you need help."
I brushed off the patrol cavalrymen's greetings—which sounded oddly out of place right after the war—with a hearty laugh.
"Aw, you're heading back already?"
"I thought you'd ride with us all the way to the fortress. What a shame."
As I turned to go, a clear voice rang out, bright and cheery amid the front lines.
It was the women following the caravan, selling drinks and laughter—the Taboritsa camp followers.
"A handsome officer like you, Lieutenant? I'd welcome you anytime!"
"Name's Belena! Remember it!"
The girls perched on the carts blew playful kisses.
"Next time we meet, don't just send your men—come yourself!"
What.
Bluecoats, when did you...?
"Bluecoats! Back to the fortress!"
I waved to the Taboritsa girls and wheeled my horse around.
Then headed straight south.
"Dinner tonight's at the fortress!"
It had taken four days to come, matching the caravan's pace, but we'd make it back in one going home.
"By the way, anyone slower than me sleeps outside the walls!"
My Royal Gift Horse snorted roughly and bolted like an arrow.
"L-Lieutenant!"
"Too fast!"
"Hyah!"
The Bluecoats shouted from behind.
"Hanging around caravan wagons at night'll do that to you!"
"What's that got to do with this?!"
"Everything...!"
Horsemanship comes from strong legs—if your lower body's solid, you can ride properly.
Waste your strength in the wrong places, and you won't have any left when it counts.
"No way! Your horse is just faster, Lieutenant!"
"Royal Gift Horses are cheating!"
Foolish lot. Bunch of guys making excuses.
Just four days away, and who knows what happened in the meantime.
"Ugh. What is that smell?"
By the time we reached the fortress, a stench hung over everything.
It smelled familiar.
Horse shit.
Like if the enemy mage corps dumped manure instead of spells.
Horse droppings everywhere—gate, roads, you name it.
"Who the hell takes care of horses like this?"
Compare that to my Royal Gift Horse.
Leaping gracefully between piles like a noble lady.
"Lieutenant? You're back?"
For Thracia.
The gate guard spotted me and made a fuss.
"You'd better hurry to the acting commander."
"At this hour?"
"Since yesterday—no, since daytime. He's been waiting for you to return."
A lieutenant colonel swamped running a fortress on scraps had no reason to summon me this late in the day.
"Brace yourself."
"...?"
I told the guard to bar the last Bluecoat through, then headed straight for the commander's office.
"Every damn job piles up on me—where the hell have you been?!"
No sooner had I opened the door than Evgen Sanov Lieutenant Colonel bellowed.
"I escorted a visiting caravan all the way to the front and just got back. As you know, with supplies uncertain, their safe arrival was top priority."
I'd even filed the report—what's the problem?
"Sigh. I know. I get it. But why does the commander have to escort personally? You could've delegated."
Because the last one waving goodbye gets the credit.
"Sigh. Do you know how much I've suffered without you?"
So why, exactly?
"The transfers arrived."
"Oh!"
"No 'oh'! Those transfers have the whole fortress in an uproar!"
The lieutenant colonel snapped irritably.
"What the hell did you say to recruit Bluecoats?!"
What had I said?
"Charge into the hail of fire. Beyond the forest of lances. To claim the sleeping princess's head. Become a legend of the Thracia army with me—come to Schrelgrad now."
Right. Something like that.
"Are you recruiting a suicide squad?!"
"Just a common figure of speech..."
"What kind of bloodthirsty metaphor is that?!"
I felt wronged.
First off, Astoria's royals had no princess right now.
Second, other units' recruitment posters were way more provocative.
Every day: fate of the nation this, future of the homeland that.
Listen to them, and Thracia's doom was at hand, this whole area hell itself.
Compared to that, mine was gentlemanly and reserved.
"Other units are other units—you're you!"
What difference? I couldn't fathom.
"Guardian of Gaillard, bane of the Astoria army! Azure Death of the Battlefield! With your record, those words don't sound like metaphors at all!"
Ah. Got it now.
Others spout propaganda platitudes, but my actual feats make it hit different.
Fine. Understood.
"...We're in deep shit?"
I felt my face muscles stiffen.
"Deep shit? Oh yeah. The front's in chaos."
Evgen Sanov Lieutenant Colonel thumped his chest.
He added that hundreds of Bluecoats who'd seen the notice bolted from their posts at once.
"We've got 337 Bluecoats at the fortress now—three companies plus two platoons."
That was nearly all the Bluecoats who'd survived the last war, gathered at Schrelgrad.
No wonder the place was a manure apocalypse.
"Think about it. Three heavy cavalry companies of veterans who lived through the last war. Depending, they could trample a whole legion."
No exaggeration from the lieutenant colonel.
That many Bluecoats could plunge deep into enemy lines and wreck Astoria's rear.
"With that horde assembled, guess how Astoria reacted. They already jump at shadows from Thracia Bluecoats."
Astoria's entire front went on alert from the sudden movement, forcing Thracia to sound alarms too.
"The front's on thin ice now. One spark, and it's catastrophe."
I grimaced at Evgen Sanov Lieutenant Colonel's words.
"Ah."
We're screwed.
Long story short, no war broke out.
Evgen Sanov Lieutenant Colonel swiftly sent letters explaining to the front, and legion commanders passed word to Astoria: no offensive planned.
Thus, the farce born of literary flair and fame(?) ended as a mere mishap.
"Oscar von Nightheart sent congratulations. On your promotion, stay safe till we meet. P.S.: aim for more gentlemanly targets next time. Want to read it?"
"...No thanks."
"I'll submit it to HQ then."
I didn't glance at the Astoria commander-in-chief's letter.
With princess and 15th Legion backing now, no more pointless summons to the capital, but no need to read obvious ribbing.
"Just to check..."
"No invading Astoria. They don't even have a princess anyway."
"Good. If you're planting flags, tell me ahead."
"Haven't even started unit formation."
"I know. Still."
Evgen Sanov Lieutenant Colonel eyed me suspiciously up and down.
Makes sense—new units do anything for fame.
But I wasn't reckless enough to throw green troops into hell for glory.
"...You?"
"...?"
"...?"
For some reason, the lieutenant colonel didn't buy it.
Anyway.
"I'll report once formation's done."
Some hiccups, but Bluecoats flocking to Schrelgrad was good for me.
Plan to pick the best and fill my unit solid.
"Make it quick. Schrelgrad can't handle them."
No feed for them, and hundreds of warhorses shitting daily wrecked hygiene.
"Please... horse shit stench gives me headaches, can't work. Serious plea."
I left the lieutenant colonel's desperate request and headed to the fortress yard.
There they were.
Thracia's proudest lances.
Veteran cavalry who'd survived Astoria's hellish mage barrage.
-For Thracia!
Thracia heavy cavalrymen in indigo coats thumped their chests from horseback in unison.
"Welcome. Bluecoats."
"Not pleased. Really not pleased."
Oscar von Nightheart grumbled nonstop.
He was in a foul mood.
After hitting Thracia hard and pulling back with Astoria taking the bigger losses—enough to keep him sleepless with rage.
"Stuck ending the year with losses and no gains."
Even his plan to lay groundwork for next year was ruined.
"Calm down. Who could've predicted Thracia heavy cavalry moving at that timing?"
This time, even his aide offered sincere comfort instead of snark.
"Symbolic or not, it's just a lieutenant's low-tier unit. Whole frontline heavy cavalry ditches posts for that? Are all Thracians mad?"
The aide's eyes went wide.
"In the last war, I prioritized neutralizing Thracia's heavy cavalry. Failed to wipe them, but scattered and broken—mission accomplished, I thought. Until that Yannick gathered them."
Oscar von Nightheart ground his teeth.
"Now they're all together. Between harvest and winter, only 2-3 weeks to maneuver. If they don't disband, my plans are scrap. Kazan cowards fear Thracia heavy cavalry more than our nobles do."
God forbid—stare down those hibernating bears!
Winter not even here!
"If Kazan shifted the line 15km as promised, Kiligrad would've been sandwiched: Kazan west, Astoria east."
Oscar von Nightheart's finger stabbed the map.
Where Astoria, Thracia, Kazan borders met.
Fortress flying Thracia 15th Legion flag.
"Even now, Kiligrad's a hot potato for Thracia. They'd have ditched it. We'd take it bloodless. But now it's ruined."
"Could've gone that way."
"Would've, not could've."
That damn lieutenant ruined it!
"Third time he's wrecked my plans."
"Like catching a rat backing into a cow's kick."
The aide, watching his superior, spoke carefully.
"As you say, just a lieutenant. Probably no authority over the whole front."
"Reason doesn't change facts: one lieutenant derailed everything."
Really dislike that guy.
"You sent personal congrats to that disliked guy. Some political angle I missed?"
"...Hmph!"
The aide smirked at the evasive attitude.
"Thracia's impressive in a way. Guy with that record still a lieutenant. In Astoria, he'd be legion commander overnight."
"Thracia brass as dumb as Astoria nobles, huh."
I'd give him the whole army.
"Together, your dreams would've come sooner. Shame."
"No kidding..."
Oscar von Nightheart, flushed and nodding, suddenly scowled.
The aide burst out laughing at his superior.