Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: His Majesty the King (That Is, His Cavalry Commander) Has Arrived! (1)
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It had already been two days since they left the capital, but Captain Ilya Gaf still couldn't believe his situation.
"Wh-why the hell am I at the front lines...?"
His face, constantly turning back toward the capital, was still dazed.
"Why? His Majesty said to supply everything we need from the capital."
"...?"
"...?"
They had cleaned out the Redcoats' stables and raided the guard unit's armory.
They took everything they could.
Very generously.
People were no exception.
I'd had my eye on Captain Gaf for a while, so with Igor on my back, I pulled him straight from the headquarters staff to be my adjutant.
With his timid personality, he wouldn't amount to much at headquarters anyway.
Better to bring him to the front and put him to good use than let his talents rot under those stubborn old generals.
The man himself didn't seem particularly grateful for my consideration.
But unlike him, there were polite folks who knew how to appreciate others' kindness.
For instance, the Redcoat I'd briefly worked with during that noble escort mission—the ever-optimistic Jakob Kasimir Sergeant, who always said he'd become a Bluecoat someday.
"Don't get cocky just because you've been assigned to our unit, rookie. You're still a hundred years away from wearing this coat."
"Keep following us with all your might, and who knows? You might earn the right to wear the 'blue uniform' someday. Heh heh heh."
Jamal and the other Bluecoats were strutting around Sergeant Kasimir.
"I'll work hard to become a Bluecoat!"
Sergeant Kasimir humbly played along with their bravado in a way that was uncharacteristic of a Redcoat.
Considering his current predicament, he wasn't in a position to be picky about hot or cold rice.
After all, he was the one who sparked this latest brawl.
He had some rapport with our side, so when he saw the Bluecoats at the Rosen Ritter Club, he greeted them warmly. But the Redcoats, who already had bad blood with them, took it the wrong way and started trouble. That was the beginning of the incident.
Because of that, Sergeant Kasimir got kicked out of the Royal Guard, and with nowhere else to go, I snapped him up.
He didn't have much field experience yet, so he wasn't ready for combat right away, but if I kept him in the rear and worked him hard, he'd pull his weight eventually.
That's how most Bluecoats were made anyway.
"So how are we handling reinforcements? Even if we turn back now, our current numbers are too iffy."
Growing bored of lording it over Sergeant Kasimir, Jamal sidled up to me and asked.
He was right.
The reinforcements from the capital were just two people, and one was a staff officer who couldn't fight anyway, so exclude him.
Even including me and the surrendered knight, our mounted force was only forty-seven strong.
Barely two platoons. On today's expanded battlefields, we wouldn't even be treated like a proper unit.
"We'll fill up slowly once we reach Killigrad."
I planned to gather the scattered Bluecoats from the front lines and finally form a proper independent cavalry battalion.
One full-strength mounted company, plus a two-hundred-man rear guard for supplies and support.
That would be enough to hold our own in this increasingly hostile environment.
"No need to rush anyway."
The Astoria forces were still hunkered down in siege.
Until the new guidelines I'd drafted—polished by headquarters staff—were issued and implemented across the front, the war would stay in siege mode, focused on encirclement and pressure.
Our time hadn't come yet.
But it was just a matter of sooner or later.
We needed to be minimally prepared by then.
And I'd already made moves.
Before leaving the capital, I'd requested transfers for a few specific people from headquarters.
Normally, those old generals would toss a mere major's request in the trash without a second thought.
But not this time. They weren't bold enough to question something the king had already approved.
"Those bastards. Who knows how they've been scraping by."
Imagining my old subordinates' wide-eyed reactions to the orders, I urged my horse faster.
The warhorses we'd taken from the Redcoats' stables accelerated in unison.
Rumble, rumble.
Dozens of wagons followed us, rattling like they might fall apart.
"Lieutenant Colonel."
I greeted Colonel Sanov warmly.
"Ah, yeah."
But he pretended not to see me and walked right past.
Then he started inspecting the dozens of wagons I'd brought.
Ugh. What can you expect from a quartermaster?
"Gasp!"
The colonel drew in a sharp breath upon checking the cargo.
"Heh heh. A man's come back, and you go straight for the wagons? I'm hurt."
I playfully shoved him aside and covered the tarps again.
"Wh-what is all this? You said you were going to the capital—did you raid some noble's warehouse?"
No. What do you take me for?
"Not a noble's warehouse. Just the capital guard and Royal Guard storerooms."
"......?"
"This is the first batch. The rest is being shipped separately."
The colonel looked dumbfounded.
But only briefly.
"Some of that's for the 8th Legion, right? Stuff we can share? You're not hogging it all, are you?"
His eyes darted greedily as he pressed me.
He must have been through hell supplying the 8th Legion at the front.
"Out of the thirty wagons we brought, the ten at the back are for the 8th Legion."
Our unit had been leeching off the 8th Legion and Colonel Sanov to survive, so this was a small price to pay.
I'd prepared those extra ten wagons with that in mind from the start. No point being stingy with someone else's loot.
"C-Captain! As expected, you're the 8th Legion's sa—"
Colonel Sanov, beaming with感動 as he praised me nonstop, suddenly froze.
Judging by his stare fixed on my shoulder, he'd just noticed my rank.
"My God. Five promotions in two years. Now that's a new chapter in Thracia's military history."
"Everyone else got special promotions too."
Jamal, formerly a sergeant, was now a lieutenant. The rest jumped two ranks each.
As if waiting for it, the Bluecoats leaned back to flash their new rank insignia.
"...Unprecedented. The entire unit getting two-rank promotions. Headquarters' pencil-pushers actually approved that?"
The colonel kept marveling, even at their goofy poses.
"No way. You know what those headquarters old-timers are like."
"Then...?"
"His Majesty promoted us himself."
Who else in Thracia could pull off such extravagance but Igor?
Come to think of it, all the supplies we'd raided came from royal storerooms, so his grace was immense indeed.
Ah, long live our wise, benevolent, and thoughtful King Igor. Truly.
After inwardly praising Igor once, I called over Captain Gaf, whose eyes were bulging at his first sight of the frontline fortress.
"This is Ilya Gaf. I brought him back from the capital—saw potential, so I made him adjutant and staff officer."
"F-for Thracia. C-Captain Ilya Gaf. Pl-please take care of me!"
"...As you can see, his social skills are lacking. But his brain turns quick. Teach him well, Colonel—you'll thank me later. He'll lighten your load a ton."
Desk-jockeying from headquarters was useless here. Helping the colonel would teach him real work and how the front lines operated.
"Now I don't know if these wagons are the bribe or if he's the bribe. Anyway, got it. Smart lads are always welcome."
As I pushed him forward, Captain Gaf kept looking back at me.
He looked just like a lamb being sold off, separated from its mother.
The already slender man looked so pitiful.
"Go!"
But with a mother lion shoving her cub off a cliff, I handed Captain Gaf to Colonel Sanov.
After unpacking and resting, I went to see Colonel Sanov.
He briefed me on events while I was away—status quo, really—and I told him about the capital.
"Insulting the fallen? If I'd been there, I'd have snapped their necks! Damn scum!"
"To think Astoria's black magic reached the capital. Good thing we crushed them."
"If the Second Prince flew into a rage... that could be trouble!"
He could hardly believe so much had happened in the capital in such a short time.
"My God! A cavalry unit answering only to the king himself!"
When he heard our independent cavalry battalion was now directly under the king, his face went pale with shock.
"His Majesty must hold you in high regard. Makes sense—you pulled off those feats, then pitched that plan right in front of him. No wonder he granted such authority."
Not knowing my history with Igor, he marveled at a king giving such power to a mere officer, but nodded that it was justified.
"Highly unusual. Past kings had personal armies outside the Royal Guard, sure—but none sent them to the front lines like this, away from their side."
It had to be that way.
Considering the prestige and power of the king's direct cavalry, keeping them close made sense.
In other words, sharpen the blade, sheathe it carefully, and draw only when needed.
To ensure that sharp edge never turned on the master.
But in my case, there was no sheath.
"What on earth did you do to His Majesty? What could make him trust you so completely?"
What did I do? A lot, but nothing I could tell Colonel Sanov frankly.
I couldn't very well say I'd crippled his king and scarred his face.
"When word spreads, the front will erupt. Wonder how the legion commanders will take it."
He feigned concern, but his expression said otherwise.
"One thing's certain."
His face brimmed with inexplicable anticipation.
"Your status will soar beyond compare."
My old prestige was mere respect for a commander with achievements.
Now, my words carried real weight.
My rank—major or whatever—had never mattered.
"No one at the front can touch you now. Not even the legion commanders."
Only this kingdom's king could reprimand me.
But considering my history with Igor, even he wouldn't for minor issues.
This is why you gotta pick the right side.
Had I from the start? Quite the opposite.
"You look like a child who's had their favorite toy snatched away."
At Igor Trakieri's words, the eldest daughter flinched and composed herself.
But her face still betrayed unmistakable dissatisfaction.
She wasn't alone.
The eldest and second sons wore similar expressions.
Not identical, though. The daughter's ire was toward her father for taking someone she'd eyed for her own service—a kind of petulance.
The other two's was closer to resentment at their father granting excessive power to a mere officer.
"..."
Igor Trakieri let out a long sigh watching them.
When had they grown so bold? With a hale father before them, his children showed no great fear.
It didn't fill him with pride.
If they acted like this now, what would happen when he aged and weakened? It was plain as day.
But what could he do?
This was the Trakieri blood. The young Trakieris would soon bare their hidden claws and fangs.
Just as he had against his own father.
"Basil. Hurian. Yeniche."
Shaking off his thoughts, Igor Trakieri spoke again.
"I've called you here today to issue warnings. Heed them well."
His unusually stern tone silenced even their recent petulance; they bowed their heads.
"Never forget that what you enjoy stems from me. Remember that your possessions can vanish at my word, as if they never existed."
That was the warning his father had given him.
"Compete within the bounds given. Do not cross them to aid Thracia's enemies. Rely not on foreign powers, nor let your rivalry give opportunity to our foes."
The warning his father had heard from his grandfather.
"Never let your kin shame the Trakieri name. It would undermine the throne you yourselves may one day claim."
A declaration recognizing all three as legitimate heirs.
That was the end.
Of the warnings Igor had received from his father.
"Yannick Schrelgriff."
But he had more to say.
"Do not try to forcibly suppress him."
To the second son, still harboring grudges from recent events.
"Nor cling to him desperately."
Another admonition to the eldest daughter, who still pined.
Like a hawk soaring the skies,
Like a whale surfacing,
Like a wild horse galloping the horizon,
"Simply watch from afar."
This was both advice and a sterner warning than the previous three.
"Defy this, and I shall remind you personally whence your possessions come."
At his thunderous voice, the young Trakieris dared not reply, only bowing deeper.
Thus reminded of their father's majesty, the princes and princess departed the audience chamber.
"..."
Somehow weary, Igor Trakieri sank deep into his throne.
For now, his authority would keep them in check, but when his vigor waned, today's warnings would be ignored.
Mentioning his name here might even stoke their curiosity and resentment.
He knew, but it was necessary.
He couldn't let their youthful greed and rage harm the kingdom in his lifetime.
"Captain of the Guard."
Preparing for what followed was the king's duty too.
"Send that child to where he is."
If, by some chance, his wrath turned on Thracia, this might give him pause—something to hold him back.
Only then could Igor finally step down in peace.