Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: His Majesty the King (Commander of the Cavalry) Arrives! (2)
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"Rest until further orders."
The Bluecoats didn't show it outwardly, but they all seemed relieved by my command.
It made sense. They'd barely recovered from their wounds from the last battle before getting into a brawl with more than twice their number of Redcoats. It would be weirder if they were in perfect shape.
Damn, they were all such hotheads.
"If a major says that..."
Jamal, now a lieutenant, looked at me in disbelief.
"A bit late to the party, but how many did you take down single-handedly? Word is, by the time the city guards arrived, it was a total mess. They say some pissed themselves. For real?"
"No idea. Don't remember."
I had knocked out every bastard in sight, at least.
Now it was no big deal. I'd already forgotten all about it.
Roughly thirty guys, maybe.
"...You took down thirty men by yourself, and that's no big deal?"
"Thirty toy soldiers? What's the fuss? Wasn't that hard."
That was about the size of it.
First, drop three before they even realize what's happening. Then carefully take out three more without getting surrounded. Pause a beat there.
"Why pause? When you've got momentum, you press on and drop one more."
Why? If you keep pushing, they'll get pissed and swarm you.
"But if you give 'em a breather right then, most lose their nerve."
So even when you drop one, you make it a show. Make sure everyone sees, that guy's totally fucked.
"The philtrum's the easiest target. Hit it right, and blood gushes from their mouth and nose. Looks brutal as hell, and for the guy taking it, tears stream down against his will, and he's gasping for air. Looks like he's bawling."
Once they saw big tough guys crawling on the floor sobbing like babies, most lost the will to fight.
"Then you play it by ear, using the terrain around you—like stairs or hallways—to fight."
"You can pull that off?"
"By then, yeah. If it'd been just me from the start, maybe not. But once their gang's broken, they're just sitting ducks."
See? Easy. No biggie, right?
"...That's a huge deal."
Talk is cheap. Could you actually pull it off?
"Heh, I said it's no big deal. And honestly, you gotta pick your targets. Wouldn't work on guys like you."
"Why not?"
"You lot gonna run scared after a few go down?"
"Oh. Fair point."
Jamal nodded like it made sense, then remembered something and asked.
"You know what? Lately, the guys have been talking a lot about your past."
"My past?"
"Everyone's got theories on what you did before becoming a Bluecoat."
A secret royal assassin? Heir to a legendary knight? Disciple of a famous general who retired after great deeds? The king's hidden bastard...?
"Those lunatics! Who do they think I am, sending me to the gallows?!"
Forget the rest—king's hidden son? Did they not know that's lese-majeste? Hell, even before that, if I were Igor's son, how old would he be?
"The duel theory was popular at first—legendary knight's heir and all. But after the capital trip, everyone's switched to the royal assassin angle."
Jamal narrowed his eyes at me.
"Getting the king's direct cavalry command right away, plus that club mess. No way that's amateur work."
I didn't answer.
He was right; it wasn't my first time doing something like that.
Though not exactly the same.
Back then, it wasn't about subduing them.
"...Don't go all distant with that killer glare. Makes it seem like there's really something there."
What was I supposed to have done?
"Best to just pretend your past doesn't exist. Ahh, no need to tell me. I don't wanna know! Zero interest in your past!"
Jamal bolted up, plugged his ears, and scampered off.
Not like I planned to tell him anyway.
"What a nutjob."
From the glances, it looked like they'd even made bets on it.
"Tch, how long since they lost money last time, and they're betting again."
Seeing them waste time like that meant things were going well lately.
Made sense—pay had gone up nicely since becoming royal direct command. Time to start spending.
"My past, huh..."
Lately, it felt like more people were prying into my history.
Mentions in the last year outnumbered the past decade combined.
Connections linger; bad blood even more so.
Guess I'd see how it played out.
I wasn't too worried.
The biggest grudge was settled. No need to live in fear.
The rest? Minor stuff.
Probably.
While waiting for the Bluecoats to fully recover, I prepared to reorganize the unit.
I drafted clear, unambiguous official dispatches to each fortress. Meanwhile, I scouted mercenary bands for the rear guard.
The army could fill numbers quick by pulling from ranks, but that wouldn't weed out potential plants.
We weren't just some independent cavalry anymore. We were the king's direct cavalry.
Considering the political symbolism and prestige, tightening control from the start was the smart play.
"Too few here. Plenty of bodies there, but crap skill. Bad rep on these ones."
Finding decent mercenaries wasn't easy.
Thracia had long shifted to central army structure, so local merc bands were either tiny or second-rate.
"Seriously, nowhere with solid guys?"
I was mulling over candidates when Numan, the Doppelzoltner captain, sidled up—he'd overheard.
"What about my boys?"
He'd caught the gist and stepped up as advisor.
"No dice. Clowns cost too much."
Even with royal backing, Doppelzoltner—whose name meant double pay—were out of budget.
"Got cheap ones. Half price even."
Come to think, their imperial merc group numbered near 10,000.
That many, sure to have bargain-bin talent.
"Crossbows, polearms, greatswords—whatever you need. Can fill numbers. Worth the coin."
Unclear if he was pitching people or gear—language barrier—but whatever.
In that world, who you fought with meant life or death.
No way a famed clown recommended just for family ties.
Issue was the empire being across the continent.
"Our boss sniffs out war like a bloodhound. Probably lurking nearby. Can fetch 'em quick."
That sorted too.
"Fine. Bring 200 to match full strength."
Numan left without delay. Astoria side blocked, so probably grabbing Kazan comrades.
Took at least two weeks, I'd bet.
Merc contract done, but work piled high.
New HQ directives hit the front.
Major Lenin—back a step behind us—led light cavalry to harass Astoria forces. Other forts dispatched troops too.
Fast or slow, everyone moving.
Astoria nobles would crack the gates and charge eventually.
We had to be primed by then.
While I racked my brain solo, Bluecoats trickled into Killigrad.
Applicants overflowed again.
Fresh off recruitment, fresh openings—normal folks would hesitate.
Not these maniacs.
"Thracia's vanguard, king's cavalry. Honor, pay—top of the line. Who'd say no?"
Jamal's pitch had pull.
"Major Yannick, please. Every time you do this, the fort's a disaster."
Lieutenant Colonel Sanov chewed me out over the horse shit everywhere, but gotta pick the keepers.
These northern holdouts survived hellish magic barrages—real deal. Any pick wouldn't drag us down.
Still, to cherry-pick, trials needed.
"Jamal, screen the new Bluecoats at the fort."
Buried in admin, I left recruiting to him and the others.
I pored over maps daily, scheming.
"Let's see... which bastards where to hit."
With Igor's grant of independent discretion, no more running at every call—I'd pick my battlefields.
"Forty-six originals plus fifty-nine new Bluecoats. You and Sir Otto make 100 total. Five platoons—full company strength."
"Good."
"Major. You sleeping at all?"
Jamal finished screening and checked in, worried.
"I'm fine. Go."
Now that I thought, no real sleep lately.
Staring at maps nonstop—eyes burned, head throbbed.
But I couldn't stop.
This headache and pressure would decide if my men lived or died.
"...Not bad."
Two weeks later, I had a solid plan.
Reorg nearly done.
Bluecoats filled out ages ago. Rear mercs imminent—Numan signaled full strength a week back. Days away max.
Only the 'items' ordered from the capital left.
"Shouldn't take this long. Why the delay?"
Something go wrong?
Nah, slim chance.
Who'd touch the king's cavalry gear, crazies or not?
Paranoia, as expected.
"Yoo-hoo! Here!"
Exactly a day later, my long-awaited delivery hit the fort.
Timing perfect. Or was.
"Lieutenant Yekaterina Staretska! By His Majesty's command, assigned to serve the major!"
Not just the goods—some extra baggage tagged along.
"Looking forward to your guidance!"
What the hell was this?