Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Royal Grants Rain Down (2)
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"In addition, the entire suicide squad will be granted commendation leave, for a period of one month!"
The moment the herald finished speaking, a heavy silence fell over the suicide squad.
His words all but announced that today was the squad's final day.
Honor, money, promotions, and even leave.
They had received every reward a soldier could hope for, yet the mood sank instead of lifting. The herald looked visibly flustered.
In stark contrast, Igor wore an expression that said he had anticipated it all.
"Once your leave ends, you will not return to your units. Instead, you will assemble at a designated location!"
With a glance, the king dismissed the herald and stepped forward again.
"There, after completing a set period of training, those without disqualifying issues will be assigned to the newly formed Royal Combat Division!"
The subdued atmosphere erupted once more.
"The division will be structured as an independent unit, centered on a cavalry regiment, with attached infantry battalions, a mage corps, and support trains!"
And finally, cheers exploded.
What insolent lot.
His Majesty hadn't even finished speaking.
Smooth.
Igor raised his hand.
Silence.
As if by magic, the cheers cut off.
"Stalnoy Grom!"
In the hush, only Igor's thunderous roar echoed across the plaza.
"That is the new name you will bear!"
Steel Thunder. Not a bad name at all.
"Stalnoy Grom!"
"Grom! Grom!"
The suicide squad—no, Stalnoy Grom—pounded their breastplates like madmen, roaring in unison.
The low, heavy cheers unique to field troops who had crossed countless lines of death reverberated, sending the nobles and wealthy folk inside the inner citadel fleeing in panic.
Five of the seven promises had now been fulfilled.
Two remained.
One of them wasn't the sort of thing to announce publicly, so the final promise to be kept here today was truly the last.
Perhaps as important as all the previous ones combined.
I waited quietly.
Smooth.
As Stalnoy Grom continued roaring, Igor received something from the herald.
"Major Milop Rafov! Major Kesey Hamachin! Lieutenant Colonel Alexei Kiran! Colonel...!"
Then he began calling out names in a resounding voice.
"NCO Rohan! NCO Cherni! NCO Gael! NCO Simir...!"
Igor kept calling.
It had already been ten minutes since he started.
Even the king's voice began to carry a rasp.
Servants hovered nearby with cups of water, but their lord paid them no mind.
"Lieutenant Ivan! Lieutenant Laxey! NCO Garel! NCO Hintze...!"
He simply pressed on with his hoarse, cracking voice, reading from the list.
Murmurs.
The watching nobles and wealthy stirred.
But the king did not stop.
Nor did Stalnoy Grom complain.
Those names were far from unfamiliar to us.
"Lieutenant Jamal!"
Finally finishing the roll call, Igor gasped for breath.
"The fallen members of the suicide squad will be recorded in history as the first Stalnoy Grom!"
His voice was now strained, without even the rasp.
But it was enough.
"In the capital Trakiel's plaza, I shall erect a monument inscribed with their names, so that all Thracians may honor them!"
Tributes and mourning for the dead had already overflowed.
"......"
No one spoke.
Glancing around, everyone stared blankly up at the balcony, eyes red-rimmed.
Clank, clank.
As if on cue, the Bluecoats and lancers lowered their helmet visors.
Daring to lower visors before the king—what impudent fellows.
Your Majesty.
I looked up at Igor.
Please understand the hearts of these iron men.
I signaled for permission with my eyes.
Nod.
Igor gave a small nod.
"Long live His Majesty the King."
After a long moment, a muffled voice emerged from within a helmet.
I couldn't tell if it choked with barely contained passion or simply the helmet.
It didn't matter.
"Long live the Trakieri royal house!"
"Loyalty to His Majesty the King!"
Their frenzied pounding on breastplates brimmed with nothing but joy and gratitude.
This was enough.
"Yannick Schrelgriff!"
I thought it was over, but Igor called my name in his raspy voice.
"......?"
The final promise wasn't for public announcement, so I had no idea what this was about.
"How could I list all your battlefield exploits here?"
Even amid exhaustion, a thick smile hung on his lips.
"I bestow upon you Molniya Castle and the title of count."
Before I could read the emotion in that smile, Igor declared it outright.
"The fief centers on the southern city of Gardnayan, encompassing all villages within sixteen kilometers. For your lifetime, your governing authority is absolute. This is guaranteed by I, Igor Trakieri, the lawful ruler and sovereign of Thracia—no one in Thracia may object."
I froze solid.
I knew how much effort the royals had poured into reducing the number of nobles, even by one.
A count, even a paper one, was among the high nobility, fewer than ten in the kingdom.
"Of course, I don't expect a count serving on the northern front to have time to manage a southern fief. It'd be pointless to grant a reward only for the land to fall into ruin. Nor can the kingdom afford a capable soldier neglecting his duties over estate worries. Thus, I shall dispatch a royal administrator to handle affairs in your stead."
Igor's intentions were plain as day.
He'd deliberately chosen a southern city.
Even knowing my situation up north.
Fine by me.
Just lend my name and collect taxes—what could be sweeter, more tempting?
"Furthermore, I promote you to brigadier general and appoint you commander of the new Stalnoy Grom."
That made it all the more terrifying.
How much did he plan to wring out of me?
How far would he squeeze my spine?
No joke—cold sweat poured down.
My head spun.
Unable to bear the dizziness, I squeezed my eyes shut.
The birth of a new count would upend the kingdom; a count commanding the realm's largest cavalry brigade? Unthinkable.
"Commander Yannick. You will attend the victory banquet without fail."
Igor commanded sternly, for show.
"Personally, I hope your first banquet as count and commander suits your tastes."
Do something about that twitching lip.
But I wasn't in a position to call out his inconsistent words in public.
"......Thank you, Your Majesty."
All I could do was bow my head in praise of the royal grant.
"Long live His Majesty the King!"
"Stalnoy Grom! Count Molniya!"
The cavalry roared madly.
Clueless to my inner turmoil.
The capital Trakiel was thrown into uproar.
"The suicide squad entered the inner citadel?"
"The Redcoats let that many fully armed troops in without a fight?!"
Nobles and general staff officers were stunned to hear that nine hundred cavalry and mounted infantry had marched into the citadel in full armor.
"His Majesty promoted the entire squad two ranks and awarded medals!"
Special promotions, medals, even heavy plate and warhorses from the royal forges.
That much was understandable.
The problem came next.
"Th-they're not disbanding the squad but reforming it as a royal combat division?!"
The terrifying cavalry that had shattered twenty-three thousand Astorians was now directly under the crown.
With a flashy name: Steel Thunder.
Complete with mages, infantry, and supports.
"The northern army or royal direct—it's all His Majesty's forces anyway. Why the shock?"
"You fool! The northern army answers to general staff, but that cavalry now obeys only the king. How are they the same?!"
"The staff ultimately follows His Majesty too..."
"Idiot! When staff moves armies, word reaches us—we get a chance to act. But royal direct? We won't know till they're at our gates, and we can't touch them."
A crafty old noble beat his chest.
"And they're fast? They round-tripped Astoria's capital from the northern border in a fortnight. Now the crown can dispatch troops anywhere in days if it wants. With cavalry that charges ten, twenty times their number without hesitation!"
The young noble finally grasped it, face draining white.
In a kingdom where royal power was already strong, nobles might never lift their heads again.
"Enough talk. Let's go see."
As the old noble rose, the young one hurried after. Rumors had spread; streets filled with nobles heading to the palace plaza, exchanging glances.
There, they heard the shocking decree.
-I bestow Molniya Castle and the title of count.
The king, who had spared no means to cut noble numbers, had personally created a count.
Paper title or not, its weight was immense.
And the name's meaning was profound: Molniya meant lightning. The new unit: thunder.
No one present was ignorant of lightning preceding thunder.
They scoffed at the notion.
But the "notion" was real.
-Furthermore, I promote to brigadier general and appoint commander of the new Stalnoy Grom.
The king had seated the new count atop that fearsome cavalry.
"Major to general? Against all precedent. It could serve as justification."
"He's risen five times in two years already. NCO to general in two—unheard of."
Nobles scrambled for ways to block the king's decision.
"In this war, his unit alone annihilated an enemy legion—at minimum."
A general staff officer, out to survey, shook his head.
"Odd if 1,350 cavalry couldn't rack that up. Bluntly, it wasn't a collective effort..."
"Pre-squad formation merits. He directly took one fortress, but reports from commanders credit him dozens of times for other falls."
"What...? He didn't win the war alone—that's absurd."
"Not done. He delayed 34,000 enemies southbound from Kiligrad, shattering 23,000 directly. All him."
"......"
They'd known, but hearing it laid bare, the feats were staggering.
"If anything, rewards were scaled down per custom. Deny this, and no Thracian soldier risks their neck again."
Even if promoted to full general, none would call it excessive.
"I know why you're in a tizzy. But timing's off. Bet on it: touch him now, and the whole Thracian army turns foe."
Nobles froze; even a grizzled staff general saying this?
"N-no way it'd go that far."
"At least half the fierce northern legion commanders back him. Overstated?"
"He's no academy grad. Plenty of officers resent him—incite them and..."
The old general chuckled.
"Academy, non-commissioned. Oil and water, sure. But to him? That distinction means nothing now."
"......"
"Feats rendering it meaningless."
Looking at the ranked squad in the plaza, respect gleamed in the general's eyes.
"He's already the myth incarnate of the Thracian army."
His words carried weight: recall the fates of old heroes who challenged myths.
"That's his stature."
Don't believe? Try poking the bear.
With that, the general turned and left.
"......"
The nobles stared blankly at his back.
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Royal Grants Rain Down (2)
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