Chapter 141
Chapter 141
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 141
Chapter Title: 44. Fish in Water, or an Ungoverned Foal (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The fortress commanders objected vehemently.
In their current state, they couldn't hold out for long, so they should pull back at the first opportunity—that was their shared opinion.
"So when exactly is that opportunity coming?"
I asked snarkily, and the commanders fell silent. But they soon opened their mouths again, railing against the difficulties of defending the fortress and emphasizing just how uncertain my opinion was.
From their perspective, it was a reasonable counterargument.
To those who hadn't faced the 3rd Prince themselves, my words were nothing more than a gamble staking their lives on uncertainty.
I had no intention of convincing them otherwise.
"Do whatever you want."
I shot back curtly and shut my mouth.
Crossing my arms, I leaned back against the chair. Those watching me furrowed their brows.
My attitude must have seemed utterly irresponsible.
I snorted.
From the start, I was just an outsider. It was their job to decide the fortress's fate, not mine.
And no matter what they decided, I planned to follow along willingly.
All I needed was a battlefield where I could fight the Imperial Army.
Whether it was some desperate clash during a slim-chance escape or whatever else, it didn't matter.
Perhaps realizing my stance late, the fortress commanders soon ignored me and began debating among themselves.
But no clever stratagems emerged to turn the dire situation around.
In this frustrating deadlock with no solutions in sight, the meeting room's atmosphere heated up fruitlessly.
Eventually, someone even spouted baseless optimism that the Imperial Army wouldn't touch civilians, suggesting they abandon everyone but the soldiers in a blatantly irresponsible move.
"Enough! Is that what a knight of Dotrin should be saying?!"
The old commander finally exploded, stepping forward with a roar.
"You all know how the Imperial Army treats the residents of conquered lands from history. I have no intention of leaving civilians behind in this fortress. Find a way for us all to survive."
The commanders fell silent at his words.
Silence blanketed the meeting room.
"You're the leader of the Bail Mercenary Corps, Ian, right?"
Breaking the quiet, the old commander spoke up again.
"That's right. I'm Ian, leader of the Bail Mercenary Corps."
"Very well, Leader Ian. Let's say you're right. Let's say a path to survival opens when the 3rd Prince arrives on the field."
The old commander fixed me with a heavy gaze.
"Do we have a way to hold out until then?"
I answered as if I'd been waiting for the question.
"They won't launch another assault until they've recovered from the battle damage."
"Probably not."
"Then we just make sure they can't recover."
"Explain in detail."
I shrugged at the old commander's prompt.
"No need for details."
I replied, then added right away.
"Just inflict more damage before they can regroup."
The old commander's eyes widened.
"You don't mean..."
"I'll infiltrate their camp and wreak havoc."
Enough chaos that they can't get their act together, enough that this fortress doesn't even cross their minds.
* * *
The meeting ended.
As I rose to leave, the old commander asked me.
"But how did you get into the fortress in that situation?"
I answered nonchalantly.
"I just walked in."
He let out a hollow laugh, clearly finding it hard to believe.
"I blended in and walked with them. The gates happened to open, so I slipped inside."
"And the Imperial soldiers just watched?"
"They didn't just watch—they were shoving me forward, telling me to hurry up."
The commander burst into booming laughter at my response.
After laughing for a good while, he sobered up. Standing straight, he bowed politely to me.
"If this ends well, I'll reward you handsomely."
To his thanks, I replied that he should pay me generously and left the meeting room.
* * *
The Imperial Army commander was in a foul mood.
The fortress he'd meticulously besieged for two months was on the verge of falling, only for some random bastard to show up and ruin everything.
And it was that same bastard who'd gotten the precious paladin sent by the 3rd Prince killed.
It was nearly an act of God, but he doubted the wastrel 3rd Prince would understand such nuances.
If only he'd secured the fortress, he could have claimed the credit and saved his position—but even that had failed.
Everything was a mess.
"Why of all battlefields did he have to come here?"
The commander cursed the 3rd Prince.
If that freak hadn't shown up, there'd have been no need to push recklessly against a nearly conquered fortress, no casualties, no fretting over the paladin's death.
It wasn't just a little tangle because of that one mongrel.
But wallowing in resentment wouldn't help their dire straits.
He had to find a way to survive.
There was only one path.
Seize the fortress and offer the achievement to the 3rd Prince. It pained him, but it was the sole way to save his neck.
"Tonight, we attack the fortress again."
He immediately summoned the knights and issued orders.
A total assault on the entire wall.
The enemy's remaining forces weren't numerous anyway. With luck, they'd breach by evening.
"What about that dual-wielding knight?"
One knight raised the issue.
"Ignore him. No matter how monstrous, he's just one man. He can't turn the tide alone."
Even a monstrous knight could only hold one wall—east, west, south, or north. Hammering from all sides would bring the fortress down eventually.
Another knight voiced concern that they needed at least minimal precautions.
His face was pale with fear.
Pitiful, but the commander didn't show it. Now wasn't the time to berate knights.
He assured them the mages would keep the dual-wielder in check, instructing the knights to focus on the walls.
The meeting ended.
The commander returned to his tent to sleep.
"Tonight will be a long one."
Scoffing at Dotrin's forces who'd clung on stubbornly for two months, he drifted off.
Then his eyes snapped open.
Something was uproarious outside.
"What's going on out there?!"
Asking in a hoarse voice, his guard knight flung open the tent flap and rushed in.
But his expression was grim.
"A Dotrin raid!"
"Ridiculous!"
Dotrin forces hadn't even extinguished the magical flames on the fortress. Exhausted from the night's assault, they had no strength left.
"The grain warehouse is on fire! Knights Anny and Gus, who went to put it out, are out of contact!"
"Why tell me now?!"
"I just heard..."
Shoving aside the cowering knight's excuse, he stormed out.
"Ah..."
The commander groaned.
The camp was chaos. Soldiers who should have been resting for the assault were scrambling everywhere.
"How many enemies?"
He ground his teeth, asking coldly.
"Still assessing..."
"Not many. The fortress Dotrin has no reserves."
Quickly grasping the situation, he summoned knights and barked orders.
"Go handle it now!"
The knights charged out.
The commander was certain the chaos would soon subside.
But it was mere wishful thinking.
As the sun dipped low, the disorder didn't fade.
It only grew worse.
"At this rate, tonight's assault is impossible..."
His mind cleared in a flash.
"They're aiming for this."
Realizing the enemy's intent too late, he summoned the knights again.
But far too few answered.
"It takes time to hunt infiltrators in the camp."
The knights said their comrades would return soon.
They did return.
Heads only.
"Tally headcounts now!"
A few knights left the tent.
Even they didn't come back.
Finally sensing the gravity, the commander summoned all key personnel.
Nearly half were absent.
Of those missing, half returned as headless corpses.
"What kind of absurd situation is this?!"
The commander bellowed.
In half a day, a third of the officers commanding the legion had been assassinated or vanished. Even triple-ring knights among them.
Unbelievable. Yet undeniable.
The planned assault never even launched, and the night passed.
Only then could he assess the full damage.
"This..."
Dozens of bodies lay before the tent. Knights who'd rushed to fight the warehouse fire, knights who'd boastfully gone to capture foes.
And precious mages too.
Dizziness hit the commander.
The fortress assault was irrelevant now. A third of high officers gone in a day.
He had to restore the chain of command first.
He issued rapid orders.
Assign replacements to vacancies, promote others to fill gaps.
Pointless.
The next day, more vacancies.
"I ordered heightened vigilance!"
His rage peaked as he screamed, then collapsed.
The knights hadn't defied orders.
They'd grouped in tents to counter raids together.
The enemy exploited that.
When knights clustered, they struck frontline officers leading soldiers.
Half those positions emptied.
Yesterday, he'd promoted mid-tier officers to high command. Now, he'd demote survivors to frontline roles.
Maddening.
"Select capable veterans to fill the gaps."
He patched the shattered command once more.
But the nightmare was just beginning.
Raids came day and night. Countless officers died, and soldiers no longer saw promotion as fortune.
They preferred risking death as grunts over assassination targets.
Forced promotions anyway. Then, all officers to share tents and uniforms with regulars, just in case.
Low-tier deaths dropped sharply.
But high officers became targets again.
They refused shared tents with rabble, saw common garb as humiliation.
That arrogance killed them.
Remaining officers: less than half. Too few for legion-scale forces.
Grain burned, spare weapons and siege engines destroyed.
A wretched state.
Worse: still no grasp of the enemy's identity. Numbers? Truly fortress Dotrin?
Nothing known.
"Excellency. The 3rd Prince is now four days away."
To top it off, the tyrannical, incompetent 3rd Prince was nearly here.
The commander squeezed his eyes shut.
"From today, all officers bunk in one tent. No exceptions, no refusals."
He forced proud knights and nobles together. If they wouldn't shed armor or finery, cluster to deter assassins.
"Tomorrow, we assault the fortress at dawn."
Despite heavy officer losses, negligible against total forces.
"If only we'd ignored it and attacked from the start..."
Regret gnawed. Now, he'd correct it.
But fate denied the chance.
A visitor came at night.
"It was you."
Seeing the intruder's face, the commander went slack.
A man in a deep hood stood before him, dual swords on his back.
"Only a monster like you could pull this off. My mistake was not expecting a knight like you on such a dishonorable mission."
"Provoking me?"
"Knight without pride. It shames your noble house."
Resigned to doom, the commander mocked him.
But the dual-wielder remained utterly calm.
"I'm not a knight."
"What?"
"I'm a mercenary."
The mercenary grinned, introducing himself.
"Ian, leader of the Bail Mercenary Corps."
The commander assumed he hid his identity from shame over the dirty work.
No mercenary wielded such might: slaying a royal paladin, single-handedly stalling a legion.
"Anyway, good work out there."
"Burgundy's prince is nearly here. Kill me, and you'll face his wrath."
He threatened. It failed.
"That's why you're dying."
"What?"
"So he can move his forces freely."
Finally, the commander grasped the scheme.
Somehow, the foe knew the 3rd Prince: his incompetence, recklessness, command style.
He planned to make the Imperial Army self-destruct via the prince.
"You bastard!"
Roaring in fury, it became his last words.
"Gurk."
His throat stung, then the world went white.
"I'll take responsibility for our esteemed 3rd Prince."
In fading haze, the foe whispered close.
"I promise. He'll rise steadily. The fortress's fall will be his credit, and many more feats await."
The commander's eyes flew wide.
"So he can get closer to the throne."
Not mere fortress or legion—he aimed to shake the Empire's fate.
"How... dare you..."
Realizing too late, he desperately clawed for the foe's collar.
But his life, on the brink, snuffed out emptily.
* * *
Once a legion commander, now a mere corpse.
Ian gazed at the body, then stretched.
"Once tonight's done, I can sleep for three days straight."
The Sword Ghost emerged ghostlike from shadows, gesturing.
「Fish in water.」
"Huh?"
「Nothing.」
Ian brushed off Gunu's gestures, gripped his dual swords, and recited a poem.
Then he shredded the tent, bellowing outward.
"Leader of the Bail Mercenary Corps, Ian, has arrived!"
Imperial guard knights, spotting him amid the tatters, drew blades in horror.
Ian butchered them outright.
The golden dual swords whirled as the mercenary rampaged everywhere.
Gunu, shadowing from darkness to dagger an unlucky knight, watched and mouthed silently.
Like an ungoverned foal.
As she said, Ian looked thrilled.
No Winter Fortress to protect here, no need to crouch wary of Imperials.
On this unbound battlefield, he reveled in freedom.
"Who dares face me, Ian of the Bail Mercenary Corps?!"
Standing tall atop Imperial knight corpses, Ian roared.
The Imperial soldiers hesitated, retreating.
* * *
Three days later, the 3rd Prince appeared on the field.
He swiftly reorganized the command-collapsed forces and assaulted Dotrin's fortress. Before his tactics and strategies, the stronghold fell helplessly.
He was even captured alive by Dotrin's swordmaster, but handled it wisely and escaped.
Moreover, while captive, he gleaned the fortress's weakness—the key to breaching what had blocked the Imperials for two months.
And finally, the fortress fell.
No pursuit followed.
Due to the 3rd Prince's solemn decree.
"I don't know who, but someone inside helped me escape. A Dotrin citizen who saved me willingly and even shared state secrets. He said Dotrin's people await only my arrival."
Concerned the oppressed Dotrin folk, eager for liberation from tyranny, might suffer in fierce pursuit, he mercifully halted it.
The Imperials praised his compassion—treating enemy citizens like his own—and lauded the prince who toppled the impregnable fortress.
Thus it was reported, at least.