Chapter 254
Chapter 254
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 254
Chapter Title: 72. Land of Knights (4)
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I asked the descendant of Hannibal what weapon he handled best.
"I've picked up this and that since becoming a Ranger, but the one that feels most natural in my hands is still the axe."
Before wandering the world as a merchant guard and joining the Rangers, he'd made his living as a lumberjack, chopping wood to sell. His face looked awkward as he answered.
It seemed he was embarrassed that even after all this time, he hadn't shaken off his lumberjack ways.
But I accepted it as only natural.
His ancestor had been no different.
The Blood Slaughterer Hannibal's favored weapons were a pair of axes, the kind any lumberjack might wield.
Even after grueling training turned him into a Ranger, the axe remained comfortable in his grip simply because he'd inherited his forebear's aptitude for it. There was no shame in that.
"From today onward, drop everything else and focus solely on axe training."
"What do you...?"
"As of this moment, you're no longer with the Rangers."
Hansen stared at me with a stiff expression.
The look on his face said the moment he'd dreaded had arrived. Clearly, he'd badly misunderstood my words.
He must have thought he was being kicked out of the Rangers as punishment for insulting his superior.
I quickly cleared up the misunderstanding.
"You're now directly under me, the Crown Prince, not the Ballerhard Rangers. Your position is knight trainee, and once you're formally appointed, your exact placement will be decided."
"Ah?"
Hansen gaped at me, mouth hanging open.
His dumbfounded look made me chuckle despite myself.
He took after his simple-hearted ancestor in that way, too.
Like the young man before me, Hannibal had been poor at hiding his emotions. Even after rising to the lofty position of Blood Slaughterer—one of the kingdom's elite—that facet of him never changed.
Of course, that was only when he wasn't gripping an axe.
Judging by Hansen's continued blank stare, he clearly knew nothing of his family's history.
It wasn't all that surprising.
I already knew from Gallagher and Boris that the Empire had deliberately erased the Blood Slaughterer's name from the kingdom's histories.
Even if his line had clung to their forebear's teachings amid the persecution, not everyone else had to.
Look no further than Adelia: despite inheriting the blood of the great Sword Duke, she'd ended up as a handmaiden.
"If you don't know, I'll teach you from now on."
"Your Highness?"
I'd muttered it absentmindedly, but Yorden voiced the question in Hansen's stead, still dazed as he was.
Yorden's expression was quite the sight.
He kept glancing back and forth between Hansen and me like an anxious puppy desperate to go out.
"Yorden."
"Yes, Your Highness."
His face lit up with eager anticipation the moment I called his name.
Unfortunately, what I had to say had nothing to do with the Ranger's expectations.
"Just reiterating: I hope your backside stays intact."
It was only a light tease.
Yorden shuddered as if I'd betrayed him.
I ignored him and beckoned to the two men.
"You're dismissed. I'll summon you again soon, so keep that in mind."
Hansen's face brimmed with excitement, while Yorden's twisted further in dismay.
The contrast was so comical I finally burst out laughing.
After sending them off, I sought out Vincent right away.
I asked him to transfer Hansen Hannibal directly under me.
"He must have caught your eye."
Vincent peered into my face and sighed, adding that he could guess the man's future now.
"So, will you approve it or not?"
"What do you even plan to do with him?"
"Make him a knight."
"So you're dead set on seeing Yorden kicked to the curb."
"Not my preference, but it'll happen."
Vincent chuckled at my words and told me to do as I wished.
He didn't even ask what I saw in a lowly Ranger to warrant raising him as a knight.
If I said so, he trusted it would be so.
His gaze full of faith made me feel a twinge of guilt for slipping away without a word.
Vincent recoiled at my expression, telling me to drop the face that looked ready to sprout hives.
Then, as if it had just occurred to him, he asked,
"How far do you plan to scale this up?"
The abrupt question was easy enough to parse.
"I'll gather as many as I can, for as long as possible."
"Can the kingdom's finances hold? Even if they're treated like lowly mercenaries, they're mana users—you can't handle them like regular soldiers."
He had a point.
This remote kingdom, lacking any notable resources and rarely visited by outsiders, was desperately poor.
Put simply, the kingdom had no money.
And armies were money pits.
The spoils seized from Montpellier and the traitors had long been devoured by war costs. The massive reparations from the Empire were also vanishing fast into troop expansion and operations.
At this rate, the treasury would run dry before the next winter.
The nobles had repeatedly suggested trimming the current forces.
Those voices had quieted after the old ones returned and caused chaos, but the kingdom's finances were still on a knife's edge.
In that context, my mass recruitment edict naturally worried Vincent.
I was well aware, which was why I'd gotten the Grand Marshal and Prime Minister's approval before issuing the proclamation.
A few days later, they replied that they'd back me however they could, so I should proceed as planned.
I explained all this, but Vincent still looked concerned.
"The Prime Minister and Grand Marshal didn't expect you to go this big."
He said they never would have supported me if they'd foreseen the current scale.
"They're probably tearing their hair out by now."
I scoffed at his jab about whether I felt sorry for them.
"They've lived comfortably without money worries thanks to what I've brought in. You think they'd resent me for this?"
I wasn't exaggerating.
I'd seized Montpellier's assets. I'd planned the traitors' executions and asset recovery.
I'd wrung huge reparations from the Empire. I'd earned a tidy sum as a mercenary in Dotrin.
"No one can deny I've been keeping the kingdom afloat."
"Of course, Your Highness."
As I puffed up with pride, Vincent sighed deeply and shook his head.
"So, how big are you scaling it?"
"I told you: as many as I can."
"That's exactly what I'm asking—how many is that?"
I frowned at his exasperated tone.
What part of that was hard to grasp?
Feeling a bit guilty, I explained more plainly, without irritation.
"If a hundred come, I'll take a hundred. If a thousand come, I'll take a thousand."
In short, I'd accept every last one who showed up.
Of course, I'd screen for serious flaws in character or history, but my intent to take in as many as possible remained firm.
"And if more come than we can handle?"
Vincent said incredulously.
I just smiled.
In this chaotic world, with old ones back and mercenaries' value skyrocketing, how many would trek to this backward kingdom at the world's edge?
Far more would head to prosperous spots like the Empire, I figured.
That's what I thought. That's what I believed.
But I was wrong.
One day, some time after Hannibal's descendant had formed the same Mana Heart his ancestor once bore, Ilai returned.
And trailing him was a crowd far larger than I'd anticipated.
At least a thousand, by rough count.
I tilted my head.
"They said they'd send them in batches, but they sent them all at once?"
At first, I thought the Southern Legion Commander had changed his mind from dispersing them in groups for easier control.
"They did send them in batches."
That was before Ilai explained.
He said every border fortress was overflowing thanks to me, and these arrivals were less than a tenth of the total.
Why?
The Empire must be swamped with work—why had so many come to this frozen north?
It didn't add up.
"Mercenary bands that went to the Burgundian capital have been getting turned away left and right."
Ilai briefed me on events beyond the border.
"At first, they thought it was because the bands didn't meet imperial standards, so contracts fell through."
But that wasn't it.
Failed deals happened regardless of a band's size, record, or fame.
Some were famous enough that anyone would know the name.
At that point, it was obvious the Burgundian royals had no intention of hiring mercenaries.
But questions lingered.
"Even if not the court, imperial lords must be hiring—plenty of them."
"Not a single one."
Ilai's answer defied my expectations and common sense.
Unlike our kingdom, which had foreseen the chaos and responded aggressively, the Empire had botched its initial handling.
It would be weirder if mercenaries weren't disappointed.
"It's not just that jobs weren't there. Lords weren't even happy to see mercenary bands enter their lands. Some sent private troops or knights to drive them off. Others even forcibly disbanded bands that showed up uninvited."
I couldn't help a hollow laugh at such insane behavior.
Of course, the Empire's nobles hadn't all gone mad at once.
Only one had.
And I knew who.
"The 3rd Imperial Prince is behind this."
Ilai's eyes widened at my words.
"How did you know? Word is, the 3rd Prince issued edicts in the Emperor's name early on. Any lord expanding forces would be deemed traitorous and severely punished. He seems anxious other nobles might rebel like the northeastern lords."
Just as I'd predicted.
The Empire's nobles' collective irrationality stemmed from that fool of a 3rd Prince.
"Ha."
My prediction was spot-on, but there was no joy in it.
I'd been waiting for a day like this.
Anticipating the moment the Ruinous Waste's trait fully blossomed, dragging everything around him to ruin.
Counting the days until his trait awakened and doomed the Empire.
I had. I definitely had.
"Mercenary bands with no work had no choice but to scatter. Most are heading our way."
Who could've guessed that idiot's meddling would push the kingdom's finances to the brink?
It was absurd.
Hollow laughs kept spilling out.
Suddenly sensing eyes on me, I turned.
Behind Ilai, the long line of mercenaries watched me intently.
Some with hopeful faces, others already dejected, still others brimming with curiosity.
I gazed at them and let out a small sigh.
Then murmured inwardly.
Appraisal.
Appraisal
Countless information windows materialized in the air!
Watching the flashing text, the turmoil in my heart vanished like a lie.
My change of heart altered the scene before me.
Over the ragged mercenaries, weary from their long trek through harsh weather, I glimpsed the proud image of a fully armored knight order awaiting the charge.
Late as it was, I smiled.
"Your Highness?"
Ilai turned at my sudden shift, following my gaze.
He tilted his head.
His eyes seemed to ask what I was smiling at.
I didn't answer.
He couldn't see it anyway.
Not the dark clouds shrouding the world, nor the single ray of light shining on our kingdom.
But to me, it all stood out in stark clarity.
The countless victories this tiny nation had won against the colossal Empire that once ruled half the world 400 years ago. The kingdom's past, shining brighter than any other.
The glorious future that would finally dawn after today.
The kingdom's fabled name, reclaimed alongside that brilliant tomorrow.
I stepped forward before the thousand mercenaries, repeating that glorious name in my mind.
"Welcome to Leonberg, the Land of Knights."