Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Captain Dalton, Let's Charge Ahead (2)
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In the original game, Dalton, the captain of the White Beard Mercenary Corps, had planned to push through this crisis by holding fast to his loyalty to Count Zaltzheim right up until the bitter end.
The White Beard Mercenary Corps would suffer the devastating loss of 30% of its members, but word of that loyalty would spread afterward, earning them a reputation in the mercenary market as the one outfit you could always count on.
That reputation would transform them into the go-to mercenaries, rapidly expanding their influence.
'The Swiss Guard rose to prominence for their combat prowess and unyielding loyalty too.'
Lost in those thoughts as I wandered the edge of camp, I heard Dalton sighing and muttering to himself from one side.
"Hah, fuck. What's the point of us doing our best? Those shitty Zaltzheim count's soldiers and the other mercenaries are shitting everywhere so bad we can't even wipe their asses clean."
He had a point. Our mercenary corps—including the ten-man squad I led—was performing admirably, along with the others.
Even though the overall battle situation wasn't great, just a few days ago, Count Zaltzheim had sent over plenty of booze and meat to commend our corps for its achievements.
Pretending I hadn't heard his griping, I put on my most good-natured smile, grabbed two cheap bottles of grape wine in each hand, and approached him.
"Captain Dalton, you look a bit out of sorts."
Dalton let out a massive sigh at my words, then smirked and smacked me lightly on the head.
"You little shit. You're barely out of rookie hell yourself, and here you are worrying about an adult."
"After you hooked me up with that fine sword laced with mithril, don't I owe you some payback like this?"
"Damn, you've got a mouth on you. What a cheeky bastard."
"Look at me—I'm the epitome of loyalty, ditching even the chance to become a knight just to follow you, Captain. Come on, spill it. Who knows? I might just hand you a perfect plan to fix everything."
Dalton chuckled as he gave my back a light pat with his palm.
"Fair enough. Fuck, a plan might be too much, but it'll at least lighten the load."
"Exactly. So unload it like a man."
Dalton sighed again, deep enough to crater the ground.
"It's not anything specific, but at this rate, that fucking idiot Count Zaltzheim is gonna get his ass royally handed to him."
I knew the flow of events in this game world all too well, including how this war would end.
If things continued like this, Count Zaltzheim wouldn't defeat Count Piloran's army and would suffer a crushing defeat.
The White Beard Mercenary Corps would gain fame in the process but at the steep cost of much blood from its ranks.
So if I didn't come up with some brilliant breakthrough here, our corps was as good as doomed to suffer massive casualties just like in the original story.
But I wasn't some high-ranking platoon leader in the corps; if I stuck my nose in uninvited, I'd just come off as arrogant and earn resentment.
"I see. I thought things were at least okay since we're doing well..."
Dalton exploded in frustration at my words, his voice booming.
"Argh, fuck! That's exactly what I'm saying. This shitty situation! No, putting it bluntly—you guys in the ten-man squad, our whole corps—we're carrying those bastards! So why the hell can't those morons follow our lead without dragging us down?!"
"You're right."
"Fuck, I'm not even asking the 200 of us to handle twice as many enemies like we are. But why can't those idiots pull their own weight? Right?!"
I nodded quietly in agreement.
But those idiots had no choice; Count Piloran's mercenaries might not be top-tier, but they were at least solid second-raters who could hold their own.
Count Zaltzheim either couldn't spare the coin for this do-or-die war threatening his territory, or he figured he'd just fill the ranks with his usual half-assed hires and muddle through somehow.
Now, as payback for skimping on preparations, everyone except our White Beard Mercenary Corps was floundering like Dalton said.
"Tell me about it. We're already outnumbered, and Zaltzheim's regular troops are worthless, while the other mercenaries that moron hired are practically useless, aren't they?"
"Practically? Even a limbless guy would fight better. Hoo, fuck. And you know what the other mercenary captains are saying to me?"
"What'd they spout off?"
Dalton ground his teeth at my question.
"They admit we're good, but say it's not like they're useless. Hah, fuck. If they'd just shut their mouths, we might hold the middle ground."
He was spot on. We were good—that much was true. But those guys being useless? Even their parents couldn't argue that fact.
Fuck, if you're lacking skill, at least keep quiet. Then we could at least break even.
No wonder Dalton was fuming alone, pacing before turning around with a sigh.
He vented to me for a full hour straight.
"Hah, fuck. Yeah, I couldn't tell Heinz or the others 'cause they'd say we should bail now before it's too late. But unloading to you—a lowly rookie with ears—feels a hell of a lot better."
"Happy to listen anytime. That aside, you've spilled enough now—mind hearing me out?"
Dalton clicked his tongue like he had no choice.
"Fine, fuck. But if it's like Heinz and you say return the advance and bail, I'll grind your face into the dirt."
Vice Captain Heinz wasn't entirely wrong.
You need mercenaries left alive to keep the corps running; if they all die like dogs, there's nothing you can do.
I shrugged and replied.
"You're planning to stick it out for the fame anyway, since losing is inevitable at this rate, right? Better to fight to the end and grab some glory than bail with a bad rep."
Dalton slapped my back hard and laughed.
"Fuck, nailed it. Say we return the money and cancel the contract. Our rep tanks to shit that day. No money left, no jobs lined up—we'd be fucked."
Nobles hire mercenaries to protect their lives and interests for a price.
But if those mercenaries return the cash yet break a contract in tough times and run, who would hire them?
Might as well hire unproven rookies—at least they'd feel safer.
I flashed the most wicked grin I could muster and proposed.
"So why not go all out spectacularly while we're at it? Put you, the vice captain, me, and our best swords up front in the vanguard and bet it all on one big push."
Dalton burst out laughing like a madman.
"You crazy fuck. Better than Heinz's bail idea, sure. But is that even feasible?"
"Or do we just sit here and die? Let me lay it all out straight."
"Go on, you crazy shit."
"Truth is, we don't owe the merchants shit. Sure, if we lose this war, we might not pay wages and go broke. But sell the story of our loyalty to Zaltzheim, and we could land big gigs in bigger wars to cover losses. That's the plan, right?"
If not, he wouldn't have shot down Heinz's return-the-advance-and-find-new-work idea so hard.
"So let's go nuts since we're already bleeding for Zaltzheim's coin. Show 'em we're the mercs who sign a contract and fight to the death without flinching. Fuck, how badass is that?"
"Still too risky, isn't it?"
I shook my head.
"Think the opposite. Better to charge hard than half-ass it. Drifting like this, we're doomed anyway."
"……"
The guy who'd threatened to smash my face for suggesting we bail was now clamming up, and it pissed me off.
I pressed harder.
"Those guys might be idiots, but they can at least do their share. Have a few White Beard aces step up in front of them, hack the enemy to bits, and swing momentum our way. Then we might actually win. If we pull off victory, your name and the corps' value skyrockets."
A failing warlord hires loyal men who stick through the shit; a captain who drags his employer's ass out of the fire by the collar.
"Let's do it. Fuck, we're dead otherwise anyway."
After my relentless push, Dalton finally groaned and said.
"Fuck it. Let's go for it!"
Captain Dalton went straight out and convinced everyone.
The next day, our mercenary corps took position at the vanguard of Count Zaltzheim's army—the most visible spot right in the center.