Chapter 46
Chapter 46
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Burn the Enemy's Supplies First (2)
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Three days later, in the forest near the Alpenroot Mountains.
We weren't ambushing at the base of the mountain as I had suggested. Instead, we were quietly hiding deep in the woods.
I grumbled to myself from inside a bush.
"Ha, fuck. Ambushes are only fun in games. In reality, holding your breath and staying still like this is driving me insane."
Still, it was better than charging head-on into a supply unit on high alert and getting ourselves slaughtered.
Dalton saw my sour face, smirked with one corner of his mouth, and slapped my shoulder.
"Even Martin, the fastest-rising squad leader I've ever seen, can't stand hiding and waiting like this, huh? It's fucking awful."
"It's bearable."
"Yeah? I figured you were suffering like those idiots scratching their arms and legs raw from mosquitoes and leeches, so I was just trying to cheer you up."
Even as he said that, his grinning face made it obvious he was just messing with me.
Still, it eased the tension a bit, so I didn't feel like firing back with something harsher.
"Captain, Captain."
Dalton turned toward the voice.
"Jackson? Fuck, at least make some noise before you talk. You startled me, you bastard."
"How's a scrub like me supposed to assassinate an expert like you?"
"True, you'd never manage it with your skills. Anyway, how many enemies are there? Around two or three hundred, right?"
Jackson pursed his lips, gritted his teeth, and shook his head.
'Fuck, are we screwed?'
Just as that thought crossed my mind, Jackson spoke cautiously.
"It's at least twice what that viscount staff officer predicted. Around six or seven hundred."
"Fuck, that's shit."
"And I saw lily emblems symbolizing Montmartre nobles, plus family banners all over the supply train. Looks like a baron is personally escorting it."
Dalton clicked his tongue.
"We have a contract, but this is fucking exceptional circumstances. Their supply unit is twice the expected size, so bailing is guilt-free."
Just like how insurance or deals have clauses exempting certain cases from liability.
From a mercenary's perspective, no one could blame us for aborting a mission that looked hopeless on paper.
It wouldn't hurt our hard-earned reputation either.
"Fair enough. Let's just bail."
But on the flip side, if we pulled it off when everyone else would bail, our rep and fame would skyrocket. Why pass that up?
'Bail if there's no angle at all. But if there's even a slim chance, we go for it.'
"With that many in the supply unit, they'd get lax. What'd it look like?"
Jackson sighed at my question and replied.
"I watched them come all the way out of the mountain pass. They were on high alert in the pass, but the second they hit flat ground, they dropped their guard completely."
The Montmartre snails' behavior was perfectly rational.
No sane person would detach over five hundred troops just to raid a single supply train.
Like Captain Dalton said when he saw their numbers and suggested retreat—even raiders would pussy out against that many.
Having passed the prime ambush spots like gorges and foothills, they figured they were safe now.
"So isn't now our chance? We smack 'em from behind and see what happens—we could totally pull it off."
"You saying we charge bare-handed?"
"Worst case, we bail now and no one says shit. But wouldn't it look better if we at least pretend to try something before retreating?"
In a no-win situation, the guy who tries and fails looks way better than the one who quits upfront.
Socially, the former gets rated much higher, right?
Dalton nodded.
"Hiding troops in the forest, rain arrows and magic on them. If the surprise hits and they panic, we might even win. No matter their numbers, a solid backstab and push could work. And from what we've seen, they won't find us till we strike first."
"To make the ambush work, we need to look more numerous than those snail bastards."
I puffed out my chest and thumped it with my fist.
"You think I didn't bring crossbows for everyone? Three hundred bolts at once—they'll shit themselves thinking we're huge. Have the archers loose volleys too, and it'll sell. Trust in Martin one more time."
Dalton glanced at Jackson and Heinz.
They nodded silently in agreement.
"Fine, fuck it. Better than straight bail—pretending to try helps the White Beard name. Everyone except the vice-captain, return to your squads. Load those crossbows and wait. When they pass, turn 'em into porcupines."
"Thanks, Captain."
"Save the thanks till your plan works, fucker."
**
A few hours later, Baker whispered through his hand.
"Squad Leader, how many the fuck is that? Six hundred at least... We're fucked, right?"
Baker and the rookies—even Karin—were biting their lips, clenching and unclenching fists, showing their nerves.
My lips curled up toward the sky.
'No scouts the whole way here? Ambush is half-successful already.'
"Idiot, if they'd spotted the ambush or sent scouts, maybe. But look at those morons."
I perked up my ears and listened to them.
"Ah, fuck. This is such bullshit. Isn't escorting supplies peasant soldier work? Why are we regulars stuck with this crap?"
"Shut it, idiot. The captain-general ordered it, so even the baron has no choice. Don't bitch, or you'll regret it if he hears."
"Ha, we have some status too. Getting dragged into grunt work like mercenaries or peasants pisses me off."
Peasant soldiers rarely got rewards unless they killed a knight, so surviving was their goal.
Regulars needed feats for promotions and loot.
Stuck guarding merchants and supplies with no glory? Of course they were salty.
'But supplies are the most critical part of war. Soldiers and officers acting like this...'
Morons. I get nobles and soldiers of this era live and die by honor...
But that's straight-up retarded.
"Seeing those assholes makes me feel way better."
I turned to Lucia.
She was fidgeting her lips and standing rigid like the others.
"Lucia, when I give the signal, hit 'em with your strongest spell ready. No fire magic."
"Yes."
Short but solid—nice.
"Good. Now we just wait for Dalton's signal."
This time, I felt Karin's gaze on my back.
"Make sure your arrows cover me well, Senior. Otherwise, I'm dead."
She smirked confidently with one corner of her mouth.
"Don't worry. Just trust me, Squad Leader."
One minute, two minutes passed. Their mercenary unit had half-passed our ambush point.
A signal arrow whistled into the sky.
"Attack! Fuck, loose arrows then grab weapons and charge wild!"
"You cowards shaking like rats will answer to me personally!"
"Time to show what real men are made of! Fight as bold as showing your hard cock to a whore!"
As the enemies panicked and tried to react, magic and arrow barrages rained down.
"Ambush! Ambush!"
"Argh, my body! My arm! My arm!!!"
"Protect the supplies! Guard the food and goods!"
They didn't know our numbers but scrambled to defend anyway...
"White Beard Mercenary Corps! Prove you're real men today, fuckers! Charge!"