Chapter 76
Chapter 76
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: Carrying by Grabbing the Trash Baron's Collar (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The baron scoffed at those words.
"Are you telling me to believe the words of those camp-following merchants who trail behind us just to gouge us with their prices?"
Sure enough, the camp merchants were like Shylocks, inflating prices up to ten times the market rate under the guise of hazard pay.
So naturally, not just the noble aristocrats but the mercenaries hated them too—no one liked them.
'If intel says 5,000 troops are coming, at least pretend to be on alert, damn it.'
Dragging personal grudges into an official setting—especially one where the info could devastate the army he commanded—was something he really needed to rein in, for fuck's sake.
Once the baron stepped in like that, a few knights under him started tearing into me.
"Letting a single camp merchant's word sway you into spouting this useless nonsense! You're wasting the baron's time."
"Conquest of this little fort's gone to your head, has it? A mere platoon leader like you..."
"Raising objections to the plan based on a camp merchant's word?"
Trash attracts more trash, they say—and were these guys even sane?
Talking down to the platoon leader of a mercenary corps who completed the impossible order to take a fortress held by 250 with just 500 men?
I—and our whole mercenary corps—knew exactly what would happen if we shoved a blade into those bastards' throats, which was why we held back.
'Mess with the wrong people, and you'll get the sword.'
As I stood there dumbfounded, one knight under the baron pointed at me with a startled look.
"Ah, Baron Papenheim. This is the boy mercenary who took down that Schwaben knight. His swordsmanship and wits are both exceptional—Martin Meyer, the one other lords tried so hard to recruit."
Baron Papenheim twitched his brow at that.
"Hmm... Is that true?"
I bowed my head in affirmation.
"Yes. I once clashed with Sir Schwaben over my woman, Karin."
The baron let out a groan and gestured to his men to shift the mood.
He then flashed a subtle smile, showing some goodwill toward me.
"I wasn't there at the time, so I couldn't personally invite you to join our house, but I was deeply impressed by the tale of how you honorably fought to protect your woman."
That duel I'd started was a spectacle watched by a horde of Rhinepalz Empire nobles who'd swarmed in after the war ended with nothing better to do.
The reason for the duel—protecting my woman—was relatable, and anyone could see it was a heroic underdog victory where I'd fought on despite the odds and turned the tables.
I'd put in my own effort to craft a story that perfectly suited the nobles' tastes...
'And it's spread wide among Rhinepalz nobles over the past year? Nice.'
Dalton chimed in too.
"Our mercenary corps took down Seriz Fortress this time, but Martin devised the plan we used and played the key role in pulling it off. So how about hearing him out, Baron? He's not one to spout nonsense."
The baron groaned thoughtfully for a moment before nodding.
"Even a mercenary needs exceptional talent to achieve that much at such a young age. In light of that and your feat in capturing this fortress, I'll grant you a chance to speak."
One telltale sign of the army's shitstars was how they treated their soldiers like Joseon-era slaves.
No, seriously—what the hell was in their heads to dismiss a mercenary like me this much?
Look at that smug expression, one corner of his mouth quirked up, gazing at me with those knowing eyes.
'Does he think he's some magnanimous king from who-knows-where?'
Part of me wanted to snap that just because he was a baron didn't make him all-powerful, but that would've wrecked my mercenary career.
I took a deep breath, perfectly composed my emotions, and opened my mouth.
"Thank you for hearing out a mere mercenary like me, Baron. And of course, I'm not basing this solely on one camp merchant's word."
"Any other evidence? If a 5,000-strong army is truly coming as you say, my scouts would've reported it to me already. My chief scout said there were no signs of a large force approaching."
I handed over a paper with the info I'd gathered from nearby villages before the baron arrived.
"No matter how capable the scouts, they can't spot an army that's more than two days' march away on foot, can they?"
Other knights and mercenaries nodded at my words.
"Scouts prevent sudden ambushes and give us the enemy's immediate numbers—that's their best role."
"Even patrolling too far out has its limits."
"Sending scouts three days out just gets them killed without finding the real intel."
Scouts usually rode horses, but circling two days' march on foot from our unit—covering roads, mountains, and forests where people didn't tread—had its limits.
The baron, trash though he was, proved he had basic common sense by agreeing with me.
"That's true. Which makes me all the more curious—how exactly did you learn of an army over 5,000 strong?"
I grinned confidently.
"Just in case, I disguised myself as a caravan trader and asked the village heads along their likely route to sell me grain, cattle, and sheep, saying I'd resell it in Marseille. But the heads around here all said the same: someone already bought up their food stores, so they couldn't spare any."
The other knights looked convinced and nodded, but our baron...
He furrowed his brows like a clenched fist and groaned.
"I don't see what big meaning that holds."
It was the kind of sight that made me sigh inwardly.
This baron didn't even grasp basic military common sense? Blame the damn hereditary aristocracy.
Incompetents could inherit titles just because daddy was a noble—that's how disasters like this happened.
"Baron, feeding 5,000 troops can't rely solely on camp merchants, right? They'd have to requisition food from villages along the route ahead of time."
"Makes sense."
"That's how I figured we could at least confirm if the enemy was heading this way."
The baron nodded at my explanation.
The other knights whispered just loud enough for me to hear.
"Our baron's actually listening to a mercenary platoon leader."
"Sun rising in the west?"
"Martin from the White Beard Mercenaries..."
Normally, I'd have been pleased to earn quiet respect from the baron's retainers.
But hearing this now just pissed me off.
'His grasp of the military is shaky, and from this, it sounds like he doesn't listen to others either.'
Seeing them mutter just because an incompetent lord was giving a mere mercenary the time of day made me dread the bumpy road ahead.
Still, his ego was through the roof, so poking at that should let me steer the plan my way.
"Baron, may I add more?"
"Granted."
"This Seriz Fortress can't hold 2,000 men. Even if we fight here with that number, we couldn't maneuver properly and would lose for sure."
Mentioning certain defeat made our baron's face flush red with rage, unlike before.
"You get too cocky with all this indulgence! How dare you speak of defeat—certain defeat!—before me! I won't forgive you!"
True to his trash nature, even after granting me permission to suggest a plan, the baron grabbed my collar without hearing me out.
Dalton's face hardened for a split second, but I kept smiling and replied.
"Baron, 250 men already fill this fort to bursting. Right now, aside from your lordship's regulars, everyone's camped outside. How could we hold off 5,000 here?"
A few other knights agreed.
"He's not wrong, Baron."
"Hear him out. You said you'd listen to the plan."
"Show some magnanimity."
Their skill at soothing the baron made the mess inside this house glaringly obvious.
"Defending this fortress as our base is impossible. A loss here would tarnish your reputation, Baron. Overstepping as a mere mercenary to worry about your honor, but..."
The baron flinched at "honor."
"Still, the enemy likely thinks we're just 2,000 and will get careless. And the Montmartre troops passing here will go right by Pastek Hills—a perfect ambush spot."
"...Ahem. And?"
At that, I rubbed my hands like a salesman flattering a client, desperate inside.
'Fail to convince this bastard, and our mercenary corps is done for.'
So I had to persuade him at all costs.
"I don't know much about you, Baron, but giving a lowly mercenary like me this chance shows your potential. You've lacked opportunity till now, but isn't it time to spread your wings and take the first step toward becoming a famed great noble of the Rhinepalz Empire?"
The knights around the baron sighed at my flattery but didn't stop me.
They knew too—hunkering down in this 250-man fort was worse than my plan.
"They won't spot our ambush. Order preparations to strike them. Annihilate 5,000 here, and even His Imperial Majesty will look favorably on Baron Papenheim."
The baron nodded reluctantly.
"No choice, then. I'll discuss it with the mercenary captains and knights here. Return to your place for now."
"Yes, Baron."
And that day, my ambush plan passed.
The reason was simple: as I'd said, holding this tiny fortress against 5,000 was impossible.
Plus, retreating would've been mutiny, drawing fire on House Papenheim and all the mercenary corps present.