Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Departure (2)
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I'd mercilessly called the nobles chaff to their faces, but not a single one voiced any complaints to the duke. Well, if I were in their shoes, I'd have been cheering inwardly. After all, they were finally getting rewarded for enduring that tedious ordeal.
And who cares anyway? He wasn't even talking about them—he was cursing out people who weren't even here. With that, the meeting shifted gears in a way that was nothing like usual, filling up with discussions on tactics for the north and predictions about the state of the war.
The duke spread out a map in earnest and began forecasting the scale of the elven forces and how they might attack if they did.
Even without the internet in this world, he was piecing together plausible tactics from the scant info that they were a nomadic people. It really drove home why he was hailed as the empire's greatest general.
Me? I could chime in easily because I had knowledge from my past life to draw on and make some educated guesses.
"Aren't you going to take off that helmet?"
As the meeting wrapped up and I followed the other nobles out, Rahil was waiting outside. What's really unique about him is that he never takes off his armor or helmet. Not when he's working or resting. He probably removes it inside his own tent, at least...
"Your face..."
"Not manly enough? You might break out in boils if you keep that up."
Even though we're just employer and employee, I couldn't help worrying that his delicate features might get ruined, so I offered some advice. He just bowed his head and kept the helmet on. Then, once we were a bit away from the command tent, his voice drifted out from inside it.
His androgynous voice sounded artificial at first, or like a boy before puberty, and sometimes almost like a woman's.
The silver lining was that it was a pleasant, melodic tone rather than something grating.
"Duke Nosmond... what do you think... of him...?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I've heard... he's a... highly renowned... general... the empire's... greatest... commander..."
What really got under my skin wasn't the tone, but his slow, halting way of speaking—like he was dragging out every word. It made my insides churn just listening to it, so I let out a sigh and replied.
"Too soon to tell. But his strategic insight is impressive..."
As I thought about it, something nagged at me. Red hair... blue eyes...
"Do you... have any... tasks for me...?"
I must've been staring blankly, because Rahil turned his helmeted head my way. I could feel his gaze through the visor. Red hair isn't that common, but it kinda matched the duke's. No way...
"Nah. More importantly, did you brush Merlin?"
Couldn't be. What would the duke's son have to gain from mercenary work? Just to check, I casually asked Sir Karon on the way by, and he shook his head, saying the duke only has one daughter.
Prrrr!
Merlin whinnied contentedly, looking utterly pleased. Back when the soldiers used to brush him, he'd hated it for some reason—kicking the ground with his hind legs and shaking his head wildly. Ended up breaking one soldier's rib with a back kick, even.
"Good boy..."
It was hilarious how the same horse that hated everyone else was melting under Rahil's touch. Not discriminating against people or anything. Do animals just like good-looking guys too? As I watched Rahil grooming Merlin's coat, someone called out to me.
"Lord Lucas!"
It was a Cligrove soldier. He came running up, panting, and spoke in an urgent tone.
"The commander's called an assembly!"
"An assembly?"
It hadn't even been long since the meeting ended, and now the duke was summoning all the nobles. If the commander was calling everyone together, it had to be something serious.
Maybe a few more northern forts had fallen to the elven offensive. I called out to Rahil, who was brushing Merlin.
"Rahil! Time to suit up!"
Chainmail over a gambeson, breastplate on top, tassets and poleyns for the legs. It'd take forever alone, but with help, it's quick.
I'd just taken it off, but I grabbed my armor and suited up again before stepping out of the tent. Lenia was already armored and waiting in front. Her turquoise eyes turned to me.
"Lady?"
"Waiting to go with you."
Her gaze shifted to my side next. Rahil, catching it, bowed his head hastily.
"New squire? Why the helmet?"
"Mercenary. Doubles as a squire, but..."
She gave me a look like I'd done something unnecessary.
"Hmm... If you'd told me, I could've spared a soldier."
"Can't rely on Cligrove's support forever, can we?"
Her turquoise eyes quietly studied Rahil, unreadable. Sure, wearing full armor and helmet all day is odd. A brief silence fell, then she spun on her heel.
"Let's go."
Thanks to the duke's sudden assembly order, the command tent was packed with nobles and knights. Amid the chaos of clashing crests, the duke arrived under knight escort—the very one everyone was waiting for.
Duke of the empire and supreme commander of the expeditionary force. The nobles rose en masse to greet him. Even fellow nobles felt the weight of that title.
"Your Grace!"
"Be seated, all."
At his gesture, they sat. His blue eyes swept the room. In the silence, he spoke.
"Straight to the point. Things have changed. We were set to depart the day after tomorrow, but His Majesty has ordered us to move north immediately and crush the elves."
So the sudden assembly wasn't elves—it was the emperor. He wanted the northern domains suffering under the elves relieved ASAP... The duke probably knew exactly why the emperor was rushing them.
The emperor was getting nervous. He'd called up armies from the lords himself, but now that they were assembled, the scale was overwhelming.
And this was right outside the capital. Even if he trusted their loyalty, seeing such a massive force must have him worrying if they might get ideas.
Either way, an imperial order was an order. Prepared or not. The duke's face was grim as he announced.
"We march at dawn tomorrow. Be ready to move the moment the sun rises."
The duke's marching order was given.
"We're off?"
"Heading out already?"
"Good lord... Thought it was an earthquake from the ground shaking, but it's the army marching."
The next day, as ordered, the army began to move. Combat troops alone numbered 70,000; with non-combatants, it was 170,000 strong. Their footsteps made the earth rumble. The walls quickly filled with spectators gawking at the spectacle.
We'd seen the vanguard move yesterday and knew hundreds of thousands were gathered, but seeing it all in motion was breathtaking for anyone.
"Bro!"
"I'll bag lots of elves for you!"
Capital troops waved cheerfully to families, while those with flings on the walls grinned and beckoned to girls waving handkerchiefs.
Amid that host, Lucas's force—me, with just one hired mercenary and a pitiful handful of fighters—quietly took position at the rear of the Cligrove contingent.
"Oh... The duke's leading personally."
As the army lumbered forward, Duke Nosmond appeared in the distance, riding toward us. His voice boomed like amplified magic.
"Brave soldiers of the empire! Crush those barbarians and seize honor and glory! In the duke's name, I swear: those who earn merit shall raise their houses, and those who flee shall etch eternal dishonor upon the empire!"
Clank—clank—
The march began: no real order, just a mass shuffling in loose lines. It wasn't one army but a coalition of lords' forces—disorder was expected.
Still, hundreds of lords mustering tens of thousands created an awe-inspiring sight despite the chaos. Countless banners flapping in the wind, mounted lords, knights, and cavalry. Weapons glinting in the sun.
The column stretched to the horizon.
"Where's home?"
"Born and raised... in the capital..."
The grandeur wore off after the first hour or two. Riding was easier than walking, but boredom set in just the same. I chatted with Rahil holding the reins. As expected, he was from a well-off family.
Son of a prominent merchant house in the capital. When I asked why mercenary work, he said he wanted to earn merits to gain his father's recognition.
"Merits, huh... Not an easy path."
Everyone dreams of striking it rich as a merc. But few do. Eight in ten die on jobs; of the survivors, three blow their hard-earned pay on booze and women. Only about one in five makes real money and gets out. I'm an outlier, of course.
If I hadn't dealt with nobles before, or if things had gone slightly off—or if my employer wasn't Lenia—I wouldn't be here now. But Rahil pointed out I was proof you could succeed as a merc and earn merits, staring at me intently.
"Know your way around a sword?"
"Basics... yes... Learned from... a teacher..."
"Then when we camp, mind if I check your skills?"
"Thank you..."
He bowed gratefully. Not just in it for coin, booze, and women—this green merc's modest dream was paternal approval through feats. Hearing that, I agreed to look over his swordplay.