Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Normalizing the South with Supply Cheats (1)
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After that, time began to flow swiftly.
A visit to the imperial capital to receive command of the Southern Expeditionary Force. And the Emperor's official endorsement.
The Papal Court, moved by this, announced full support and the dispatch of last rites priests.
On top of that, with full backing from the Magic Tower and the Imperial Family, the tower's engineers stepped in to begin large-scale production of supplies needed for the expedition.
My home family, House Valerius, was busy conscripting troops and reserves, and my prospective in-laws, House Argentis, were just as frantic.
Time flew by like an arrow, and before I knew it, ten days had passed.
"...Perfect. You look incredibly dashing and imposing, Jonathan."
With all preparations complete, Erika carefully inspected me in the jet-black armor she and Argentis's craftsmen had finished overnight.
She nodded slightly in satisfaction, but traces of worry lingered at the edges of her eyes.
I clenched and unclenched my gauntleted hand. It felt as light as a feather, yet carried the signature toughness of dragonsteel.
"Jonathan."
She placed her hand cautiously on my jet-black breastplate. Her two blue eyes still brimmed with concern.
"I know you're strong, and this armor will protect you. It holds all of Argentis's craftsmanship—no, my wish for you to return safely. I believe you'll come back unharmed."
She lifted her head, locking her blue gaze directly onto mine.
"But still, promise me, Jonathan."
"Promise you'll return without a scratch. Promise you'll come back safe and keep our vow."
"...So you can hold me tight like always when you return safely?"
To her earnest plea, I smirked as I always did and replied.
"I promise. Where else would I go but by your side, Erika?"
At my answer, Erika placed her hand cautiously on my jet-black breastplate.
"Really... you have to come back without a scratch. Got it?"
Finishing her words, she slowly rose onto her tiptoes.
Leaning toward my still-helmetless face, she lightly pressed her lips to mine.
Soon, a warm, soft sensation touched my lips.
A tender kiss filled with all her worries and hopes.
Even through the cold metal of the armor, her warm body heat seemed to transmit fully.
A moment later, she reluctantly pulled her lips away.
Her face was flushed peach-pink, but her blue eyes still couldn't leave me.
Pressing harder against my breastplate, she whispered in a voice that barely rose.
"...Hey, Jonathan."
"Yeah."
"Just once more..."
"?"
Her demeanor seemed a bit hesitant, yet desperately trying to speak.
"...Could we kiss just one more time?"
I couldn't hold back and burst into a chuckle at the sight.
How could there be such an adorable fiancée in the world?
Instead of answering, I wrapped my gauntleted arms around her slender waist without hesitation.
"Ack...!"
Over her surprised lips, I kissed her first this time.
If the first light kiss had been a fresh promise, the second was a deep vow sharing all emotions.
Body heat, unspoken feelings, and our mutual resolve melted together with our breaths at the closest distance.
Only after a long while did our lips part, leaving a brief silver trail connecting them before it vanished.
Finishing the kiss, Erika leaned her forehead against my chest, breathless.
Her face was now red enough to burst.
"...That's cheating."
"What is?"
"Not even waiting for an answer... suddenly pulling me in... idiot."
I whispered low into her reddened ear.
"You like it, though. Being held like this."
"...I don't know, you idiot Jonathan."
Erika leaned her body against my chest, then hugged the back of my neck just as I had done to her.
"Erika?"
Instead of replying, she pressed her lips to mine once more.
More proactive than the previous innocent kiss, filled with affection and passion.
With a soft smack as our lips parted, she declared with a slightly playful smile.
"Hehe, now we're even?"
It was right at that moment, as she beamed brightly.
"Ahem."
A deliberately loud cough echoed from the corner of the meeting room.
Startled, Erika and I turned to the sound. There stood Iris von Valkenriter, arms crossed.
Her violet eyes gleamed behind her glasses; she'd been watching the whole scene.
Erika hastily pulled away from me.
"I-Iris! W-when did you...!"
"From the second kiss. A most intriguing interaction for analysis."
"Eek...!"
As Erika hid bright red behind my back, Iris ceased her observations and got to the point.
In her usual curt tone, she reported to me.
"Lord Jonathan. All preparations are complete."
She nodded toward the window, where Kandoria Castle's plaza teemed with troops and wagon trains.
"House Valerius's vanguard, Argentis's supply unit, and the Magic Tower's first technical support team have all assembled. Military fresh bags and purified magic devices from the tower, plus the requested imperial supplies, are loaded onto the supply wagons. We await only your command."
"And the Church's last rites priests?"
"They'll assemble in the imperial south and join us en route."
She paused briefly, then added a somewhat stiff farewell—as a member of the Magic Tower, or perhaps as a partner.
"...Good luck, Lord Jonathan. I hope your vision proves efficient even in the southern jungles."
"Thank you, Iris. And Erika too."
I stroked Erika's head—still too embarrassed to lift it from behind me—then picked up my jet-black helmet.
"Well then, I'm off."
Five days later. In a banquet hall attached to a certain mansion in the imperial capital.
The nobles gathered there had faces crumpled like ink-stained parchment.
The first urgent report from the south had turned the meeting's mood into a funeral wake.
"This... do you think this makes any sense?!"
An old earl slammed his fist on the table, growling.
"The report says Valerius's expedition arrived at Raktali without a single casualty!"
"What about the endemic diseases?! The jungle fever?!"
"How did those bastards survive without half-dying from jungle venomous bugs?!"
The nobles vented their frustration. Far from the saint's martyrdom they'd hoped for, it was a flawless bloodless entry.
Watching this, Marquis Brandon clicked his tongue inwardly.
'Results beyond imagination.'
He'd expected Jonathan to prepare after his warning, but not to this extent.
Sent to be worn down, and instead achieving a perfect march for the empire's military history.
He quietly downed his wine.
'I doubt he'll truly show a saint's miracle, but for now, we observe.'
The five-day march south from Kandoria, led by House Valerius's banners, was a spectacle that shattered the imperial noble alliance's common sense.
Their first trap to push me into doom: the jungle heat and endemic diseases.
The sweltering swamp heat would sap the soldiers' stamina, and the foul water would inevitably breed plague.
They were certain Valerius's army would collapse before reaching Raktali's walls.
But their expectations went awry from day one.
"All troops, 30-minute rest!"
At my command, the soldiers rushed not to the swamp's foul water, but to their supply wagons.
"Gah! Ice water's the best!"
"Hoo! Feels like my insides are freezing!"
My invention, planned from the start for a cold chain system. KuX Fresh... no, the fresh wagon system.
Soldiers drank clean water with floating ice chunks from the wagons' cold reservoirs.
This expedition's core was supply, not combat, and I'd poured every technique into it.
Codenamed: Operation Normalize South with Supply Cheats.
Powered by frost crystals from the north to maintain troop conditions.
Bonus: last rites priests and military chaplains handling any endemic diseases or insect swarms.
"Whoa, the water's super cold! Lord Jonathan!"
"Ahaha... still, drink slowly? Chugging it causes cramps."
"Yes! Hee-hee."
Even amid this, Saintess Lumiel beamed innocently, raising her steaming glass, sticking close by my side with an excited expression.
Truth be told, when I first saw Lumiel tagging along with the last rites priests, I'd been shocked.
- What?! Saintess Lumiel is coming along?! Even so, that's too much!!
- Th-the Saintess so strongly declared she'd follow the Saint on this holy expedition to save the imperial people...
The bishop from the Papal Court had paled, but the Pope's permission was already granted.
She'd tagged along with a bright smile, saying it was her duty as the Church's apostle and shield on the Saint's sacred campaign.
When asked if war scared her, she'd said, 'With Lord Jonathan, I'm not scared!'
In the end, I was stuck responsible for the Saintess marching in her pure white priestess robes under the blazing sun.
Fortunately—
"The magic stone capacity has plenty of leeway."
The wagons, perfectly insulated with northern yeti fur hides, had efficiency beyond expectations.
Inside, they kept a cool chill despite the jungle heat, letting soldiers march the humid jungle at full condition, like a cool autumn picnic.
And the third trap: lack of supplies and starvation.
"All troops, evening rations!"
As evening fell, soldiers cheered without a hint of fatigue.
The fresh wagon doors opened, billowing not hot steam, but cold air.
Inside: ingredients loaded fresh in Kandoria five days ago, preserved perfectly as if just harvested.
"Pork belly! Grab some aioli sauce with it!"
"Long live the Saint!"
Soldiers ate their fill of cool, fresh food that cooled the jungle heat, no heatstroke worries.
At this rate, we'd reach Raktali without issue.
The cold wagons would also rotate with imperial southern cities, swapping magic stones via the well-established supply network for cheat-level logistics.
And so, the fifth day's march along the paved road concluded.
"Raktali's banners ahead!!"
Finally, the jungle canopy parted, revealing a massive fortress of wooden palisades mixed with empire-hewn stone.
Raktali's walls. Not fully stone yet, but the empire's tech fused with troll strength made it sturdier than any jungle fort.
Riding Silvermane to the gates, they swung open. Amid lined-up troll soldiers, two massive trolls greeted us.
"Saint! And empire's aid! In Raktali's name, welcome!"
The broad-shouldered welcomer was an aged but seasoned, wise giant troll.
"To make the Saint come himself to this perilous place for our sake... words fail my gratitude."
Behind him, a troll with obsidian axe at his waist saluted warrior-style, arm to chest over heart.
These must be Raktali's lord and chieftain, Bak Makre, and his son Rak Jin.
I dismounted Silvermane and returned their salute.
"Thanks for the warm welcome. I am Jonathan Valerius, proxy lord of Kandoria and lord of Scarlet Pasture."
Bak Makre extended his callused hand, expressing regret.
"Saint, you've saved this old one's life, yet now lead an army through this deadly jungle for us. We've caused you and the empire such hardship—truly ashamed."
"Not at all. We're here to do what's right. I'm on imperial orders to protect the empire's official trade partner and its subjects."
"Grateful for those words. Come inside."
Soon, the expedition followed them into the fortress.
My gaze trailed to the fortress behind them.
Per scouts, walls weren't fully stone, but empire-enhanced stone bases topped with massive palisades formed a solid defense line.
Not as impregnable as full stone, but enough to repel ordinary foes.
I ordered the following supply train.
"All troops! Begin establishing camp!"
At my command, Valerius and Argentis soldiers moved like a well-oiled machine.
Magic Tower engineers hooked cooling magic stones to temporary power for the camp. Fresh wagons became massive mobile refrigerators at the center.
Argentis techs set up purification devices, pumping swamp water into clean drinking supply.
Lumiel led her last rites priests: "We'll set up a field hospital here!" bustling about.
Camp setup finished in under half a day. I'd just climbed the walls with Rak Jin to check his jungle terrain briefing.
"Enemy approaches from that swamp path..."
Rak Jin's explanation hadn't ended.
—Woooooooong—!
A massive horn blast shaking the earth echoed from the distant jungle.
"This sound...!"
Rak Jin stared into the forest.
Soon, the canopy parted, and thousands of huge shadows poured into the clearing before the walls.
Banners of the Raalak Tribe's red and Abarut Tribe's swamp motifs mixed—a belligerent troll horde.
At their fore: a troll with massive bone club, and one draped in swamp beast hide.
Enemies halted just outside wall range, forming ranks in the clearing.
The club-wielding troll slammed his weapon into the ground, roaring at the walls.
"Bak Makre!! Betrayer of the jungle!! Show yourself!!"
His fury-shaken shout reverberated across the walls.