Chapter 89
Chapter 89
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: War Against Crime (3)
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With the full deployment of the garrison's forces and the Blueport defense troops, I was able to gather rough information on them about a day after starting the investigation.
First off, their organization's name was Blue Mold, and the boss and executives were from the County of Peterburg in the southern part of the Northern Alliance.
The lower-level members were Blueport refugees and thugs, and they were occasionally supplied with food, alcohol, and prostitutes through Sector 5.
Given that the supplies were being provided steadily and discreetly, it seemed likely that mid-level managers or higher in Sector 5 were involved.
Thank goodness I'd started moving now, before any massive damage could occur...
If I'd been even a little late to act, something horrific beyond imagination would have happened.
As I was compiling and analyzing the information I'd been given, the door opened and a soldier entered.
"Reporting to Count von Kroitel, sir! Corporal Sands from Ensign Mark's platoon captured a low-level enemy executive and tortured him. The organization's leader is a knight under Count Peterburg named Augustus Nikolai."
Count Peterburg... A few months ago, when I met the Northern Alliance's king, he mentioned that guy was a count under the Duke of Kiev, who opposed him, right?
Even so, threatening me of all people with something this petty didn't add up financially...
"Continue."
"Count Peterburg ordered Augustus Nikolai to create a sales channel for vodka and various illicit liquors while maximally disrupting Blueport's trade. A few days later, they planned to douse Warehouse 2 with vodka and set it ablaze."
Using booze with 70% alcohol content that—exaggerating a bit—bursts into flames at the slightest spark for arson...
What happened next was obvious without being spelled out.
If Warehouse 2, the closest to the docks, went up in flames, plenty of sailors and dockworkers living nearby would die naturally.
Then they'd slip in their lackeys amid the chaos to seize control of the port and screw me over.
I might not fully grasp their plan to screw me over due to my limited imagination, but there was a method: sell cheap-to-produce, high-proof vodka that's as addictive as drugs to the sailors.
At first, sell the vodka dirt cheap to build a customer base, then jack up the prices once secured for massive profits.
Later, lure the sailors in with vodka and rope them into crime.
Good thing I'd uncovered this nefarious plot early.
"Corporal Sands has earned a great merit. I'll reward him later myself, so head back out. We still need more intel."
But the soldier before me didn't withdraw, as if he had more to report.
"Is there more to report?"
"Yes, sir. This is a letter Major Valentine insisted I deliver to you personally, though it's beyond my clearance to read."
"Understood. Set the report down and go."
With that, the soldier saluted me and withdrew.
The letter contained densely packed details on the locations of branches in nearly every district and their estimated sizes.
As expected from intel specialists—their work was top-notch.
And under special notes: they brought in a Northern Alliance language interpreter, and the accent mixed in Romanian tones...?
With that, I slammed my desk and stood, addressing the men inside.
"Everyone, don your armor and prepare to march out. The enemy is roughly 500 elites—treat even their weakest grunts as infantry trained in our territory. Go to your battalion commanders, relay orders, and act under Colonel Bierman's command."
"And what will you do, sir?"
I looked at the fresh-faced young lieutenant who asked and smiled.
"I am your lord and ruler, the shield protecting this city—no, the entire County of Kroitel. Isn't that right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then to earn their loyalty, I must fulfill my duty. Even if it means risking death. That's what sets me apart from Count Schwein."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Next, I set out with Lieutenant Short and Major Frost.
"Frost, what's the soldiers' armament like?"
"The front-liners are in full plate, and the rest have at least half-plate. Since we'll likely fight indoors and in alleys, we've equipped them with swords, maces, and crossbows instead of pikes."
"Good. Their condition?"
"Some grumbling about the night op, but everyone's fit."
"I see."
We entered the narrowing dockside streets, splitting our 300 troops into platoons and advancing.
And the platoon leader with me happened to be...
"Ensign Mark, first time since Sternheim, eh?"
Remembering his name moved Mark; he suppressed his excitement and replied.
"Yes, sir."
"I was glad to hear you'd made ensign."
"An honor, sir."
I clapped once to draw attention, then spoke.
"Per the plan, my detail and your platoon take the front—most dangerous spot. Confident you can protect me?"
"Leave it to us. Since Sternheim, I've drilled my men hard. Even raw knights dismounted, we'd win against greenhorns under you if they're just privates. And Major Frost assigned me 50 men, saying this could be my shot at lieutenant."
Our HQ was the largest, but Frost's battalion—my de facto guard—meant...
Even if full of veterans, we'd crush them easily.
And only about 50 of them...
Odds of me getting hurt were practically zero.
"Then I'm at ease. By the way, Lieutenant Short not with us?"
"He went with Major Frost to the rear of HQ. He'll flank us while we hit the front for total suppression."
We advanced quietly, discussing op details.
Near the enemy HQ, Mark signaled the sergeant beside him.
The sergeant waved over about 10 men and took point, smashing the door with his two-handed maul.
Bang, bang, bang—the thick wooden door splintered, soon splitting in half.
Inside: slum chairs of rotting oak barrels, pickled herring of poor quality, beer, half-rotten meat.
About 20 thugs stared in shock.
To show minimal mercy and ease questioning, I shouted.
"In the name of Siel von Kroitel, I swear: surrender, and your lives are spared. Resist, and enjoy torture followed by a fun end."
They bellowed back.
"Save that hero crap for when you were kids clinging to your mommy!!"
"Why's our lord even here, you shit-for-brains bastard?!"
"Blind to merit, selling out the lord—you're dumber than us, you moron fuck!"
They grabbed crude weapons from the floor and charged.
Our soldiers advanced with shields out, chuckling as they took one or two each.
"This is Count von Kroitel himself! And you're dying here today!!"
"What bullshit you spouting?"
The thugs swung first.
Clang—weapons bounced off; some shattered.
Soldiers kicked or tripped the stunned thugs with greave-clad feet.
"Agh!!"
"M-mercy, sirs..."
"That's for the Count to decide. Spill everything if you want to live."
"We just came for food... Please, sirs..."
I replied coldly.
"Limbs intact, committing crimes in my domain, and your excuse is hunger? Beggars in our lands get two meals a day... What fresh nonsense is this?"
I feigned smashing his wrist with my mace.
He blubbered snot and tears.
"M-mercy, sir... I'll tell everything."
"Good. Where are the executives?"
"Further in, big room. Their quarters inside."
I lifted the mace and ordered.
"Leave 10 to bind these. Rest, with me to the execs."
"Yes, sir."
"Mark, you take point. Need it for that promotion, right?"
"Yes!"
Mark strode ahead, promotion dreams fueling his steps.
Soldiers bashed the next door open with mauls.
Inside: executives in a mad party.
Booze everywhere; some groped women, kneading breasts in ecstasy...
Movies have bosses caught in such spots, but real crime execs avoid boozing and whoring at HQ...
These women must be Blueport influencers they bribed.
"Damn, Frost must've nabbed the HQ execs. Arrest them all!!!"
Thus, we arrested everyone inside, prostitutes included.