Running Errands

Gulp, gulp!

I tipped back the bottle of hard liquor, taking several deep swallows before pressing my fingers hard against my throbbing temples.

"Ah… dammit. Thought my skull was gonna split open…"

The complaint slipped out before I could stop it, but having the luxury to sit and complain was only possible because I’d ordered most of the units to pull back. Until just moments ago, I’d been barking orders to one hundred and twenty separate squads without a second's rest.

…Though to be completely honest, it had been a hell of a lot of fun.

Not in some twisted, psychopathic way where I got drunk on the power of holding the knights' lives in my hands, but purely, genuinely fun.

It felt just like playing a game.

The layout and architecture of the ducal city had materialized in my mind like a vivid 3D map. Cross-referencing the undead's weaknesses and spawn points, the key locations where Cambello had hidden his altars and magic circles—along with his reasons for putting them there—and even the individual temperaments of each knight, I’d orchestrated the entire subjugation campaign in real time as if playing a mobile strategy game. It was vastly more thrilling than I’d expected.

For the first time since transmigrating into the body of Stanashila Aljen, I’d completely forgotten reality and lost myself in something.

Sure, not being able to see the battle with my own eyes, having to flap my gums non-stop, and dealing with the chaotic variables of urban warfare had given me a splitting headache, but it hadn't been a bad experience at all.

Besides, not a single person had died. That alone was plenty satisfying.

Gulp!

"Pheeew… House Stanasila really is something else."

Truth be told, this wasn't so much my achievement as it was a testament to the absurd caliber of the Stanasila Knights. Hand-picked prodigies, secret techniques that ordinary folks could never dream of seeing—even if they were degraded versions—elixirs shoveled down their throats day in and day out, and top-of-the-line equipment practically forged out of solid gold. I’d bet good money that House Stanasila was the only ducal house on the entire continent that poured this kind of fortune into its order.

"Heh, I knew I made the right call…"

If I kept this ducal family breathing, they’d serve as a rock-solid backer, letting me tap into a slice of their astronomical wealth and military might whenever I needed. Deciding to save the duchy hadn't been a mistake.

If I wanted to see the ending, House Stanasila had to survive.

"Aub-buh-buh, ah-ooh-ah…"

I shook my head and made bizarre noises, trying to loosen my stiff, aching jaw and numb tongue, but my facial muscles felt locked up with cramps.

"Y-You worked hard, Lord Stanashila Aljen!"

"Huh?"

Ternien stepped forward with crisp military precision, setting a red glass bottle and a plate of appetizing snacks onto the table.

"What's this? Did Mother tell you to bring it?"

"No, My Lord! I prepared it all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠myself!"

"Huh…?"

When I looked up through bleary eyes, Ternien’s gaze was sparkling so intensely it was almost suffocating. Her eyes overflowed with such reverence and awe that holding her stare was genuinely uncomfortable.

"It was magnificent, Lord Aljen! To command six hundred knights from your seat as if you possessed an omniscient view of the battlefield—you were like a god of war! And not a single casualty after you took command… it is an unimaginable feat!"

"…You’re getting pretty good at flattery, Ternien."

Gulp!

I snickered as I swallowed another mouthful of liquor, but Ternien shook her head with fierce conviction.

"It is absolutely not flattery, My Lord! I am merely speaking the unvarnished truth!"

"…Alright, lay off, lay off."

"Yes, sir! Please, rest comfortably!"

"By the way, what’s in this red bottle?"

"A potion! I thought your jaw and throat would be strained, so I prepared it for you!"

"Oh. You’re pretty sharp."

Pop!

I uncorked the potion bottle and chugged the contents without hesitation. Instantly, my stiff jaw and tongue eased up as if freshly oiled, and both my headache and lingering fatigue melted away.

"Phew. That stuff works wonders… Wait, what?"

There was one fatal flaw.

The pleasant buzz that had been weighing down my body completely vanished.

"Ah, come on, not that…"

Gulp, gulp!

When I immediately reached for the alcohol and began pouring it down my throat again, Ternien could only offer a wry smile.

"Now that your head is clear, you could at least try to show some restraint. To pour more liquor down your throat the second you sober up—honestly, Aljen…" Pitra sighed as if she’d been waiting for this exact moment, launching into a rapid-fire lecture.

"Mother, can’t you say something nice to your son who just worked himself half to death?"

"Fufu. I was just about to, actually. You’ve shown us nothing but wonders today, Aljen."

"Brother… you were so cool!"

Pitra smiled with an affectionate, enigmatic look, while Vivian beamed at me with sparkling eyes full of innocent adoration. Under the crushing weight of their combined stares, I couldn’t help turning my head away.

"Are you shy? You haven't changed a bit since you were little."

Pitra gazed at me as if I were the most precious thing in the world. I sighed and placed a cigarette between my lips.

"Fufu. In any case, things have settled down for the moment, so you should get some rest. You must be hungry, so let us have a meal together—"

"Ah, no can do. I need to stay right here, so you and Vivian go ahead and eat first."

"Hm…? But isn't this a lull in the fighting? You've recalled most of the knights who were waging guerilla skirmishes, and the attacks against the castle have dropped off drastically."

"That's just because they need time to prepare. The real battle starts now."

"…Prepare? What do you mean by 'the real battle'?"

"Did you forget? The High Demon Cambello is the mastermind behind this entire mess. Soon enough, he'll take personal command, turning this 'undead mob' into an 'undead army.' They'll mass together, form up ranks, take their assigned roles, and march on us following actual tactics and strategy."

"…!"

For a brief moment, her expression froze with grim ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠realization before shifting into confusion. "Aljen… how do you know such things?"

"……"

I didn't. Not really.

From this point onward, even scouring the game's lore bible wouldn't give me any answers. In the original timeline, House Stanasila had collapsed before Cambello ever needed to personally lead the undead. While there were several reasons for their swift downfall, the biggest factor was undeniably Stanasila Urtega's betrayal. The continent's strongest Sword Master was powerful enough to wipe out the ducal family's forces before they could mount any meaningful defense.

Yet right now, that very Sword Master was still on humanity's side.

Though I couldn't be completely certain, I’d merely deduced that without his puppet Sword Master to do the butchering, Cambello would revert to his original contingency: marching an army to the gates.

"Heh, who knows?"

"……"

Pitra stared at me intently, as if peering directly into my soul, before breaking into a soft smile and nodding. "Right. That isn't what matters right now."

"Ohh, see? Mother's on another level. Aigoo, meanwhile, like father, like son—Father and Brother never miss a chance to roast me over an open fire… You've gotta rein them in for me, Mother."

"You brought that upon yourself. If you had behaved decently all this time, they wouldn't treat you that way."

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's my fault. I know, I know."

Inhale… exhale~

Gulp, gulp!

Pitra shot me a sharp glare as I puffed a cloud of smoke and chased it with another swig of booze, but I breezily ignored her and tapped the communication artifact.

"Recon. Report."

"Good grief. We slaughtered that many and there’s still twenty thousand left? Haaah… Got it. You guys pull ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back too. Don’t get yourselves spotted and killed for nothing."

—Understood, sir.

Cutting the connection, I fell into thought.

Barring any unexpected variables, what followed would be a rather tedious, drawn-out siege. Granted, in a fantasy world, offensive spells and magical artifacts would be flying everywhere, but the overall rhythm wouldn’t differ much from a modern siege. I could take a few measures to tip the odds in our favor… but did I really have to be the one to do it?

It sounded like an enormous pain in the ass.

"Mother, any word from our glorious Duke?"

Right in the thick of things, Urtega had asked me how to ensure Cambello’s absolute death, vanished into thin air, and hadn't been heard from since. Why a man whose demonic body count rivaled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anyone on the continent was asking me such a question had felt strange, but I’d been so busy I just tossed him an answer. Looking back, there was definitely something off about his demeanor…

"Aljen, must you always speak like that?"

At the scolding tone, I turned to find Pitra glaring at me with narrowed eyes.

"Do you really have to drip with sarcasm every single time you open your mouth?"

"Whoops. My humblest apologies, Mother. I have committed a grave sin worthy of death. I’ll never do it again. Cross my heart."

When I offered a smirking, melodramatically subservient apology, a surge of irritation flickered across her face before she managed to swallow it down with a long, weary sigh.

"Haaah… Just a moment ago, he had a servant deliver a communication artifact."

She extended her hand to show me the object. It looked just like a modern Bluetooth earpiece, though it had a rough, angular metallic finish.

"Hmm. A direct line to Father?"

"Yes."

"Hrmmm…"

After a brief hesitation, I grinned and popped it into my ear.

"Aljen? Do you have something to say to him?"

"You could say that. Checking in on him… and handing off some chores."

"Pardon…?"

Ignoring her puzzled tilt of the head, I drew a breath and pressed down on the button.

"Your Grace. Can you hear me?"

—Aljen. What is your business?

"Where are you and what are you doing right now?"

—Surveying the castle’s perimeter.

"Is luring Cambello out going smoothly?"

—No reaction as of yet.

"Hmm… that makes no sense. Did you actually do anything? Don't tell me you’ve just been strolling around waiting for Cambello to strike up a conversation? Haha, that’d be quite the sight. Like a maid dressed in her finest waiting for suitors to flirt with her in the town square."

—……

"Anyway, if there’s no reaction, why don't you pay him a visit yourself, Your Grace?"

—Hm?

"I know where he hid his secret workshop to plan this entire operation, the armory meant to supply the undead, and the warlocks' base camp. Every single one of them."

—…Speak. Start with the location of his secret workshop.

"No, no. Can't do that. Do that, and he'll realize you’re in your right mind. Besides, the bastard won't even be in his workshop right now—not with the siege about to kick off."

—……

"So for starters… let’s see. Go smash his armory first. Try not to get caught, though—rein in that ridiculous strength of yours."

—Destroy it? That will only tip him off.

"That’s why I said try not to get caught. A man of your caliber can manage that much, right? And honestly, it doesn't even matter if he notices. It's true that the curse is still festering inside you, so if you just shut your mouth and put on an Oscar-worthy performance of someone wrestling with inner agony, he’ll come sprinting over to layer another curse on top of you."

—You bastard… you're just trying to make me run your errands, aren't you?

Damn, caught already. The old man was sharper than I gave him credit for.

"Hmm. I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

—…Haaah. Fine. Give me the location.

"Of course. I’ll give you the exact coordinates."

Grinning, I rattled off the location.

A short while later, crimson flames erupted from a far corner of Terabaon. A distant rumble and a wave of heat swept through the air, rattling the windowpanes.

The faint scent of gunpowder drifted past my nose, leaving me utterly speechless.

"That bastard Cambello… he really came prepared, didn't he?"

I let out an incredulous chuckle and tipped the bottle back once more.