Chapter 20
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: 5. Plateau (2)
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Allen woke to the biting cold. The sunless plateau was a freezer in its own right.
This worthless, goddamn wasteland... and they were willing to throw away lives and money over it just like that.
"Still a while before sunrise, sir."
Levo, the shaggy-haired night watchman, spotted Allen slipping out of his tent and called out to him. But even as he said it, his eyes lit up like he'd finally found someone to chat with.
Allen wrapped himself tight in his blanket and plopped down by the fire. The warmth seeped in, melting the chill from his bones.
The pitch-black sky began shifting to a deep blue as faint light mixed in.
"Never seen a noble as tough as our Captain. What kinda aristocrat drags himself to a hellhole like this when he doesn't have to?"
"Business is all about getting your boots dirty and learning from experience. Especially when you're handling people, like in the mercenary trade."
"Talk's cheap. Easier said than done."
"Then you fail... and die."
They shared a quiet chuckle.
"Gotta admit, there's something magnetic about our Captain. Some weird pull that draws you in."
"Good to hear. At least she's got that going for her."
"If I were her, I'd snag some noblewoman and live easy. Pretty face, big rack."
"Guys without skills don't get the good treatment, huh?"
"Heh, spot on. That's why my little bro gets reamed by his wife every damn day."
Mid-conversation, a tent flap rustled open in the distance. Out stepped Elena with the royal tits. ...Not that Allen could make out her face in the predawn gloom from this far; he knew it was her from those massive jugs. Who could miss 'em?
She strode out into the field and soon settled on the grass, starting her meditation. The two men watched her in silence for a good while.
"Praying for bigger tits or something...?"
"Nah. Gotta be training. Training."
Probably circulating mana with the pure dawn qi. Or at least, that's what Allen figured.
And before long, the sun rose.
Rays from the east swept down, painting the towering peaks like solemn tombstones from top to bottom in crimson. It was a sight beyond words, a grand spectacle from Mother Nature herself—one he'd never forget, even on his deathbed.
Even the chatty shaggy one fell silent before it. The two men gazed down at the plateau's landscape coming alive with color, lost in awe once more.
Rise-and-shine time. Shaggy grabbed the wake-up bell and charged into the tents, rattling it like mad.
"Up, you lazy fucks!"
"Ow, shit... "
The mercenaries twisted and groaned in their cramped sleeping spots like acrobats. Old hound Kallisman Rowner was up first, kicking at legs and asses still rubbing sleep from their eyes.
Soon they were all up, breaking down and packing tents in record time. While the mercs sorted their gear, the count's house workers whipped up breakfast.
Before eating, Allen swung by Elena. She was barking orders at her crew when she shot him a haughty glance.
"What is it...?"
"Just wanted a quick rundown on the plan going forward."
Plan?
The mage's eyebrow twitched asymmetrically.
"No real plan. We fight when we meet the enemy. ...That hard?"
...So, no tactics or strategy. Got it.
"Ah, I see. Understood."
He'd hoped a mage might think differently. His mistake for expecting more from these eastern brutes who only knew charging in.
Big-Tits Elena glared at him like she was casting a spell before spinning away. Allen nearly felt his face burn a hole through.
Back with his crew, Allen became prime ribbing material as they slurped down steaming soup bowls.
"What'd you say to her?"
"Confess your love?"
As the teasing flew, Allen told them to shut their traps and eat, stomping the ground for emphasis.
"Shot down. Heh heh."
"Girls with big tits are always a handful."
"I'd have gone for it if I were Captain."
Allen ignored the chatter and ate. Let 'em yap; it'd burn out like a fire without more wood.
After chow and cleanup, the group hit the trail again. The gentle slope had gullies carved like dirt slides from massive avalanches off those huge peaks.
"Whoa!"
One merc pointed. Eyes followed his finger.
There sat a stone pillar, purpose unknown.
Elena headed straight for it. Perfect spot to plant the house crest flag, visible for miles.
She climbed up, jammed the flag into a crevice, and let it snap in the Marlen Plateau's heart—familiar from Mahbana.
Big-Tits, flag planted like a conqueror, swept a faint smirk over the land below. ...Allen didn't love the vibe. Felt like he was the underling.
"Rest here."
The mage called a break. Mercs and porters dumped packs and flopped down. Sloped ground had them digging flat spots with hands or tools.
One porter dropped a round load; it tumbled downhill. He chased it, rolling alongside till he snagged it. Mercs snickered.
"Don't just sit there—polish your gear. It's damper here than you think; rust sets in fast without care."
"You heard him. Get to it."
Old hound Kallisman spoke up, and Allen backed him. Mercs only listened to the guy paying 'em.
Then Elena, like she was settling in for good, ordered the captains.
"We wait for the enemy here. Do what you want, but be ready to fight on sight."
So Allen had his crew dig wider, flatter spots for comfort. They hacked away with small shovels.
Spots ready, they sprawled out. Cool earth chilled spines in seconds.
"Fuck, we gotta camp here at least ten days?"
"Means shitter duty too, right?"
"Rice-boy can do it."
"Aw shit, I gotta go now."
"Gross, piss off."
Shaggy, desperate for the john, snatched a shovel and bolted.
Then the perv porter piped up with a sleazy grin.
"That chick takes shits too, right?"
"Everyone shits."
One merc turned solemn.
"But she's a mage. Bet she's got a way—like dissolving it inside."
"So mages shit liquid?"
"Fuckin' gross, you degenerates. Talk shit elsewhere."
Allen, overhearing, nearly questioned his life choices.
...Time flowed like the distant Romeln River, sun climbing east to peek west.
Everyone easing into another safe day—
Sudden clanging bells shattered the peace.
-clang clang clang clang clang clang clang clang
"Enemy!"
Mercs swapped jokes for gear and battle-ready stares in seconds.
Dots swarmed afar—Wirgang House forces, no doubt.
Quiet fell like a shroud. Cooks froze mid-prep.
"Captain."
"Form up. Hold till my signal."
Allen Mercenary Corps snapped into their small-unit formation—he'd hired and drilled for it.
Ready.
Two figures peeled from the enemy, approaching slow.
A big, burly guy halted at shouting distance.
"For Elena's pretty face, back off now and we won't chase!"
Run with tail tucked. Fat chance with Big-Tits.
"Shut it! This is where you die!"
But he sounded persuasive.
"Elena, just listen—"
"No negotiations!"
He glared daggers, then wheeled back to his lines.
Sun nearly down. Night fight sucked for both. Clash at dawn, probably.
Still, night raid risk lingered. Eastern nobles prided on honor, unlikely to cheap-shot first battle—but mutants popped up everywhere sometimes.
"Double watch tonight, rotations."
Allen ordered vigilant night guard. Tents hushed, eerie silence unlike before.
Battle imminent, mercs shed sloppiness. Murderous beasts, ready to snap necks anytime.
Captain lay down wordless.
No words needed.