Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 027
Chapter Title: Remember
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Nil Carpenter finally reacted.
"You must have had quite a few talks with the captain."
"He said using Hal Frederick as adjutant was because of his recklessness. If he were made vice commander, he'd always charge ahead and die. The reason for appointing Nil Carpenter as cavalry captain is that he's smart and..."
Seeing Nil's expression sour, Arun smirked.
"Let me correct myself. Nil is cunning and cold. He's a commander capable of leading a thousand men."
It was clearly something he'd heard from Brad, but it felt subtly different.
"He said the first part was spoken directly in front of you, and the latter was praise he kept to himself."
"Sigh, even if you say that..."
The moment of sorrow and surprise passed, leaving silence in its wake. A languid melancholy followed soon after.
"...Did you properly recover the remains of the fallen?"
"It's a bit late to worry about that now."
"Tch, where did that cool-headedness of yours go?"
Arun van Brennenton scolded him as if he'd forgotten his own precarious position.
"Recovering soldiers who fulfilled their duties is a natural obligation for the house's successor. Just as you must care for the families of comrades who went before you. So shake off your delusion."
"Aren't you embarrassed to say such things?"
"..."
The moment Nil inwardly cringed, Arun plopped down beside him.
"Honestly, it's embarrassing. As embarrassing as your rudeness is negligible."
"I'm sorry."
"I accept your apology. But I won't apologize myself."
Despite his sullen expression, Nil's ears perked up.
"A few words won't erase my faults, so I'll bear the blame as an object of hatred. Wouldn't that be closer to true repentance?"
"That's hard to understand."
"Sincere words are always hard to convey."
The familiar nagging finally disarmed someone.
"The captain used to say the same."
"I often regret it. Could I have chosen differently back then? If I'd been just a bit wiser, would the outcome have been entirely different?"
"But people can't do that."
"Did Sir Brad say that?"
"Yes."
"People find it hard. It feels like an excuse made just for me."
"He said to regret it—that prolonged pain becomes a lesson."
His voice choked at the end, and it wasn't just imagination. Nil added something he hadn't even asked.
"We interred our comrades in stone cairns. We didn't make a separate graveyard for the knights; we laid them to rest together."
"Well done."
Sometimes, a short conversation can share so much. The awkwardness lingered, but the initial sharp tension had vanished.
"To look after your comrades' families, you'd better rise to a higher position."
"Sure, more pay would be nice."
Nil smirked after saying that.
"Are you going to give me a fortress commander's seat or something?"
"With Sir Brad fallen, we need a successor."
"Why tell me this? Don't tell me..."
"How long have we been talking, and you're already so comfortable? Utterly bold. Is that the right word? Sir Brad even called you clever on top of that."
"Hmm, I don't follow."
Arun continued without seeking his understanding.
"With cleverness, boldness, and rich experience, that's more than enough for a knight's qualities. The lack of loyalty is a minor regret, but generous pay and time should resolve it."
"Why me? There are plenty better out there."
"There's that cool-headedness again. Good."
Arun stood up. Just then, sunlight streamed through a crack in the window, making him look like a bard on stage.
"Royal Guard Knights? I could recruit them with pay alone. But Westguard needs knights hardened in the north."
"Like Captain Brad?"
Arun nodded.
"Unfortunately, there's only one Brad Cahill, so we need someone to follow in his footsteps. Someone who crawled up from the bottom like him, yet can bear the trust of those left behind—a new knight."
"You mean me?"
"If not you, then who? No one in all of Westguard is more suited."
Nil averted his gaze, as if unable to bear it.
"No thanks. There's Ray for infantry."
"Of course I'll offer it to him too. What I want is for you to step up of your own accord."
Nil shook his head.
"Don't hold out vain hopes. I'm just a weary soldier who survived and is now considering discharge."
"Do you think you can retire?"
Gulp.
The realization that there were no options left brought despair anew.
With the Wave now reality, there was nowhere to flee in the north. To avoid being devoured, they had to hold the line—and that meant even women and children hauling stones.
"I see. It was just foolish rambling from a commoner."
"My ancestors were commoners too."
"Pardon? What do you mean..."
"Fancy words aside, it's the clichéd tale of a hired hand pushed to the north who became a soldier in crisis, rallied the survivors, and so on."
"You want me to chase that myth?"
"What's wrong with that? Royals don't all get rosy futures—you can see that in me. Conversely, it means those who forge their own fate get opportunities."
"Does it work by will alone?"
"You plan to give up because it doesn't? What would Sir Brad think seeing you now? He..."
"The captain is dead."
The one carrying Brad's soul couldn't bring himself to retort.
The conversation circled back, but unexpectedly, Arun remained calm. That composure confused Nil.
'His vibe's changed.'
He had to admit he was being persuaded.
"I'm currently arranging support for the bereaved families and the wounded."
"Thank you on behalf of our comrades."
"I won't drag this out. To secure funds, I'm liquidating my assets."
Nil, who had been responding half-heartedly, widened his eyes.
"Tomorrow, I'll announce it to everyone. The rest is up to you."
With that, Arun rose.
The one turning away showed no hesitation, and the one left behind seemed indifferent to the outcome. Yet a spark had already kindled in Nil's previously hazy eyes.
The next day, Arun declared before the residents.
"The two defeats have left us with great pain. The fallen were someone's sons, fathers, brothers here. I bow my head in solace to their families."
"Hm? Did the noble just apologize?"
"Is that an apology?"
"He's bowing to commoners. Not literally, but still."
"That's a bow for them. They value words highly."
The unprecedented scene stirred murmurs around them.
"I, Arun van Brennenton, as supreme commander, cannot contain my grief over my responsibility, so I shall compensate as follows."
"Compensation? So he's giving money?"
"Shh, listen quietly."
Gulp.
In the heavy silence, Arun stated his intent clearly.
"Ten gold coins to each family of the fallen, plus ten years tax-exempt. The wounded will receive gold and tax benefits according to severity."
"Ten gold coins? And ten years tax-free?!"
"Whoa, that solves their livelihoods, right?"
"Ooh."
The reactions to the unprecedented compensation exploded.
"Hooray! Long live Brennenton! Long live the young master!"
"Sniff, Amy's saved. No more starving ahead."
"Mommy, don't cry."
The bereaved embraced each other, eyes welling up. The crowd cheered too, mingled with bandaged wounded leaning on crutches.
"The promise will be fulfilled once my Brennenton assets are sold. Now penniless, Westguard is all I have. Thus, I'll share glory and end with you all."
"Westguard forever! Blessings upon the young lord!"
"Long live the lord!"
"Hooray!"
Perhaps humans are simple creatures. The eyes of those plunged into abyss now sparkled with hope.
"Thank you for caring for our families."
"Once my bones heal, I'll take up the sword again."
"I'll kill one more orc before I die."
"My utmost loyalty!"
One by one, they pledged loyalty until chants of Arun's name filled the air.
"Arun! Arun! Arun!"
The despair that had pervaded the fortress was gone. A few slogans and cheers spoke for their morale and resolve. Arun, raising his hands in response, was the perfect focal point.
Nil Carpenter, listening from the side, quietly slipped away. Afterward, he sought out recovered wounded and retired comrades.
Arun's next move was with the so-called "Brad's advisors."
These worldly veterans grasped the situation quickly. The disgraced noble prisoners, who had kept low amid the grim mood, gathered together for the first time in ages.
"Hello, everyone."
Arun, knighted by the emperor, held the rank of lesser baron. The prisoners, stripped of titles and confined in this fortress-prison, were clearly at a disadvantage.
Arun observed courtesies impeccably, and the prisoners bowed accordingly.
"Greetings. We see the young master."
"We are in your debt."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Baron Morton Mayer."
"First time meeting. You served at court, I hear."
Baron Morton blinked as if struck unexpectedly.
"Baron Serjo Creem served at city hall, I believe. Creep... Yansel Baron, right? You led a knight order in the capital guard."
"Led? Hardly. Just senior in 1st Company."
"1st Company—among the elite knights."
Arun gave no time for full responses.
"Baron Salleo Ain, you're late to greet. You ran a merchant company, yes?"
"Baron for a prisoner? Inappropriate."
Baron Salleo yielded a step, but Arun's handling was flawless.
"You'll return someday, titles restored. That's the royal fate, isn't it?"
"Truly resonant words."
"Not what we expected... ahem. As expected of a famed house's heir."
"Just a fresh academy grad."
"Gasp."
Someone who hit a nerve gasped for air.
In this official first meeting, the youth recited their careers flawlessly, piercing their hearts. They could only follow until they comprehended the situation.
"To be brief: the north faces annihilation. I plan to share Westguard's fate. What of you?"
"We heard your morning speech. Quite moving."
"Agreed. We're simply grateful."
The fortress chief risking life to protect them was worthy of thanks. But not an answer to the question.
'They're probably lobbying everywhere for a way out.'
From his side, publicizing the Wave's reality wasn't bad. Investigators from the capital would give them leverage.
"No coercion. No time for that. So, here's a proposal."
"A proposal?"
"The Wave will reshape the north. Many pioneer fortresses have fallen—you know that. If we survive, we'll support your domain-building in the vacancies."
"...!"
Obvious, but titled nobles dream of domains. Without one, even hard-earned wealth and power are hard to pass on.
"A book line comes to mind: living isn't dreaming, but shattering dreams. Won't you dream again with me?"
Thirty years ago, the Wave was crisis and opportunity. Brennenton Earl house exemplified it—driving out orcs to build mighty Westguard.
"Heh, pioneer domains."
"Joint investment—less burden for sure."
With the fortress doomed anyway, it was an offer impossible to refuse.
"Plus, more refugees pour in than soldiers lost."
"Absorbing survivors and natives alone..."
"Can't just die like this."
The noble prisoners voiced agreement one by one.
"I, Creep Yansel, pledge cooperation to the young master—no, the lord. I'll summon my five squires and arm 100 soldiers."
"Ain Company invests 5,000 gold and handles logistics."
"As Mayer house head, I'll invest available assets—around 3,000 gold."
"Creem house will prepare 3,000 gold."
"What about slave soldiers? I can..."
Arun wore an "I knew it" expression as he spread his arms in acceptance.
"Take a few days to organize your commitments."
"We'll submit final proposals ASAP."
"Master."
A servant entered and whispered. The shrewd ones didn't miss Arun's changing expression.
"Then I'll excuse myself for the next matter."
"Take care."
"Us too, busy now."
Humans wander between good and evil; only the powerful are free. Those ignited by ambition scattered to their back channels.
That night, lights burned without cease in the noble quarters.