Chapter 38
Chapter 38
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 038
Chapter Title: Briefing
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Arun stood by the window, gazing down at the city bathed in sunset.
"I like this spot."
"A lord should naturally look down from on high."
Arun shook his head at Benjamin's words.
"That's going too far. Let me correct myself—just enjoying the sight of people living in peace."
Benjamin bit back the words 'That's what a true lord is.'
Every knight dreamed of becoming a lord, and every lord dreamed of becoming a king. But that could be seen as seditious, so it wasn't something to say outright.
'He's definitely grown.'
Benjamin pictured a future alongside such a lord.
The sunset filling the window added vivid hues to Arun's silhouette. While the rest of the group was exhausted, Arun looked fresh as ever. Benjamin found it odd inwardly, but Pendersen, who had witnessed his lord's awakening, took it in stride.
"How was the meal? The cook was worried."
"It was fine. Settled my stomach a bit."
"Vegetable soup alone enough for you? Shall I prepare a nightcap?"
Pendersen checked the teapot's temperature before tilting it slowly.
"Warm milk and cookies sound good."
"I'll see to it right away."
Pour...
As Pendersen served the tea and left, the faint scent of jasmine soon filled the air.
Benjamin picked up Arun's cup and stood.
"I declared it plainly before the count and the family elders. All signs point to a wave—if you don't want to die, lend your strength."
"Good work. What was my brother's reaction?"
Arun took the teacup and savored its aroma.
"He still looks suspicious, but he seems to grasp your intent: 'Give us a chance at mutual destruction at least.'"
"Idiot."
Arun let slip his raw feelings and gave a wry smile. Whenever the body's original owner's emotions bubbled up unbidden, asserting their claim, it was nothing short of troublesome.
'But maybe this is the most Arun-like response.'
He smiled bitterly to himself and glanced at Benjamin.
"Pretend you didn't hear that. The rough journey's got me off-kilter."
"Hear what? My ears have been failing me lately."
Arun's shoulders shook at his adjutant's uncharacteristic cheekiness.
"We sold the farms and ranches at the price we wanted. We're handing over the stallions but taking about a hundred others, and they promised cash before spring."
"Even for my brother, 8,000 gold is a stretch."
"I used the delay as leverage to get 200 bushels of grain and ten serf families—sixty-four souls."
"Well done."
"Oh, and I brought eighty convict soldiers from Rocksen Prison. Mostly runaway serfs, debtors, and violent offenders."
"Average fare. They'll make fine citizens."
Westguard was full of reformed thugs anyway, and with Rocksen Prison a three-day march from the fortress, there was no escaping north.
"I'll reorganize the convicts into a penal company for now."
Benjamin wasn't just passively awaiting orders, which was exactly what Arun wanted.
'No second-guessing for proactive best efforts.'
It was a mantra he'd adopted since possessing this body. Those who'd served under Brad took it as gospel, and it seemed to work well on ambitious types like Landiv and Benjamin too.
"The southern alliance showed interest in breaking the horses. Six months, one bushel of grain per horse."
"Fine. Make it happen."
Arun nodded, looking pleased.
He wasn't the only one growing. Even without awakening, those who endured hardship found ways to improve. Seeing his comrades advance was truly reassuring.
"How's your personal training these days?"
"Normally an hour morning and evening with the sword, but I've been skipping lately—embarrassing."
Benjamin looked genuinely ashamed.
The capital's social circles might be full of potbellied knights, but this was the front line, where survival was a daily gratitude. No one could afford to slack on conditioning.
"You've heard the rumors about me? Join Landiv for morning sessions."
"Ah, thank you."
He hadn't been at Arun's side for nearly half a year, shuttling between Brennenton and the capital Aslama, but as a swordsman himself, he'd been curious about the heavily rumored skills.
Benjamin steeled his resolve inwardly.
'Helping my lord grow is a knight's dream too.'
His pure anticipation wouldn't last long.
"Huff, huff. What the hell is this."
"Tired after ten minutes of wooden sword swings? Well, that's the normal limit."
Steam rose from Benjamin, panting in the dawn chill. Landiv ran laps around the garden, fatigue still etched on his face.
"Huff, huff. Embarrassing. And astonishing."
The rumors were true. Arun focused purely on defense, no attacks, yet blocked every blow. His gaze had flicked to Benjamin's openings several times.
'He moved faster than me, yet I'm the exhausted one.'
Shame and joy crossed Benjamin's face.
"Not despairing like some—looks good on you."
"Ahem."
Landiv, jogging by, coughed awkwardly.
"Take a break? Stop running and catch your breath."
"Yes, my lord. Huff, huff."
"Must be boring for Landiv—I've pointed it out to him plenty."
"Repetition is the fastest way to learn. I live by that."
The man who'd seen Arun's prowess during the siege was dead serious.
"I like fast too, so watch."
Arun raised his wooden sword in demonstration. They soon realized it perfectly recreated Benjamin's attacks.
"Different. Subtly, ah!"
Observing his own moves from a third-person view, he let out an exclamation.
Arun sheathed his sword after a quick glance.
"Figured it out? Seeing it yourself speeds things up."
"Yes. So..."
Benjamin gripped his wooden sword in a thrusting pose, then rotated his shoulder and elbow to recover.
"Right. Angle the plate won't allow."
"Yes. But..."
Plate was the pinnacle of this era's metallurgy. Near-invincible protection, and some pieces elevated metal's beauty to art, treasured as national heirlooms.
That's why knights evoked images of plate armor.
Yet even the finest plate couldn't accommodate every human motion. Specialized mobility versions sacrificed defense for half-measures that often flopped.
Knights adapted by moving within plate's constraints. It wasn't bad—sloped defenses evolved from it.
But in a climate allowing wear only four months a year due to cold, it fell short.
And against monster hordes by the numbers, it didn't fit.
Northern veterans like Nil or Ray favored brigandines—leather with iron plates—but you couldn't force it.
Arun drew the line.
"Not ditching plate. Just don't be trapped by it. Nothing's absolute in this world."
No absolute invincibility existed. Heavy cavalry fell to half-maul squads; knights, the apex of human might, to nets and warhammers.
Plate was a double-edged sword proportional to its strength.
"Directions plate forbids... freely..."
Benjamin trailed off, eyes glazing over.
"Gasp!"
"Shh."
As Landiv gasped, Arun held a finger to his lips.
Moments later, Benjamin's focus returned.
"Whew, all that pent-up frustration's gone. Thank you."
"A mindset shift boosts skill too. But don't forget stamina backs it up."
"I'll remember the lesson."
Benjamin grew even more earnest. Landiv just looked envious.
"Congratulations."
"Spar once you're recovered."
Benjamin gazed warmly at his old comrade.
"Ah, you'll do that?"
"Don't worry. I'll go easy."
"Urgh."
"Heh heh heh."
Arun chuckled. The weight from back-to-back crises lightened.
After chatting and toweling off sweat, they entered the keep.
The central hall was set for breakfast. Arun took the head of the long table; Benjamin and Landiv flanked him. Soon, others trickled in.
The first was former Northguard commander Yains Main Caminiti.
"Yawn, breakfast not yet?"
"Tch, sit already."
Benjamin frowned at the undignified display, but Landiv didn't mind.
"Did you wash your face at least?"
"Yeah, my squire did it."
Arun glared at his friend with eyes full of disgust.
"I, Baron Creep Yansel, pay respects to Westguard's lord."
Next came the so-called "Brad's advisor," choosing cooperation—and snapping to etiquette ever since. Fitting for a power-hungry knight.
Major figures followed.
"Vendel Mirramount thanks the lord's invitation."
"Donern Hamel answers the summons."
"Abel of Bear Village greets the lord."
As the twelve-seater filled, oil salad appetizers arrived.
Nil and Ray were latest.
"Morning roll call for the lads—sorry for the delay."
"Not late; mains haven't come yet."
After nods to familiar faces, they sat. Soon the head chef wheeled in a cart.
"Today's main: salmon. Harvested last fall, smoked, then brined in honey and salt. Paired specially with white wine—enjoy."
"Salmon? Usually just a taste in appetizers."
The chef poured wine for all.
"Hm, Dalmatian vintage."
Noble tables were lavish generally. Unlike commoners' grains and veggies, they always had white bread and meat, even in hardship.
But preservation ruled: bacon, sausages—salted, smoked. Salmon was a seasonal treat here too.
Arun gestured to the attendees.
"Breakfast is usually light, right? No complaints about portions."
"Hahaha, never."
"Dig in."
Laughter rippled as the meal began.
Clink.
Quiet affair, save occasional food talk. Ex-nobles and yeoman headmen alike cut, chewed, swallowed.
Finishers rinsed with wine.
Most looked satisfied, bar a few fullness-focused.
Maids refilled teacups to end breakfast. The formality—capital-worthy—showed Arun's touch.
"A proper formal meal after so long."
"You opened a path to life for the homeless, then host us thus—grateful."
"Just keeping us alive. No need to feel burdened."
"Heh heh heh."
Casual banter warmed the mood. Hospitality ended there.
Arun nodded; Yains rose.
"Yains Main Caminiti of Northguard. Pleased to join you as alliance member. First, I affirm I'm the lawful heir of House Caminiti."
"Tch."
Arun clicked his tongue, but Yains ignored it.
'Bear with it. Northern lords' gatherings are rare.'
Proclaiming name and status took time and effort.
Declaring before influencers solidified his position. Maybe that's why he'd accepted Arun's offer.
Roll...
A northern map unrolled on the table.
"Recent reports of orcs running outposts. On this occasion, respect to the scouts' efforts."
Following Yains's gaze, eyes fixed on Nil.
"We dispatched cavalry, captured elite orcs and others, interrogated on-site."
"Ah, that sortie was..."
"Wondered what; always tireless."
Pieces clicked; nods rippled.
"Interrogation boils down to two points."
Yains extended a hand sideways without looking; Nil passed a wood tablet seamlessly at the cue.
"One: Orcs form two hordes, each over 1,000 strong minimum—and growing."
"Mm."
Expected from skirmishes, but confirmation hit different.
Equal combatants, double numbers? No contest. Orcs multiplied; humans, once lost, didn't rebound easily.
Mood sobered, but Yains pressed on.
"Two: Each horde led by an Orc Lord."
"Gasp."
"What?"
Faces paled.