Chapter 45: I’m Doing This Much for You (3)
Chapter 45: I’m Doing This Much for You (3)
Thirty minutes ago.
While the soldiers were pitching their tents and taking a break, workers from the County arrived at the Baron’s encampment carrying wine and meat.
“This is a reward from the Count to all of you. Please, eat and rest well.”
“Thank you. We’ll enjoy it.”
Sanson accepted the gift on behalf of the group and distributed the wine and meat to the soldiers.
Naturally, Patrick slipped right in and started helping himself to a drink.
As Patrick sat by the campfire, roasting meat and gulping down beer, the soldiers began to grumble.
“Young Master, aren’t you going to drink at the banquet later anyway?”
“That’s then, and this is now.”
“But this is our wine.”
“Your wine is my wine, and my wine is also my wine.”
“……”
“If you’ve got a problem, beat me. Soldier A.”
“My name is Oliver, sir.”
Regardless, things were going smoothly, aside from Patrick putting a significant dent in their alcohol supply.
But then…
“Hey. Do you smell something? Like a bunch of hicks?”
“I do. It’s that distinct country bumpkin stench—smells a bit like horse dung, doesn’t it?”
Someone with a thuggish voice was clearly looking for a fight.
In an instant, Patrick’s head whipped around.
“Wha? These assholes?”
Standing there were roughly three hundred soldiers in full armor, led by men who appeared to be knights.
A knight clad in polished plate mail spoke up.
“Who’s in charge here? Step forward.”
“These guys… munch, munch… want to die. Hey, you, come over—mhm! Mmm!”
“Now, now, Young Master. Let’s step over here for a moment.”
“Hahaha! Young Master, let’s go over there and have a nice, quiet drink by ourselves.”
As Patrick tried to step forward after swallowing his meat, soldiers swarmed him from all sides, covering his mouth and dragging him away.
“Mmmph! Mmm-mmm!”
With Patrick hauled off, Sanson naturally stepped up.
“We are the soldiers of the Schneider Baronial House. State your affiliation and name.”
The opponent replied, “I am Gavin Frikada of the Landes Viscountcy. Are you the representative of this rabble?”
“……”
He couldn’t exactly say, “The guy being dragged away with his mouth covered is the one in charge.”
Sanson let out a sigh and answered, “Something like that.”
“Something like that?”
“I am the Guard Captain leading these soldiers.”
“Guard Captain? Are there no knights?”
“Our territory does not have any knights yet.”
A blatant sneer curled the man’s lips.
“So you’ve just gathered a bunch of random riffraff.”
“……”
Look at this piece of work.
For a moment, Sanson felt a surge of anger. But…
‘Endure it. I have to endure. I can’t cause trouble here. Respond rationally. Rationally…’
“Your words are quite harsh. We also gathered here under the Count’s summons. Why such rudeness?”
“An ignorant soldier sure knows how to wag his tongue.”
“If you continue to be disrespectful, I will report this matter to the Count.”
The opponent flinched slightly.
Even he didn’t seem keen on having negative rumors reach the Count’s ears.
He scratched his head as if annoyed and muttered, “A lowly peasant who wouldn’t even dare look at me in our own territory is being a nuisance.”
“You…”
“Enough. Move your camp over there.”
The knight named Gavin suddenly made an absurd demand.
They had already set up their camp and were resting comfortably with a drink. Why should they move? Why should they go through such a tedious task?
“May I ask the reason?”
Sanson asked, thinking there might be a legitimate cause. The answer he received was appalling.
“A lowly thing has too many questions. Just obey a knight’s command.”
“I am not your subordinate. Why are you giving me orders?”
“Unbelievable. Do commoners in the Schneider territory talk back to knights like this?”
“Status is irrelevant. Why should I follow the orders of someone who isn’t my direct superior in the military? This isn’t right.”
He was right.
Everything he said was correct.
And the thing people acting unreasonably hate most is hearing the truth.
Running out of excuses, the knight moved his hand to the sword at his waist.
“I see. You need a lesson to learn your place.”
“…With those skills of yours?”
“Ha, what did you say?”
Sanson immediately realized his slip-up.
Feeling the clumsy aura emanating from the man as he gripped his sword, Sanson had let his true thoughts leak out with a smirk.
Even if the opponent was rude, tactless, and seemingly incompetent, hadn’t he resolved to respond rationally?
This was a clear mistake.
“Ahem, my apologies. I was out of line…”
“Enough. Draw your sword.”
“My sword?”
“Don’t think about running. You’re the one who insulted a knight’s honor first.”
“……”
What should I do? Should I crush him?
He really wanted to.
[Most problems are solved by crushing the opponent.]
Sanson finally understood why the Young Master treated violence as a universal solution.
He also realized how much he had been influenced by Patrick.
But still, he wasn't a complete hooligan like Patrick. Could he really act on it?
“Are you scared now? You’re all size and no substance.”
“……”
“Seeing the kind of trash he keeps as subordinates, that idiot Baron Schneider must be quite the moron—”
CRACK!
It happened in an instant.
Sanson’s right fist connected squarely with the face of the knight named Gavin.
“Huh?”
“What’s wrong with that man?”
The other soldiers were horrified.
They had been doing their absolute best to suppress the calamity known as Patrick to avoid an accident, only for Sanson to be the one to cause the disaster.
Then Sanson roared.
“How dare these bastards insult our Lord!”
The moment they heard those words, the expressions of the other soldiers changed.
“Our Lord… you mean they insulted the Baron?”
“Who? These bastards?”
“They’ve lost their minds. Completely insane.”
“Hehehe… Hehahahaha…”
One by one, the soldiers stood up and approached the opposition.
“Y-you lot?”
“You want to go?”
“You’ve got a death wish, is that it? Huh?”
The soldiers of the Landes Viscountcy were internally flustered but maintained a front of bravado.
The Schneider Baronial force numbered 100.
The army of the Landes Viscountcy appeared to be at least 300, and there were several men who looked like knights among them. However…
“Well, since it’s come to this, what can we do?”
“Exactly. The stage is set; we can’t back down now, can we?”
“Those bastards dared to badmouth the Baron?”
Every time the Schneider soldiers took a step forward, the Landes soldiers took a step back. And then…
“Attack!”
“Woooooah!”
“Crush them all!”
The moment the command was given, the Schneider territory soldiers swarmed the Landes Viscountcy’s forces.
And at the very back…
“If it was going to end up like this anyway, why did they stop me?”
Patrick was watching the scene with an incredulous expression.
100 versus 300.
Common sense dictated that a head-on confrontation was impossible.
Furthermore, the opponents had knights and were heavily armored.
The Schneider Baronial soldiers, who had taken off their armor to rest, should have been at a disadvantage. However…
“Gah!”
“Argh!”
“N-no! Cough!”
Shattered, broken, and demolished…
The Landes soldiers were being pulverized in a truly pitiful manner.
And the Schneider soldiers weren't even using weapons.
They crushed faces with bare fists, sent opponents flying with front kicks, and finished off those on the ground by stomping on them.
It was a one-sided spectacle, like adults fighting children.
“Say it again. Move the camp? How about I move your life to hell? Huh?”
Sanson had grabbed Gavin—the knight who had first spoken—by the collar and was repeatedly punching him in the face.
“S-stop…”
“Oh, you want to quit now? You bastard. Starting a fight and then asking to stop because you’re losing is the 32nd thing our Young Master hates most!”
With that shout, Sanson pinned Gavin down and began to stomp on him systematically.
The other soldiers nodded as they watched.
“Wait, wasn’t that the 35th thing?”
“No. The 35th is dust flying while he’s drinking.”
“Oh? I thought that was the 33rd.”
“The 33rd was… what was it? Something about money.”
“Borrowing money and paying it back late.”
“Ah, right. That’s it.”
As they were being beaten, the Landes soldiers couldn't help but wonder.
Who on earth is this 'Young Master' they keep talking about, and why does he have so many specific dislikes?
Ten minutes later.
“Uuuugh… Aaaargh…”
“My arm. My aaarm…”
“Help… Save me.”
It was a scene of brutal devastation.
The 300 Landes soldiers lay on the ground, having been unilaterally victimized, while the Schneider soldiers stood tall, without a drop of blood—or even sweat—on them.
“These kids are way too flimsy.”
“What about that guy in armor earlier? Wasn’t he a knight?”
“Probably just a rich guy. No way a knight is that weak.”
“I think I saw him manifest something like an aura in the middle of it.”
“Nah, must’ve been an optical illusion.”
As the soldiers spoke, tears streamed down the face of one of the fallen knights.
Regardless, the Schneider Baronial army had grown strong.
Knights and soldiers from other families who had been watching from the sidelines were looking at the Schneider soldiers with awe.
“Incredible. How can it be so one-sided?”
“Is the Landes army just weak?”
“No, as far as I know, that knight Gavin is at the 3-Star level.”
“3-Star? A 3-Star got beaten like that? Not even by a knight, but by a common soldier?”
“I know it makes no sense, but I saw it with my own eyes…”
Hearing the admiring voices around them, the Schneider soldiers puffed out their chests.
They felt the worth of having endured and survived an environment that was like hell—no, worse than hell.
The gazes of envy and longing currently being showered upon them were surely…
“Oh, look at you lot. Smirking? You think you did something great, twitching your lips like that? Huh?”
…supposed to be proof of their hard work.
But as Patrick appeared from behind, looking thoroughly displeased, the soldiers’ expressions and shoulders rapidly slumped back into place.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at you, feeling all proud after beating up some weaklings. What is there to be proud of? Hmm?”
“But Young Master. These guys started it. You saw them, didn’t you?”
“And?”
“We had to stomp them.”
It was said as if it were as natural as saying, “If it rains, you use an umbrella.”
They had certainly been influenced a lot.
Even the other soldiers nearby were nodding nonchalantly.
However, Patrick—the very source of this tragic philosophy—assumed a solemn expression and spoke with a voice full of hypocrisy and pretense.
“Now, now. In life, you have to learn to endure even when someone picks a fight.”
“…Pardon?”
“Tsk, tsk. To resort to such barbaric violence just because some people clearly weaker than you provoked you a little.”
“…Pardon?”
“You violent thugs.”
“……”
Oliver and the other soldiers looked both hollow and indignant.
No. This wasn't right.
This couldn't be happening.
Every single soldier clutched their head in utter unfairness or looked up at the sky with sorrowful tears.
To hear the words “violent thugs” from the mouth of that demon, of all people.
They couldn't suppress the resentment surging from the deepest depths of their souls.
If they hadn't stopped him, that man would have been the first one to charge in.
And yet, just because he watched from the back this one time, he was acting all virtuous.
And do you know what the most frustrating part was?
“Hoho, the son of the Schneider family is quite rational.”
“To govern such rowdy soldiers with mere words. It’s proof of his excellent character.”
“Indeed, that is how the scion of a true noble family should act. Truly.”
These were the absurd comments coming from the onlookers.
“Gasp… Wheeze…”
Finally, someone clutched the back of their neck and collapsed from the sheer shock of the absurdity.
“Oliver! Don’t die! You can’t die!”
“Brother… I… did I live just to see this…?”
“I know how you feel. But don’t die. You can’t die like this.”
“Uuuugh…”
It was a mess. In more ways than one.
Regardless, it is the way of the world that one must clean up what they have disturbed.
“First, wake them up. And…”
In the middle of Patrick’s sentence…
“Everyone, halt! Count Parmas is arriving!”
Accompanied by a group of shining knights, Count Parmas himself appeared on the scene.