Chapter 142
Chapter 142
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 142
Chapter Title: 59. Alliance (1)
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Joachim's knights had departed.
Leaving behind the tearful campfire from the night before, it was now time for everyone to part ways.
The instructors watched the receding figures of the trainees, a pang of reluctance in their hearts.
The fourth instructor, who had handled archery training, spoke up.
"I wanted to teach them so much more..."
The fifth instructor, who taught trap setting and disarming, nodded.
"Yeah. It's like watching kids left by the riverside—you worry they'll step on a trap out there..."
The sixth instructor, responsible for stealth, ambushes, and tracking, shrugged.
"Still, we've made them capable enough. They'll manage on their own."
The seventh instructor, who trained mental control in extreme situations, muttered.
"What can we do? Every meeting comes with a parting..."
The eighth instructor, who covered wilderness survival skills, agreed.
"At least they won't starve to death somewhere."
The other specialized instructors, arms crossed, watched their first batch of trainees leave.
They appeared calm on the surface, but inwardly, all harbored unease.
They had been swayed by the third prince of Brioll's sweet talk into becoming instructors, only for the owls to graduate in a flash.
They might lose this cushy job.
Someone among the instructors murmured.
"Anxiety over job security is eating away at me..."
But it was all just their imagination.
The first instructor, clad in his red hat—Yuri—appeared and shouted.
"You weren't planning to slack off just because the owls left, were you?"
"Pardon?"
"Prepare to receive the next batch!"
"The next batch?"
The instructors' eyes widened.
"Joachim's second wave has set out. They'll arrive in a few days."
Joachim had assembled another group of trainees and sent them over.
Joachim's king, much like Gonte, was a middle-aged man nostalgic for the old days. He had reportedly been thrilled to hear about the guerrilla training in Brioll.
Yuri grinned and clapped each instructor on the shoulder.
"The bond between Brioll and Joachim rests on you instructors. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Instructor Two is gone, and Instructor Three returns to his main duties. As for me, well, you all know I'm a prince—it's not sustainable for me to keep jumping into the front lines."
Yuri decided to reorganize the structure.
At the news that the three pillar-like instructors were retiring, the rest bowed their heads—only to subtly curl their lips upward.
Upper management leaving was always good news.
"You're enjoying this too much."
"No, sir!"
"I believe Instructor Four understands the spirit of our guerrilla training unit best. That's why I'm passing the role of guerrilla training commander to him."
Instructor Four, the Shadowless Killer Murray, lifted his head.
"He's the boss now. Everyone, follow his lead."
Yuri placed his own sweat-soaked red hat on Murray's head.
Murray's face twisted for a split second at the dampness, but Yuri ignored it and pulled the brim down over his face.
"I trust you, Murray. Or should I say, Instructor One. Keep the unit running smoothly."
"I'll do my utmost!"
"There'll be plenty more work ahead. We need to keep evolving our system."
Yuri planned to accept not just from Joachim, but from other nations' forces as well.
Of course, limited to countries that would eventually oppose the Empire.
With hefty tuition fees, it was a win-win: training allies and turning a profit.
After rallying the instructors, Yuri left the guerrilla training grounds and returned to the palace.
Sounds of clashing weapons soon echoed from somewhere. No surprise there. Hose and Bernard, reunited, were crossing swords daily to settle their rivalry.
"Is this a palace or a training yard...?"
A faint smile played on Yuri's lips as he muttered.
Rooting out black magic in the Empire was practically impossible.
So he settled for grasping the enemy's nature and forging comrades to fight alongside.
Compared to his previous life, the situation was far better.
There had been sacrifices along the way, but no time to mourn.
Yuri murmured.
"We need to strengthen our alliances."
He recalled memories from his past life.
Back then, nations responded in isolation, with no united front against the Empire.
They dismissed it as temporary skirmishes, watching others fall one by one.
But the Empire's blade, once drawn, never returned to its sheath. Only after witnessing it turn on new targets did everyone grasp the Empire's true intent.
Too late by then.
"Joachim will be the spark."
Joachim had a high chance of igniting the war.
Sharing the Alroy Mountains with the Empire meant constant border skirmishes. Joachim, proud by nature, never backed down easily.
Then, suddenly, the Empire dispatches the Black Knights.
The mountains are trampled, Joachim's cities burn.
But this time was different. The new combat doctrine he taught would tenaciously snag the Empire's advance. In the meantime, neighboring nations could rally to support Joachim.
Excluding the Empire, the four strongest kingdoms were Brioll, Burzen, the Holy Kingdom, and Liberta.
Brioll already shared friendly ties with Burzen, and things weren't bad with Liberta either.
The concern was the Holy Kingdom.
Yuri's closeness with Sibylla had made Larson—the future king—wary of him.
Thus, Yuri had recently sent envoys to Larson with lavish gifts, proposing friendship and openly affirming his status as the Holy Kingdom's next king.
Larson replied with polished elegance.
He was vain, but not entirely foolish. Or rather, he had clever aides. That was the privilege of a recognized heir.
But it wasn't enough.
"It'd be best to meet them all in person and talk..."
Yuri planned to delegate this to Cedric or Joshua.
As the third prince, he couldn't keep taking the lead forever.
Fiore would find it a hassle, so it was time to convey his intentions through those two.
He had handled everything alone for too long.
Perhaps due to memories of his past life. Brioll's惨 end made him want to shoulder the fight against the Empire solo. He'd deliberately left the two princes out of it.
But he couldn't continue like that.
Lost in such thoughts, Yuri suddenly halted in the palace courtyard.
A scene from his past life flashed before him.
The peaceful palace overlaid with images of it ablaze.
Beautiful buildings and soaring spires crumbled. Knights fell one by one, civilians trampled without resistance.
He should have died here, yet he begged for his life and fled.
Graham's melancholic gaze looking down on him resurfaced.
What thoughts had crossed Graham's mind as he let him go?
Had he survived afterward?
Did he flee the Empire's madness, or get swallowed by it?
A sharp pain stabbed his chest.
Something felt off.
"Damn..."
When lost in dark thoughts, it helped to strain the muscles and scatter them.
Yuri dropped to the ground and began pumping out push-ups.
Passing servants glanced and whispered, but his eccentricities were well-known, so they paid little mind.
"Hoo..."
Yuri stood, feeling much better. Sweating it out was the best cure for gloom.
"Your Highness? What are you doing?"
Ena's voice came from behind.
"Huh?"
"Why on the floor all of a sudden...?"
"Oh, this? It's the guerrilla spirit."
"I see."
"Why the look, Instructor Three? Or should I say, Ena?"
"Nothing."
"Anyway, what's up?"
"You have a guest."
"A guest? Hahaha, being popular is exhausting too. Who is it?"
"Sir Graham."
"What?"
Yuri's laughter cut off as he stared at Ena.
She seemed to share his sentiment, eyes wide as she looked up at him and repeated slowly.
"Sir Graham is here."
***
Ireine Wood's merchant caravan had arrived at the imperial capital before long.
"Always so noisy..."
"It is, isn't it."
Still, no better place to sell goods.
Especially this shipment. Exotic Eastern artifacts and luxuries were sure to sweep the Empire's nobility off their feet.
"Boss, straight to business?"
"No, let's rest a day."
"Got it."
Her companions were seasoned elites, perfectly in sync.
At her command, they moved with crisp efficiency.
"Hire runners to spread word to noble houses. Show catalogs only. If they want the real thing, make them come."
"Understood. Where to set up shop?"
"Noble district."
"Got it."
Ireine planned to display the Eastern wares where all could see.
With steady supply incoming, impressing nobles and securing contracts would bring in the gold.
"Move fast. Not staying long."
The group unpacked at their pre-booked inn.
It featured massive vaults and insurance against mishaps— a favorite for merchants like her.
After bathing and changing into fresh clothes, she stepped out alone.
"Hmm..."
As on her first visits, the streets felt oddly off.
She bought a tabloid from a stand. Nothing beat it for gauging the Empire's pulse.
"Huh?"
A familiar face stared back from the page.
"No way, for real?"
Ireine leaned in close.
Brioll's third prince, Yuri Brioll.
An ad for a temple clinic rehabilitating drug addicts, modeled after him.
"What the hell is this guy up to...?"
Tsking, she flipped pages, skimming articles.
"Hmm..."
Bought another paper and read on.
"Hmmm..."
Ireine's instincts were sharp.
From the intel, a broader picture of the Empire's state emerged.
She muttered.
"Something's wrong here."
She sensed an ominous vibe.
The drugs alone were suspicious.
With the Empire's bureaucracy, rounding up ringleaders should be simple—yet reports claimed the whole nation was plagued. Hard to swallow.
Ireine folded the paper and looked up.
The streets felt bleak somehow.
Air thick and acrid, lights dimmer.
Once brimming with excessive vitality, now it reeked of foreboding decay.
She headed to a bustling district.
"You hear? A friend of mine said..."
"How could that..."
"Find the culprit now..."
"The nerve..."
People whispered feverishly among themselves.
"Right in the palace, they say..."
"That kingdom's..."
Street vendors eyed customers warily rather than beckoning them.
The whole city felt entranced by something.
Ireine approached a nearby stall and ordered chicken skewers.
"One, please."
"Sure."
"Hey."
"Yes?"
"Got a question."
She lowered her voice deliberately.
"What's this incident everyone's whispering about?"
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Her quiet words seemed to echo through the street.
All eyes bulged, fixed on her.
It felt like stumbling into a horror novel alone.
Her instincts screamed: the capital was deeply amiss.
The vendor, blank-faced like the rest, handed her a skewer wordlessly.
Ireine took it and hurried back to the inn.
Chills ran down her spine.
"Should we leave the capital? What the hell is going on...?"
But back at the inn, an even bigger shock awaited.
"Ah, you're back, boss."
Her subordinate hurried over.
Ireine ignored him, staring blankly at what had appeared during her brief outing.
A massive, ornate carriage.
With a red banner.
She knew exactly what those colors signified.
"Who?"
"The Imperial Princess."
"What?"
Ireine turned to her subordinate.
Grave-faced, he glanced back and whispered.
"Princess Ekaterina has arrived."