Chapter 38
Chapter 38
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: 19. Vanguard (1)
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Yuri arrived at the Archmage's Citadel.
A long table had been set up in the hall where they had enjoyed the banquet, and commanders from each nation were seated at their places.
Yuri quietly took his seat.
Sibylla and Jonathan, seated at the table opposite him, exchanged glances with him. Yuri nodded slightly in response.
Ragnar had yet to arrive, leaving the head seat empty.
The atmosphere was heavy.
As this was the first gathering of the commanders, it seemed they had chosen to emphasize their presence rather than exchange warm greetings.
They must have seen each other's faces in the meantime, yet no one acknowledged the others.
Yuri, who had been sitting silently, finally turned to the person beside him and spoke.
"Where are you from?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried enough for everyone to hear.
The man, unaware it was directed at him, sat still until he turned his gaze.
"Pardon?"
"Which nation are you from?"
"Ah, I am..."
He placed a hand on his chest.
"Wolf Gain of Liberda. Count Abra."
He was presumed to be the father of Sven Gain, the one who had spoken ill of him behind his back so boldly. Seeing father and son come together suggested the family had staked their fortunes on this orc subjugation campaign.
"And you are...?"
"Ah, I am..."
Regardless of the nation, royalty was treated differently. Yuri immediately dropped the formal speech.
"Brioll's commander, Third Prince Yuri Brioll."
"I see. It's an honor to meet you."
"You're Sven Gain's father?"
"How do you know my son...?"
Worry clouded his face.
Judging by his immediate concern, the son must have caused plenty of trouble in the past.
For everyone's happiness, Yuri offered a white lie.
"We crossed paths by chance and exchanged greetings. Impressive achievements for such a young age."
"Hahaha..."
"He had real spirit. He'll accomplish great things in this allied army."
"You flatter him."
His expression softened at the praise for his son, a smile forming on his face.
As Yuri and Wolf conversed, the surrounding commanders began chatting among themselves.
Gradually, the room filled with the sound of voices.
The atmosphere was entirely different from before Yuri had entered.
Wolf asked,
"Did you approach me on purpose? The frozen mood has thawed."
"We're comrades who'll fight side by side with our lives on the line. What's the point of posturing?"
"A profound sentiment."
"Not really."
Yuri leaned back in his chair.
"If we go to battle like this, we'll all end up dead."
Wolf nodded vigorously.
"I agree. Everyone's underestimating the orcs. This won't do."
"You know about orcs?"
"Yes. I've encountered them before. That time..."
The two shared opinions on the allied army. Unlike his son, the father was easy to talk to.
Voices grew louder, and the room became noisy. No one noticed the door open and someone enter.
Only when he took the head seat did people stop talking one by one and turn their gazes.
Piercing blue eyes scanned the room.
They were so clear it felt like they could see right through you.
In contrast, his physique was massive and imposing.
Broad shoulders draped in a crimson cloak symbolizing the imperial family, embroidered with a golden lion crest that distorted along the folds.
The emperor's half-brother and supreme commander of the allied forces.
Ragnar Gustav Grangzaiyen.
"Lively atmosphere."
He spoke.
"That's why I slipped in quietly."
His eyes swept over the assembly.
The moment they met Yuri's, a chill ran through him.
"Need more time to chat?"
No one answered.
Ragnar nodded to himself and leaned back.
"Then I suppose I can speak."
At the same time, he released his aura.
An overwhelming presence poured out. The pressure that dominated the room was the hallmark of the empire's Lion Heart Technique.
Those with lower realms gasped for breath.
"I am Ragnar, supreme commander of the allied forces."
He said with a low laugh, the meaning inscrutable.
"Well, that's how it turned out."
Then he stood.
It felt like a mountain rising.
All present were renowned knights with sturdy builds, yet Ragnar towered over them.
"I'll say it upfront. I hate cowards. Cooperation's a lost cause anyway, so fight bravely. I'll cut down anyone who flees."
Yuri watched him.
Their eyes met.
Ragnar eyed Yuri briefly before looking away.
"Whatever title you hold means nothing to me. You're all just knights. You'll get roles matching your skills, and rewards for your merits."
Ragnar's judgment seemed reasonable at first glance.
Forces from multiple nations didn't blend easily. Better to let them compete.
But this was a method only the strong could employ.
Orcs were never weaker than the allied forces. That was why the alliance had failed in his previous life.
Yuri clenched then unclenched his fist.
"Any questions?"
Ragnar asked.
In the silence, Yuri spoke up.
"Yes."
Ragnar looked at him. The other commanders followed suit.
"What's your question?"
His tone sounded gruff, but Yuri paid it no mind.
He knew Ragnar's temperament. In a way, he was his ex-girlfriend's uncle.
Ekaterina had shared plenty about him.
Ragnar favored the bold.
He liked those with skill and composure best, but even without skill, he respected those who held their heads high.
He preferred confident underdogs over groveling experts.
"How does the empire assess the orcs' forces?"
Ragnar grinned at Yuri's question.
"Kid. Who are you?"
"Brioll forces' commander, Yuri Brioll."
"Brioll."
Ragnar tilted his head, then stroked his chin as if remembering.
"Ah, you're the one Georg mentioned. How old?"
"Eighteen."
"A beardless boy as commander."
A few chuckled softly at his words.
Ragnar glared at them.
"Still, this kid's better than the rest."
"..."
"Better than those who couldn't even open their mouths."
Those called out shut their mouths and bowed their heads.
Ragnar stood again.
"Makes sense. You need to know your enemy. Or do you all already know more than the empire?"
Ragnar stepped behind Yuri's chair and placed both hands on his shoulders. It felt like ancient roots digging in.
"To keep it brief: Okua's appeared. He's subjugated the three largest tribes and is swiftly absorbing the rest. His force threatens the continent. Our odds aren't overwhelmingly in our favor."
The hall fell silent.
But it stemmed not from worry over the orcs, but fear of Ragnar.
No one thought they'd lose to orcs.
Yuri closed his eyes.
This was exactly why he had to be here.
To change the future, he had to do it himself.
"Detailed intel will be compiled and sent. Enough explanation, kid?"
"Yes."
Yuri nodded.
Ragnar gripped his shoulders tightly, but Yuri showed no pain, even smiling.
"More than enough."
Yuri worked to earn Ragnar's favor to offer suggestions with credibility.
Ragnar said,
"We depart the day after tomorrow."
It was sudden.
"Orcs are encamped not far from Balshard. We could bypass them, but I don't want to."
Ragnar never shied from battle.
"Our allied army's first fight. The vanguard..."
Yuri felt the weight on his shoulders increase.
"...want to take it, Yuri Brioll?"
All eyes turned to him.
Their gazes betrayed their eagerness. They had come to slay orcs and claim glory. Everyone wanted the vanguard.
Yuri wasn't thrilled with Ragnar's proposal.
The vanguard inevitably suffered casualties. His decision would burden him with more lives.
"Yes."
But Yuri answered.
"I'll gladly lead the vanguard."
There was no future where everyone was happy anyway.
He had come here to wage war.
Allies would die, and more enemies would fall.
The moon hung in the sky once more.
Yuri stared into the dying campfire, lost in thought. Red silhouettes danced over his dark eyes.
His silence made it hard for others to approach.
"Your Highness."
Someone broke the quiet, calling to him.
"You seem deep in thought."
Rolang approached and sat beside him. He tossed a log into the fire and asked,
"Is it because of the meeting earlier?"
"Maybe..."
Yuri shook his head.
"Not really."
"Then?"
"I'm waiting."
"For what...?"
Just then, a soldier approached.
Sensing him, Yuri looked up with visible relief. His sullen expression brightened.
"Your Highness. Here."
"What took so long?"
"Preparations were delayed..."
"Good work."
What Yuri received was a meal tray.
"Not eating?"
"I, I have to as well."
"Ask him for yours too. And Rolang's."
"Understood."
The soldier hurried off, fetched the meals, and handed one to Rolang.
"So serious over dinner?"
"Just waiting."
"I thought..."
The two sat side by side and began eating. After no exceptions for nobility, even the knights had adapted to the standard rations.
"Lots of stars tonight."
"It's the plains."
"Word must've spread that our unit's food is the best."
"Seems like it."
Yuri and Rolang turned simultaneously. They had sensed the approaching presence.
"Oh?"
It was Marie Rose, lord of Balshard and the current-generation Archmage.
She walked with Burssen's Jonathan.
"That's your dinner?"
Marie Rose's eyes widened as she peered at Yuri and Rolang's trays.
It was hearty for common soldiers, but meager for nobility.
"Yeah."
"Eating with the regular troops?"
"Yep."
"Does Burssen do that too?"
"We eat separately."
"Why does Brioll eat the same as the soldiers?"
It was unusual for nobility—let alone the king's blood—to share soldiers' fare.
"So many questions."
"I'm a mage."
Marie Rose straightened, spun around surveying the camp, and pointed at Yuri's tent flying the Brioll royal banner.
"You stay here?"
"Yeah."
Marie Rose dashed over and yanked open the flap, revealing the spartan interior.
"What are you doing?"
"Snooping."
She poked her head in and looked around.
Yuri shoved Rolang's back.
"Drag her out."
"Yes."
Before Rolang could intervene, Marie Rose closed the flap, clasped her hands behind her back, turned, and shrugged.
"Done snooping."
"A commander's tent is a restricted area."
"So what? We're allies."
"You sure?"
"What, you think I'm with the orcs?"
"Maybe."
"You judge by appearances a lot."
Marie Rose leaned forward, peering down at Yuri.
"You know? A person's room reflects their inner self."
"Yours must be a mess."
"Opposite. Gems sparkling everywhere. But Your Highness has a bare room, scarfes down plain food. Heard you lead from the front in battle too?"
"Background check?"
"Just rumors."
Marie Rose smiled slyly.
"Why live like that?"
Depending on interpretation, it could be rude.
Quick-witted Jonathan intervened as a third party.
"I, I'm curious too. Why live so frugally? You're a true example. Inspirational. Haha..."
"No one complains if a prince eats well. No need to match the troops."
Yuri furrowed his brow.
Marie Rose's chatter made eating impossible.
"They say not to bother a dog while it's eating..."
"I'm not a dog."
Marie Rose plopped down across from Yuri.
A soldier arrived with trays. Jonathan took his, but Marie Rose waved hers off.
Across the fire, she stared intently at Yuri.
"Just curious. Answer, and I'll help you the day after tomorrow."
"How?"
"With magic. I'm better than that Hernando guy here. I'm the Archmage, remember?"
Yuri paused his chopsticks.
"Sigh..."
Annoyance clear, he eyed Marie Rose.
"That curious?"
"Yes."
"It's nothing special."
"That's fine."
"It'll disappoint, but you'll still help fully?"
"I keep my word."
"Fine."
Yuri said,
"I'll die the day after tomorrow."
The abrupt statement drew all eyes.
Yuri nodded toward the soldiers' tents beyond the fire.
"The day after tomorrow, someone will die. We're striking as vanguard. I decided it, so more will die and get hurt because of me."
Yuri stood.
Regression or not, he hadn't lived long enough to fully grasp life and death. If anything, it made him understand less.
"No time for sentiment. But I won't deny the truth."
Laughter drifted from the tents. Life went on even before battle.
Yuri looked up at the sky.
Stars shone in rows.
If some being had sent him back, what did it want from him?
"I'm just doing the bare minimum duty."
An unexpected confession.
Marie Rose tilted her head.
Jonathan looked stunned.
Who could've guessed the seemingly capricious Third Prince of Brioll harbored such thoughts?
Rolang closed his eyes, murmured something, then stood.
"Your Highness."
"What."
"The day after tomorrow, I'll stand beside you."
"I'm fast. You sure?"
"Of course."
Rolang placed a hand on his chest.
The fire's flicker shifted to his eyes.
"I, Rolang Flandre, will guard Your Highness to the end."