Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: The True King of the East
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The Redskin 2nd Battalion, which had stepped forward to crush the rebellion, was completely annihilated in the city of Sodom.
It wasn't a retreat after losing combat effectiveness—it was a perfect wipeout with exactly zero survivors.
The mercenary group's affiliates, suddenly deprived of leadership, scattered in disarray, and Sodom, which had been under siege for days, was finally liberated.
It was the Easterners' first taste of sweet victory.
But the aftermath of this miraculous triumph didn't end with simple joy.
'A savior to lead the East has appeared.'
After the victory, rumors of unknown origin spread rapidly across the entire East.
Our presence—those who had returned to the East with Richard—had finally surfaced.
There was no need to reveal everything ourselves.
The rumors began to exaggerate, downplay, and reinterpret in entirely new directions.
But one thing was clear: the East craved hope, and it was willing to stake everything on an intangible future whose reality remained unknown.
'For freedom and liberation—to Sodom.'
The scattered Easterners began to gather once more.
Hundreds of refugees arrived daily, seeking to join the city, and stragglers from other units returned to Sodom as well.
Of course, the sudden expansion threw the leadership into chaos, but Sodom had its seasoned advisory council to handle such crises.
I provided Helena and the unit leaders with protocols for managing the influx and established clear guidelines.
Just like that, the chaotic city of Sodom swiftly regained stability.
However, with the disorder quelled, the next task wasn't hasty expansion—it was internal reorganization.
Seeing this victory as the perfect moment to speak my piece, I summoned the leadership for the first time in ages.
Tak, tak.
Late at night, after all administrative duties were done, a cheap oil lamp flickered on the table inside a shabby building.
Gathered around that humble flame, our group and the Eastern Crows exchanged quiet nods fitting the subdued atmosphere.
Everyone knew why we'd assembled.
Judging the silence had ripened enough, I cut straight to the chase without preamble.
"I'm truly sorry for dragging you out so late. But if not tonight, there might not be another chance, so I've called the entire leadership."
"We're listening. Please speak freely."
"His Majesty wishes for Richard to become the king of the East. That's why the North dispatched the advisory council, and it's the condition for the steel alliance we'll forge moving forward."
The reason the Black Arrow and I came to the East wasn't to aid Helena and the Crows—it was to enthrone Richard as the new king of the East.
That mission hadn't changed with time, and we were bound to fulfill it even if it cost us our lives.
"...So that's how it was."
Helena smiled bitterly, a mix of disappointment and resignation, as if she'd already suspected as much.
For her, it felt like the ideology she'd built with her comrades was being dismissed, leaving her momentarily hollow.
"Hoo."
But her regret ended there.
Having witnessed Richard's true heart that very night, she gave me the answer I sought.
"We've received an immense debt in this life that we could never repay. If you'll allow it, we'd like to walk the path of the king alongside him."
She believed in the man Richard, not the prince.
Helena and her unit intended to channel the beliefs and values they'd once held solely toward the people's stability and peace.
Richard had read that grand resolve.
In response, he pledged his unchanging loyalty with a courteous bow.
Having endured a desperate war, the process felt refreshingly straightforward.
After reconfirming the Eastern Crows' intentions, I drove the nail in firm right here tonight.
"Richard is the East's sole rightful heir. The liberation war we'll wage from here is no throne grab—it's a revolution to right the twisted injustices."
"We discard the labels of militia and citizen uprising entirely. All who gather in Sodom are the king's army, the East's one true regular force."
We reject the corrupt royal family and its ministers, and install a new king as the people desire.
Come morning, a proclamation bearing these exact words would hang in Sodom's square.
'Was it heaven that decreed this fate?'
Before departing Northplomb, Snow-Covered had boldly declared to the soldiers her defiance of fate.
I saw that same quiet tremor the soldiers had felt then, now in Richard and the Eastern Crows.
Winter gripped the season, yet spring bloomed in the East.
Before these young folk just sprouting their tender shoots, I quietly bowed my head.
What is right does not change.
The courage to right wrongs began here, in a shabby building, at a humble table.
Hmm, ahem.
Sitting in the ornate office chair, Knight King Snow-Covered hummed a little tune as she unsealed the messenger bird that had arrived at the palace at dawn.
Has His Majesty had some good news?
The Prime Minister Remembrancer, who had come to the office for final approval, asked with a faint smile.
"Your Majesty, you seem quite pleased. Has something good happened?"
"Oh, Prime Minister, you're here? Hehe, it looks like Master won the first battle. A messenger bird arrived from Sodom in the East."
Broken Sword was a consummate commander.
He'd long been underrated simply for lacking aura, but his true talent lay in turning the tide in dire situations with brilliant command.
The Prime Minister Remembrancer, who always verified war outcomes with statistics, had often been stunned by Broken Sword's innovative strategies and tactics.
Ascendant undefeated, Northern genius.
His abilities, which she hadn't fully appreciated due to always being at his side, were proving themselves even in the East, where he had no connections.
Scratch, scratch, pop!
Snow-Covered, who had been admiring the letter for a good while, peeled off the crudely stamped sealing wax.
Then she began reading intently the densely handwritten contents.
For a messenger bird report, it detailed everything that had transpired—quite voluminous.
Yet Snow-Covered read each paragraph with focus, her cute eyes sparkling.
She rejoiced at the decisive victories, was moved by the people's resolve.
Experiencing joy, sorrow, love, and hate through mere words, Snow-Covered sniffed the paper.
"Does it smell strange?"
"No, Master told me to always smell it. He said it's the scent of spices from the East... mint, apparently."
Seeing, hearing, feeling the news from the East.
Snow-Covered, worn down by endless duties and her confined life, wore a happy face as if she'd embarked on the journey herself.
I wonder what the East is really like.
Sometimes nostalgic for her wandering days in the North, Snow-Covered carefully folded the letter.
"When should we intervene?"
"The Marshal is likely preparing for the decisive battle as planned. The optimal moment is after expanding our forces and securing victory in the East Army's final clash."
Given the continental situation, the Sword Saint would aim to end the war in a short decisive campaign.
The North, which had only sent the advisory council, now needed bolder decisions to match the shifting tides.
"Timing will be crucial."
"Precisely, Your Majesty."
If pro-North figure Richard became the new king, the Second Prince—deep in civil war—would have no choice but to wield influence through gritted teeth.
And the only force capable of checking such moves was the Northern Kingdom.
The army needed to advance a half-step ahead, perfectly timed with the alliance's formation.
"I just hope he returns safely."
But above all, she wished her master would come back unharmed.
Sniff, sniff—inhaling the mint scent once more, Snow-Covered took up her quill with a short prayer.
"These are the final selected personnel."
"Do they meet the criteria I specified?"
"Exactly as you instructed."
Ronald, acting on my orders, had selected personnel based on standards set before reorganizing the Eastern Army.
Yet even after culling, the numbers were staggeringly high.
The first-round picks alone rivaled the Northern troops stationed at the White Gate.
I hadn't realized during the ragtag militia days, but their sheer headcount was immense.
Was this why the pike formation had crushed them so effortlessly yesterday?
Becoming a commander for the first time and experiencing true numerical superiority, I was taken aback.
"Don't worry, sir. We have plenty of pike production capacity—we can arm them all."
"...Understood for now. If we can manage the logistics, more is better."
The advisory council had come prepared to start from absolute scratch, just like the North's early days of nothing.
But the East's latent potential dwarfed even that barren North.
Ronald looked oddly proud.
Feeling oddly defeated by a local, I cleared my throat needlessly and paced the ramparts.
"That said, there's one issue, sir."
"Hm?"
"Our ranged units are far too weak. Even if we want to train archers, few step forward due to their lack of experience."
Thanks to the walls allowing downward shots, they'd managed some arrow fire, but Sodom had no proper skilled archers.
Bows demand high proficiency; pulling the string for a day or two doesn't make you hit every target.
"We have the tech to make crossbows."
"Tailored to their builds, the draw strength is abysmal. Reload speed is glacial too."
Crossbows made for Easterners' frames had to be compact by nature.
Small size meant weak tension, weak tension meant short range.
The only real alternative was heavy siege crossbows with complex mechanisms, but conditions weren't right.
Halting my brisk pace, I let out a small sigh and racked my brain.
No unit is unimportant on the battlefield.
Even for a freshly reorganized Eastern Army, we needed the full spectrum.
What could work—a perfect replacement for bows and crossbows?
A fragment of memory flashed by, and I swiftly pulled one idea free.
"Slings."
"Pardon?"
How had I overlooked this?
Slings! Simple to make with just cord and leather, excellent portability.
Ammo? Stones littered everywhere—no need for arrows or glue supplies.
But one problem.
The sling's status on the continent was exactly Ronald's skeptical reaction.
"...Aren't those kids' toys?"
Due to not being hindered by physical constraints, kids often carried slings to hunt small vermin.
That perception made slings—or slinging—widely dismissed as weak and childish across the continent.
"Did you ever try it as a kid, sir?"
"Played with them a lot."
Even knight Ronald had handled one.
A quick scout around, and we'd find militia with reputations for slinging in their neighborhoods.
Quick to produce, and already skilled?
Decision made in seconds, I issued orders to a reminiscing Ronald.
"Tell the smiths to make slings from spare leather cords and cloth. Lengthen them beyond standard—waist-high is fine."
"Y-Yes?"
"And as soon as you return to camp, select those skilled in slinging separately. If they ask why, just say it was my order."
Everyone would doubt like Ronald.
But having tasted success with pikes, the Easterners would prioritize curiosity over snap judgments.
You never know until you feel it.
Just how painful a volley of stones from skilled slingers can be.