Chapter 46
Chapter 46
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Handling the Aftermath
-----------------------------------------------------------------
After wrapping up the military council, I returned to the southern city of Pollack and dove into postwar administration.
Lutger and my master had handled the broad strokes, so all I needed to do was give final approval. It wasn't too taxing, but a few issues remained.
The first concerned the refugees who'd lost their homes.
Every targeted territory aside from Tirann had been burned to the ground, leaving some four hundred thousand refugees.
The surrounding territories would have to shelter them until their own lands could be rebuilt, but few had the capacity to do so.
It was spring, just after winter's end—the time when last year's stockpiles were running dry.
Taking in refugees could easily spark a territory-wide food shortage.
"Why do I have to handle all these nitpicky administrative chores...?"
My master gave a wry smile at my grumbling.
"Because you're the supreme commander of the southern army. If you issue the orders now, even the grand lords couldn't refuse. Clean this up yourself, and there won't be any backlash."
"No choice, then. Hmm, for starters, send Bonya and Rotos's refugees to Delborough in the east. As a fishing hub, it should have no trouble with immediate food supplies."
"Does it even have enough fishing boats?"
"Repurpose a few of the warships docked there. The lord will figure it out. Next, Noiers's refugees can stay in Tirann—its lands weren't destroyed. With all that farmland, they can be self-sufficient once spring passes. Until then, arrange aid from Pollack and Gransel."
"I'll pass that along."
"Finally, Libel and Rosbell..."
Libel was our territory. Rosbell was the Milstein baron's land—my mother's hometown.
"Send them both to relocate to Rainpole right away. To keep the refugees from starving en route, order Julia and Alpenserd to stockpile supplies along the path."
"Got it."
Anton spoke up then.
"My lord, in that case, allow me to relay the message to Rainpole."
"It's fine. I've already sent word to Juras. He'll handle it."
"You've already made arrangements. Impressive as always."
"Whew! Alright, that wraps it up, right?"
Clap, clap, clap! Lutger applauded.
"Clean and efficient, without a single loose end. Crystal clear."
"Problems will crop up anyway. The locals won't welcome outsiders with open arms. But that's not my concern."
"Even so, this strikes me as the best approach. Let's finish up and head home."
"Ha ha, Lutger. It's written all over your face. You can't wait to get back to Rainpole, can you?"
"Uh, well...!"
"If it's about Estelle, you're good."
"You said you met her in Gransel. Yeah. Her hair's growing back?"
"A little. Still a long way to go for full recovery."
"Better than nothing. I can't wait to see my daughter's face."
"Then for your sake, shall we wrap things up?"
Eonia tensed at that, as if she'd been expecting it.
War cleanup meant the merit ceremony had begun.
At the mention of merits, Lutger let out a hollow laugh, like he'd forgotten about it.
Anton, on the other hand, reacted differently.
"Merits! Ugh, I knew there was something like that...! If I'd known, I would've begged you for a command role, my lord...!"
"What's with the sudden outburst, Anton?"
"My apologies. Please, disregard me and continue."
He knew. His contributions in this war weren't standout.
'He's got a bit in common with Eo, after all.'
Both obsessed with formalities. Not to Eonia's extent, but he hated losing all the same.
"Fourth in merits: Anton Quinter. Good work. You ably assisted Lutger in defending the Polldick Mountains."
"Yes, sir. Just doing my duty."
"Next, I'll announce first place. Lutger Rosenberg. That's you."
Lutger shrugged.
"First among these fierce warriors? An honor beyond words."
"Despite being outnumbered, you gained the upper hand against enemy commander Yussis Goldray. In the final battle, you coordinated with my movements to encircle and capture him. Without you, the operation might've failed. First in merits."
That left second and third.
Eonia seemed to accept Lutger's first place—"Hmph, can't be helped"—but she wasn't yielding second without a fight.
"Now for second and third... First, Illya Anpei. Master, you rallied bows and warhorses from nearby territories and relayed evacuation orders to each during the main op, swiftly getting everyone to safety. Then you clashed with the raiders hitting Tirann, annihilating them and neutralizing the rest. Next, Eonia Mirabel."
"Yes!"
"Eo, you selected the best archers from the troops and pierced the enemy center in battle, capturing commander Julian Craig alive."
"Yes, sir!"
"So between you two, second place goes to..."
"Yes? B-but, Lord Als! In the opening clash, I led the horse archers to blunt their charge. I commanded the Kurabel Holy Kingdom troops flawlessly, moving them like your own limbs. And..."
Was this world's era of self-promotion here already? Eonia launched into her pitch.
"At the end, I perfectly interpreted your request for 'popcorn' and prepared snacks. In Gransel, I quickly arranged wagons when you asked."
"Haha, counting that as merit too?"
Objectively, Eonia ranked third. Her feats were comparable in scale to Master's, but Master's role was irreplaceable.
Eonia's? Master could've handled it.
'But if I rank her third here...'
She might overreach next time for a higher spot and cause trouble.
Like giving extra rice cake to a crying kid—I wanted to give her second, but that'd undermine objectivity. Tough call.
Maybe sensing my dilemma,
"Impressive, Eonia. Truly unstoppable."
Master praised her first.
"Eonia, you're definitely second. Next time, I'll surpass you, so watch out."
"Hehe...! Really? I knew it! Yes...! Take that, Illya Anpei...!"
Eonia whispered her triumph. Master watched fondly. Despite the small age gap, she seemed the elder.
"Sheesh. You didn't have to step in."
"What? She did great work—it's a fact. Als, tell her yourself. She'll be happier that way."
"No helping it. Second in merits: Eonia Mirabel. You."
Eonia beamed like she might float away. Master patted her shoulder.
Meanwhile, Anton eyed Master's actions with genuine admiration.
*
*
*
With merits done, our group prepared to return to Rainpole.
Lutger, Anton, and Eonia gathered Kurabel's troops and marched ahead.
I'd follow after tying up loose ends.
As I did, my master—who'd stayed behind—approached.
"Als, before we go, there's something I want you to check."
"Check?"
"Yeah. Take a look at a prisoner. I want you to decide his fate."
"Aren't all the prisoners handed to Caliper command?"
"Well... This one's an old friend of my master's, apparently. Held guest general rank in Madon command."
"That could get tricky."
Guest generals usually doubled as mercenaries.
As a fellow mercenary, Master hesitated to turn him over to Caliper.
"What's his name?"
"Goes by Draken. Checked the guild—no registration."
"An alias, then."
"Yeah. Just in case, I described him to guild brass. They cautiously named someone. Matches a merc from long ago."
Madon's guest general commanding raiders.
"Gaspar... right?"
"Gaspar!?"
I blinked in shock.
One of the Seven Retainers, here of all places.
Mad Dog Gaspar.
'So that's how it was.'
I'd scoured everywhere for the Mad Dog, found nothing.
'No wonder.'
Hiding behind an alias—no way searching for "Gaspar" would've turned up anything.
"That Gaspar... a pureblood beastman in wolf form? Wields a massive greatsword?"
"How'd you know?"
"Bingo."
No doubt—the Gaspar from the game.
'But is he trustworthy?'
Even in the game, Gaspar was shrouded in mystery.
Plainly put, I couldn't grasp why he followed Als. His reason for joining the protagonist was vague.
He just appeared, wedged in slyly, and shone. Motives and backstory? Unknown.
That made him a prime suspect for a third-faction plant.
Hiding his real name screamed suspicious.
'Still, better meet him first.'
I'd judge in person.
Short version: total bust.
"Kuhaha! So you're the Wade fella. Sniff, sniff! Weird. You smell like a pup."
The beastman grinned wolfishly at me. No respect in his eyes.
"...You're Gaspar, then."
"Hmph. Guild told you?"
"Your reaction confirms it. Word is you're an S-rank merc."
"Kuhaha! That was back when Pensilon Empire fell—pure chaos. Any scrub could hit S-rank with a few feats. Look at you—can't even touch a current S-rank, got nabbed instead."
"Hmm."
Gaspar's game stats weren't top-tier at 87 combat.
His true strength lay elsewhere.
As a top UR card alongside Ymir, he was one of the three great support types.
Master of stealth maneuvers and night raids, his rare trait made him unmatched as raider or scout commander.
"Pensilon's fall... so you're at least fifty."
"Ha, that recent? Add twenty."
"Seventy and still spry for an old timer."
"Don't underestimate pureblood beastmen. Unlike you humans, our prime lasts ages. Though I'm past mine now."
He radiated untamed ferocity. One slip, and he'd devour you—chilling.
"You... want to work under me?"
I tested the waters. He growled.
"That why you came? Hilarious."
"Guest generals switch sides all the time."
"True. That's why nations treat us like disposable pawns—same as hiring mercs. But you're different. Not just slotting me in as guest. You wanna break me for real."
"Heh, caught me."
"No chance, kid. I bow to no one. I use 'em if needed. Gimme good booze and blood-soaked battlefields—anywhere's fine. Live by my whims, always have."
"Then test me. See if I can tame you."
"That's... intriguing."
He'd been curious about Wade from the start, it seemed.
"Fine. Won't be boring with you. Tame me before I get fed up."
"Once things settle, come to Rainpole. We'll talk more there."
Unlike Lutger, I'd vet Gaspar rigorously.
'If he risks friction with the others, cut him loose without mercy.'
That Rainpole interview would be crucial.