Chapter 121
Chapter 121
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 121
Chapter Title: Desperate Envoys
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The humans in this world were simple.
Or should I say somewhat irrational?
They fell for baseless rumors easily, got sucked into cults without question, and if everyone else started insisting that A equals B from now on, they’d just go, “Oh, really?” and believe it outright.
But when I thought about it, it was the same in the 21st-century Earth where Sion had originally lived.
People who had received far more specialized and advanced compulsory education than this world’s nobles still fell for cults, believed in pseudoscience, and trusted unverified credentials and connections, treating con artists like absolute experts.
So, it was obvious what level the humans in this world would be at—nobles or not, they had no compulsory education, and their learning was limited to attending the capital’s academy around age fifteen (and only if their family had the money).
That was why.
The lords of the northeastern region—who hadn’t received higher education and were now facing what could be called the worst crisis in history—
Unconditionally trusted “Sir Sailun,” backed by the royal castle and Duke Lloyd himself, with detailed reports from the information guild about how many monsters he had hunted in Sion Dukedom. They believed without a doubt that he alone could save them from this insane monster outbreak.
In the end, it was only natural that all the lords of the northeastern region—over ten in total—dispatched envoys and proxies straight to Logos Territory, where Sir Sailun was staying.
* * *
“What? He went to Burgos?”
“Oh no!”
The northeastern lords’ envoys despaired.
At this very moment, they could practically see their lords’ faces, half-mad from the endless stream of refugees flooding into the castle towns, the massive military expenditures from hiring hundreds of mercenaries, and the dwindling food supplies day by day.
Of course, their territories wouldn’t collapse right away.
But if things continued like this for another three or four months, both the lord who had sent them and they themselves were screwed for sure.
“Why did he go to Burgos?”
“Why? Because he was appointed acting governor of Burgos. Where else would the governor go but his post?”
The envoys showered sharp glares on the one who had blurted out such a stupid question in their haste.
“So, if we go to Burgos now, we can meet Sir Sailun?”
“Well? He should have arrived in Burgos by now, but whether you can actually meet him... I’m not sure.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because monsters are surging in the Dragon Wastelands too. As acting governor of Burgos, he has to focus there, right?”
The envoys despaired even more at Baron Kilburn, the lord of Logos, and his kind explanation.
But they didn’t give up. No, they couldn’t.
Without the help of Sir Sailun, the newly appointed acting governor of Burgos, and the troops he had brought with him, their territories might really collapse.
“Thank you for letting us know, Baron Kilburn.”
“On behalf of our lord, we extend our deepest gratitude to the lord of Logos.”
The envoys bowed profusely to Baron Kilburn and tried to hurry off to Burgos as quickly as possible.
But then, the one who had asked the idiotic question first and was still cringing cautiously raised his hand.
“Lord of Logos, may I ask one more thing?”
“Of course. What’s on your mind?”
Remembering Sion’s request to answer the northeastern lords’ questions as kindly as possible whenever he could, Baron Kilburn replied leisurely.
At his demeanor, all the envoys who had been about to leave the office felt an inexplicable sense of “discomfort.”
It didn’t take long to figure out what that discomfort was.
“Has Logos Territory perhaps resolved its monster problem?”
“……!”
That was it! The envoys finally realized what oddity they had sensed from Baron Kilburn today.
Their own lords were growing white hairs and wrinkles every day from monster incursions, yet Baron Kilburn was far too relaxed.
“We have.”
“Gasp!”
“H-How?”
The envoys who had been heading out swarmed back into the office.
Baron Kilburn leaned back comfortably in his chair and said,
“The monster hunting corps that Sir Sailun brought wiped them all out in just three days.”
“Th-Three days!?”
The envoys’ jaws dropped.
Their territories had conscripted peasants and hired dozens to hundreds of mercenaries, yet they were still barely holding off the monsters.
“I-Is that even possible? From what I heard, that monster hunting corps has fewer than a hundred troops...”
“Less than that. Only about twenty are veterans, and the other sixty joined the Sparrowhawk Squad just three or four months ago.”
“Gasp!”
It was unbelievable. Three or four months—that made them no better than raw recruits, didn’t it?
“Ah, there must have been heavy casualties, then?”
“Our territory’s forces took all the deaths. One knight and eight soldiers died, and some were badly wounded. They disobeyed Sir Sailun’s orders, left their positions recklessly, and that’s what happened.
But the Sparrowhawk Squad had no fatalities or serious injuries. Just three or four minor wounds.”
“……!?”
Did that even make sense?
Their territories suffered more casualties than that every single day, yet they had wiped out the monsters in three days with only that many losses?
“Curious? About how that’s possible?”
“Yes, p-please tell us. We’d be grateful.”
“This.”
Baron Kilburn patted his chest. More precisely, the clothes he was wearing.
It was a simple brigandine adorned with silver buttons and embroidery on black leather.
Brigandines were armor that nobles and knights often wore as everyday attire, and since Baron Kilburn was known among northeastern nobles for his frugality and lack of extravagance, the envoys just thought it suited him well—what’s the point? and gave him puzzled looks.
“It’s a brigandine made from processed monster byproducts. Made in Sion Dukedom.”
“Ah!”
Only then did the envoys’ eyes widen.
“The outer layer is troll hide, and the inner plates are iron mixed with troll bone. The embroidery thread is from swamp spider silk. Sir Sailun said Sion Dukedom’s Handler specially ordered it for me.”
“I-I see.”
Shock and envy filled the envoys’ faces. Baron Kilburn’s brigandine wasn’t something just anyone could buy with money.
But what did that have to do with Logos repelling the monsters with fewer than ten casualties...
‘N-No way!?’
Baron Kilburn, beaming proudly at his brigandine, stood up, walked to the window, looked outside, and said,
“Sir Sailun supplied our territory’s forces with the exact same gear that Sion Dukedom’s regular army uses—at half price. And it performed just as rumored, spectacularly.
With that armor, bipedal small monsters’ attacks didn’t land at all. Even beast or mid-sized monsters’ claws and fangs were blocked to some extent.
Oh, the knights got special gear made from processed monster byproducts. The swords and spears are especially outstanding. Amazing stuff. There was a troll that took a sword to the shoulder from one of our territory’s knights, and it didn’t regenerate right away. I checked it myself. And besides...”
“……!”
The envoys’ gazes naturally followed to where Baron Kilburn was looking.
Logos Territory soldiers, armed with unified armor, spears, and swords that looked starkly different from their own territories’ ragtag forces and hired mercenaries’ shoddy gear, were training diligently under someone’s command.
“Knights and rangers who served over five years in Sion Dukedom are even giving monster hunting training. They’ll head to Burgos in about a fortnight, but training with the best of the best veterans and hunting monsters has left Logos with no major worries now. Oh, and...”
Baron Kilburn flashed a smile at the envoys that went beyond relaxed—now fully confident—and said,
“The workshops soon opening in Burgos will buy the byproducts from monsters our territory’s forces hunt at good prices. So, following Sir Sailun’s advice, Logos will raise a specialized monster hunting force.”
“…….”
The envoys were utterly speechless.
While some were shitting bricks because their territories would collapse within the year from monsters, others had not only solved the problem but were planning to profit from it.
How was that possible?
Anyone who didn’t know the answer was a fool.
“We’ve heard invaluable words, Lord of Logos! We’ll take our leave now!”
The quickest one bolted out of the office like lightning.
“Farewell!”
“We’ll convey your well-wishes to our lord! Sir Karon! Let’s go!”
The over-ten envoys rushed out of the office in a frenzy.
“Take care, all of you.”
Baron Kilburn was usually seen as stern in speech and strict in personality, but today he waved with a pleased smile.
It was the leisure of the lord who, along with Burgos, was the only one in the northeast to connect with Sir Sailun and decide to join first.
‘Truly grateful. And hearing Piot’s doing well is icing on the cake. We were lucky indeed.’
Baron Kilburn’s lips kept smiling as he reread his youngest son’s letter for the umpteenth time.
Unaware that it all stemmed not from luck, but from his maternal grandfather’s deep regret and even deeper love toward his mother.
* * *
The envoys left Logos lord’s castle and whipped their horses and carriages like mad toward Burgos.
Fortunately, Logos was the closest territory to Burgos, so they arrived just before sunset.
But unfortunately, Burgos’s castle gates were firmly shut.
“We’re here to see the governor—His Excellency the Governor!”
“I’m a retainer of Baron Bilgoer from Panten Territory! Where is Sir Sailun?”
“Hey! Open the gates!”
The envoys, hoarse from half a day of breathing dust while riding, croaked out their pleas, and the gates opened.
“Oh! The guard captain? I’m from Panten Territory...”
“I’m Pellman from Volpar Territory! I met Sir Sailun once before...”
Though over ten burst in at once, the guard captain didn’t flinch and said,
“Ahh, I know why you’re here. You’ve all come to see His Excellency the Governor, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Where is he now? The administrator’s residence? Or staying at an inn?”
The politically astute (irresponsible) guard captain of Burgos, who had once immediately tossed Sion’s ID token to the administrator when he returned from the Dragon Wastelands.
Admitting himself to be a petty man, he never forgot—just as a petty loser would—the humiliation he had suffered in the past.
“Well, you see, our soldiers spotted orcs north of the wasteland recently.”
“O-Orcs...?”
“Yes. About thirty of them, but maybe more. Anyway, it’s chaos because of those bastards. That’s why we closed the gates early.”
“But what does that have to do with Sir Sailun...”
“What do you mean, what does it have to do?”
The guard captain whipped his burly face toward the one starting to get annoyed.
Though a total loser inside, his tough-guy looks were the epitome of manly, and when he glared, the other instinctively stepped back.
“They’re orcs that came down from Orcland. Orcs that traveled over a hundred kilometers from Orcland all the way here. Doesn’t His Excellency the Governor naturally have to deal with that?”
“N-Now that you mention it... So?”
The guard captain smirked at the subordinates sent by the northeastern lords who had uniformly ignored Burgos’s pleas for aid, his grudge unforgettable like the petty man he was.
“Our Governor said he won’t meet anyone until that’s resolved. Ah, just wait and see. His Excellency might change his mind.”
Squeeeeeeeeeak!?
A bizarre scream echoed before Burgos’s gates.
And four days later, a group of far higher status than those who had let out the ridiculous shriek arrived in Burgos by carriage.
Ten knights in gleaming plate breastplates, and fifty cavalry armed with chainmail and shields emblazoned with lion crests.
“It’s Crown Prince Highness and former Interior Minister Sir Rundle.”
“Y-Yes. But...”
“What?”
Is this bastard (job and head too) suicidal!?
The knight scowled at the backwater guard captain who didn’t open the way immediately even though the crown prince had come in person.
But petty or not, the guard captain had razor-sharp instincts and unyielding grudges. Trembling (he feared Sion more than the crown prince), he still spoke up.
“Y-Your waiting number is 18. The Governor gave strict orders—no exceptions...”
“What? You son of a—!”
“Y-Yes. Number 18 it is.”
(To be continued in the next installment)