Chapter 110
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: The Meaning of Shoveling (1)
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The night was deep.
It was the hour when most people were preparing for bed.
Or rolling around in the sweet embrace of an early slumber.
But one man here—Sir Valoradi Blanc, captain of the White Lancers—could not easily fall asleep.
No, it wasn't that he couldn't sleep; he was pacing furiously, snorting in anger.
‘What kind of outrageous rudeness is this...'
Clank! Clank clank!
He recalled what had happened just moments ago.
His steps grew even more violent at the memory.
It was no wonder.
The lord of this territory, Baron Frontera, had summoned him to his office.
And from him, Blanc had heard a request so rude he had never even imagined it.
'What? Incorporating the entire White Lancers into the Engineering Corps?'
It wounded his pride.
Even thinking about it now was absurd.
Just recalling it made his face flush red.
'Holding shovels instead of swords, hauling dirt like common laborers? Us?'
It was nonsense.
Who was he?
What kind of men were the White Lancers under his command?
'We are Her Majesty the Queen's sword and lance. Our greatest glory is to charge into battle at Her Majesty's side and meet a fitting death. And yet, she expects us to pick up shovels?'
Naturally, he rebelled.
He even grabbed Baron Frontera by the collar.
How dare he issue such an insulting order.
Even if he had come here on Her Majesty's command.
Even if command authority had temporarily been delegated to the lord of this territory, Baron Frontera.
'Still, this is unacceptable!'
His frustration boiled over.
He bellowed and argued loudly.
Then came the baron’s pale-faced reply, which was even more outrageous.
'What? This isn't his own decision?'
He pressed further.
The baron's response was, 'Go down to the training grounds behind the mansion, and you'll understand.'
'Fine. I'm going. I'm going out of pity!'
He would see and understand the reason.
Clank! Clank!
With heavy steps, he left the mansion.
He headed to the training grounds in the backyard.
Unaware or uncaring of his boiling rage, under the bright moonlight, a solitary figure stood in the center of the training grounds, his back turned.
He stood casually, hands clasped behind him.
His posture was straight as he gazed up at the moon.
"Who's there? Were you waiting for me?"
Sir Blanc asked.
The silhouette turned toward him.
He carried no weapon.
Yet he wore a calm smile that somehow seemed more dangerous than any blade.
"Yes, that's right. You arrived sooner than I expected."
"Lloyd Frontera?"
"I'm honored that the renowned Sir Blanc knows my name."
"Honored, nothing. I'm Valoradi Blanc. We caught a glimpse of each other yesterday, but this is our proper introduction."
"My apologies. I was too busy cleaning up yesterday's mess."
"I was just as busy."
He too had spent the day checking on his men's condition and maintaining the cavalry's armor and gear.
Sir Blanc tilted his head slightly, eyeing Lloyd.
"But I think I just heard something odd."
"From the baron, you mean?"
"You knew."
"Of course. It was my request."
"Don't tell me the decision to incorporate the White Lancers into your territory's Engineering Corps came from your head?"
"That's correct."
"......"
The reply was so nonchalant.
Blanc nearly grabbed him by the collar.
Suppressing the urge with effort, Sir Blanc spoke.
"Why? The baron said I'd hear the reason if I came here. So stop beating around the bush and explain."
"To survive."
"......What?"
Sir Blanc froze.
What was this Lloyd Frontera trying to say?
Lloyd continued.
"I don't want to die. But I can't abandon the territory. I certainly can't abandon the people here and run. So I thought I had to do something—anything. Use every means at my disposal and hold out as long as I can."
"So your preparation against the monster incursions to come is this? Incorporating the White Lancers into the Engineering Corps?"
"Yes."
"But you're making a mistake."
"Why is that?"
"Because our 500 lances charging across the battlefield would be far more effective than turning into engineers wielding shovels."
"You're right."
"......What do you mean by that?"
What scheme did this man have?
Why agree so readily?
Unaware of Blanc's thoughts, Lloyd smiled faintly.
"Shine with your lances on the battlefield all you want. I won't stop you. In fact, I'll cheer you on. But until the monsters attack, I'm asking you to pick up shovels."
"So, join your Engineering Corps for construction work in peacetime, then fight as lancers in battle?"
"Yes."
It was a perfectly straightforward answer.
Sir Blanc faltered.
He found himself at a loss for words.
He couldn't think of a rebuttal.
'Logically, it makes sense.'
They were the White Lancers.
But that was their role in battle.
He was asking them to hold shovels before the fighting started.
On reflection, it was eminently practical.
'Holding shovels in peacetime won't tarnish our honor.'
As long as they shone in war, it was fine.
Moreover, on closer examination, Lloyd's request had no procedural flaws.
The moment they were dispatched here under the Queen's orders, command of the White Lancers had temporarily transferred to Baron Frontera.
'But... it doesn't sit right.'
It was practical, procedurally sound.
But it stung his pride.
The Queen's elite cavalry wielding dirt-caked shovels?
That fact alone stirred immense revulsion, which he couldn't shake.
In short, this was a matter of feelings and emotions, not logic or reason.
'If even I feel this way, what about my men?'
The 500 White Lancers.
All exceptional men.
Ready to throw away their lives like grass for the Queen.
They would rebel even more fiercely against this order.
Pondering, Sir Blanc looked up.
Something occurred to him that he wanted to check.
"I have one question."
"Yes, ask away."
"Suppose we join the Engineering Corps. What exactly will we be doing?"
"What engineers do."
"Meaning......"
"Mostly shoveling. At first, without the knack, it'll be slow. But once you get the hang of it, I believe you'll outperform our engineers. I'm expecting great things."
"What......"
"I'm serious. Truly."
It was genuine.
He wasn't asking this to insult their pride.
'It's the White Lancers, after all.'
The Queen's direct unit.
Proven in combat and stamina.
With the knack, each could do the work of four seasoned engineers.
And if needed, they could switch to combat roles on the spot.
It was essential for the grand plan he envisioned soon.
The masterstroke to block the endless monster waves at once.
For that, they needed to master shoveling.
"So I promise: daily wages, generous. Five times what our engineers get. That's a lot."
"Daily wages aren't the issue."
"They are. How many people in the world toil all day, sweating buckets, just for that?"
"......"
"And shoveling on-site isn't without its rewards. It's great training too."
"Training? You mean physical conditioning?"
"Exactly."
"Ha."
Sir Blanc let out a hollow laugh.
Was this Lloyd fellow in his right mind?
'The hero who saved Creemo, a master craftsman acknowledged by Her Majesty.'
He had also thwarted Sir Cherni's assassination attempt on the Queen.
Blanc had been amazed and impressed when he heard.
He had wanted to meet him someday.
To see the true face of such a man.
But today, he was deeply disappointed.
"Lloyd Frontera, you seem to know nothing about the White Lancers. Do we look so frail that we need to temper ourselves on a construction site?"
"Hmm, no?"
"Nonsense. You're belittling us."
"That's definitely not it."
"You're not belittling us?"
"No."
"So you're saying we can train our strength on a construction site?"
"Of course."
"How exactly......"
Sir Blanc furrowed his brow.
It was just shoveling.
Or hammering at most.
At best, hauling dirt or bricks.
But the training they had endured?
'Daily life-or-death drills. Honed through endless blood, sweat, and wounds amid flashing lances and blades. Unleashed on the battlefield, raising victory cups for survival today and greater valor tomorrow. And now?'
They could train on a mere construction site?
'Ridiculous.'
Sir Blanc concluded.
His gaze turned cold as he shot back.
"How can we train there? What difference will your vaunted construction-site training make?"
"It'll change a lot, in many ways."
"Can you prove it specifically?"
"Of course."
"Right now?"
"Shall I show you immediately if you wish?"
"Please do."
"Fine. But how about a little bet?"
"A bet?"
"Yes."
Lloyd flashed a sly smile.
"I'll now demonstrate the results of construction-site training—with a shovel. If you judge the technique I show to be more powerful than your swordsmanship, incorporate the White Lancers into the Engineering Corps without complaint. How about it?"
"Ha, fine."
Sir Blanc didn't hesitate.
Training results with a shovel?
Comparing it to his swordsmanship?
He nearly scoffed.
'Does he not know I'm one step from Swordmaster?'
His sword could do anything but Aura.
No matter what Lloyd Frontera did with a shovel, it couldn't surpass his sword. Not even for Creemo's hero who felled a Gigatitan.
A shovel was just a tool.
Shovels couldn't compete.
Confident, Sir Blanc declared.
"I accept the bet."
"Good."
Lloyd nodded readily.
He actually picked up a shovel from the ground.
'A shovel. What does he plan to do with a mere tool, not even a weapon?'
Sir Blanc felt even more amused.
Shovel away all he wanted.
After watching his fill?
He would mock him thoroughly.
And hold him accountable for all the rudeness and insults so far.
With that resolve, he stepped back two paces.
To avoid dirt on his clothes.
But right then, Sir Blanc heard something unexpected.
"Two steps isn't enough. Step back further."
"......How much further?"
"As far as possible."
"......"
He took two more steps.
But Lloyd shook his head.
Feeling uneasy, he added five more.
Only then did Lloyd assume his stance.
"Shoveling, you see."
Crunch!
His hands gripped the shovel handle fiercely.
Veins bulging on his hands, Lloyd spoke.
"Is not as simple and easy as you think, Sir Blanc."
Whiiiir—!
The three mana circles slowly activated.
His grip on the shovel tightened further.
"To shovel once, you must rise at dawn. Dress hurriedly before the sun rises, grab your safety boots, and head out. Then pray desperately to be picked at the labor office. Not picked? You want to shovel, but you can't."
"......"
What was he saying?
Sir Blanc wanted to ask.
But Lloyd continued.
"Rainy, miserable days are the same. Especially summer typhoons or monsoons, or harsh winters when tools freeze. Even on good days? You might fall out of favor with the site foreman and get sidelined. Or 'dema'—when jobs fall through midway due to bad luck. Same result: you want to shovel, but can't."
"What does that......"
"You overcome countless hardships and adversities for that first shovel of the day. Only then do you earn your daily rate. Yes, to others it might seem trivial and laughable. But to the shoveler, it can be their last lifeline. One humble shovel pays for medicine, school fees, survival. It lets them hold onto the slimmest hope."
"......"
"So for someone, shoveling is that minimum hope—life itself. The strength to chase dreams, feed children, embrace tomorrow. So—"
Whiiiiiir—!
The triple circles spun furiously now.
Each word from Lloyd resonated the circles.
A faint smile played on his lips.
Then, the three circles collided.
He thrust the shovel skyward.
Fwooooosh—!
"......!"
The volcanic surge of Triple Blasting shot up 70 meters.
It scorched part of the night sky.
It faded with the wind.
But that wind was hot.
Blasting so powerful it heated the air, tousling Sir Blanc's hair.
Lloyd's gaze turned to him.
He murmured softly.
"That's real shoveling."
"......"
Sir Blanc had no reply.
Instead, he unconsciously swallowed hard.
The next day, every White Lancer held a shovel demurely.
And six days later.
The second monster horde, as Lloyd foresaw, appeared at the barony's outskirts.