Chapter 116
Chapter 116
The Iron Emperor — Chapter 116
The overall commander leading the thirty thousand-some reinforcements of the Haian Kingdom was Count Mac Dinerd.
Count Dinerd had amassed enormous wealth through intermediary trade, yet he had no connections whatsoever in central politics. Still, opportunity found him. Having once used his private soldiers to subjugate the bandits who had raided his trading company, he reported that same operation to the capital as a large-scale punitive expedition, along with a modest amount of treasure.
The opportunity that came his way was an order to fill Baron Gowin's vacant post.
Could he ever have imagined himself commanding a great army nearly thirty thousand strong?
Though not quite ten thousand, he had once led eight thousand soldiers in a monster-suppression campaign, pulling strings everywhere to build his merits. That may well have been why the central political circles selected him.
"Hmm, we shall make camp here for tonight."
"Yes, Commander Dinerd."
At Count Dinerd's order, parties of horsemen scattered in all directions to reconnoiter the surrounding area.
Count Dinerd looked back at the knight order he had assembled for this campaign and smiled with satisfaction. Though formed by recruiting free knights, the hundred-odd heavily armored knights possessed more than enough destructive power.
"Start pitching the Count's quarters first!"
"Construct the encampment!"
"Move faster!"
Watching the soldiers bustle about, Count Dinerd wore a pleased smile.
Their fatigue was evident, but even so, the practiced efficiency with which they built the camp was more cohesive than the mercenaries he had always led.
"I will tour the men to raise morale."
"Yes, my lord Count."
Count Dinerd moved off, his escort knights following behind.
He passed among the toiling soldiers, sweeping them with a gaze of satisfaction and seeming benevolence. Yet the soldiers' eyes showed no sign of gratitude or loyalty. They merely rendered the regulation salute by rote as their squad leaders prompted them.
"Hey, does the Count really care about his soldiers that much?"
The slave boy who had asked an innocent question earlier beamed as he watched Count Dinerd's receding back, then spoke to the soldiers who were hurrying about their work.
One of the soldiers, however, sighed, sidled up to the boy, and jerked his chin toward Count Dinerd.
"Kid, it's all well and good, but in this situation, it's poison for us."
"Huh? Worrying about us is poison?"
At the boy's uncomprehending reply, the soldier went on in an admonishing tone.
"What did we just do a moment ago?"
"We saluted the Count."
"And before that?"
At the soldier's repeated question, the boy tilted his head, then looked in the direction the Count had gone. Only then did he seem to catch on, clapping his hands together.
"We formed up to salute the Count!"
The soldier let out a sigh at the boy's answer and patted him on the shoulder.
"At this late hour, so we can salute him, the squad leaders fall us in, we stand there until he approaches, we render the salute, he passes by, and then we go back to pitching camp. The time that eats up is precious rest time for us. The former commander, Baron Gowin, also made his rounds to check on the men, but he kept to a policy of not wasting even that little bit of time. So what's this? Does every damn salute cost us every last minute of rest?"
"I-is that how it is?"
"You think the kid's gonna get it if you explain? Just help me with this. At this rate we won't get any rest at all before we're sent out on guard duty!"
Another soldier, watching the slave boy stammer, clicked his tongue and urged him to work.
"Damn it, I said it because I felt sorry for this little fool clapping and cheering while that man struts around making a show of himself!"
The soldier who had put his arm around the boy's shoulder approached the one who had urged them and muttered under his breath.
Even as they grumbled, the resentment in the hearts of soldiers standing in formation to render salutes to the Count kept piling higher.
"Hey, quit your yapping and get moving! You don't want chow?"
The voices of squad leaders driving the soldiers only added fuel to their discontent.
When Count Dinerd, having made a circuit of the camp, entered the completed command tent, the nobles waiting inside rose from their seats to greet him.
"Ha ha ha, I am certain the soldiers felt my lord Count's care for his men."
"Come now, Baron Nimial, enough of the flattery."
Though he waved off Wiron Nimial's words, his pleased expression showed he took no offense.
Once Count Dinerd and the nobles were settled, they delivered their reports to wrap up the day. As Count Dinerd listened to the nobles' reports and nodded along, Baron Nimial casually spoke up.
"I had inwardly worried about resistance from a force that Baron Gowin commanded for two years, yet seeing them perform even better fills me with respect for my lord Count's ability."
"Ha ha ha, respect is hardly necessary."
When Count Dinerd demurred to Baron Nimial, the baron sprang up and poured out praise all the more.
"What are you saying? The key was appointing your private soldiers as squad leaders in every unit. Without that, could the chain of command have been established so quickly?"
"Why, my friend, is that not only natural? This corps is now practically my corps. To train it in my methods, appointing my own private soldiers, who know my ways, as squad leaders is the most sensible approach, is it not?"
At Count Dinerd's words, the nobles burst into laughter.
Objectively, Count Dinerd's method was sound. The decisive flaw, however, was that his private soldiers had only ever hunted bandits and monsters, making them wholly unsuited for large-scale warfare.
The common soldiers felt this most acutely, which was why their discontent kept mounting.
Is there anything men fear more than change?
Thus another night passed under accumulated grievances.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
"Hm?"
In the early dawn, as the sky began to lighten, a soldier on watch in Count Dinerd's camp spotted a dozen or so riders approaching at speed under the pennant of the forward reconnaissance unit and tilted his head.
It was far too early for them to be returning.
"Halt!"
Leaving the reporting to another soldier, the one who went forward to meet the scouts raised his spear high and shouted.
Clop-clop, clop-clop.
The scouts halted about a hundred mir ahead. One rider approached, and the soldier bowed deeply and rendered a salute.
"We greet you, Sir Ramon."
"This is urgent. Go to the command post and report that a North Roselin force is headed this way."
"Huh?"
When the soldier's eyes widened in response, the knight called Ramon briefly furrowed his brow and added a few words.
"Go and report at once. A North Roselin reconnaissance element operating in the rear engaged remnants of South Roselin and took prisoners. They suffered losses and had no choice but to withdraw, and they encountered our force along the way. If you tell them that, they will understand. I have already verified everything."
"Understood."
Sensing Sir Ramon's slight displeasure, the soldier bowed low, turned, and sprinted toward the command post.
A short while later, roughly seven hundred North Roselin troops arrived at the encampment of the Haian Kingdom Expeditionary Force. Count Mac Dinerd and the command staff, having received word, came out to welcome them.
"Goodness, you have endured great hardship!"
"I offer my deepest gratitude for the labors of Count Dinerd, who has come to aid North Roselin. I am Baron Scully Pelson, attached to the North Roselin Expeditionary Force."
At Count Dinerd's warm reception, Baron Pelson dismounted and rendered a salute. Count Dinerd approached with a beaming smile, clasped his hand, and spoke in a consoling tone.
"I am told you encountered South Roselin remnants. You have been through much. Let us go inside and rest."
"I thank you for your hospitality, my lord Count."
Behind Baron Pelson, who walked in alongside Count Dinerd, the bone-weary soldiers settled themselves here and there to rest.
Behind them, some two hundred prisoners lay sprawled out, legs stretched straight—whether from exhaustion or something else.
"Now I see why North Roselin drags out its wars."
"No kidding. Letting prisoners rest so comfortably."
"Is that all? Just look at those soldiers flopping down anywhere the moment they arrive. That tells you everything."
The sight of seven hundred soldiers scattered about lounging drew a remark from every man. Meanwhile, the morning sun climbed steadily higher.
Behind Baron Pelson, who was chatting with Count Mac Dinerd, his escort knight stood utterly motionless. Noticing this, Count Dinerd put on his characteristic kindly smile and addressed him.
"You there, take a seat."
"I am fine."
"Ho ho ho."
At the curt reply, Count Dinerd clicked his tongue as though embarrassed and turned back to Baron Pelson.
"Your escort knight is a rather terse fellow."
"Ha ha, please understand."
Baron Pelson inclined his head slightly, asking for indulgence, then went on.
"My men have ridden through the night and have not yet eaten. Might we share a meal?"
"Why, do not worry about that. I have already given word. Let us eat first and then talk further."
"I am grateful for your kindness."
Count Dinerd rose first, walked over to Baron Pelson's escort knight, clapped him on the shoulder, and smiled.
"Ho ho, you terse fellow should join us as well. Do try not to be quite so terse at the table, hm?"
"My apologies, my lord Count."
"Ho ho ho, not at all."
Count Dinerd walked off smiling, but his conduct plainly signaled that the knight had displeased him. Otherwise, why would he treat a knight of an allied nation come to help in such a manner?
Whether or not he had caught on, Baron Pelson wore an apologetic expression as he followed.
"......"
Crrk.
The moment Count Dinerd and Baron Pelson exited the tent, a faint grinding noise leaked from between the teeth of the knight who had stood like a stone statue. Then, maintaining his customary stony expression, he followed them out.
The first thing that met their eyes outside was the enormous table set for the command staff's meal.
The nobles took their seats as though on cue the moment Count Dinerd seated himself.
"Now, shall we not finish breakfast and prepare to join forces?"
When Count Dinerd opened with a kindly expression, each noble added a word, building the atmosphere. At the tables beside the nobles, the escort knights also seated themselves and awaited the meal.
"Then let us eat."
"To my lord Count's continued success!"
"To continued success!"
As Count Dinerd's words fell, Baron Wiron Nimial rose, raised his wine glass, and cried the toast. The remaining nobles raised their glasses, echoed it, and the meal commenced.
Over the meal, questions about the state of the war flew back and forth. In the midst of this, Baron Pelson, who had been answering, looked at Count Dinerd with a curious expression and posed a question.
"By the way, I do not see Baron Gowin, who is called the Hawk of the Battlefield."
Count Dinerd answered with an awkward smile.
"Ah, you have not yet heard the news. I myself learned of it only after departing on this expedition, but sadly, Baron Gowin is said to have colluded with the Demon Tribe."
"Is that so?"
At Baron Pelson's startled reply, Baron Nimial added from the side:
"In truth, the central Council of Nobles had already suspected Baron Gowin's collusion with the Demon Tribe, which is why they sent him to the frontier. After that, Count Dinerd here was placed in command of the Hawk Corps and dispatched first, because it was clear Baron Gowin intended to use that force to lead a rebellion."
"A rebellion, you say?"
Baron Pelson's eyes widened at Baron Nimial's words. Baron Nimial shook his head and went on.
"Indeed. After that, Baron Gowin was recalled to the capital and taken into custody, but what became of him after......"
As Baron Nimial shook his head and clicked his tongue, Baron Pelson smiled and spoke.
"The Haian Kingdom's intelligence is remarkable. To learn of Baron Gowin's collusion with the Demon Tribe, send him to the provinces, and then, once the corps had departed on expedition, summon him back and seize him."
At Baron Pelson's praise, Baron Nimial burst into laughter, looked at Count Dinerd, and spoke again.
"Even more remarkable is the insight of the central Council of Nobles in recognizing that the true commander of the Hawk Corps is none other than Count Dinerd here......"
"BWWWOOORRP!"
"......"
A grating noise rang out loudly, cutting Baron Nimial off mid-sentence. The belch was so loud that the heads of the dining nobles instinctively turned toward its source.