21. The Baroness (1)
As Wayne emerged from the passage, several squad members had gathered at the site of the recent battle. The hatch opened, and Wayne stepped out.
“Curtis, how'd you get the Gigant in here?”
“Crawled about thirty meters, sir.”
The entrance was narrow, but once past it, the ceiling opened up enough for even larger Gigants to fit comfortably.
“Nancy, you okay?”
Her voice was laced with crisp military discipline. Nancy was mounted in her Gigant, scanning the surroundings. By now, she was completely at ease in the 5-meter machine that dwarfed her, and her presence reassured the rest of the squad.
Guess I was right to assign her a Gigant first.
Wayne smiled, pleased with her rapid growth—and the proof that his judgment was spot on. He'd expected a former slave like Nancy to be passive at best, but once she started handling Odd, she'd taken initiative: standing watch unprompted, overflowing with talent, and diligent in her training without fail.
Snagging a gem like this right from the start... talk about good luck.
Wayne believed loyalty born of coercion or rank was fleeting. But what about a bond forged through mutual exchange of something vital? So far, he'd only been giving to Nancy.
“Young master, why didn't you come out sooner? We waited forever.”
“Blame this guy.”
Wayne held up the monster pup clutched in the Gigant's hand.
“Gasp! No way, that's...?”
“Yup. Its pup.”
Wayne nodded toward the C-rank wolf monster Kurt, stabbed through and lying dead nearby.
“Why'd you bring that?”
“Dunno. Thought I'd raise it?”
“Pardon?”
“Don't sweat it. If it won't listen, just boot it back to the Great Forest.”
“Even so, it's a monster... Wait, is it dead?”
To Curtis, it looked lifeless—emaciated, no movement, surely gone.
“Look closer. It's still breathing.”
Curtis touched it himself and felt the faint rise and fall. Wayne called over Yann, who was nearby.
“Yann, this one's name is Eleven from now on. You're in charge of water, food—the works.”
“Me?”
“You want me to do it? If it dies, it's on you. Figure it out.”
“...Understood.”
Yann grumbled his assent. He couldn't fathom why a woman and ex-slave like Nancy got a Gigant while he was stuck babysitting a monster pup.
Wayne glanced around.
“Where's the rest of the squad?”
“Sara and Mark are guarding the baroness at the entrance. The others came inside looking for you, sir.”
“Round everyone up and bring 'em in here! We're camping tonight.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Nancy, drag this disassembled Gigant along and follow us in.”
Captain Jamie couldn't tear her eyes from the mountain of Gigant parts.
“This is a full-on Gigant junkyard.”
Jamie beamed at Wayne's approach.
“Squad leader, it's not junk—it's a treasure trove!”
“Treasure trove, huh? Anything good in there?”
“Plenty of usable stuff. And I found something really unique.”
“Unique how?”
“See for yourself.”
Wayne followed her to the back.
“Whoa, what the hell is this?”
“This model's a quad-legged Gigant developed and scrapped in the Shuberin Grand Territory about fifty years ago.”
Wayne tilted his head. Four long, angular legs supported a humanoid upper body. And sprouting from the torso: two arms on each side, four in total.
“A Gigant? For real?”
“Designed to carry and fire upgraded heavy cannons while mobile. The extra limbs stabilize recoil and balance during shots.”
“So they had long-range artillery Gigants back then!”
Jamie chuckled dryly.
“Failed before deployment, from what I hear.”
“Why?”
“Cannons need shells and powder. Means you need squads hauling ammo, plus crews to clean the barrel and reload after each shot. Shells are bigger than a man's head—no lifting without tools.”
“Can't the Gigant handle that?”
“Exactly. Later designs added three support Gigants: ammo haulers and loaders.”
“Tch. Sounds inefficient as hell.”
“Yeah. I figured that much was workable. But reload speed killed it. Cleaning, powder, shell, aiming—two full minutes. Enough time for a monster to close in and shred you. Better to park artillery batteries in the rear, hit-and-run style. Cheaper and safer.”
Wayne nodded. Even to him, a cannon Gigant screamed inefficiency.
“And the real killer?”
“Gigant structure doesn't multitask like humans.”
“Meaning?”
“Mobile? Legs only—no upper body use. Firing? Upper body locked, no walking.”
“What?”
Wayne blinked, not getting it at first.
“Traveling, torso's useless. Firing, legs freeze.”
“Holy shit, it's a defective piece-of-crap Gigant.”
“Yup, total failure. Still, built tough with premium parts. Four legs mean speed, 1.3 times a 3rd-class Gigant's output. Great for hauling monster corpses or heavy scrap.”
“Half-baked, but useful for transport.”
Wayne pictured dragging kills—perfect fit.
“Can it move?”
“Needs work—sat too long. But most parts are intact. Gimme time, it'll roll.”
“Good! You got one day.”
“Plenty!”
“If time left, pick usable bits from the pile.”
Wayne gestured at the heap.
“Wait, one week minimum! This is gold.”
“Grab what we need now. I ain't short on Gigant pilots.”
“No Gigants?”
“Forget it. I'll send Nancy to help with mine. That work?”
“One more day, then. I'll max it out.”
“Deal—two days max.”
“Yessir!”
To Wayne, it looked like trash. To her, buried treasure. A hauler Gigant was a win, and two days wasn't bad.
The rest of the squad arrived. Baroness Alicia approached Wayne and bowed deeply.
“I couldn't thank you properly amid the chaos. You saved us.”
“No big deal. Glad you're safe.”
“Um... your mercenary band has a Gigant engineer?”
“Yeah.”
“Could she reassemble my disassembled Gigant?”
“Pardon?”
Wayne's brow furrowed. He had no intention of handing over a Gigant they'd bled for against goblins—even if it was originally hers.
“Baroness, sorry, but it's ours now. We killed the goblins, saved your lives. Asking for the loot on top? That's no way to act.”
Alicia's cheeks flushed at his bluntness. She knew, but pressed on.
“My situation's desperate. Ah! Gold instead!”
“Gold?”
“Yes. Our Lorenne Outpost is five days from here. Escort me and the Gigant there—I'll pay handsomely.”
A 4-meter private Gigant from a minor territory? Low specs, low output. Wayne planned to sell it at Westline Fortress anyway.
He beckoned Jamie.
“Jamie, can you assemble this?”
“Our territory's engineers poured their hearts into it. Please.”
Alicia pleaded with Jamie, who was inspecting the parts.
“Squad leader, hour tops.”
“An hour? Quick work. Assemble it first.”
“On it!”
Jamie hopped into her maintenance Gigant, using the tools from the goblins' net to rebuild the Lorenne machine in twenty minutes. Specialized kit sped things up.
“Baroness, let's hear your offer.”
Wayne opened negotiations.
Whoooosh!
Fierce winds howled through vents in the cave ceiling. Better than sleeping exposed to wasteland sandstorms—roof overhead, shelter from the gale. Goblins' firewood meant a cozy campfire too.
Kiiing! Thud! Kigik!
Jamie and Glen Jacob tinkered on the quad-leg Gigant nearby. Sleepless, Wayne tossed and turned.
“Kkiing! Ngh!”
The wolf pup Eleven crept close and burrowed into Wayne's blanket.
Does it recognize its savior? Or just seeking the strong one's protection on instinct?
Wayne was still radiating red Odd everywhere. Even in sleep, he could maintain it now—a vigilance aid and training boost.
Look at you, fighting to survive just like me.
Eleven trembled violently in his warm embrace—predator aura overwhelming it. Yet it desperately sought shelter. Pitiful.
Wayne gently stroked its head. The shaking stopped like magic. The pup nuzzled his side and passed out.
Wayne smirked down at the monster pup. Orphaned in this world, snatched from death's jaws—its tenacious life force mirrored his own.
The Great Forest at last...
Soon, Westline Fortress: greatest stronghold, biggest city, final bulwark against the forest.
Wayne's reasons for coming weren't just dodging Adam while training pilots. Gold—money.
Shadowing Snow's 7th Squad on orc hunts taught him volumes. A single 3rd-class Gigant squad needed ~500 personnel: cavalry, infantry, gunners, mechanics, cooks. Multiple squads into an armored battalion? Add comms and intel. A full armored division? Astronomical manpower.
An armored legion? Eye-watering costs.
Gigants needed cash—tons of it.
Ways to earn abounded, but for big money? The Great Forest border.
Hunt monsters! Every scrap—bones, muscle, brains, tendons, nerves, blood—fed Gigant production. No waste. Hunting procured materials, printed gold.
Five grand lords and minor nobles built fortresses and outposts for the same. Forest expansion stalled; humans pushed in, hunting.
Risks? Life-or-death fights. Inept pilots died fast.
But Wayne was confident. Karian Odd breathing, emperor's experience.
No one knows the Great Forest like I do.
Four centuries as disaster-class Python etched it into him.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Gigant footfalls jolted the squad awake.
“What the—?”
“Who's riding a Gigant out there?”
Mark, on watch, rushed in.
“Wayne—Squad Leader! A Gigant's bolted outside!”
“Chill. Alicia took off in hers.”
“The baroness?”
Her spot was empty.
“So she's a Gigant pilot.”
Wayne nodded.
“Elves can pilot Gigants?”
“Not pureblood. Half or quarter at most.”
Curtis answered Mark.
He eyed Wayne.
“You knew she'd bolt?”
“Knew her territory, knew her type. Headed to Lorenne Outpost. We'll catch up, collect with interest.”
He'd seen her anxious eyes earlier—figured as much. More curious: why her Odd Eyes glowed green like his.