Beyond the Great Wall (2)
"……."
"……."
Fifty rangers who had passed the grueling selection process. Each bore scars on their faces or bodies from past battles, giving them a striking presence. One man wore a bear pelt hat pulled low, hiding his eyes and amplifying the intimidating aura he exuded. It was a gathering of human weapons.
Northerners were, at their core, rugged men. To put it simply, think Vikings—that captured it intuitively. Old John digging potatoes in the fields, Peter heading out to chop wood with his axe, even Charles hawking wares at the market—they were all tough as nails. They could have chosen the soldier's path from the start. The weak had long been weeded out in the harsh north, so the empire viewed northerners as a warrior race.
'But now, among them, they chose to enlist? That says it all.'
They had opted for, "Instead of risking my life fighting monsters as an adventurer, I'll be a soldier with decent treatment and steady pay!" Not wide-eyed kids chasing thrills, but men who made cold, pragmatic choices. And among those men, the fifty who had volunteered for dangerous missions after rigorous screening? They were the elite who could waltz into the macho club with VIP passes.
These were the types who, if told to pack up and head out on recon right now, wouldn't ask, "For real? Right now? Immediately?" They'd just say, "Hell yeah, let's do it."
"Form up in fives and tens!"
Maximilian bellowed. The fifty rangers of the company snapped into motion with perfect discipline. Maximilian turned and saluted. Estiang nodded in acknowledgment.
Maximilian was taking command of the company. Surprising, perhaps, but he'd volunteered eagerly.
'At first, it was just reciting what the operations staff told me, but emotions welled up unbidden. It's a historic moment—Berg, on the defensive for centuries, finally shifting to the offensive.'
'...Hmm.'
'So if Your Grace permits, I'll lead them as commander and gladly volunteer for this glorious mission.'
His eyes had sparkled as he said it. So Estiang had let him. Maximilian was a senior knight of the Iron Fang Knights, handling aura adeptly. In this era, knights routinely doubled as commanders, so no issue there. He'd volunteered, and Estiang trusted his judgment anyway.
'Plus, that speech of his. Uh, it was a bit much.'
Estiang had listened to him recruiting volunteers and been a tad alarmed. He'd told his sister not to go full romance-novel cheese in her story, but that didn't mean unleashing the grimdark either. This wasn't an all-or-nothing total war. Maximilian had a talent for speeches—in the worst way. A talent to watch.
Shifting his gaze from that worrisome talent, he eyed a beastman scratching his head nearby.
Sensing the look, Billaine turned. "Your Grace, something to say to me?"
"No, nothing."
Billaine. Great warrior of the Silver Mane tribe, now the territory's guard dog. Chun-sik or whatever. Anyway.
Estiang asked casually, probing. "Are you confident? You'll need to obey Sir Maximilian's commands to the letter. I know you're strong, but impulsive actions can bring unforeseen dangers."
"Confident. Follow orders only. Rangers scout. I'm good. At scouting."
Billaine nodded vigorously.
"And it's boring here. Heard lots of monsters attack. But Your Grace, no monsters. Boar meat's gotten old."
"True, it's been quiet since you arrived. Just a few scattered small-scale raids—not even worth calling attacks. But isn't that good for you?"
"Why good? Don't get it."
"No need to risk your life fighting. Monsters or not, you get your steady pay every month anyway."
"No, Your Grace is wrong."
Billaine frowned, shaking his head like he didn't grasp it. Clang! A razor-sharp blade like a claw protruded from his knuckles. He stroked it as he spoke.
"I'm a warrior. Not just any warrior. Great warrior is best hunter. To stay great warrior, keep fighting, keep proving."
"Wary of skills rusting in peacetime?"
"Huh? Not that."
Billaine shrugged.
"Record. Great warrior speaks with record. Fewer hunts, just warrior."
What? Some kind of pyramid scheme? Catch lots of game, get "Triple Diamond Great Warrior!" status; slack off, get demoted. Huh, must be beastman culture. Anyway, he hated steady-pay slacking—perfect fit for what Estiang wanted. And Estiang wasn't some plantation owner cracking whips, yelling, "I pay you well, so work yourself to the bone, slave!"
"I get it. Anyway, as deputy company commander, your role is crucial."
"Know it. Obey leader. If danger, I handle it."
"Spot on."
Passed. No need for a spar—he was probably neck-and-neck with Wolfgang for second strongest in Berg after Estiang. As a beastman, he'd excel at tracking and scouting over humans.
And so, the fifty rangers gathered under Maximilian and Billaine. As they stood at attention, eyes fixed on him, Estiang stepped onto the platform.
No need for flowery oratory outdoors. Meeting their burning gazes one by one, he spoke plainly.
"Welcome, rangers."
"……."
"I have nothing to say. You volunteered knowing full well, with the sense of duty to match. Right? Do I really need to give a grand speech impressing the gravity upon you?"
"No, Your Grace!"
True to their sense of purpose, a thunderous response erupted instantly.
"That answer's enough. No long-winded talk. The foundation you've built will be the key to shattering the fate that's bound Berg and the north for centuries. Good luck, rangers."
Pathetic excuse for a speech, laughably short. But perfect length. No point wasting time yapping. Their numbers were few, but their spirit was top-notch.
"An honor, Your Grace!"
Stepping down, Estiang shook hands one by one, thinking: Good. With these, no 'Estiang's rangers blocked by orc mountain brigade' disasters.
* * *
The rangers were handpicked elites—hexagon stats across the board. They could ride, climb rugged mountains, and since it was a high-risk mission, no training from scratch; just select the fully qualified and tailor the unit.
It didn't take long to prepare for departure.
Kuuung.
The massive gate groaned open. Usually for intercepting monster incursions or cavalry charges. But this time, with no monsters even approaching the Great Wall.
"...Far."
Staring beyond the open gate, Estiang murmured. A vast snowfield stretched out, unmelting. After that, coniferous forests, then the foothills of those massive snow-capped mountains. Mountains that spewed endless monsters like malice incarnate. Superhuman eyesight could make out the forests, but beyond? Even he couldn't see. Unknown until explored.
Maximilian, ready to depart, saluted. "Your Grace, the rangers are fully prepared."
"Checks complete?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
He affirmed confidently. "I'll stake my heart on completing this mission. Burning my body to lay the foundation for our grand counteroffensive—"
"Sir Maximilian."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"That's an order. Return alive. 'Alive' includes all limbs, fingers, and toes intact."
"Understood. Got ahead of myself."
Maximilian grinned.
Couldn't have him actually sacrificing his heart. Same as any recon beyond the wall, but losing elites like that would be a catastrophe. Estiang wanted to go too, but he wasn't that reckless.
"...One more time: objective is terrain recon to the mountain foothills. Avoid combat. For first scout, just confirm geography and return—that's plenty."
"Of course, Your Grace. We'll all return safe and sound."
"Billaine. Same for you. Pure recon—avoid monster fights."
"Got it. Understand Your Grace. Fight only if unavoidable."
Billaine nodded. Good—stressed enough.
Estiang glanced over the rangers and permitted departure.
"Move out."
"Yes. See you in three days, Your Grace."
They mounted up, three days' rations packed. For foothills recon, no need for long stays; stick to horse-friendly terrain. Deeper probes later would mean on foot.
"Hyah!"
The rangers, faces grim, rode past one by one. Their formation soon dwindled to distant dots.
Watching their backs, Roena spoke softly beside him. "They'll return safely, Your Grace."
"Hope so."
Three days was ample to scout foothills, map terrain, and return. Allow four or five for blizzards. They'd be back.
As he calculated, something soft draped over his shoulders. A fur cloak—Roena's, placed there unnoticed.
"Your Grace, the wind's cold standing here."
"...Time to head in. Thanks, Lady Roena."
"Just doing my duty as adjutant."
Her usual gentle tone. He'd chosen his adjutant well.