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Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 7 - Chapter 4




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Chapter 4: To the West 

A group of some three hundred soldiers was camped out in the fields outside Epirus. Along with them were a hundred or so men clad in shabby, dirty clothes. The soldiers wore black leather armor, and their faces, while still young, surveyed the area with sharp gazes. 

A gust of wind blew through the camp, flapping a black flag emblazoned with the emblem of a two-headed serpent with gold and silver scales coiled around a sword. The serpent glared at the surroundings with crimson, shining eyes. It was as if the flag was meant to daunt anyone who lay eyes on it. But everyone in this camp looked up to it with respect and pride. 

The sword stood for power and strength, and the two-headed serpent that seemed to protect it stood for the wisdom and strategy. The design seemed to symbolize their master, as proof of the land they built up with their own two hands. 

Ten carriages were sitting at the southern side of the camp, and the soldiers’ voices echoed from their direction. 

“Forty barrels of salted fish!” 

“Fifty barrels of dried dates!” 

“Forty barrels of pork jerky!” 

The cargo was being loaded off the carriages one by one, and inspecting the barrels’ contents was a plain, boring task. 

“I know it’s irritating work, but we’re almost done. Keep going, everyone!” Laura exclaimed, to which the soldiers nodded wordlessly and went back to work. 

At Laura’s side was a roundish merchant, who inspected a parchment as the soldiers raised their voices. 

“That looks to be everything...” The merchant sighed, having finally concluded checking all the wagons. “My, even with Count Salzberg’s recommendation to encourage me, gathering this much in such a short period of time is impressive, if I do say so myself.” 

This merchant alone carried in the ten wagons to the camp, and compared the many supplies loaded onto them one by one to his ledger. The merchant didn’t engage in any physical labor himself — except for flipping through the parchment, of course — but the task itself was mind-numbingly dull. The merchant was understandably exhausted, but with this two-hour task finally at an end, his round face beamed with relief. 

Of course, having completed such a large transaction meant he would be leaving with his pockets significantly heavier. The sum promised for it was one this shrewd merchant couldn’t very well ignore. His face, however, turned pale at the next moment. 

“Yes, we’re well aware that this was a tall order. That’s why we’ve paid extra, though, and your prices were quite expensive to begin with.” Laura turned a cold gaze at the merchant, who mumbled to himself while looking at the parchments in his hand. 

The result of their inspection showed the amount and quality of the goods was as promised, but the invoice he gave Laura listed an extremely high cost. The truth of the matter was that all the merchants present here were of the zealous type one ought to be always wary of. They were stubborn businessmen that were far more used to negotiations than most nobles were. They would take any chance to increase their profits, waiting with predatory vigil for any opportunity to do so. 

And this merchant, who was grinning at Laura while fidgeting and leafing through his parchments, was no different. His amicable smile hid the fact that he was no saint, nor was he naive. 

“Surely you jest. These are the same prices I offer Count Salzberg.” The merchant mouthed his excuses as if offended. 

True, him mentioning Count Salzberg’s name would normally shut the mouths of any nobles of lower standing. There was no telling what might happen if a commotion were to break out and news of it reached Count Salzberg’s ears, and most nobles couldn’t budge in the face of that fear. 

I swear... Everyone thinks they’re so high and mighty... 

This farce has been going on for days. At first he found the whole spectacle amusing, but after repeating it time and again, he’d grown tired of it. Laura heaved a small sigh. The supplies this merchant delivered them were mostly preserved foods, like salted fish and dried meat. These were effectively foods one could find in a common household, and while their numbers were indeed large, their price didn’t match the sum on the invoice. 

Ryoma upped the amount they would pay by ten percent, telling her that this should keep the merchants quiet, but the price listed was five times the market price. This was far, far too greedy. Laura had checked the market ahead of time, and frankly could have bought the same amount from another merchant. Those prices were far more reasonable than this. 

Ryoma wasn’t so foolish as to blindly trust a merchant and be deceived by their cajolery. And to that end, Laura didn’t hesitate one bit to call out this sly merchant. 

“Really, now? Then please take your goods and leave. We’ll find another company to supply us.” 

They needed supplies urgently, but everything had its limits. They couldn’t afford to withdraw on this. 

“What?! That’s unacceptable! We worked quite hard at Count Salzberg’s request to deliver these, so telling us to just take them back now... This will influence your future dealings both with the Count and with us. You do understand that?” 

Apparently he thought Laura was just a young, naive girl, because he tried to menace her using Count Salzberg’s backing. 

What a foolish man... 

And normally, his threat would have worked. But he would go on to rue his words shortly after this. Because the moment he raised his voice at Laura, an unexpected person spoke up. 

“What is going on here, exactly?” 

Upon hearing that voice, both of them turned around, and the merchant exclaimed with surprise. 

“What?!” 

Count Salzberg had appeared behind him, accompanied by a group of knights. Apparently he’d been there for some time. Count Salzberg’s lips twitched slightly. Apparently he was suppressing the urge to laugh out loud. 

“My, if it isn’t Count Salzberg. We’re delighted to have you here.” Laura gave a respectful bow with flawless aristocratic decorum. 

“Mm. I’ve come here to give my regards to Baron Mikoshiba, as he is about to depart on his campaign...” Count Salzberg asked Laura with a gracious tone and a pleasant smile. “I believe I sent a runner ahead of time to inform you of this. He has time set aside for me, I hope?” 

“The Baron is indeed quite occupied with preparations for the march, but I doubt he will refuse once he hears you have gone to the bother of coming here, lord Count.” 

“I see... Very well, show me to him, if you will.” Count Salzberg then cut off his words and turned his gaze to the now very pale merchant. “And you’re from the Raphael company, I believe?” 

Count Salzberg’s tone wasn’t particularly harsh, but the merchant stiffened in place as if the noble had just declared his death sentence. Epirus’s economy was under the control of the union, and the Mystel Company stood at its head. And the one speaking to him was both the governor of Epirus and husband to the Mystel Company’s sole daughter. 

To this frightened merchant, Count Salzberg’s words were tantamount to the underworld judge’s verdict. 

“Baron Mikoshiba is placing his life on the line for Rhoadseria. I know I’ve asked for quite a lot out of you, but can I ask you to be considerate of the circumstances?” 

It wasn’t an order, but a request to be considerate of Ryoma. But the merchant wasn’t so foolish so as to not understand the meaning behind Count Salzberg’s words. 

“M-My apologies, it seems there was a miscalculation here... “ The merchant stammered as he blatantly lowered the price. 

Count Salzberg didn’t need to say anything else. He knew his intentions were made perfectly clear. 

“Good,” he nodded. “I realize I had the Union’s people work quite hard over this whole affair, but it’s all for Rhoadseria’s future. Do keep it up.” 

“Of course. My apologies for the trouble, I’ll have the goods reconfirmed right away.” The merchant mouthed this excuse and bolted off. 

He would likely take advantage of this check to fabricate some excuse regarding the number or quality of the goods, and use it as a pretense to lower the cost. 

Your luck ran out, didn’t it...? Laura smiled in her heart as she watched the merchant check the goods again in a cold sweat. 

His attempt to make a profit off of them would likely result in him selling it off at a lower price than usual. Of course, he never imagined Count Salzberg would call his bluff there, and so the merchant was more likely to curse his luck rather than reflect on the depth of his greed. 

“Let us be off, then.” 

Count Salzberg ordered Laura to guide him as if nothing had happened. This was, after all, an inconsequential sequence of events to him. All he really did was admonish a greedy merchant. 

“My word, you are too soft-hearted. Even if they came begging for it, I can’t believe you would join the reinforcements to Xarooda. Is life not dangerous enough as it is?” 

Upon entering the tent Laura escorted him to, Count Salzberg’s lips curled the moment he saw Ryoma. He was still smiling, though, and his tone didn’t come across as sarcastic. If anything, it was closer to how one might jab at a friend. 

Laura hurriedly slipped to Ryoma’s side and whispered in his ear, after which he spoke without surprise in his eyes after and whispered something in her ears. 

“It’s been a while, Count Salzberg. I thank you for all your help with this affair, too.” Ryoma said, bowing his head. 

Count Salzberg stopped him with a raised hand and sat on a nearby chair. He was clearly in a good mood. 

“Oh, do away with the pleasantries. I’ve made quite the profit out of your involvement in all this, after all.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t. Everything’s going so smoothly thanks to your assistance, Count.” Ryoma bowed his head anyway. 

“Hmm. I hope we can continue this mutually beneficial give-and-take relationship in the future,” Count Salzberg said with a satisfied smile. 

This much was to be expected. All Count Salzberg really did was contact his father-in-law, the president of the Mystel company, and asked him to have all the companies in the union help secure the goods they needed. 

The Count himself didn’t do any real work, and that alone earned him a good amount of money. Ryoma sent him quite the sum as a fee for acting as their intermediate, and he got a very attractive fee from the union, as well. Ryoma didn’t know just how much Count Salzberg earned in total from the supplies transaction, but it probably wasn’t less than a thousand golds. 

The fact that Ryoma wasn’t trying to make a favor out of this affair, even when considering how much Count Salzberg earned from it, made the noble quite satisfied, too. 

Well, that’s what I expected. Upon seeing Count Salzberg’s pleased smile, Ryoma realized his assumption was correct. 

People like Count Salzberg tended to act in one of several set patterns. The most striking pattern was that they hated seeing people patronize them and expect gratitude in return. On the other hand, though, they had a strong sense of duty and would reward their benefactors so long as they remain modest. In a way, dealing with him was very easy. At least so long as one made note of not agitating his sense of pride. 

“Incidentally, I hear that Helena Steiner is already on her way to Xarooda?” Count Salzberg breached on the subject of the war upon seeing the atmosphere was calm enough. 

He was, after all, originally more of the warrior type and had a great interest in the reinforcements being sent out to Xarooda. 

“Yes, going any later wouldn’t leave a good impression on Xarooda and Myest,” Ryoma replied. 

Saying it ‘wouldn’t leave a good impression’ was an understatement. Drawing things out any further could possibly result in Myest declaring war on Rhoadseria. 

“Understandably enough, I’d say. From Myest’s perspective, Xarooda is their greatest and foremost shield. It’s a surprise they’d been this tolerant for a year.” 

“They probably knew the state Rhoadseria is in. Besides, Myest wanted to avoid crossing through Rhoadseria territory when Her Majesty still hadn’t consolidated control over the nobles.” 

“Sending an expedition is difficult enough, but for a country with such an unstable regime as ours, it’s all the harder...” 

Count Salzberg was right. Deploying an army out on an expedition would be a difficult task even at the best of times. Just keeping up the morale of the soldiers, who were forced to move away from their homes, was a challenge. 

And that was on top of all the other concerns involved with it, from procuring supplies to organizing the forces that would guard the country in the absence of the army sent out to countless other considerations. It was, indeed, a pile of headache-inducing problems. 

And if the country they were to pass through was plagued by unrest and political instability, Myest’s army would hesitate to pass through it even if it was to save Xarooda from its plight. 

“So what do you intend to do?” 

“The purchase of the supplies should be complete in several days. We’ll then go west of Epirus and cross the border to Xarooda. After that, we’ll take the highway south and head for Xarooda’s capital city, Peripheria, and regroup with Helena’s forces.” 

“Yes, I suppose that would be the natural choice... I pray for your good luck.” Count Salzberg turned a somewhat teasing glance at Ryoma, who simply replied with a wordless nod. 

The fortunate survive, while the unlucky die. This was true both in this world and in Ryoma’s. 

 

After concluding his conversation, Count Salzberg made to leave the camp with his escorts when his eyes fell on the black flag flapping in the wind. 

Hmph. A sword and a serpent... The design does suit him. The serpent, if nothing else, fits him perfectly. I’ve decided to bet on his ploys, and I look forward to seeing where he takes this. 

Count Salzberg did not trust Ryoma, truthfully. He simply used his connections to repay for the profit Ryoma brought him. The amicable approach he showed Ryoma in this meeting was but a shallow, thin veneer. Count Salzberg did understand this much, though. 

If he saves Xarooda, that’s good in one way. If he doesn’t, I need only gather the nobles of the north and negotiate with O’ltormea. 

So long as they insist on Rhoadseria’s continued existence, the nobles had their ways of ensuring their own survival. Of course, he didn’t want to have to face an O’ltormean invasion. There was no money to be had in war, after all, even if no weapons are truly crossed. Any money lost in the war would certainly serve to pressure his personal entertainment funds. 

Let us see if this man has the wisdom of the serpent in this banner... and the might of that sword. Whether that banner is but an empty threat... is something I long to find out. 

A cold smile played over Count Salzberg’s lips. As if he was looking down on a weakling struggling with all his might... 

 

Ten days had passed since Ryoma’s meeting with Count Salzberg. The soldiers stood clad in black-dyed armor, forming a long line as they headed south down the high road to Xarooda’s capital city of Peripheria. Behind that line were groups of carriages overflowing with supplies. 

They advanced with the red sun dipping below the mountain range as their backdrop, making them seem like a horde of bloodied devils. 

“Hey! Those soldiers, what noble’s army do they belong to?!” 

One man plowing the fields along the highway asked his wife, who stood ahead of him, as he let go of the plow. Keeping the horse-pulled plow fixed was taxing work, and so he used this as an excuse for a break. Rubbing his numbing hands together, the man turned his gaze to the road again. His eyes were burning with hatred. 

Day in, day out... War, war, and more war... I swear, I dunno what those damn nobles are doing or what they are, but it’s got nothin’ do with us... 

Those emotions surfaced in the heart of this man, who lived each day by the sweat of his brow. For common farmers, it didn’t matter who they paid their taxes to. In the end, all that mattered was that their lives and livelihood were assured. And right now, Xarooda was hinging on defeat at the hands of the Empire of O’ltormea. 

Thankfully, the northern section of Xarooda had escaped the ravages of the war so far, but eventually the flames of conflict would reach this region, as well. And even though it had escaped the direct influences of the war, the north was still influenced by it. 

Over the last year, the cost of living in this country had been gradually rising, and the governors were enforcing special tax increases using the war as pretense. Life was becoming harder. 

I suppose we’re still better off... 

This man owned the land his house was built on, and so he only had to pay taxes to the governor. By comparison, people who had their land lent to them had to pay to their landowners in addition to their taxes. The man’s mind drifted to the image of the man who had to sell his weeping daughter to slavery to afford his taxes. 

She was only eight years old... Dammit. 

She had hazelnut-colored hair and pretty blue eyes, and for her parents, she was the apple of their eye. If it were any ordinary year, a girl like her would never be sold off. But what brought upon this tragic result was that their produce wasn’t growing well out of season, and the war with O’ltormea broke out, forcing the governor to raise taxes to cover for war expenditures. 

I just hope this damn war ends quickly. It’s got nothing to do with us, anyway... 

If this country were to be ruined, it could at least be quick about it. The continued resistance meant the war expenditures were only going up, and those losses were foisted onto them. 

But of course, this man’s reasoning had quite the large hole to it. If this country were to fall, and they become vassals, there was no guarantee they would be treated fairly. And it was very possible that they would be forced to pay even heavier taxes. 

This world had no United Nations or concept of human rights, and so there was no reason for a country to treat its conquered vassals fairly. Even if Xarooda’s nobles would act the way this man wanted them to and gave up the resistance against O’ltormea, the future that awaited them could very well be one where they would be exploited to death. 

Of course, this man lacked the knowledge to think that far ahead. He didn’t know how to write his own name, and couldn’t even count the change he got from the peddlers without help from the village headsman. He was a simple man feeling his simple life being pressured by outside forces, and all he could do was loathe whatever increased the taxes he had to pay that month. 

“Huh? What are you slacking off for? Come on, we need to finish this.” 

Noticing that the plow slowed to a crawl because her husband let go of it, the woman stopped whipping the two horses and raised her voice. She was something of a rough woman, the type to wear the proverbial pants in the house. 

“Forget that for a second, look over there!” 

“Look at what? We have to finish this before sundown, you oaf!” 

But as she said this, she turned her eyes in the direction of her husband’s gaze, to the highway. 

“Where is that army from? I’ve got a bad feeling about those soldiers...” 

Black, black, black. From a distance, the soldiers looked cloaked in black from top to bottom. 

“Yeah, you got any idea where they’re from?” the husband asked. 

“Never seen the likes of ’em,” the wife replied with a shiver. 

“Me neither... Don’t look like they belong to any noble in the area,” he nodded and whispered, looking back to the highway. 

An army that left such a striking impression was unusual. Their numbers weren’t terribly impressive, but few nobles would spend money to ensure all their soldiers were clad in armor dyed in the same color. The only ones who would be afforded that much would be the kingdom’s knights, or perhaps the royal guard who had proven their ability and loyalty to be above all. Or otherwise, only the most major of nobles. 

“And that banner...” 

“Is that a snake? Those red eyes are unnerving...” 

A black flag flapped in the wind, and sewn onto it was the mark of a double-headed serpent with gold and silver scales coiled around a sword. A rather striking design — the kind one would never forget after seeing it once. 

“Say... Shouldn’t you tell the headsman about this and have him contact the governor?” the wife asked, the anxiety clear in her eyes. 

“The headsman...” he muttered. 

Her suggestion was reasonable. The northern regions were spared from direct fighting so far, but Xarooda was still in the middle of a war with O’ltormea. An unidentified army marching through their territory was too dangerous for them to simply overlook. 

“And what if they end up pillaging our town...?” the wife asked, to which the man could only swallow nervously. 

That was something the man actively tried not to think about so far. What if the fire were to burst out here this time? He could imagine the village cloaked by a blanket of black smoke. The townsfolk lying lifeless on the ground, basking in pools of their own blood. The children having collars clasped around their necks as they were taken to slavery. 

Dammit! Weren’t the frontlines to the west, near the border?! They couldn’t be here... But, wait... But what if they are...? 

There were some escapees who escaped the war and took refuge with some of the families in the village. From what they told, the battlefield was to the west, near the border with O’ltormea. Rumors did say Xarooda’s army was being pushed back severely, but even so, the enemy shouldn’t be marching through a northern highway like this. 

Still, there was no denying the reality of the sight before his eyes. 

“Hey, let’s go inform the village about this,” the man said, grabbing hold of his wife’s shaking fingers as he made to toss aside their agricultural equipment and head south. 

They cut through the field, crouching down so as to avoid being seen by the soldiers marching down the highway. They were stomping down the ground he had just plowed that very morning, but at this point that didn’t matter anymore. 

Their highest chance of surviving a war was by taking cover all on their own, but the two of them lived in a small village a short distance from the highway. All of the village’s people were like family to them. Pulling his wife by the arm, the man desperately hurried to the village. They couldn’t abandon their family, after all... 

 

“Master Ryoma... The farmers.” 

Laura drew her horse closer to Ryoma and pointed to one of the farmlands along the side of the road. Ryoma turned his gaze there, and indeed saw crouched, black silhouettes retreating and stomping over the fields as they fled. 

Aaaah, they’re ruining the fields... Seriously, we’re supposed to be on your side... 

Ryoma sighed heavily. He’d seen this happen time and again ever since he left Epirus. 

“Don’t bother with them needlessly... They might mistake us for enemies and lunge at us.” 

Farmers in this world were certainly weak compared to knights who were capable of martial thaumaturgy. But a spade or a hoe was a potentially dangerous weapon even in the hands of a commoner. If they were to charge their soldiers, Ryoma’s men would get injured, even if they might not outright die. 

And even if they were the ones being attacked, hurting the populace of the land they came to help would render their coming here pointless. The prolonged horseback ride left the soldiers with sore backsides, and the occasional pangs of pain were grinding on everyone’s nerves. Ryoma didn’t expect their villages to greet them with open, grateful arms, but couldn’t deny wishing they were capable of a bit of consideration. 

He wished he could at least send their vanguard forward to tell them ahead of time, but any attempt by the soldiers to approach the farmers simply resulted in the latter running away. And splitting up their unit too much made it easier for their forces to be taken out one by one. Xarooda’s north was relatively safe, but there was no saying where the fighting might break out. 

Just a few days ago, hostilities nearly broke out between them and a mixed army organized by one of the nobles. They’d mistaken Ryoma’s forces for a raiding party sent out by the enemy. The understanding was thankfully cleared up before things came to blows, but truth be told the whole affair was rather discouraging. 

“How many days do we have left?” Ryoma asked how much longer before they reached Peripheria. 

“About seven, based on the distance... But there’s a bit of a problem,” Laura replied. 

The map they’d borrowed from Helena was made for military purposes, so it was decently accurate. Of course, this world had no man-made satellites, so this was speaking relatively. Still, it was far more accurate and useful than the maps used by the civilians. Thanks to this map, their march had gone relatively smoothly. 

Laura’s face clouded over as she checked her map, jolted by her horse. 

“The path from here to the capital is terribly mixed in with a minor noble’s domain.” 

“I guess that goes to show the messengers screwed up at places, huh...?” Ryoma grimaced bitterly. 

Due to their run-in with the local forces the other day, they asked the noble to send runners to inform the nearby areas that they were reinforcements from Rhoadseria. But owing to this being a time of war and there not being enough people to send out, many nobles didn’t get the news. And the more minor nobles — that only had small agricultural communities off the highway, like this one, as their territories — were the most likely to not hear of it. 

It had been five days since they left the citadel city of Epirus. It was a rather demanding march, and they crossed over forty kilometers each day. They marched at four kilometers per hour. They’d crossed a total of over two hundred kilometers on a highway that was unpaved — though it was maintained. 

To top it off, the ranks Ryoma was leading also included the logistics unit that carried their supplies and rations. For the standards of this world, they were marching rather quickly. Given how excessive their efforts to help Xarooda’s army were, losing any men to a misunderstanding borne of a communication mistake would reduce their endeavors to nothing. 


“No choice, I guess... All right, we’ll chase them down with our horses. Don’t lay a hand on them though, got it?” 

It wouldn’t do to get into pointless quarrels here, too. At Ryoma’s order, a few of the knights surrounding Ryoma broke from the group and went after the fleeing silhouettes. 

We should have gone to Peripheria with Helena, even if it meant losing some time... 

Helena’s forces went ahead of them, setting out from Pireas to the Kingdom of Xarooda. Their advance force passed through the villages and towns they would pass through, preventing those kinds of misunderstandings. 

Normally, moving his army along with hers would have been the best choice. But since they had to carry their supplies with them, marching all the way to Pireas would have made their already slow march last even longer. 

We should have bought at least one Xaroodian banner before we set out... 

Flying his banner meant that Ryoma’s name might spread across the other countries, changing the way they regard him in the long run. But a group of armed soldiers marching unannounced with a banner unknown to anyone except for a few people in Rhoadseria made the nobles mistake this army for the enemy. 

But the only thing Ryoma had to prove his identity was a single letter he’d received from Lupis. His options were limited. 

God dammit, this is going to be a hell of a task, isn’t it...? 

Ryoma heaved another deep sigh. 

 

“Lord Baron, Peripheria is coming into sight.” 

Ryoma turned his eyes in the direction the village girl was pointing towards, and indeed could see what looked like a gray point beyond the plains. As his forces advanced down the highway, that point was slowly becoming clearer. 

An unshakeable citadel city, surrounded by tall ramparts. But unlike Epirus, it was built to be far larger and far more solid. 

“Ah, father!” 

Upon seeing her father come out to greet the approaching soldiers with a group of other people, the village girl beamed and waved. It may have been for work, but she was still torn from her family for several days. Ryoma cracked a forced smile. The girl may have looked like an adult, but seeing her like this made her look much younger. 

He must have fussed over her a great deal. Not that I can blame him... 

Ryoma felt the same way about the Malfist sisters behind them. The girl’s actions were likely a show of anxiety and fear. In exchange for food and some gold as payment, she was to show them the way to Peripheria and serve as their mediator. 

Over the last few days, she’d been exposed to a series of stressful events. The strict taxation of wartime made their life hard. She’d been forced to do this, and being hired by a foreign army was a clear gamble. Their excuse was that they were an army sent from Rhoadseria, but their only form was some slip of paper handed to the village head. They could very well have been O’ltormean soldiers pretending to be allied soldiers. 

And if they were, the villagers would all be executed as traitors that collaborated with the enemy. They could insist that they were lied to and fooled, but no one would listen. Being executed as an example would make it easier to govern the country. 

The villagers were all aware of this. They might not have been educated or wise, but they understood that on an instinctual level. 

Still, she took Ryoma up on his offer because her village was in dire condition. 

As the distance between them shrank and the other group came into her father’s view, Ryoma’s brows furrowed as he realized something was off. 

What is it? It’s not like we’re being chased by the enemy... 

One of the men leading the group had his face contorted with fear. The girl likely noticed her father’s expression, because her gaze turned morose. If they were pursued by soldiers, they wouldn’t be approaching Ryoma’s group so slowly. And they were being followed by armed knights. 

Those are probably Xaroodian knights... So what are they scared of? 

“Master Ryoma...” Sara turned a concerned gaze at Ryoma, who placed a calming hand on her head. 

“We’ll be fine,” he said, regarding her with a smile. “I’ve got you two with me... I probably don’t need to say this, but don’t let down your guards, all right?” 

The Malfist sisters nodded. 

“Do be careful...” Laura uttered. 

Ryoma nodded back and ordered his forces to halt. After all, if they don’t know the situation, it was hard to judge what the right course of action might be... 

A group of soldiers on horseback stopped before Ryoma. 

Now isn’t this pretentious... Ryoma thought as he watched them. 

There were a hundred or so of them, and as that thought crossed Ryoma’s mind, their ranks parted to the left and right. A single knight on horseback strode through the path they cleared, accompanied by robust bodyguards. 

The armor he wore made it clear he was a high-ranking knight, and his bodyguards were also carrying high-quality equipment. 

Looks like a knight order’s captain, or some sort of general... Ryoma narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Why is someone of such high ranking here? Is Xarooda really in that bad of a position? 

Normally, one might assume they came here to greet Ryoma as reinforcements that came from afar, but the gazes the knights were fixing on his group were too harsh. 

“Are you the reinforcements sent by Rhoadseria?” the man asked, directing a sharp glare at Ryoma as he brought his horse to face him. 

It was extremely discourteous as greetings went, especially when directed toward someone he met for the first time, let alone the leader of a force that had traveled far to assist one’s country. Ryoma simply bowed his head, however, showing no regard for the rudeness of this greeting. 

“I am a baron of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria, Ryoma Mikoshiba. My men and I are reinforcements, dispatched by Queen Lupis Rhoadserians to assist you and your country in your time of distress. We seek an audience with your sovereign, Julianus I of Xarooda. May we?” 

Ryoma’s response could be called perfectly courteous. Unless one knew otherwise, they likely wouldn’t imagine Ryoma had only recently and suddenly became an aristocrat. But the man before Ryoma mercilessly stomped over Ryoma’s politeness. He simply took off his helmet and handed it to one of his attendants. 

He was a man in the prime of his life, with shortly cut blonde hair. He looked to be in his early- to mid-forties, and while it was hard to tell while he straddled a horse, he seemingly had quite the largely-built physique. He was, for all intents and purposes, a thick wall of flesh and muscle. Less human and more of an anthropoid ape, like a gorilla. 

“Hmph... There’s only five hundred of you, at a glance...” the man scoffed, turning a sharp glare at the soldiers behind Ryoma. “You call yourselves reinforcements, but what do you hope to achieve with these numbers?” 

The man spoke with a sneer, words of sharp mocking leaving his lips. The fact he could estimate the number of soldiers Ryoma brought with but a glance was impressive, but the man’s overbearing attitude ruined any positive impression his skills might have produced. He was not, by any means, a person Ryoma much wanted to associate with. 

But Ryoma only held his silence and smiled, to which the man decided to twist the knife further. 

“Are we to take it that your queen, Lupis Rhoadserians, seeks to abandon Xarooda? She has ignored our repeated appeals for reinforcements, and when she finally did oblige, she sends a senile woman recalled from retirement and a whelp of unknown origins... It doesn’t seem to me like she realizes the depth of our predicament.” 

The man’s words had completely discarded all notions of dignity. Had Mikhail or Meltina been there to hear those words, a war would surely break out between Rhoadseria and Xarooda. The man’s words were, indeed, simply that insulting toward Lupis. 

But Ryoma had no patriotic emotions toward Rhoadseria or respect for Queen Lupis, and so the man’s provocation fell on apathetic ears. 

“I see. I suppose the way you present it isn’t too far from the truth. And you even saw that a hundred and fifty of my men are devoted solely to carrying supplies... That’s quite the very impressive, discerning eye you’ve got there. I’m assuming you’re a distinguished man of some sort. Would you do me the honor of sharing your name?” 

Ryoma’s tone remained as polite and composed as before. Depending on what he said, that tone could actually come across as provocative, but in this case Ryoma didn’t harbor any such intentions. 

The man simply furrowed his brows at Ryoma’s attitude. 

“Do you have no conception of pride?” he asked, exasperated by the fact Ryoma’s intention didn’t so much as change. 

No warrior would normally hold his tongue at such an insult, and anyone that did would be seen as spineless. Were it Meltina or Mikhail in Ryoma’s place, they would surely draw their swords in rage, completely disregarding the consequences. Truth be told, however, exposing one’s mental state to others was a foolish act. 

Only a fool exposes his emotions in public! 

In his mind, Ryoma mocked the man’s open provocation. The important part was not to show the other person your true feelings. It was exactly when one felt anger or bloodlust that they ought to display the utmost respect and dignity. That was a truth Ryoma Mikoshiba learned as a child; a lesson he gleaned from a certain incident. And that truth showed its value in this world of warfare. 

And besides, this reinforcement of Xarooda was in Ryoma’s eyes nothing more than a means to ensure his and his comrades’ survival. He only came here because he didn’t have much of a choice, and, when taken to the extreme, Ryoma didn’t really care if Xarooda fell to O’ltormea so long as the aftereffects didn’t reach him. 

But of course, Ryoma wasn’t foolish enough to put it into words for this man to hear. 

“I can apologize in the name of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria for ignoring your requests for over a year. But do understand that the state of affairs in our country has not quite stabilized yet, and I admit the knight order led by Lady Helena only numbers three thousand men. Your country’s apprehensions are clear... All we can do is prove otherwise on the battlefield.” 

“Oho. If these are your honest feelings, that’s quite admirable...” It was hard to tell if he believed Ryoma’s words, but the man eyed Ryoma appraisingly. 

True enough, without proof his words only came across as mere platitudes. 

“Very well... Lady Helena is already in a war council in Peripheria.” Though it was hard to tell if the man believed Ryoma, his expression did soften. “You are to participate in the war council as well once your audience with His Majesty is done.” 

Everything’s already prepared, huh? In which case... This guy’s whole spiel was just an act... I guess it makes sense they’d be anxious about us... 

They likely wanted to surmise Ryoma’s attitude toward them by suddenly insulting him. That much was clear from how the audience with the king was already arranged for. 

And I guess the soldiers needed to let off some steam, too... Crafty. 

Those at the heart of the government likely realized Rhoadseria’s difficulties, but a knight on the field would be hard pressed to comprehend political issues. In that regard, Ryoma’s attitude softened their hardened hearts somewhat. 

“Incidentally, I’ve yet to introduce myself. I am Grahalt Henschel, captain of the Xaroodian royal guard. A pleasure.” 

Grahalt then turned his horse around and motioned with his hand for Ryoma to follow as he set off toward Peripheria. 

Now then, what’ll happen next...? 

As Ryoma watched Grahalt move ahead, Ryoma reached into his pocket and took out the gold coins he’d prepared. He still had to pay the man standing at the roadside, his eyes darting to and fro anxiously... 

 

A man and a woman stood opposite each other in one of the rooms in Peripheria’s castle. One of them was an aging woman with a gentle smile on her lips. Despite boasting unrivaled accomplishments and skills on the battlefield, the atmosphere she gave off was warm and serene. 

She never changes... She’s the same as she was back then... Grahalt whispered to himself as he watched Helena bring a teacup to her lips. 

He first met Rhoadseria’s Ivory Goddess of War soon after becoming a knight. Many of Xarooda’s knights were enamored by her candid nature and attitude, and even approaching her golden years did little to diminish her charm. Her beauty had deteriorated as she grew older, of course, but her personal charm had only refined with age. 

“Then what do you think of him, now that you’ve seen him with your own eyes?” Despite being a generation older than Grahalt, Helena spoke to him with polite dignity. 

Given the gap in achievements and experience between them, Grahalt was awkward and ill at peace with this treatment, but Helena wouldn’t change her attitude toward them. Regarding her with a strained smile, Grahalt honestly described his expression. 

“I met him face to face, as per your suggestion... But truth be told, I found it hard to judge.” He managed to squeeze out a response. 

In truth, he didn’t understand Ryoma well enough to harbor either a positive or negative impression of him. 

“One thing I will immediately acknowledge is that his self-restraint is admirable. He didn’t so much as flinch at my provocations, and was able to express himself eloquently enough. In that regard, he does seem capable... But the numbers he leads are still too small. I simply cannot see him shifting this war, one way or another... And, besides...” 

Grahalt cut off his words for a moment and directed a questioning look at Helena. 

“The soldiers he leads are far too young, and many of them are women... Right?” Helena spoke the words Grahalt hesitated to say, as if reading them straight off his mind. 

Grahalt was struck silent. 

“Don’t mind me and speak your mind,” Helena chided him, smiling innocently like a child who had successfully pranked someone. 

“You knew already?” Grahalt scratched his hair awkwardly. 

“No, I only saw it from a distance just now. After all, that boy leads an army he built from nothing after being granted the Wortenia Peninsula.” 

“Only just now?” 

She likely watched from somewhere as Grahalt showed Ryoma and his men around camp. That was the first thing that came to mind, but Grahalt denied it. 

No... Isn’t that impossible? 

As far as he knew, Helena hadn’t set foot outside this palace since she arrived here. Helena didn’t answer his doubt, though, and instead changed the subject. 

“I’d hoped to speak to him before his audience, however...” Helena sighed, turning a blaming gaze at him. 

Helena did, in fact, acknowledge Ryoma as her right hand man. Depending on the situation, she would even transfer command over the Rhoadserian forces to him. They’d gathered information ahead of time, but there was too much they couldn’t learn before they actually came to Xarooda itself. Helena knew from experience that it was this kind of detailed, precise information would become a major factor in forming strategies. 

And I wanted to consult him about what we should do next, too... 

This wasn’t something Grahalt could do anything about, though. Helena had her own matters to attend to, while Xarooda had its own concerns to deal with. 

“There is nothing to be done. His Majesty expects much out of Rhoadseria’s reinforcements...” 

Xarooda’s position in the war was by no means a positive one. Over the last year, they single-handedly resisted O’ltormea’s invasion, and war fatigue was settling over both their territories and their soldiers. 

The fields in areas close to the frontlines were burned down, adult men were forced to conscript and the remaining women and children had no choice but to seek shelter in nearby cities. And of course, the governors couldn’t offer proper protection for everyone, forcing some to sell themselves off as slaves. 

Xarooda’s national power was diminishing by the day, and so, Xarooda had to turn to its final recourse. Right now, with Rhoadseria and Myest supplying them with reinforcements, they could strike at the force marching through their country in one decisive battle. 

Of course, this was a gamble where the continued existence of their country was on the balance, but a worthwhile gamble. At least, that was what the king and those under him — including Grahalt — ardently believed. 

But there was one major problem here. The question of whether Myest and Rhoadseria would be willing to shed blood for Xarooda. Normally, Xarooda’s fall would equal the fall of the other counties of the east, but they couldn’t help but doubt Rhoadseria’s people after their country had ignored their request for reinforcements for as long as they have. 

It was for this reason that Grahalt acted upon Helena’s recommendation and performed that little spectacle upon greeting Ryoma. All to affirm Rhoadseria’s true intentions. 

“And besides, if we’d have let Lord Mikoshiba meet with you first, there’s no telling what accusations the reconciliation faction might try to bring up,” Grahalt spat out with hatred. 

To him, the reconciliation faction were traitors to the fatherland. 

“Grahalt... I understand how you feel, but you mustn’t blindly reject the reconciliation faction’s claims.” 

Helena deftly noticed the slight emotion Grahalt showed upon mouthing their names, and spoke to him like a mother chiding their child. 

“But—!” 

“Listen here. The reconciliation faction are not traitors. In their eyes, they’re making the best choice for this country and His Majesty, Julianus I. Even if their methods differ from the knights, they still seek the same thing... Right?” 

Even as she spoke those words, Helena couldn’t help but laugh at herself sardonically in her heart. 

Though the fact their thoughts are without any malice is probably the biggest problem here... 

Good intentions don’t always lead to the best possible result. Sad as it is, that’s the reality of politics. But she had to placate Grahalt here, lest he try to achieve his own idea of justice with brute force. 

A unification through military force. Indeed, if they were to crush the reconciliation faction through military might, the country would reach a consensus. But that would have to be their last resort, once they’d exhausted all other courses of action. 

“Of course... Xarooda’s survival stands above all else...” Grahalt managed to stammer that response, unaware of Helena’s thoughts. 

“Becoming a vassal of O’ltormea would allow Xarooda’s royal house to survive, and that is indeed one choice...” Helena said. “The price would be great, of course, but it’s better than losing everything. It’s only natural some people would think so.” 

“And you think that is a good idea, Lady Helena?” Grahalt asked, his face contorted with bitter agony. 

He hated nothing more than having to hear these words leave the lips of the woman he secretly looked up to and admired. But that question was an insult to the woman known as Rhoadseria’s Ivory Goddess of War. 

“Why do you think I personally came here, leading this army?” 

The moment those words left Helena’s lips, the atmosphere in the room froze over. The glint in her eyes, the expressions in her face — it all switched over. The only thing that didn’t change was the serene smile on her lips. Grahalt’s body shivered with terror. 

“M-My apologies... Forgive me for saying something so foolish.” 

Rhoadseria couldn’t overlook Xarooda becoming O’ltormea’s vassal. If they could, they wouldn’t send Helena Steiner out for this task. Without changing her expression any, Helena continued speaking. 

“Though I am a senile old woman called out of retirement, after all. Your anxiety is understandable.” 

The moment he heard those words, Grahalt felt something cold slither down his spine. 

“Y-You heard that...” 

He’d only said it when he first met Ryoma to gauge his reaction, but he never imagined Helena was listening. It was as awkward as finding out one’s boss was listening in one of the stalls while they were gossiping about him with their co-workers. 

“Yes, as senile and old as I am, my ears and eyes still function as well as ever.” 

Said eyes and ears certainly didn’t refer to her physical faculties, but rather to her information sources within Xarooda. 

Such a frightening woman... 

Many called Helena Rhoadseria’s Ivory Goddess of War, but her true strength didn’t lie in her stratagems and tactics on the battlefield. No one knew how she achieved it, but she had the power to draw on countless information sources throughout the continent. And through those miscellaneous streams of information, she could weed out whatever subject she needed and construct a hypothesis. 

On the battlefield, she could certainly exhibit the majesty of a skilled, wise general but that was just one side of her. Grahalt looked away from Helena, turning his gaze down. 

“Please, do not jest...” he managed to stammer out. 

He then covered his face, hoping to escape her gaze. A long silence settled over the room. 

“Yes, just a jest... Of course,” Helena said. 

Grahalt’s mouth fell open, to which Helena covered her mouth, giggling in amusement. 

“That was ill-natured of you...” Grahalt said, sighing heavily and dropping his shoulders. 

Seeing this, Helena couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 

“If that’s enough to shock you, I can’t see how you’ll be able to restrain that boy.” 

At those words, Grahalt narrowed his eyes and asked. He wasn’t so blunt as to not understand which boy she was referring to. 

“Is he really... that much?” 

“Why, yes. Among the many people I’ve seen, he’s the most unruly untamed horse of all.” 

“An untamed horse, you say...” 

“Though he has the mind of a serpent, or a scorpion.” 

Her descriptions of him struck Grahalt as conflicting. Calling him an unruly, untamed horse wasn’t that hard to understand. Ryoma’s physique was indeed astonishing. His facial features were calm and amicable, but perhaps his nature changed on the battlefield, just like Helena’s. 

But the intellect of a scorpion or a serpent? He didn’t sense anything of the sort from him. 

“You mustn’t underestimate him, Grahalt. Unless you want to be eaten alive.” 

“That doesn’t feel like a way one would describe an ally of theirs.” 

Helena described him with a tone that fit another country’s general, or a political rival. Helena simply shook her head silently. 

“Don’t misunderstand. I trust him, and he believes in me, too. But, Grahalt... Your side is neither friend nor foe to him yet. In which case you should show him due gratitude and seek his help... Because if he marks you as his enemies, he will take away everything you have.” 

Those words were Helena’s frank warning to a friend. 

“If that man... truly has the power you speak of.... At that moment... We will.” 

Silence once again settled over the room. 

“Good. Because you will soon understand all too well... Everyone in this country will... You’ll see.” 

Helena smiled silently, imagining the moment the young serpent bares his fangs... 



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