Chapter 79. Imperial Capital (4)

The northern warrior, Randal.

He had not always been engrossed in fighting.

Once, he too was a member of an ordinary village.

Hunting as his main livelihood, cultivating barley during the short summer, brewing beer, and when he had time, tinkering to make furniture or repair his house.

The common life of the residents of the Northern Archduchy.

What ended that life was a memory stained red.

Scenes that would suddenly flash by when he fought.

‘Son, run!’

‘H-honey!’

‘Daddy-!’

“You’re the one with a lot of stray thoughts.”

Right side.

Footsteps approaching without a presence.

An axe deflecting and a sword thrusting.

He raised his sword to block.

The moment he blocked, a beast-like instinct warned him.

A feeling of his hair standing on end.

Lightning.

Kwarreung!

The lightning strike struck the innocent ground.

The current discharged in all directions made his body flinch.

Randal put a little more strength into his muscles.

With just that, his momentarily sluggish body regained its original speed and power.

“Not bad.”

Randal smiled.

He was sincere.

He was a decent mage.

He was the complete opposite of the numerous nobles, merchants, knights, and mercenaries who had tried to trick him into their service until now.

In his experience, not everyone in a high position was skilled.

Usually, they were good at politics.

Even if they were skilled, their talent was more in command than in direct combat.

The common point was that they were all guys who avoided fights they thought they would lose.

Being under such guys would only lead to easy, boring fights.

It could not quell the fire of revenge burning in his chest.

That was why, even though the Archduke had said he could leave at any time, he had still stuck by his side.

The mercenary commander in front of him was not like that.

Kaang!

Ash, was it?

A strange mercenary commander who was a mage yet used a sword, and was even quite good at erasing his presence.

Moreover, his swordsmanship and unarmed combat skills were almost complete.

If not for the fact that his movements were a bit stiff and predictable, he would be perfect.

And he was even improving on that weakness in real time.

As if a sponge were absorbing water, he was growing at the same time as he experienced real combat.

It was a feeling of being on the verge of overcoming some personal wall, like a tightly drawn bow.

Perhaps.

Swish!

Perhaps, when with him, he could have more fights than now.

Chaenggang!

As soon as his sword broke, he pulled out a new one from his bosom as if by some magic and continued to fight.

Hwarereuk!

And the way he unleashed a wave of fire to not give that momentary gap.

“Spellcaster!!”

Seeing him struggle to win until the end, even while being clearly pushed back, maybe he could leave a deeper footprint on this endless journey of atonement.

Randal let go of his sword.

A wave of fire rushed towards him.

He covered his face with both arms and ran.

A terrible heat battered his entire body.

And he saw the mercenary commander's face.

“…….”

The face of the mage who still had not lost his composure, even after seeing the violence that had broken through the flames and reached him.

He stretched out his half-cooked hand.

He grabbed his arm.

“Got you.”

* * *

The expression ‘scared shitless’ would be appropriate.

I was truly surprised beyond imagination.

No, if a wave of fire is pouring down on you from the front, isn't it normal to dodge?

Whether you throw something, go around it, or retreat and charge again, it's not like there's only one way.

What kind of logic structure would make you think of breaking through it head-on?

[[Burning Wind] is activated.]

“Spellcaster!!”

Anyway, Randal had abandoned his sword, covered his face with both hands, broken through the wave of fire head-on, and now reached me.

Without minding his entire body being cooked.

Point-blank range.

He was right in front of me.

A sensation of time slowing down.

The morning dew and chill that had settled on the training ground completely vanished.

For a brief moment, I was conflicted.

Should I use necromancy?

Or should I use [Imperial Green Flowing Sword]?

No.

This was the Imperial Capital.

The Emperor’s eyes could be watching me from anywhere, at any time.

In the first place, I was recruiting him to learn how to fight with only my first identity.

“Got you.”

While I was conflicted, he grabbed my left arm.

[[Imperial Infantry Doctrine] is activated.]

[[Imperial Knight Swordsmanship] is activated.]

[[Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword] is activated.]

[[Swordsmanship of the Red Bud] is activated.]

As I had learned from the spar with Olif, I poured out a single, all-out attack.

Udeuk!

With the sound of something breaking, the grip on my arm loosened.

Randal, who had pulled out an axe from his belt at some point, had blocked my attack.

“…Good.”

He couldn't block it completely.

Even though it was blocked by the axe, the red aura was touching his neck.

Because he was holding my arm with one hand, he couldn't exert enough force with only one hand.

A single line of blood trickled down his log-like neck.

“Much better than the guys who have fallen by my hand.”

He smiled.

“Let me ask you one thing. If I am with you, can I fight like this every day?”

He asked, releasing my broken arm.

I knew the background story of the hero named Randal.

I knew the tragic tale of a hero stained with regret and self-reproach.

I also knew the will that sublimated all that past into fighting spirit.

I would be honest.

I intended to use his painful past and wounds, his endless passion for fighting.

“I don’t know about every day.”

But I would not lie.

“But there will be many fights.”

Because I thought that was the minimum courtesy I could show to the people I had to live with in order to survive.

“It will be a fight for your life. One that even you will have to risk your life for.”

Because it was the minimum virtue a contradictory commander who used others' pasts despite being unable to reveal his own should have.

“We will fight orcs that plunder merchant caravans. We will fight beastmen who burn down villages. We will fight Ratmen who kill miners, yetis who slaughter hunters, and nobles and lords who kill innocent residents and kidnap children and women to build their personal fame and fortune.”

“…….”

“I will promise one thing.”

Randal put away his axe.

He asked.

“What is it?”

“If you have to risk your life, I will risk my life too.”

For the first time, his eyes held a look of surprise.

He burst out laughing.

“Interesting.”

“So?”

“Fine. Your mercenary band, I’ll join.”

Recruitment successful.

* * *

As expected of a medieval fantasy, even the mansion complex in the middle of the city had rural elements.

They raised livestock on one side of the mansion complex.

It was said to be to supply fresh meat and eggs to the guests.

It wasn't bad, except for the slight smell of livestock manure.

Karen, who loved animals, would sometimes bring a few chickens to the garden behind the quarters, and the sight was so peaceful that I would often leave the window open even while working.

Cluck cluck cluck-

Today, too, she brought two or three chickens and their chicks.

The yellow chicks huddled together, following the mother hen who was pecking at the ground.

It was a healing feeling just to watch them.

I could finally understand the people who watched farming vlogs.

“In the Northern Archduchy, there is the Frostwolf faith. Here, the Frostwolf is the first Archduke Petroke. The people of the Northern Archduchy believe that the first Archduke died and ascended as the Frostwolf.”

Bart said while filling out documents.

I sometimes thought that this guy reminded me of the once-popular AI tool, ‘ChatGPT’.

In the sense that answers just popped out as you asked.

And in the sense that the answers seemed to be moderately copied and edited from an encyclopedia.

“……Huh?”

Even to the point where the person who asked the question, Brol, had an expression that said ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’.

That was exactly the face of someone who was playing with an AI tool out of boredom, and then quickly gave up on understanding when a difficult answer came out.

“So what does that Frost… whatever have to do with our Commander and Randal having a fight?”

“It is said that there is a culture in the north where the weak serve the strong, perhaps originating from the Frostwolf faith. Of course, there are claims of other origins. There is a theory that it’s due to the cold weather, and a story that it’s because of the yeti invasion….”

I should add one more thing to the list of similarities with ChatGPT.

The unnecessary footnotes were long.

Anyway, it had been five days since I sparred with Randal.

Randal surprisingly adapted quickly to the mercenary band.

It was because he loved fighting so much, not because his personality was difficult.

Rather, he was on the boisterous side.

Good at brawling, a good drinker, and boisterous to boot?

There was not a single mercenary who disliked Randal.

The one who liked him the most was, of course, Brol.

“Anyway, it's a pass, a pass! Ah, but Commander.”

“What is it?”

“That Bart fellow said earlier that among northerners, the winner becomes the boss. Does that mean you fought Randal and won, Commander?”

“It was a draw.”

Although he had gone easy on me to some extent.

We weren't fighting to the death in the first place.

Recruiting Randal was a difficult challenge, but it wasn't a challenge with a confirmed death sentence in case of failure.

The epithet ‘Noble Skull-Crusher’ was also half-undeserved.

‘An accident… or rather, he brought it on himself.’

It was the result of a few high-nosed nobles who couldn't stomach their defeat in the challenge and tried to kill Randal.

You could say they paid the price for their childish thinking of ‘if I can't have it, I'll break it’.

“…….”

But come to think of it, the first axe throw resulted in a skill acquisition.

Was that one thrown with the intent to kill?

“Commander, you know what? Time goes by so slowly when you’re working, but strangely, it goes by so fast when you’re having fun. Hwaaaam.”

“Brol.”

“Yes?”

“If what you say is true, why did time go by so fast for me when I was working?”

“……Uh, uh, I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

“?”

What was with him?

This made it seem like I usually bullied him.

Where else could you find a commander as chill as me?

“W-were you influenced by your surroundings? While you were working, Commander, we were mostly playing. Ah, except for Bart and Company Commander Olif.”

Was that so?

It might be true.

Anyway, as Brol said, the week-long festival period passed quickly.

Really in the blink of an eye.

Personally, the week-long festival period was several times busier than the march.

In the morning, I spent my time with personal training and sparring with Randal.

In the afternoon, I was called to parties to form connections with high-ranking individuals such as nobles, clergy, merchant guild masters, and mercenary commanders.

At night or whenever I had a spare moment, I formulated plans for developing my fief.

In the middle of it all, there was also the title conferment ceremony.

‘Sir Ash, an honorary holy knight of Luark and the commander of the Ash Mercenary Band.’

‘You, in opposition to the rebellion of Andre Ricardo, became the hands and feet of His Majesty the Emperor and broke through the defense line of the Elcanto Forest,’

‘retook six villages and three fortresses,’

‘saved Count Maenenwood from the wicked magic of the sorceress Indika,’

‘aimed for the back of the traitor with Melburn Maenenwood and forced their retreat,’

‘with the grace of Luark, protected the loyal artillery of the Empire,’

‘led the mercenaries to eliminate the ancient nightmare beneath Berenburg, and’

‘at great risk, infiltrated the heart of the rebel army, eliminated the traitor Andre Ricardo, and offered his head to His Majesty the Emperor.’

‘In recognition of your loyal service before Luark and the Empire, you are hereby granted the title of Viscount and the fief of Wolfskrig. May you shine the light of Luark upon the fallen land.’

Honestly, I almost dozed off.

Though the word ‘Viscount’ instead of ‘Baron’ startled me awake.

‘…Viscount Ash Wolfskrig.’

Anyway, it was a good thing I had Bart.

It was still a murderous amount of work, but without him, it would have been, without exaggeration, three times as much.

Meanwhile, Brol, who said he was playing, wasn't just playing either.

I had given him a task.

To blend into the excitement of the festival, befriend as many people as possible, and build an information network.

In addition, I had him investigate a certain rumor.

A rumor from the slums, which was difficult for me to approach.

“About the missing persons case you asked for, Commander.”

Brol, who was chewing on a piece of cheese, opened his mouth as if he just remembered.

“I don’t know about the missing people. They said there were quite a lot for a while, but it’s been quiet lately. Maybe everyone’s too drunk to notice.”

“Is that so?”

It was an unexpected result.

But it could be.

The Ratmen were cunning.

The individual grunts were stupid, but the leader individuals who formed the leadership were guys who had lived for hundreds of years and were well-versed in all sorts of strategies, tactics, and deception.

They had intended to swallow the Imperial Capital by taking advantage of the civil war, but the civil war ended sooner than expected and the Imperial army returned, so they might have taken a step back.

If so, that was a good thing.

At least I had bought some time.

“Ah.”

At that moment, Brol, who had been staring blankly at the chicks, opened his mouth as if he had remembered something.

“There was one strange story.”

“What story is it?”

“They say the kids in the back alleys keep disappearing. You know, those beggar kids who run around in groups. Of course, the back-alley kids disappear from time to time and then show up again a few days later, but it’s a bit strange that they’re not seen during the festival when there’s so much food… uh, Commander? Where are you going?”

I left Brol and stood up from my seat.

This was the Emperor’s doing.

He was trying to start a war.