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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Giant Mercenary
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Elves were nomadic tribes from the north. Within the Empire, they were infamous enough that even a crying child would stop upon hearing they'd be taken by elves. I had no idea why they were elves, but their beautiful appearances and ghostly archery skills were straight out of a fantasy novel... The problem was that the elves of this world were born cavalrymen.
Ghostly archery combined with masterful horsemanship—that was more than enough to make the Empire fear them. The only reason the Empire could keep them in check now was because they were split into countless tribes and acted independently.
I suspected the Sarisa Count had hired elves. To report this, I sought out the commander, Lady Count.
"What is it?"
But in the military, reports went up the chain of command. I never got to see the Lady Count herself—she was the commander, after all. At best, I met an ordinary knight. He eyed me up and down curiously, as if he'd never seen a build like mine before.
"I heard you have a report."
"Yes. I just discovered something that seems more important than I thought, so I wanted to report it directly to the commander."
"I'll pass it along. What is it?"
"It looks like elves have joined the battle."
"I see... elves? What?"
The knight's face turned pale, as if he'd been caught cheating by his wife.
"Elves have joined? How do you know?"
"About ten minutes ago, I spotted something at the edge of the plain. It looked suspicious, so I investigated myself... and found this, along with hoofprints."
I placed the horse hair I'd collected earlier on the table. Just a few strands, but any knight who treated horses like their own life would recognize it at a glance.
"...Couldn't it be from a wild horse?"
"It could... but consider that I found it right where I spotted the anomaly, along with hoofprints. The prints had shoe marks. And most tellingly, the hooves were much smaller than those of Empire-bred horses. Putting it all together, it's clearly from a nomadic tribe's mount. And the nomads near the Empire are..."
Only elves.
"My god... the Sarisa Count allying with elves..."
The knight's throat bobbed. If what I said was true, he'd just received incredibly vital information. But he was slightly off the mark.
"It's ambiguous to call it an alliance, though. If there were many, they'd have used them aggressively for a night raid by now. The fact that they only scouted at this timing suggests it's more likely just a few elves hired as mercenaries."
He nodded and looked at me with newfound respect.
"Are you really a mercenary? Your speech and knowledge are beyond what I'd expect."
"Just drawing from past experience. I worked as a hunter and stablehand."
Only then did his expression clear with understanding. Hunters were trackers at heart, and stablehands lived alongside horses.
"You've been helpful regardless. I'll inform the Lady. Return to your post."
"Understood."
"Oh, and what's your name?"
Right before leaving, he paused and asked. My name—nothing special, common enough not to hide.
"Kyle... Kyle."
After reporting, I returned to camp. The other mercenaries had already retired to their tents, leaving only Cutter by the fire.
"Haha! Where'd you rush off to since dinner? You must be tired—get some rest."
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
"I've got to guard the tents. Around here, they'll steal your gear while you blink."
He'd been tending the fire alone to watch my stuff. I sat beside him with an awkward smile.
"Got caught up in something urgent—forgot. Thanks."
"Gotta help each other out."
Cutter poked at the fire as he spoke.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Meanwhile, at the army's center in the largest tent, Lenia was staying there. Unlike standard tents, it was furnished inside with a bed and all sorts of furniture—that was the commander's privilege, even on campaign.
The knight who'd rushed from my report arrived just as Lenia finished dinner and was reviewing maps. As commander, she had to anticipate the enemy's moves and plan tactics accordingly.
"Commander, Sir Edington requests an audience."
"Sir Edington? Let him in."
At her permission, Sir Edington—brown-haired with a neatly trimmed beard—entered and bowed. Knights and soldiers alike avoided her tent because she was a woman.
Being alone with a female commander bred baseless rumors. Lenia always told them not to worry, but it wasn't that simple.
"Sorry for the late hour."
"It's war—no such thing as too late. What is it? You, who never comes even when summoned."
Stung by her sharp words, Edington cleared his throat unnecessarily and placed his find on the table.
"One of the mercenaries found this."
Brown, stubby hair. She recognized it immediately.
"Horse hair. What does finding this mean?"
"He told me it's an elf trace. And he had evidence."
"What?"
"Hoofprints. He said such small horses are used by nomads, not the Empire. And the nomads near the Empire are..."
"Only elves."
Lenia now knew elves were involved too. From a commander's view, it was grave. Elves were born warriors. Even a few allying with the Sarisa Count were a threat.
Their nickname? Cavalry killers. Pitting Empire cavalry against them was suicide. Even elite riders couldn't match lifelong nomad horsemen—especially elves. You'd chase and end up a porcupine from arrows.
"This is bad. I never imagined the Sarisa Count hiring elves..."
Lenia furrowed her brow at the sudden bad news. Now she had to not only crush the Count's army but also strategize to neuter the elves. Similar, but not the same.
"Sir Edington, summon the other knights. And Sir Norton too."
"Understood. What about that mercenary?"
"Ah... bring him as well."
A short time later, knights gathered in her tent. Only thirty, but each a living weapon—her greatest assets.
"You summoned us."
The knights showed utmost courtesy. She was the Count's heir and a skilled aura user herself. Here, only Sir Norton could last ten bouts against her.
Beautiful and talented— the perfect liege. Thus, the knights supported her absolutely. Even setting aside her being the Count's only child.
"An urgent matter called you here so late."
Lenia informed them of the elf cavalry joining the Sarisa Count.
"Elves..."
The knights weren't terrified, but the tent grew heavier. Even these human weapons dreaded the troublesome elves.
"Don't worry! This Karon will smash them all! Savages, aren't they?"
Sir Karon—the hot-tempered one—thumped his chest amid the gloom, lightening the mood slightly. Mere ventilation, but welcome.
"Who discovered this, though...?"
One knight asked. Lenia shook her head—she didn't know yet.
"I don't know. I just got the report. But Sir Edington mentioned a mercenary. I sent for him earlier; he should arrive soon."
"A mercenary... intriguing. They move only for pay and rest when they can."
"A white heron among crows now and then. If he comes, how should we reward him?"
The knights offered opinions, converging on one: mercenaries moved for money, so reward with money. Titles weren't feasible.
Lenia nodded. A few gold coins, or pick from war spoils later—either fine. Then Sir Edington's voice came from outside.
"Commander, I've brought the mercenary as ordered."
"Let him in."
Edington entered at her word. The spacious command tent suddenly felt full with the mercenary behind him.
"Hrm..."
"Ho..."
Groans and exclamations escaped the knights. A giant towering two heads over most men. Black hair, black eyes, sharp gaze. He left a strong impression.
Not just that—his presence and looks were extraordinary. Bear-like bulk, yet chiseled features that'd make him strikingly handsome if leaner. He bowed upon entering.
"This lowly one greets the noble ones."
"Hm? A commoner who speaks elegantly."
"Refined speech unlike his looks. Where'd he learn such words?"
Kyle waited amid their chatter, replying only after it died. Nobles' questions—even idle talk—weren't to be interrupted. He'd worked for a baron's family; he knew proud nobles saw it as grave insult.
"I served as a servant in a city noble house once."
"As expected."
Meanwhile, Lenia chewed her lip at Kyle's entrance. Questions burned: which house? The man she'd sought so long also had black hair and eyes.
"I called you to commend your merit. What do you desire?"
But noble duty overrode. She couldn't act unbecomingly toward her father's—her benefactor's—legacy. Commend first, then personal queries. Proper form.
Inside, Kyle cheered. Noble rewards started with gold. Maybe two extra if lucky.
"How dare this lowly one dictate the noble ones' mercy? I await only your magnanimity."
In plainer terms: Let's see how generous you nobles really are. Some knights chuckled; others eyed him suspiciously. Bear-bodied, yet slippery-tongued.
Lenia smiled too—rare for her stern face. Her noble beauty lit the tent like Buddha's enlightenment. She drew a pouch from her bosom.
"Noble mercy... you leave me no choice but to show it."
Clink!
Five gold coins from the pouch hit the table. Enough for a commoner to idle months. Kyle was thrilled by the Lady's generosity but hid it, bowing humbly. Lower ranks jumped at less; he knew better.
Lenia eyed him intrigued.
'An utterly inscrutable man.'
Tallest, burliest she'd seen—fine. But refined words belying common birth, calm before five golds that'd make most mercenaries grin greedily.
"What are you doing? Take the commander's mercy!"
Urged by knights, he pocketed it—neither rushed nor slow.
"Victory to the noble and merciful commander."
"You... your name?"
Lenia's face held faint hope. The man she'd sought forever. Perhaps this one. Her first love, benefactor. That cherished name...
"Kyle."
Reality crushed her. She couldn't hide disappointment. Not the one.
Black-haired, black-eyed men serving Cligrove nobles in her youth were rare. Higher hopes dashed.
"Kyle. I expect great things ahead."
Lenia masked regret, dismissing him.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"This okay? She seemed off."
I muttered, glancing back at the tent. The Lady Commander's state felt ominous. Rumors said her skill matched her looks. But what I saw differed.
Noble poise, then excitement, disappointment—like a fickle child, not a army leader. More like any girl her age.
"The knights'll handle it if needed."
Worried but dismissed it. Commanders had staffs, advisors.
Next day.
"Pack your gear, quick!"
"You bastards! Enemies'll gut you and be gone before you blink! Move like you caught your wives cheating!"
The army's morning was chaotic. Raw, unruly soldiers sorted under officers' curses and blows, repacking into yesterday's order.
Finally arrayed in full kit, the Lady Count emerged pristine, as if yesterday's disarray was illusion. Shining armor, sword at hip, gold-threaded cloak. Morning sun on golden hair and armor made her a mythic war goddess—beautiful, noble.
"March formation ready!"
"Good work."
"Thank you!"
Senior officers, far her elders, saluted rigidly tense. Riding ahead, she inspected silently—satisfied, turned.
"Move out!"
Officers bellowed; soldiers surged like ants. Had she devised a solid elf counter?
"What're you thinking?"
Cutter eyed me. Mentioning elves might tank morale—my head on the block. I brushed it off casually.
The march continued. Mercenaries who'd seen Sarisa lands grumbled it'd take two more days, but even they fell silent under the brutal pace.
"Whew... something's up. Pace is faster than yesterday."
True—maybe 1.2 times quicker. Proof: chatterers now mute, focused on walking.
Clanking gear and ragged breaths filled the air. Glancing at the plain idly, yesterday's sight reappeared distantly—a dot, but clear in daylight to my sharp eyes.
Horse and armored rider. Solo, gender unclear. Armor style non-Empire: fur outer, bow at saddle. Empire bows were longbows, unusable mounted. Likely that evening elf. Or kin.
"Might raid anytime."
Daylight scouting signaled growing boldness. If easy prey, they'd probe—nomad style. Hit-and-run arrows dropped morale sans casualties.
Cavalry pursuit? Lucky not to get slaughtered. Looking up, I spotted cavalry: breastplates, chainmail—arrow fodder visually.
"Tell someone?"
Unaware or not, the march pressed. Two days later, we reached the battlefield.
"Halt! Halt!"
Officers' cries stopped the forward-marching troops. Far off, enemy forces. The Sarisa Count's men, probably.