Chapter 60

The driver of the military wagon carrying me and my companions cracks his whip with vigor. The horses stretch their hooves forward, bathed in the sunlight partially obscured by clouds.

The blankets of the military wagon begin to flutter in the wind.

“By the stars, there are a mountain of supplies! What are we even going to do with all this?”

Ed asked, his voice bright, as if invigorated by the wind sweeping in, making the blankets billow.

“…”

Lir, seated beside him, didn’t seem particularly pleased with Ed’s cheerful expression and tone. Judging by her personality, it would likely take quite a while for the two to become friendly.

Perhaps they’d never become friends at all.

Truthfully, I don’t particularly want to get close to that guy either. Looking at that excessively bright face of his fills me with a sense of estrangement, of unease.

…Does that fool even know where we’re headed?

If he did, there’s no way he could wear such a cheerful expression.

“…Private Ed. We are headed to the battlefield. Might I suggest you keep it down a bit?”

Rex, unable to bear it any longer, tossed a remark at Ed, as Lir, Alter, and I all displayed our discomfort.

“Ah! My apologies. It’s my first deployment as a soldier, so I got carried away… I will restrain myself!”

Heh, that kid’s apology is just as bright and cheerful as everything else about him.

Infuriating.

“…Well, setting aside the Private’s exuberance, I admit I’m a bit curious myself. It seems like twice, maybe three times, the usual amount of supplies.”

Rex, having calmed Add down, asked me with a careful tone. Even for him, with his extensive military experience, seeing this much gear moving at once was apparently unusual.

Twenty-one supply wagons, laden to their brims, rolled down the well-paved road, escorted by soldiers.

Ordinarily, a supply run consists of five or six wagons at most, so this was an exceptionally large number.

“How long has the battle at Valerand been going on now?”

“Almost two months.”

“Then the soldiers’ morale must be… depleted.”

Two months.

The time I risked my life in the dungeon was, at most, a mere two days. Even those two days felt like an eternity of torment and hardship. What must the state of soldiers be, spending thirty times that amount of time in a battlefield far more brutal?

“There seem to be quite a few deserters as well. Everyone, without exception, must be reaching their limits.”

Valerand is the fiercest battleground in the war between the continentals and the demonic forces. Soldiers are likely covered in blood, enduring the pain of flesh and bone being chipped away every single day.

Those are the ones who managed to cling to life in that hell for two whole months.

It’s far too early to give rewards, but in my opinion, those who persevered through that long ordeal, grinding their teeth in the face of it all, deserve at least a minimal compensation.

“Besides food, weapons, and armor, I’ve brought a lot of things like cigarettes, liquor, and coffee. I intend to distribute it to the soldiers suffering in Valerand. For the sake of boosting morale.”

“Does the military issue alcohol as a supply? I absolutely love alcohol!”

Add couldn’t resist and jumped into Rex and my conversation.

Wow, what an unlikeable character.

“…It goes without saying, but alcohol is not a military supply. Those are items I bought with my own money.”

I didn’t elaborate, but the alcohol and cigarettes, all the luxury goods loaded in those wagons, were without exception of the finest quality.

“Cigarettes and coffee, all of that too?”

“……Yeah, whatever.”

“So, becoming a General means you can earn enough to buy that much liquor and tobacco?! A little surprising, I must say.”

Of course, it was probably obvious, but holding the rank of General meant I was a high-income earner, pulling in around 30 gold a month.

But even that considerable salary wasn’t enough to fill all those wagons with top-shelf spirits and smokes.

So I asked my steward to dip into the income from my lands.

For me, holding chunks of the most valuable real estate in the Allied Nations’ capital, the best land on the entire continent, there were no problems that couldn’t be solved with money.

If the salary wasn’t enough, well, you just use the income from the land, no?

* * *

The wagons, having started their journey as the sun began to rise, didn’t stop even when it hung high in the sky, and it was long past afternoon before they finally entered the Achilliptus Forest.

The familiar scent of grass filled the air as the Dwarf guards, standing on the newly built road, greeted us.

The Dwarf soldiers called me by the ridiculous nickname ‘Master of Spirits’ instead of my rank or name.

……What rumors were going around among the Dwarves, I couldn’t even begin to guess, and certainly couldn’t stop.

I just chuckled wryly and gave a casual greeting to the faces I hadn’t seen in a while, while Ed, watching from the side, gave me a look of inexplicable admiration.

How is it that in this forest, from spirits to mortals, not a single one of them is quite right in the head?

“General, we heard you’re leaving for Valerand today. We wish you the best of fortune.”

Black Hammer Velua gave me a salute, a determined look on his face, as I passed through the supply route into the forest.

“……Well, he’s going to die.”

And standing next to him, Trian was practically spitting curses.

“Still, you came out to see me off. Actually worried about me, aren’t you? More tenderhearted than you seem, Trian.”

Getting angry here is what the inexperienced do.

I forced the corners of my lips upward, answering the elf who regarded me with chilling eyes. My molars ached a little, but I summoned superhuman focus, managing a smile that was, at least, passable.

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t seen faces I know meet their end before. Just thought I’d see one last face off.”

Listen to the nerve on this wretched elf.

“Hah, how… considerate…”

I wanted to yank him off the carriage and plant a fist right between his pointy ears. But knowing this insolent elf wouldn’t stand still and let my sluggish punch connect, I did the only thing I could—sat there, swallowing down my rage.

“…Please, let’s depart.”

Lir, who had been watching our exchange with Trian, sighed softly and gave the order to the coachman.

Perhaps it was that elven knack for observation, but she must have noticed my clenched jaw a while ago.

“Well… if you return alive, I might even let you land one.”

Trian said it with an amused smile, his gaze fixed on the thin bones and faint tendons rising on the back of my hand.

“…You’d better keep that promise.”

That impertinent b*stard. I’ll be damned if I don’t return from this road alive, if only to pummel him.

And so, with a light send-off from Bellua and Trian, we left the Akiliptus Forest behind.

Dark clouds began to gather ominously beyond the horizon. The horses’ steps slowed. No matter how busily the coachman cracked his whip, the beasts refused to quicken their pace.

A sour smell tickled my nose. Up ahead, at the end of the road, a cart pulled by a coachman with a darkened face was approaching, loaded with… something.

“…”

Our coachman quietly raised his hat in greeting to his fellow traveler, but the other, pulling the cart, didn’t even acknowledge him.

The closer the cart, covered with thick blankets, came, the stronger the sour smell became.

The face of the man driving the oncoming cart flashed past like the wind. Deep shadows were etched into his wrinkled features.

The wheels rattled. Somewhere, something creaked. From between the blankets covering the cart, something… something like a human arm, had slipped out slightly.

Only then did I recognize the source of the acrid stench that had been nagging at me.

It was the smell of a corpse cart.

“……”

Most in the carriage seemed to recognize the odor. Even Add, usually so loquacious, was silenced, only swallowing hard as if overwhelmed by the smell.

The storm clouds deepened further. The wind that blew felt somehow like a viscous liquid. An indescribable, unpleasant sensation crept across my skin. It felt as if my flesh was heating up, or perhaps swelling.

Along with the viscous air, the baggage cart arrived at Vallaland.

“……We’ve arrived.”

The coachman spoke with a trembling voice, as if subdued by some immense power.

Rex, with his imposing frame, was the first to descend from the carriage. Behind the flapping blanket, the dark sky greeted us.

After the valiant orc, Add emerged, a great sword strapped to his back. He, too, seemed tense.

Among the mages, Alter was the first to rise. Unlike his usual barehanded self, he held a long staff, befitting his tall stature, in both hands.

Lir and I dismounted from the carriage almost simultaneously. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t afraid, but I took each step outward with feigned composure.

“……Loyalty.”

A feeble voice spoke. An officer with deep dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept for days, greeted us.

Behind him, faint groans and screams could be heard.

“Loya….”

*Boom!*

An explosion in the distance cut off my greeting. Everyone present glared warily at the source of the blast, but the officer didn’t even glance in that direction.

“It was just a mana mine detonating. Nothing to worry about.”

“Ah… I see.”

“…A landmine detonated, and you’re saying we shouldn’t worry about it?”

It seemed battlefield common sense was broken beyond repair, to the point where comparing it to medieval common sense would be insulting.

“Speaking of which, you have quite a load. I doubt you brought that much food or weaponry…”

“…Ah, I brought liquor, tobacco, and various other comforts. The highest quality, at that.”

Slightly intimidated, I spoke to the officer, his expression grim.

*Man, this guy’s face is scary as hell.*

“…Liquor and tobacco, you say? Are such things provided in the supply lines?”

The officer’s dark expression softened just a fraction as he asked, as if unable to believe my words.

“I spent some of my own funds. I figured the soldiers’ morale must be abysmal.”

I answered and asked the wagon driver to fetch a bottle of wine, which I handed to the officer. He held the bottle in his hand, tears welling beneath his dark circles.

“An eleven-year vintage…!”

The officer with the intimidating face held the bottle to his cheek and murmured, seemingly overcome with emotion.

“Thank you!”

Soon, he was flashing a bright smile and bowing repeatedly to me.

…The heavy dark circles hadn’t disappeared, but he certainly looked better when he smiled.

Even the elite soldiers facing the Grand Duke were, undeniably, still just people.