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墨書 Inktalez
The small money pouch felt heavy in his hands. As he opened it, a glimmer of gold caught his eye, and he began to lay the coins out on his apron. One, two, three... seven, plus one made a total of ninety-two coins. Adding the twelve coins along with the five gifted by Redman and the fourteen he had managed to swipe from the orcs, plus a few scattered Silver Coins, John found himself with thirty-one gold coins and sixty-seven Silver Coins. Would he bother picking up coppers? That was a joke.
This didn’t even account for the two large pearls and a gemstone the size of a pigeon egg. John felt a pang of reluctance about going into battle; with this kind of money, he could easily settle down as a boss in a town inland.
After stowing away the coins, he noticed Johnny approaching with a small bag in hand. What was going on? Had there been a dispute over the distribution of goods?
Johnny, with an ingratiating smile, set the bag down beside him. How could they dare to argue? The captain knew this was a gesture of goodwill from the men below.
John didn’t mention that Johnny and his crew wouldn’t dare refuse him; after all, the cooking team had it good—enough to eat and even some meat. The good stuff never reached their mouths; they had only ever tasted scraps and seasonings that they would never have experienced otherwise.
Don’t think that those at the bottom could eat anything substantial. John himself had spent fourteen years as a Serf and had barely eaten meat more than a few times.
It wasn’t just about filling their bellies; the battle had made these people realize that living was what mattered most—they didn’t want to become cannon fodder.
John weighed the money pouch in his hand; it felt decent—not too light. He reassured them, “Don’t worry, I won’t hastily drive anyone away.”
“Captain, you jest!” Johnny immediately bent over in response, knowing full well that it was because of John as their captain that they even had a cooking team—not because they needed one for the sake of having a captain.
Once the upper-class nobles finished discussing their interests and divided their factions, plans were set in motion to march south and clear out the orc army. The army was mobilizing, and John’s Third Legion was responsible for the southwestern coastal area.
The Third Legion wasn’t too bad off; after all, their leader was the son of the Count of Monte Cristo. Although they weren’t assigned to wealthy cities, there were still quite a few towns. The unfortunate ones were those minor nobles who had to fend for themselves in the wild to gain experience.
Their leader Redman relied on the influence of the White Family and his reputation for being bold in battle. Most importantly, he had connections with Legion Commander At, which secured them a Captain position within the Third Legion.
“Let’s head out and sweep through!” John rallied his men.
With promotions came swift demotions; as divisions were made within the Third Legion, only six men from their last mission remained under John’s command along with eight new recruits—four fewer than before.
Though they called it a unit, Redman’s men were pitifully few; out of thirty soldiers brought along, only seventeen survived. The Militia had barely two left standing, while from the Gray Bear Mercenary Corps, only Lai Gen remained—proving that mercenaries weren’t suited for large-scale battles.
With fewer men around, even John gained rights to participate in battle strategy meetings since he still commanded fourteen men.
“Let’s take a look at the map,” Redman said. “This patch of forest is under our Fourth Regiment’s responsibility. Any thoughts?”
But no one seemed able to provide an answer. The guards were just armored soldiers under command; Lyd was too simple-minded to offer any suggestions. As for another Knight Attendant—he had died outside Iron Will Fortress.
(The Knight Attendant thought: “I’ll die without ever having been named.”)
Upon hearing his leader's question, Lyd fell silent for a moment before finally squeezing out a few words through clenched teeth, "I listen to the adults."
Redman’s face was filled with disappointment. It was pointless to ask such a brute. He glanced around at the other attendees of the meeting; they were either guards or militia captains, some of whom couldn’t even spell their own names correctly.
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