Chapter 47
The office of the head of House Rosenthal.
Victor coldly looked down at the newspaper spread across the table.
The recruitment notice that had recently thrown the entire Empire into an uproar.
Deep furrows formed between Victor's brows.
"Arrogant little brat."
Astin von Cardenos.
As if it weren't enough that the brat had disfigured my daughter's face, now he was trying to play the hero who would save humanity.
They boasted that this expedition would serve as the opening salvo for a new horizon beyond the Empire—for humanity itself.
Just what right did Cardenos have?
Cardenos's attempt to open up the Ashen Forest was a double-edged sword from Rosenthal's perspective.
If the expedition failed, they would be the object of the world's ridicule. There was also a good chance that Astin himself would die.
But you could never know how things would turn out.
What if, by some chance, they really succeeded in the expedition?
"Men with swords are pouring into the West from all over the Empire. There are already nearly three thousand of them."
Anxiety colored the voice of the retainer delivering the report.
The number of applicants had far exceeded the public's expectations.
"If an expeditionary force is organized at this rate……"
If the expedition succeeded, Cardenos's standing would inevitably soar.
Rosenthal had not remained idle, either.
They had accelerated the economic retaliation they had been enforcing, preventing supplies from the South from flowing into the West.
Yet even so, Cardenos's momentum showed no sign of cooling.
Having swallowed up Patrian, they had already completed every preparation.
As time passed, it was Rosenthal that bore the brunt of the media's attacks.
What gave Rosenthal the right to obstruct humanity's greater cause?
If public opinion continued as it was, Rosenthal could be branded a narrow-minded family.
"Hernan, Albert. Release capital at once and buy off the scholars in the Imperial Capital."
The sons who had been waiting bowed their heads in unison.
The public always went wild for a stimulating heroic narrative.
Then all they had to do was transform that heroic narrative into a spark that would ignite a disaster.
That way, they could stop the expedition before it even set out.
"It is a monstrous wilderness that has lain dormant for hundreds of years. Stir it up, and the monsters may run wild. The moment they cross the barrier en masse as a monster wave, not only the West but the entire Empire will go up in flames. Incite the scholars with that sort of argument."
On the surface, it was dressed up as a rational, objective concern.
They would claim that Astin's arrogance was trying to drive humanity to extinction.
The public might yearn for glory, but survival came first.
If they provoked fear for their survival, public opinion would be swept up in anxiety.
"Once the intellectuals submit a joint petition, the central nobles will have no choice but to waver. The Imperial Family and the Senate won't be able to ignore it, either."
For the sake of self-preservation, even the nobles would have no choice but to raise their voices.
Postpone the expedition until its safety had been thoroughly verified.
Under that kind of pressure, Cardenos would not be able to force the expedition through.
Victor sank deep into his chair and let out a sneer.
"Honor and glory are nonsense. Must the entire Empire tremble because of such vainglory?"
In the end, it was the tip of a pen, not the edge of a sword, that moved people.
Rosenthal would stop Cardenos in a manner befitting a noble house.
***
The moment I entered the training grounds, heat and the smell of sweat washed over me. Acrid campfire smoke stung my nose.
Hundreds of tents had been packed tightly into separate zones to accommodate three thousand people.
The training grounds had been transformed into a wartime encampment.
Armed men swarmed between the tents.
People from different backgrounds and walks of life were all tangled together.
I had seen this sight countless times. More precisely, in my first life.
"Kahaha! Who among you can withstand my axe?!"
"Shut up, you savage. What are you doing kicking up all that dust?!"
On one side, barbarians draped in animal hides were clanging their axes together and snickering.
In another tent, men who looked like nobles were inspecting the condition of their arms and armor.
Mercenaries who had drifted in from all over sat beneath the shade of the tents and surveyed their surroundings.
There was a familiar look in their eyes. They were assessing the forces present and calculating whether they had any chance of surviving the expedition.
Mercenaries were the sort who valued their lives more than money.
"Ah, Duke Hyren. It's been a long time. I never expected to see you here."
Julian caught my eye near a makeshift water station.
He was exchanging a cheerful greeting with a noble.
"Here, have some water! Do you need a towel, too?"
A narrow path ran between the tents.
I could also see Celine carrying water and towels with the household staff.
"Ah, th-thank you, my lady……!"
Every man's face flushed bright red.
It was understandable. Celine's beauty was working overtime today.
It was partly thanks to the cosmetics I'd given her, but mostly because she was beautiful to begin with.
The men's sticky gazes swept over Celine's back.
They knew she was a young lady of House Cardenos, so they could not touch even a hair on her head.
I knew that, but as her older brother, I couldn't help feeling displeased by the sight.
"Kahaha! That's the kind of nerve you need to set foot in the Ashen Forest!"
Under the shade of a tent, Hendrickson burst into hearty laughter.
The man standing before him looked strangely familiar.
Black armor. A greatsword of black iron, as tall as a grown man, was strapped to his back.
'The Black Knight, Bagot.'
I knew that man would come.
Bagot was a man I had known in my first life.
In fact, we had been more than mere acquaintances; we had been close comrades-in-arms.
It was a one-sided friendship that only I remembered. It couldn't count for anything.
Of course, Bagot had already passed based on skill alone.
'He's the real deal.'
He was the fearless knight who had charged alone at the Black Serpent, a servant of an Outer God.
When everyone had lost the will to fight before a calamity that swallowed mountains and rivers, only Bagot had charged forward without fear.
Though he had been killed instantly.
His courage and fighting spirit were unquestionably the greatest in the Empire.
"Hey! How long are we supposed to wait?!"
"Imperial folk are so patient! I'm itching all over—I can't stand it!"
Two men as massive as boulders stood at the source of those booming voices.
Both were over two meters tall, their entire bodies covered in tattoos.
They looked like barbarians by anyone's standards.
'I knew they would come, too.'
The smooth-scalped one was Bural-tak. The long-haired one was Bellutak.
The two were brothers, the chief and tribal leader of the Bone-Raking Hand Tribe.
The fact that I remembered their names meant they were warriors whose skill had been proven.
The former was also memorable partly because his name was so…… suggestive.
In any case, their ability was beyond question.
"I'm sweating to death. Shouldn't we put up another tent here?"
"How long are we supposed to wait? If it's going to take this long, let us inside!"
"Think before you speak. How many people are there? Do you really think they could let us all inside?"
I clicked my tongue softly and placed a hand on my sword hilt.
With so many people, keeping them under control was no easy task.
All three thousand were hot-blooded warriors, and the training grounds were on the verge of becoming a riot.
Especially that Tak-Tak duo. Those two were picking fights with innocent people, challenging them to fight.
They must have been itching to do something instead of standing around.
Shing-
I drew the sword at my waist and pulled up the Solar condensed within my core in a single burst.
Boom⸻!
When I brought my sword down on the stone paving, it split with a crack and sent fragments flying.
The explosive crash reverberated throughout the entire training ground.
All the noise filling the training grounds stopped at once, and thousands of pairs of eyes fixed on me.
"Brother!"
Only Celine beamed and ran toward me.
"And Lady Lucia, too! I missed you!"
"Wow, you've gotten so pretty."
Lucia gently embraced Celine when she came running over.
I moved the two of them behind me and rested the flat of my sword diagonally across my shoulder.
Silence fell. I didn't need to raise my voice.
"I am Astin, and I will command you on this expedition."
They had all seen the name 'Astin von Cardenos' written on the notice, but this was the first time they had seen the man himself.
In their eyes, I probably looked like a young master who had only just shed his baby fuzz.
Sure enough, murmurs laced with distrust and disappointment spread through the crowd.
This expedition into the Ashen Forest was even more dangerous than those in the North. Every one of these people was a veteran who had been through countless hardships.
From their perspective, being commanded by a noble young master was naturally irritating.
"Anyone muttering behind my back about having to entrust his life to a brat like that isn't a man. If you've got something to say, say it to my face."
Explaining at length wouldn't make them listen.
There was only one thing needed to bring this disorderly atmosphere under control.
The logic of power.
"If you have something to say, come before me and say it directly. I will stand before you not as the Grand Duke's eldest son, but as an equal warrior."
"Ha! All mouth and no bite!"
No sooner had I finished speaking than the mountain-sized barbarians sprang to their feet. It was Bural-tak and Bellutak.
Taming difficult men was exactly the sort of thing I was good at.
Several red-faced nobles also began striding toward me.
The mercenaries, on the other hand, merely sat there with bored expressions, propping their chins on their hands.
Thud-
The ground suddenly caved in, sending up a cloud of dust.
A giant leaped in a single bound and landed right in front of me. It was the Black Knight, Bagot.
His massive black armor clanked as he straightened his back.
"Young Master Astin. Seeing you in person, you hardly inspire confidence."
A low, hoarse voice emerged from inside his helmet.
I had said we would face one another as equals, but I hadn't expected him to start speaking informally right away.
I liked him very much.
"Your shoulders are too slight for you to speak of honor and glory. How many people do you think will stake their lives on a brat who has more years ahead of him than behind him?"
The entire training ground held its breath.
Lucia frowned and tried to step forward, but I raised an arm to stop her.
"If you truly intend to take on the Ashen Forest, hand command over to Sir Hendrickson. I would gladly entrust my life to him."
Bagot placed a hand on his black-iron greatsword.
"Otherwise, I have no intention of joining this expedition. And I'm not the only one. Most of those gathered here feel the same—"
"Damn, that tongue of yours is fucking long."
I lowered the sword from my shoulder and pointed it at his brow.
Red-gold flames rose from the blade like a heat haze.
Bagot's eyes flew wide for an instant. He apparently hadn't realized that I was a knight of the same Ring.
I pointed toward the field with a jerk of my chin.
"Don't just bare your teeth. If you've got a complaint, come up here."
He was the sort who had to be put in his place before he would understand.
But once you put him down, he would submit without holding a grudge.
That was why I liked Bagot.
"That's our way, isn't it?"
"……You can at least talk sense."
***
A real-sword match between Young Master Astin and the Black Knight Bagot.
It was the finest spectacle imaginable amid their tedious days.
As the match approached, the heat surrounding the training grounds reached its peak.
"Look at Sir Bagot's fighting spirit. No wonder even Sir Hendrickson acknowledges him."
"Young Master Astin has no fear, perhaps because he's young. No wonder he's leading an expedition to the Ashen Forest."
"It's the reckless spirit of youth. Ah, those were the days."
The overwhelming difference in physical build was not the only thing that mattered; the difference in experience could not be ignored, either.
Naturally, a weed grown in the wild was hardier and tougher than a flower raised in a greenhouse.
To the spectators, the winner was as good as decided.
Unless a miracle occurred—and even if one did—they predicted a crushing victory for Bagot.
"One hundred thousand shillings on the Black Knight!"
A group of mercenaries gathered in one corner of the training grounds began laying down bets.
Mercenaries' minds were always filled with ways to gamble.
"I'll put two hundred thousand on Sir Bagot. What about you?"
"Of course I'm putting fifty thousand on Bagot!"
"Two hundred thousand shillings on Bagot winning!"
"Hey, you bastards! If everyone bets on Bagot, there won't be a bet left to make!"
"Then you bet on the young master!"
"Are you crazy? You want me to throw away good money?"
The outcome was obvious, and the betting quickly reached a stalemate.
Just as the betting pool was about to fall apart,
"Ten million shillings."
A clear voice completely out of place with the atmosphere cut in.
The startled mercenaries all turned their heads.
"I'll bet on Young Master Astin."
Tuk-
Lucia set down a stack of Imperial checks and smiled sweetly.
The mercenaries were stunned by Lucia's beauty, but then the words ten million on Astin registered, and they flinched in surprise.
"A gambling table? Count me in."
Hendrickson approached before anyone noticed and untied his money belt.
Julian, who had been beside him, also placed a heavy money pouch on the betting table.
"I'll put one million on the brat. The odds should be pretty sweet."
"I'll put five hundred thousand on Young Master Astin, too."
In an instant, the betting pool swung toward Astin.
The mercenaries froze like stone at the enormous sums involved.
"Crazy. The pool's already gotten this big?"
"Hey! The pot's over ten million! Everyone, come take a look!"
As the rumor spread, mercenaries who had only been watching, fallen nobles, nobles who had left their families, and even clueless barbarians threw money into the betting.
More than nine out of ten of them chanted Bagot's name.
A few thought those three must have some reason for their confidence and placed small bets on Astin, but they were very much in the minority.
"What do I do……"
Meanwhile, Celine watched from a distance, fidgeting anxiously.
She wanted to bet on Astin, but her pockets were empty.
She had spent all the money she had set aside to buy a birthday present not long ago. She had even taken her allowance in advance.
Her finances were effectively in the red, but she felt guilty as his younger sister for simply standing by.
Celine emptied her pockets.
She carefully held out the few coins that came out.
"I'll bet a thousand shillings on my brother!"
It was her entire fortune.