Chapter 57: Chapter 57

The strategy of the Zima family's hounds disguising themselves as civilians to launch a surprise commando raid was one of the regular army's key deception tactics.

"We've finished up over here, Ran."

Peco approached, taking off his helmet. His bushy hair fluffed out widely, with steam-like sweat rising from it in wisps.

"All done here, too."

A voice called from the opposite direction, soon followed by similar reports from all around.

Ran was sitting on the remains of a building, idly snapping nut pieces into his mouth.

One by one, the hounds that had spread out began gathering around him.

"Well, there was fuck-all here. We got all worked up for nothin'."

"Father told us to be careful. We can't get careless."

"It's fuckin' over, you idiot. Ain't nothin' left to be careful about now."

Armand slung an arm around Leonard's shoulder. The other hounds seemed to agree with him.

As things quieted down, the sound of hoofbeats could be heard in the distance. Everyone's eyes turned that way.

It was the Emperor's Guard.

A man with a commander's cloak spun his horse's head, scanning the area. He was impressed.

"As expected. Just as I've heard. A fine piece of work."

The weight he'd carried melted away. He'd been stressed out by the enemy reconnaissance squads. Since this was a supply unit, it was difficult to take the initiative with attacks, so he'd had no choice but to sit by and watch their constant harassment near camp.

'Is that boy the squad leader?'

The commander looked at Ran. Among the ten men, his eyes naturally landed on him.

'He barely looks over twenty, yet his presence is something else.'

He'd had plenty of field experience. He liked to think he had an eye for warriors.

An adjutant approached after inspecting the scene.

"Commander, we've confirmed twenty-one bodies. They're with the Count Palstein's men, just as expected."

"Rat bastards. Maybe now we can finally get some goddamn sleep."

Having finished his report, the commander turned his gaze to the hounds.

"How did you know this was their hideout? They're such quick runners, there's no way we could've even begun to find them."

"That's a trade secret~"

Armand winked with one eye. The relationship between the regulars and mercenaries was tied with money. No one had the right to force loyalty. In times of civil war, these relationships became all the more obvious.

'Blades who chase silver, not ideals.'

Still, there's nothing wrong with keeping good relations.

Especially if they're this skilled.

"Very well. In any case, I'll make sure you receive the agreed-upon compensation. You may return now."

Ran spoke up, standing and brushing off his seat. Not only the commander but even the hounds looked at him strangely.

"We're not leaving until tomorrow night. Until then, we stay as planned."

For this mission, Zima had sent their ten best members.

The conditions stipulated that they remain inside the unit for the duration of the assignment and receive meals and lodging.

Armand, beside him, spoke in a low voice.

"What the fuck's the point? It's finished, let's just go back. What's the use staying?"

The other brothers felt the same. Life inside the garrison was a pain. Maybe it was because of arrangements made beforehand, but they had to submit to some level of control.

"Then go complain yourself."

Zima himself had appointed Ran as leader. Disobeying their father was unthinkable. They had to follow Ran's word.

The commander watched the situation for a moment and then laughed heartily.

"Mercenaries who live full lives always stick to the rules, eh? Well, good! In that case, enjoy your last night here."

The boys scowled. Ran wasn't any better.

The commander chuckled. Now that he looked, they really were just kids. He thought of his nephews back home.

"No need to look so disappointed. There's a Tempest Troupe performance tonight, you know. Looks like you're in luck."

With that, the commander left.

Armand, kicking a stray stone in frustration, cocked his head.

Back at the unit, the hounds received their rations, eating amidst the soldiers.

"Ran, you bastard. You're such a goddamn killjoy."

Armand chewed through a whole potato. Leonard sat across from him.

"Nothing you said was wrong, really. If we went back right away, father'd have something to say about that too."

"You act like you're the only one Father watches, huh? 'Father this, father that,' give me a break."

Armand clicked his tongue. Glancing around, he saw Ran eating alone at a distance, poking at his food.

Armand's eyes burned with annoyance.

He could list over ten reasons he hated Ran.

'Right from our first meeting, I knew he was a pain in my ass.'

Their personalities clashed; they'd always butt heads. Most of all, the source of conflict always felt like he was looking for excuses to pick on Ran, even when Ran was minding his own business—and that irked him.

'Most of all, that bastard hogs all the girls' attention.'

The Zima family never settled in one place, roaming from region to region. Wherever they went, there were women who made sure they were fed. Armand loved hanging out with them. He was at that age when curiosity about the opposite sex ran hot.

"What's wrong, Armand? Your face is all red."

"? It's nothing. Just pissed off, suddenly."

Leonard followed Armand's gaze to Ran, then snorted in knowing amusement.

"You and Ran really don't get along, huh."

"What's there to like?"

"What's there to dislike?"

"Doesn't it piss you off at all? Father totally gives him special treatment."

"He earned it. Ran's a genius. His talent's on a different level."

"Ha, come on. You spineless punk."

"That's just inferiority, you know."

Before Armand could retort, Leonard got up from his seat.

Even Armand knew none of that was wrong. He spat out some chewed potato, then stood abruptly.

That evening, the Tempest Troupe's performance began in the unit's drill square.

The Zima boys got front-row seats specially assigned by the commander.

It was a one-act play about a boy from a peasant family who enlists in the Emperor's Army and battles the rebels.

The actors performed with fiery vigor.

"Are you really leaving? Are you going to leave me behind ?"

"Try to understand. But I can't stand by and watch the Astana Empire, with its proud, ancient history, crumble at the filthy hands of traitors!"

"? The truth is, I'm carrying your child." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel※fire.net

"Ah! Why does Asriel burden me with such trials!"

In the end, the protagonist chose the path of devotion to his country over his own bloodline.

In the final act, the hero accomplished legendary feats but met a glorious death. With his last breath, he expressed his resentment toward Asriel.

"God gave me nothing but a cruel fate. But I overcame it. By my own hand, I seized victory and forged my destiny. My victory—and truly, the victory of humankind!"

The reactions of the ten hounds were sharply divided.

Half had nodded off and startled awake; the other half forced themselves to hide their discomfort.

Armand couldn't close his gaping mouth. His heart pounded as if it would burst. In his nineteen years, he had never felt such excitement.

While the actors were taking their bows, Armand suddenly strode toward the stage without anyone stopping him.

"You! Fuck! You knocked up a girl and left her behind to run off to war? And you call yourself a man?!"

The actors were shocked at first but gradually smiled wryly. Every so often, they encountered overly immersed audience members.

The others rushed in, grabbing Armand's arms as he raged on.

"Then you just die? Huh? What happens to your family? You irresponsible fuck!"

"Armand! Get a grip, you lunatic! It's just a play!"

"Let go! Aren't any of you pissed? You can sleep after watching that?!"

"God, I'm so sorry! Sorry, everyone!"

The kids bowing to the actors and the soldiers who'd come to intervene.

"It's fine. Haha, he was just immersed in the story."

"Shut up! You bastard!"

The actor who'd played the lead cleared his throat. He'd been cursed to his face, but honestly, he didn't mind. If he'd gotten such an intense reaction out of someone with this cheap propaganda script, it meant his acting was that good.

"Are you mercenaries?"

At that moment, the actress who'd played the heroine walked to the front of the stage, crouched, and peered down at Armand.

Her gentle words left Armand's ears ringing. The real voice behind the stylized stage dialect was as smooth as silk.

"You're very emotional—and quite handsome, too. Have you thought about learning to act? Come visit our troupe sometime."

With her chin in her hands, she smiled sweetly, her eyes still bright with undried tears.

Armand replied, his voice trembling,

"I—I'll come. I'll come today, even. I promise."

The commotion ended. Even as he was dragged away, Armand couldn't take his eyes off the actress.

It was only then that he realized he hadn't asked for her name.

The hounds slept in a tent set up somewhere inside the barracks.

As usual, night watch shifts rotated.

The rear unit's night was calm.

Even at that moment, fierce life-and-death battles raged on the front lines.

"It's colder than you'd think."

Leonard breathed a pale cloud. It would be a while yet before winter. Rubbing his arms, he looked at Ran beside him.

Ran, arms crossed, gazing at the night sky, turned his head slightly.

"In a year, we're set to disband. Have you thought about where you'll go?"

"Ha, nothing much, I guess. Just curious? It's been ages since we were on watch together ."

Leonard felt a pang of regret. Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up.

Ran never mixed well with his brothers. His innate combat sense had reached a level that exceeded mere jealousy: everyone regarded him with awe. Leonard was no exception. He just wanted to share a few words.

Leonard was startled, staring at Ran's profile. Not just at the answer, but at the fact that he'd even gotten a response.

"Special Unit? Why the Special Unit, of all things?"

With his skills, Ran could go anywhere. Even the Imperial Palace Guard was an option, if Zima's influence reached that far.

"To track down and break those church bastards."

Leonard just blinked. He'd known Ran for over a year but still didn't know much about him.

He didn't ask further. Instead, he spoke of himself.

"I'd like to be a knight for a small noble in some backwater village, if I get the chance."

Not just anyone could be knighted. You had to have a pedigree.

Ran kept such thoughts to himself.

"Eden and Corbinian feel the same way. We all... carry the same old wounds. Just wanna live out the rest of our days quietly, lookin' back on the old times, hoping maybe some noble with past ties to us will take us in."

Ran only nodded half-heartedly. He didn't really take it in. There were other things to concern himself with.

Ran's continued silence dragged the conversation to a halt.

Leonard almost brought up Armand's earlier outburst.

'He said he'd found a dream, I think.'

He'd been next to Armand when they tried to stop him. He saw the actress up close. She was breathtakingly beautiful, even in shabby stage makeup. If even he thought so, Armand—who was especially obsessed with women—must be feeling it all the more.

But what Armand cherished wasn't her face, but her words.

"Ran, about Armand—?"

The moment Leonard began to speak, a presence was felt behind him.

Ran was already up, sword drawn, turning around.

Leonard's eyes widened.

Armand stood before them, travel sack strapped across his chest, glaring at them.

He drew his sword halfway from its sheath.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=

Fucking backstories...

I swear, whenever someone gets a backstory, they die...