Chapter 93: Chapter 93

Sixth Prince of the Empire and commander of the Second Imperial Army.

He is the king of the frontier who administers the colony Rubra-Vailsar-twice the size of the Empire's homeland-and also the foremost knight among the royalty.

"They said it's a new model, so I gave it a try-Lorenz really built something, didn't they? A fine piece!"

Just because some high-ranking person had shown up, they hadn't hurried to scrub the barracks or line up the unit for inspection.

There was no reason to impress a senior official with a unit that wasn't even needed, and above all Yaan himself was a loose cannon who kept picking fights with the Second Prince.

Still, the reason Yaan wore an awkward expression was simple.

'Someone please shut that guy's mouth...'

The words never stopped.

From the moment he had descended from the colossus to offer his first greeting, through observing training, to the dinner he was now sharing-having forced himself in despite Yaan's saying he would eat alone-this prince kept laughing heartily and blooming with conversation, as if something delighted him immensely.

"So I petitioned His Imperial Majesty, and the reply came back telling me to use you! I was so curious I simply had to come myself!"

While mechanically spooning up the dishes prepared by the Sixth Prince's personal cook-who had suddenly become head chef of the Verkut keep-Yaan stared at the lavish food before him.

'Meat on meat on meat and more meat... suits his personality.'

A spicy soup that seemed stuffed with nothing but chunks of pork; a whole beef tenderloin roast, mutton legs, venison-the endless parade of flesh.

It looked as though every kind of meat in the world had been brought to the table, but thanks to the nonstop flow of Berikt's words, Yaan's plate had hardly shrunk.

"You have a small appetite, eh? Still not finished?"

It's because of you. The words rose to the back of his throat, but he swallowed them.

"...I don't usually eat much."

"Hahaha! From your battle record and reputation I expected some three-headed six-armed monster, but you're actually a mild fellow!"

With that, he finally found a moment to shove a spoonful of soup and a chunk of meat into his mouth.

The pungent spice and the rich, heavy savor of meat rose together.

'Salty. Even the appetizer must be blander than this.'

A meat-lover would have sung praises, but Yaan, faced with the delicacy, felt no interest.

"Well then, now that you've filled your stomach somewhat, let's talk business."

Prince Berikt drained his coffee in one gulp after the meal and spoke, looking at Yaan.

Watching him down boiling coffee like it was cold water, Yaan found it harder and harder to keep his expression in check.

"How much do you know about the situation in the colony?"

"I heard Belkuth suppressed it and Lorenz manages it. Beyond that, nothing."

Fragmentary information. That was all Yaan knew.

"Exactly as you say. After Belkuth smashed every resistance group by force, Lorenz garrisoned the place and kept order."

Yet a rebellion had broken out.

Even mobilizing colossi that had not been used in the First Rubra War.

"Strange, isn't it? Every military base and munitions plant should have been destroyed, yet the Liberation Army trains like regular troops and their equipment keeps improving."

Saying so, Prince Berikt placed something on the desk.

With a thud, what slid forward was a pistol.

The material and finish were every bit as good as Imperial-issue.

"A battlefield capture. Used by a Liberation Army officer."

While studying the old Rubra insignia engraved on the slide, Berikt drew a cigarette paper from his pocket and offered it to Yaan.

"You must have seen something similar in Vailsar waters."

A drawing so detailed it looked photographed, not hurriedly sketched like a croquis.

It could have been a photograph itself.

"I knew you'd recognize it."

As Yaan quietly repeated the name from memory, his left eye began to flick back and forth.

[Shape comparison. Submarine silhouette confirmed in combat records. Compared with image data and size; internal weapon bay removed. Inferred modified for transport capacity.]

It was a Janskarl submarine that had appeared in the colony's port after slipping past Vailsar patrols.

If that was what the Liberation Army used to ferry military supplies...

"Then Janskarl is involved in the colony rebellion."

"Only a suspicion, you understand."

Saying this with a shrug, Prince Berikt looked at Yaan as he spoke.

"There might be direct dealings between the Liberation Army and Janskarl, but the odds are low. The grain belts, mines, ruins-"

"-are all Imperial property. Not a handful of dirt left."

At those words Yaan fell silent.

The Empire's first colony, Rubra-Vailsar.

Conquered in a lightning campaign by the Empire's early colossi before Emperor Cardias's accession, Rubra had spent nearly a century being exploited as a colony.

"Under those conditions, securing enough funds to maintain an army is almost impossible."

Strategy, tactics, will.

They are virtues demanded to wage war, but only factors that let you fight it; they are not what win it.

What wins a war is, in the end, money.

Victory is decided by the amount of resources and the difference in distribution and supply to move them.

"Exactly. A hundred years since we stripped them of all industrial base. Long enough for everyone seeking independence-and anyone supporting them-to starve. Yet if the rebellion keeps growing, there's only one answer."

"Outside funding... from Janskarl?"

"Most likely. If the war ends in Imperial victory, the wartime boom they're enjoying disappears."

Yaan asked cautiously, but after answering, Berikt shook his head.

"At first we too pursued that angle. All we learned was that they are sending materiel-what items, what amounts. The crucial source of funds remains a blank."

Hearing that, Yaan could only grimace.

"If not Janskarl, then who...?"

"Who knows. We keep Janskarl under close watch; we'll get results eventually... but every lead so far has been a dead end."

So that was why they had been summoned.

Seeing Yaan nod, Berikt smiled and met his eyes.

"The 87th Independent Company is a mixed unit of every race and origin, isn't it?"

They were chosen from the dregs for ability alone.

House, race, birthplace-none of it mattered, and they cared even less.

Anyone who did care had become a corpse before ever reaching the unit.

"That's why I want to ask you. Infiltrate the capital of Rubra-Vailsar, the port city of Lunes, and gather their information."

At Berikt's words Yaan's expression changed.

"Your Highness, we are a combat unit, not an intelligence unit."

"Then this mission should be given to the Imperial intelligence service, not us..."

"Do you have any idea what sort of looks the Imperial Army gets in Lunes?"

The Empire that had stripped the colony of every industrial asset and cast its people into ruin.

How the locals viewed the Imperial troops keeping order was obvious.

It was Berikt who sighed when Yaan accepted it.

"If I could have, I'd have done that from the start. There'd have been no need to call you."

As Yaan nodded, Berikt clicked his tongue and pulled something from inside his coat: a cigar as thick as a finger.

"Care for one? Ah, you don't smoke?"

"No. I use something else."

Saying so, Yaan took out his own cigarette-the cheap kind issued to enlisted men.

"Hah, you smoke that?"

"These days I can't get a buzz without it."

Cheap, and cranked to maximum toxicity. Even a heavy smoker who tried one would swear off for three days.

"You're the first person I've seen smoke one of these since Count Hiram."

The fact that he was using the same thing as his enemy sent a wave of revulsion through him for an instant, but he couldn't show it in front of the prince.

The cigarettes of the two men sitting across from each other burned down, and after some time had passed, Berikt spoke again.

"The port of Runis is the only port the Empire doesn't own, and it's also a free port. The city itself handles administration, so it's the most likely place for rebel strongholds."

"But even if we try to investigate, the locals won't cooperate with the Empire."

"What's worse, my subordinates and the garrison troops are all Imperials. A simple infiltration won't do."

Unlike Imperials with their varied hair colors, colorless hair like Yaan's was one of the characteristics of the Rubran people.

Of course, Yaan's appearance, mixed with Imperial traits, was mostly distinguishable from their brown-skinned group, but Berikt explained that wouldn't attract suspicion.

'Despite his size and personality, he's got good insight and quick judgment. If Gard had been that sort, he'd have raised hell, insisting on doing it himself even if it meant trampling the capital.'

His flexibility in proceeding without provoking the colonists was also evident.

Recalling the prince who, obsessed with his feats, had thrown the entire allied Knights Order as fodder, Yaan thought with a touch of emotion.

The superior he met on this assignment seemed to be someone he could communicate with.

"Understood. Then as soon as personnel selection is complete, I'll move to Runis and gather information on the Liberation Army."

When Yaan's response came after he finished his thoughts, Berikt's face brightened.

"Thank you, Sir Verkut! This means I owe Klaus a favor!"

"Considering it's a special mission, it will take at least two weeks, excluding travel time, but do you have any additional orders?"

"Ah, well... what could there be..."

After hearing Yaan's words, Berikt seemed to think for a moment, then spoke to Yaan with an awkward smile.

"Then, could you escort me along the way?"

Scratch that thought.

This man is indeed a fool after all.

The three-day initiation under Yaan's command. Of the forty convicts, ten selected rookies for the Greyhounds sat slumped in the barracks, sick to death of Dandel's training course that followed.

"This... this is training? Where?"

"He's crazy... not normal. We didn't sleep a wink for 70 hours!"

The new recruits returning to the barracks after training looked more like corpses than people.

The seniors who returned from training approached the rookies who sat there, not even realizing the sweat they'd shed in mid-winter had frozen to their skin.

"Oh, rookies! How many dropped out this week?"

They were ten mad dogs made up of murderers and death-row inmates, but they didn't forget to use polite speech to the company members who spoke to them kindly.

The reason was simple.

These mad dogs had grown up to become them, and they'd felt it bone-deep during the mock battles.

"From this moment until midnight tomorrow, you're on rest. Wash up and eat."

Dandel, speaking to them with a calm face that left no room for complaints about the training.

"From what I saw, that guy's the weirdest..."

"He was with us the whole training, right? Why, why is he perfectly fine?"

The man who had completed every single schedule with them for 70 hours finished speaking as if nothing had happened and walked to his office for paperwork.

"Don't worry. You can become like that too."

The rookies stared at the seniors who said the impossible with smiling faces, but the seniors smiled back and continued.

"We'll beat you into shape until you do."

At those words, the color drained from the rookies' faces in an instant.

At that moment, they envied the thirty who'd died first.

"...Right. The infiltration succeeded."

While the rookies couldn't contain their joy at the seniors' promise, a man hidden behind the barracks opened his mouth toward his outstretched right hand.

- No immediate orders. Endure and dig into their ranks. I'll give further orders later.

The voice cut off the words trying to finish. As if knowing what he was about to say, the voice flowing from the light cluster in his right hand spoke soothingly.

- Don't worry. The treatment is going well, Marek. Focus only on your mission. Ending transmission.

With those words, the light cluster vanished from the hand of Marek, one of the Greyhounds' new recruits.

It was mana communications, usable by only a very few in the Empire.

Marek punched the wall in front of him in frustration, then turned his back, clenching his teeth.

Finally, a day's rest given to him. He couldn't waste it.

To be continued in the