Chapter 119

Translator: Willia

Perhaps what moves the world is more influenced by what is invisible than by what is visible.

And so, a truly wise person was one who knew how to see beyond what was visible.

Having entered Adelivari, Ricardt read the emotions behind the gazes directed at him.

Who is this person, what is he capable of, and why has he come? It was a mix of confusion and surprise, anxiety and expectation, despair and hope.

From an elderly man with a head full of white hair yet neatly dressed, to a man with rough hands showing signs of hard labor, to a child with bright, sparkling eyes, and a beautiful woman hiding her hair under a headscarf.

Though differing in gender, occupation, responsibilities, age, and status, they all looked at Ricardt and the soldiers following him with similar expressions.

Ricardt lightly received those gazes and scanned the people. Then he turned his eyes to observe the city.

Although he had already looked down on the city's panorama from the mountain pass, being inside gave a different feeling.

To be honest, it was the most beautiful city he had visited so far. Just for that reason alone, it could never be allowed to fall into enemy hands.

Adelivari was a city harmoniously nestled in a shallow basin and forest. Unlike other cities, its antique-style buildings were not crammed together but spaced widely apart.

A clear river flowed through the center of the city, and a long arched stone bridge crossing the river was particularly impressive.

The bridge was both sturdy and adorned with artistic carvings here and there, and stone statues of ancient heroes stood on both sides as if lined up in formation. Over the long years, some had been damaged, while others still stood tall.

The only downside was the small size of the city. In terms of population, it was almost embarrassing to call it a city, more like a large village.

Since it had been the king’s retreat, the city had clearly been built with care, but due to limited exchange with the outside, it seemed not to have grown significantly.

Perhaps it was also thanks to its small scale that it could maintain such beauty.

As Ricardt confidently surveyed the city, someone stepped forward.

A middle-aged man, wearing a wide hat and a well-fitted long silk robe. His skin was tight and free of wrinkles, making him look very young.

“Welcome to Adelivari, Hero-nim. I am the mayor, Markwin. If you’ve come to enjoy the hot springs, I can guide you personally. Would you like to unpack first, or tour the city?”

It was clear Ricardt had not come here for sightseeing. The fact that the one called mayor asked such a question despite knowing this meant it was a kind of euphemism.

It was his way of asking, who are you, and what are you doing here?

Since they hadn’t expected reinforcements, his presence was welcome. But not knowing who he was also made them uneasy.

And since he had armed power, they couldn’t carelessly provoke him either. The mayor had essentially risked his life to come forward and question the unknown conqueror.

Fortunately, Ricardt was not like most mercenary captains, brutish and ignorant.

“Hero, you flatter me too much. I am Ricky… Ricardt of the Caldebern Family of Stormhertz. On my way to the Eastern Frontier, I met warriors guarding this ridge and heard of this place’s troubles, so I came to help.”

The citizens, who had been carefully watching and listening to Ricardt’s words, murmured when he mentioned the name Caldebern. For it meant he was a descendant of Caldebert.

Whether they could believe this or not was something they would have to judge for themselves, but there was no way to verify it in the current situation.

Because they had seen him drive out the enemies from the mountains. Moreover, he had soldiers under his command, so they could not dare to question him.

What if they asked carelessly and ended up being accused of insolence and lost their heads? Right now, the one holding the sword was Ricardt.

At present, the city had almost no military force. It was practically barricaded in, relying on nature and its walls. If the enemies had attacked from another direction, the few remaining forces would not have been able to stop a real invasion.

All this time, the fear of Grantz's infamy was so great that whether they surrendered or not, they believed death was inevitable, so they simply trembled in fear.

“Looks like the drinking water is sufficient. How much food remains, and what about weapons? How many able-bodied men can fight?”

This time Ricardt asked. Unlike the mayor who had spoken euphemistically, he was direct.

Under normal circumstances, this would be top-secret information about the city and couldn't be shared, but given the current situation, there was no choice but to disclose it.

Still, it was no different from revealing all the cards he held, so he felt uneasy.

“I’ll explain in more detail while I escort you personally. I’ll instruct my staff to prepare accommodations for your soldiers.”

Markwin spoke as calmly as possible. Ricardt nodded, understanding his position.

Ricardt and his companions, as well as the group originally heading for the Eastern Frontier, moved toward a building that resembled a city hall.

As for the soldiers, they were originally from Adelun and had visited this place frequently in the past, so there was virtually no wariness toward them. From the townspeople’s perspective, the only outsiders were Ricardt and his party.

The hall resembled a small royal palace. In fact, it had once served as an annex where the king stayed during his visits.

“This palace is called ‘Non Kurarum’ in the ancient tongue. It means ‘no worries’.”

Mayor Markwin explained. Considering the current situation, it was an ironically named place.

As they passed through the corridor, the intricate carvings on the walls and column bases were impressive. A witch with a frightening face, a knight slaying a dragon, a winged horse, and so on.

Beyond the drawn curtain was the audience chamber, and along the corridor toward the innermost area lay the king’s bedchamber and nearby rooms for his attendants. The hot spring area was in the backyard.

When Ricardt was guided toward the king’s bedchamber, he shook his head.

“I am not a king. I’ll stay in a different room.”

Markwin looked at him with a slightly surprised expression, seemingly caught off guard. He had only seen people who behaved arrogantly, relying on their authority, but Ricardt was the exact opposite.

Ricardt’s refusal was not out of false humility but rather due to discomfort, as the Adeloron Royal Family was entangled with his own.

In fact, although the Caldebern Family had a separate count lineage that was not exactly a branch family, it felt inappropriate for him to stay in a place historically used by the kings of Adeloron for their retreats.

Even if time had passed and the family had fallen into decline, he believed that was all the more reason to treat them with respect.

Bowing to the powerful might stem from fear, but looking down on those who have fallen, now that was something he could never condone.

So Ricardt and his companions each stayed in the modest rooms once used by the king’s attendants. Of course, those rooms were still far better than most high-class inns.

There were no sounds of rats scurrying through the walls or ceilings, and each room even had its own fireplace.

Ricardt declined both unpacking and enjoying the hot springs. Just having access to hot water was already a luxury, even without a full bath.

The staff of the annex brought them neat silk garments, and Bremen and Roy’s family were so overwhelmed with gratitude that they didn’t know what to do with themselves.

Even Ricardt and Marie, who were nobles, felt a bit awkward, so it was understandable. Bori, however, wore the silk without hesitation and looked completely at ease.

“No wonder it’s expensive. It feels amazing.”

Though he had surely seen silk in his life, those had all been cheap imitations. Wearing clothes made from true high-grade silk felt like soft wind or clouds wrapping around his body.

After washing up and changing into the silk clothes, everyone looked so refined they were barely recognizable.

“Living long really does bring strange things. When I was expelled from the clan, I thought I’d never experience this kind of luxury again.”

Roy bowed his head and couldn’t take his eyes off the teal silk garment he was wearing. He kept stroking it.

“You brat, what do you mean living long? You’re not even that old. Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll make you stop moving forward.”

Ricardt pulled Roy’s head in like a hug and roughly ruffled his hair.

“If you become a Sword Master, can you stop then?”

Bori asked.

“You do whatever you want.”

“That’s cold. You used to carry me on your back, you know.”

“Then it’s time for you to carry me now.”

After soaking thoroughly in the warm bathwater and putting on fine clothes, Ricardt couldn’t help but feel a bit elated, so he exchanged jokes with Bori.

Ricardt and his companions didn’t go elsewhere but chatted away in the corridor of the annex. The women were engrossed in admiring the intricate embroidery on the clothes.

At that moment, Mayor Markwin returned.

“Is there anything uncomfortable?”

“After living drenched in dew, what could possibly be uncomfortable? I’m grateful for your hospitality.”

“Hospitality? Not at all. But would you prefer to rest a bit more, or shall I guide you to the armory?”

Ricardt looked around at his companions and then turned back to Markwin and said,

“Take me to the armory.”

Markwin nodded and walked toward a storage attached to the annex. This time, Ricardt followed him alone.

They passed through what seemed like an indoor garden inside the annex, and as he kept following the mayor, they reached a door secured with a large lock.

When the lock was undone and the door swung open, they found an orderly collection of weapons and armor neatly arranged in the cool interior.

If you could call it a window, sunlight only barely entered through a thin slit high near the ceiling.

The sunlight glinted off the blades, and there was something unusual about them. What was unusual was how well-maintained they were. This clearly meant they had been diligently cared for over a long time.

“These are weapons and armor prepared to protect the king in times of emergency. The blades are made of meteoric iron, and the spear shafts are of ash wood. All the equipment here was crafted by the legendary blacksmith Vilunt of Zoltgen.”

From Markwin’s words, one could sense a final trace of pride.

Ricardt slowly walked through the armory, inspecting the weapons. Spears, swords, axes, maces, shields, helmets, all kinds of armor.

“When were these made?”

“It’s been over a hundred years, but aside from replacing a few parts, we’ve preserved them in their original state as much as possible, like new.”

Hearing this, Ricardt furrowed his brows and tilted his head.

“...That’s rather strange.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve managed these weapons so thoroughly and diligently, yet how is it that you couldn’t even suppress a simple peasant uprising, and things ended up like this? If even half the effort spent here had gone into training proper soldiers, things wouldn’t have come to this.”

Instead of being impressed, Ricardt felt awkward seeing the overly well-maintained armory.

He had seen it before, how failing nations often devoted themselves to the wrong things. And this felt just like that.

Maintaining weapons wasn’t pointless, of course, but ultimately the important thing is to train and utilize people. To accumulate experience and develop greater skill.

Understanding Ricardt’s meaning, Markwin felt momentarily embarrassed and his face flushed slightly.

“Maintaining them is good, but now it’s time to take them out and use them. Even if they break on the battlefield. Distribute all of these to the soldiers.”

“All of them? These are relics crafted by a legendary blacksmith.”

Ricardt let out a snort in disbelief and said,

“Do as you wish. If you want this place to fall as well, then go ahead. In that case, you’ll see them in the hands of the enemy. Assuming you’re still alive, that is.”

With that, he grabbed a helmet, chainmail, and other gear and headed out.

He then asked Marie to make him a surcoat with his family crest, a white cross on a red background.

Traditionally, items like banners and surcoats were made by one’s wife to wish for martial fortune, so he asked her to do it.

After that, he went outside with his companions to look around the city. The shade under the trees was cool, the river water was clear, and the breeze blowing down from the mountain was refreshing.

If not for the current situation, it would have been a perfect place for sightseeing. But for now, he set aside those thoughts and focused on understanding what buildings were where, where the soldiers would be stationed, and what the terrain was like.

Heading toward the city’s main gate, he saw a wall-like structure standing chest-high in a straight line.

It made one wonder if this was truly a fortress wall, but in fact, there was a cliff about four or five meters deep right below it, so there was no need for a high wall.

In battle, it only needed to be tall enough to protect archers’ bodies, so this height seemed sufficient.

In addition, a long wooden structure with a roof had been built atop the fortress wall, allowing them to conceal both the location and number of troops from the outside.

It was also effective at shielding against snow and storms, and from a defender’s perspective, that was the biggest advantage.

Whether it was the weapons or the fortress walls, it became clear they had been meticulously designed and maintained with considerable thought. It was impressively well done.

But in the end, it was people who made use of all these things. If the people were lacking, none of it mattered.

“Wo, shit, but if they really all come at once, isn’t that just hopeless?”

Bori said as he looked down through an arrow slit in the wall. The ground below was swarming with people, stretching out all the way to the horizon, not a single exaggeration.

Even if one had been told that numbers weren’t everything, witnessing such a sight firsthand would shake anyone’s resolve.

“I see a huge sense of unease.”

Ricardt said.

“Yeah?”

“Just think about it, what if all those people turned their backs on that bastard Grantz? That’s probably what he fears most. That’s likely why he kept indiscriminately expanding his forces.”

In the end, it was fundamentally the same as that guy Ringvalt they had encountered before. This was just a scaled-up version, someone who had been consumed by the very thing he created and now couldn’t even handle it properly.

Looking at his troop deployment and attempts to maneuver around, he wasn’t entirely stupid. But having taken on more than he could handle, he was now at a strategic disadvantage.

Of course, Ricardt was the only one who could objectively assess the battlefield like this.

Because it wasn’t an age where military academies existed, and realistically, experience was the only way to gain such insight.

While silently analyzing the enemy’s deployment, Ricardt began to form plans one by one.

Countless low-level tactical options appeared in his mind, and he began piecing them together in search of a path to victory.

Once he arrived at a certain conclusion, he gathered all the soldiers and townspeople.

Since there wasn’t anything like a plaza, Ricardt stood on the railing of the stone bridge and, facing the hundreds who had gathered along the riverside, began to speak as if delivering a speech.

Next to him stood a statue carved in the likeness of an ancient hero. The statue’s gaze was fixed beyond the city, toward the enemy.

“I will help you defeat the enemy. But I can only defeat them if you help me. I’m not here to make empty promises. We can win. The question is, will you do it or not? Let’s start there.”

Most people just blinked silently or wore anxious expressions. They would obey if Ricardt ordered them to, but dragging them along half-heartedly wouldn’t work.

Ricardt demanded more than that. He demanded the will to fight, born from within.

“When I came here, I heard that the people of Adelun were full of pride. So where is that pride now? Is it no longer sharp enough to strike down the enemy? Has it rusted, or is it already broken? What I’m asking is not for you to go out and fight. I’m saying, do what each of you can, what is needed. Let the women mend the torn uniforms, and let the men carry stones if they must. Care for struggling neighbors like family, push and pull carts to transport food. What I want is for everyone to unite for victory.”

For instance, if you went to a farmer or merchant and said they had to fight because they were about to die, they would just look confused and say, “But I’m not a soldier?”

So when a battle was lost, people surrendered their fate, life or death, to the enemy. That was the common understanding of the time, and everyone lived that way. The tens of thousands of people below, moving like a tide, were proof of that.

But not anymore. At least not from this moment onward.

Ricardt wasn’t demanding people to fight; he was saying at least support the supply lines. Soldiers would fight, he was asking the rest to do what they could.

In battle, perhaps more important than taking up arms and fighting was the matter of logistics. Timely repairs to broken weapons or armor, an uninterrupted food supply, proper payment of wages.

Of course, saying it like this didn’t mean people would immediately understand. Ricardt knew that too.

“It seems you don’t find me trustworthy, so I will make you a promise. Every day, I will personally go out and seize the enemy's unit banner. But in return, if I keep my promise and you do not keep yours, I will hold you accountable. If anyone disagrees, feel free to raise your hand and speak.”

Ricardt spoke with a tone that was both courteous and assertive. And he subtly pushed and pressured them. This wasn’t some special trick, this was simply how one took control of people.

Excellent commanders always tried to keep their promises to their soldiers. Not because they were kind, but because it was the proper order of things.

It wasn’t about ordering men to charge blindly until they died, but: “I’ve done everything for you, and you still won’t listen? Then you’ll die.”

Only by doing it this way could command stand, discipline hold, orders be obeyed, and proper strategy be carried out. Ricardt had learned this from Caldebert.

In his previous life, his first commander died charging recklessly. The second relied only on his authority, gave ridiculous orders, and lost the camp. The third commander was Caldebert.

Of course, the citizens weren’t soldiers. But without their involvement, the plans leading to victory couldn’t be put into action.

In any case, everyone silently agreed to Ricardt’s semi-compulsory vow.

Ricardt figured this would be enough for now, and he waited for nightfall.

When the cool moon rose, he donned his armor and boldly headed down to the main gate, to seize an enemy unit’s banner.

To a soldier, the unit banner symbolized honor, pride, and more. To lose it was not only humiliating, it shattered morale and shook unity.

Under Grantz’s command were numerous mercenary bands, and beneath them were even smaller units. There were more than enough banners to take.

In the moonlight, the citizens of Adelivari all gathered atop the wall and looked down. Though the vow had been semi-forced, they watched to see whether Ricardt would keep his word.

To the eyes of those unfamiliar with war, it seemed as though he was going alone to fight that massive force. So Ricardt seemed like a madman to them, and even seeing it with their own eyes, they found it hard to believe.

Still, it was a truly spectacular sight. Until now, fear had kept them from looking, but with tens of thousands of people lighting fires across the wide fields, it looked as though countless stars had risen upon the earth.

Those with a poetic heart already felt the first line of a heroic ballad forming in their minds.

He walked, his red cloak billowing, into the sea of stars.

****

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