065 Burn, Volden 1 p.4

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Jurgen Bauer was now fully prepared for the upcoming battle with the main body of the Arquellian army.

However, a single thing has lapsed from his mind. The man he was currently fighting is the new Count of Volden, Tullius Shernan Oubeniel. If Tullius wanted to survive, he'll do whatever it takes, be it getting rid of his relatives, burning his country, or whatever else he had to do, just like a demon would.

※ ※ ※

A cold nightly breeze blew across the plateau.

The temperature in autumn was so low that one's breath turned foggy white at night. Even though frost or snow had yet to fall, if a person was in light clothing, that person could freeze to death before dawn. It was a harsh night for those in the fields.

In the darkness of the night, tents stood side by side, illuminated by numerous lights. This was the camp of the invading forces of the Federation of St. Gallen. The city that was currently under their control was too small, as it was located in a faraway area of the province. As a result, the city's capacity for stockpiling food and other supplies were insufficient. Therefore, they had to set up camps in the open like this and manage their own supplies.

"......So cold."

One of the soldiers guarding the camp muttered to himself. His fellow comrade in arms, standing at a distance, frowned in response. He didn't seem to notice it and continued.

"Why do I have to freeze like this even after we've crossed the friggin' mountains?"

"Shh! Don't waste your breath."

He was scolded by his peers, but that didn't stop him from complaining.

"That's true, but I can't distract myself unless I'm talking. It's hard to stand shivering in silence in this cold weather, isn't it?"

"Stop saying cold here, cold there. Now I'm shivering too."

"Because it's cold, I don't have a choice."

He said, and shivered as he hugged his arm with the spear under his arm. It was a gesture to at least try to retain some warmth, but the faint heat of his body temperature was quickly dissipated by the wind.

"The rest of the soldiers are doing good, aren't they? We're on guard duty here, and they're the ones with the perks, aren't they?"

"For those perks, we have to fight huh."

"Their opponents were mostly small fries. I heard him bragging earlier about how he had more trouble getting rid of a bunch of orcs at home."

"Since this country is bountiful and doesn’t have strong monsters."

"You kill all those weaklings and then you drink their booze, eat their food, and fuck their women, right? It's really not fair. I wonder what the women of Arquell are like..."

"Come on, man. In the countryside around here, it's no different than our home, isn't it?"

"You don't have any dreams, do you? Even if this is the countryside too, don't you think this place has more meat and good stuff?"

"It's the same for peasant girls everywhere. No matter how much money you make, you'll be squeezed by the nobles and won't be able to eat as much food as you'd like."

"Damn, so it’s the same! Well, if we're going to target good girls, I guess it's time to take down the city. I guess I'll volunteer when we take on a big city, huh?"

"You know, it'd be quicker to take some goats from that farm and use them."

"Come on, it's valuable meat. If there's anything weird mixed in, I'm not going to eat it."

"True that."

"Women are a luxury, but I'd at least like a drink."

"What about the wine they gave us? They gave you some fire wine to warm you up."

"Of course you drank it all when you were walking in the fucking cold mountains."

"I see. Me too."

"I'm not sure if it's because we're on a forced march, but there's nothing left in the liquor stores. There's a lot of......liquor ingredients here though."

He said, and turned to look behind. There was a collection of goods. Weapons that had been transported all the way across the mountains from their home countries. Items that had been systematically looted in Volden. Naturally, there was also wheat and other grains.

In ancient times, it was strictly forbidden to give more than a day's worth of grain to soldiers on an expedition. The reason for this was that they would use it to make alcohol, which would consume extra food. The result was, of course, inferior liquor, brewed by amateurs from grain. However, in a camp where entertainment was scarce, the soldiers would appreciate such a product.

An audible gulp was heard. The other soldier looked at him with deep reproach.

"Don't do that. Didn't the order say that it was strictly forbidden to touch the food? In fact, I've heard that five or six people who tried to divert the food have already been cut down."

"Damn! You're so stingy, Baharian general!"

"Hey, you're talking too loud!"

"Oh, oops, ......."

He hurriedly covered his mouth. With General Bauer's determination to procure and properly manage food, a great deal of effort had been put into the security of the storage area. The guards standing here were just one of the countless patrol teams.

One of Bauer's crafty plans was to have each of the territories form their own squads. The two groups, which were from different places, were keeping each other in check to prevent the other party from getting their hands on the supplies. If someone from another team overheard this conversation, they would be quickly exposed with a tip-off.

"Did you see anyone near......?"

"I don't think anybody is here."

"Whew...... that was lucky, man."

"That's why I told you to stop wasting your time talking. You're so light on your feet and so quick to go off on tangents."

"I'm sorry......, but you ended up joining too, didn't you?"

"Yeah, well, even I—"

Suddenly, his words were cut off in the middle of the conversation. The soldier blinked at his still figure with a gaping mouth.

"Hey. What's going on?"

There was no time to say anything.

Something rushed from behind the other soldier with tremendous speed. It circled behind the soldier with a speed that was impossible to catch with the eyes.

And.

—Slash.

Something hard and cold was thrust from his shoulder to his heart.

(Ah......?)

Without even being able to perceive what had happened, the soldier slowly fell to the ground. Just before he completely fell to the ground, he finally heard the sound of his colleague, who had been killed before him, falling.

With a light shake of the blade, the bloodstains that had stained the sword blade scattered on the dying autumn grass.

Two fallen soldiers. Both of them were dead.

(A little slow, aren't they? )

The speed at which she killed the first and then the second, the degree at which they managed to track her with their eyes, albeit faintly, and the accuracy of the attack that left blood on her weapon.

All of them were at or below par. It was not enough to satisfy her or to bring relief to her master.

It was probably due to the fact that she had been away from a real battlefield for some time now. It had been a long time since she left the repelling of intruders and sabotage to the rest of her allies. The fact that she did not have to work as much as she used to was a sign that the system their master had set up was getting closer to perfection. While she was happy about that, she was not happy that her own skill level was declining.

Once this all ends, she would consider getting serious on training again.

With these thoughts in mind, she walked noiselessly towards her destination.

Her silhouette was illuminated by the moonlight leaking through the clouds.

On top of her head was a snow white headdress. A crimson one-piece dress that covered up to her wrists, and a clean pristine white apron. The armband on her left arm. And shining around her neck was a silver collar with a rugged design that did not match her slender limbs or even her pretty face.

She was Uni. She was the first "masterpiece" that an alchemist pursuing the unnatural had modelled, and recreated from lumps of dying flesh.

Dressed in a maid's costume and wearing a shiny slave collar, it was an odd sight in the military camp. But nobody would blink an eye at it. She had entered unnoticed, and killed those who she could not avoid. With her mastery of the art of ambush, breaking into an enemy camp, even one with an army of over ten thousand, would be little more than child's play. She could easily evade even the search of an adventurer skilled in exploration. It didn't make much difference whether there were guards or not if they were unskilled. The only difference would be whether there would be dead bodies or not.
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