Ch.189The Jewel of the West Sea. Zirconia (2)

Having stockpiled 600 tons of supplies to feed nearly 1,000 soldiers, it was now time to reduce non-combat casualties.

The first step in this initiative was to vaccinate all 1,000 soldiers against hemorrhagic fever.

Though expensive, what could be more futile than losing soldiers to disease?

Since vaccines were available, I negotiated with nearby large hospitals and pharmaceutical companies alongside Simon, reaching an agreement for 20 gold coins, thus gaining immunity to hemorrhagic fever.

Next came armaments.

Given that many of our recruits were veterans familiar with military weapons and armor, I focused on this aspect. I contracted with a large factory specializing in military armor production and purchased thousands of sets of armor and weapons, along with consumables like arrows and potions.

With just this much, we had assembled a complete battalion capable of instantly wiping out five or six average villages. The soldiers who had pledged to follow me shed tears of gratitude at my generous spending and renewed their vows of loyalty.

“To spend so much money for us…! We will repay this kindness with our lives!”

“I’d prefer you repay it with the enemy’s necks.”

Even during equipment procurement, government officials visited no less than 31 times to ask when we would blockade the roads.

This reflected their fear of the epidemic’s danger and their anxiety about what would happen if infected people entered the city.

The officials, perhaps aware that I commanded an army, didn’t try anything beyond whining. However, smaller mercenary groups might have faced the shameless tactic of having their pay cut for alleged delays.

“Supply loading complete. All personnel aboard. Sky Warden, departing from the mooring tower and heading to junction 4 on Route 34.”

“Good. Let’s depart.”

“Yes. Sky Warden, taking off.”

Whoooom…

Though we called it “taking off,” we had never actually landed—we’d only been tethered to the mooring tower—so “setting sail” would have been more accurate. Not that it mattered.

“How long will it take?”

“We should reach the target location in about three days.”

“Ah, can’t we go any faster? The plague victims must be pouring in by now…”

The official beside me kept checking his wristwatch as he spoke.

This mission included a city government inspector who was accompanying us as a measure for effective epidemic prevention.

“Didn’t you say the militia was handling the primary defense? They should still be holding out.”

“Ugh… the militia is completely unreliable. Their communication methods are too limited… if they let their emotions break the containment line, it’s all for nothing.”

“Well… I don’t think that will happen.”

Rural sensibilities differ from urban ones.

In cities, where people are complexly interconnected, being kind to strangers is beneficial. But rural communities are self-contained societies with strong independence. They can actually be more cruel than city dwellers toward “outsiders” they see no value in accepting.

I reassured the inspector while serving him some warm honey water that we had loaded in abundance.

*

Three days passed.

We finally arrived above junction 4 on Route 34 and were gradually descending to deploy our forces.

“Is there a specific reason for choosing this location as the containment point?”

“One cannot reach Zirconia without passing through here. If they try another route—if you can call it that—the path is too treacherous and full of monsters. They’d all die.”

“So the infected have no choice.”

At the crossroads between quietly awaiting death and struggling against it until the end, most people choose the latter.

If five villages were confirmed to have the epidemic, by now it would have spread to many more—probably at least five additional villages given the time that had passed.

This meant that beyond those who were immobilized and awaiting death, the number of carriers and mild cases must exceed 10,000 at minimum. We were facing overwhelming numerical disadvantage.

“The infection must have spread further by now, hasn’t it?”

“Probably so… Ah… to think that a region renowned for its fertile land would collapse so quickly… This is the season for cooperative farm work, so there’s been active movement between villages… You can assume it’s spread throughout the entire area by now.”

“So we have to kill them all?”

“The maximum duration of hemorrhagic fever is about a month at most… After that time, those who couldn’t endure will have died, and survivors will have developed antibodies. From that point, the Zirconia government will handle the rest.”

“A month at most. That seems manageable.”

It would be impossible to consume 600 tons of supplies within a month.

Even accounting for the consumption of the locally stationed militia.

Having once suffered from hunger myself, I couldn’t allow my soldiers to go hungry. Naturally, my subordinates might not fight well, but they would absolutely eat well.

“We’ve landed.”

“Good. Deploy the troops. And manage the supply distribution carefully.”

“Understood.”

Whirrrrr!

As we landed, the airship’s exit opened, and about 1,000 fully equipped soldiers began to disembark, their armor clanking as they slowly filed out.

Behind them, incredibly heavy supply crates were being slowly dragged out, leaving the scruffy militia members watching with their mouths agape, unable to utter a word.

Hahaha. Lowly creatures. This is the power of technology.

Or perhaps more accurately, the power of capital?

*

“Connect this line with that one to build the containment wall. We have plenty of straw and can make as much mud as needed. A mud-straw wall will easily stop farmers who have nothing better than pitchforks.”

“Drainage work complete.”

“Good. Now position the tents and cooking area.”

“Understood. By the way, where should we store the supplies?”

“See that stone floor? Place them there. Don’t forget to put them on pallets to avoid moisture damage.”

“Yes!”

I sat blankly, watching the veteran soldiers efficiently working together.

In just five hours, a proper base had been established, and I could suddenly understand why experienced recruits were so valued.

Why would anyone bother training new recruits when these veterans work so splendidly?

“Lord Victor, we’ve completed the fortification construction and secured the containment line.”

“Ah… good work. Now build watchtowers for the sentries and have the remaining personnel begin personal maintenance.”

“Understood. Build watchtowers! Cut down trees!”

“Second platoon! Draw axes from the quartermaster and assemble in front of barracks number three in ten minutes!”

“Yes, sir!”

How wonderful it is when orders are given and immediately understood!

I suddenly thought of the inspector and turned to look at him.

Sure enough, he was grinning from ear to ear watching his country’s veterans moving so efficiently.

“Zirconia’s soldiers are quite reliable. The government must have worked hard.”

“Hahaha. Not at all. It’s simply the result of investing generously in quality personnel.”

Yeah right. I can see your uvula, Mr. Inspector.

Anyway, while I was conversing with the inspector, my other companions began exploring the area and making contact with the militia members.

“Hey, old-timer. Must be tough being away from home doing this crap, huh?”

“Huh? Well… yeah, I guess.”

“…”

Though I wanted to twist their heads off for such behavior, my noble status prevented me from mingling freely with commoners. My companions, however, were still legally of common status. So for civilian support (ambiguous as that was), only my companions could handle it.

Soldiers inevitably have friction with civilians, and being veterans, their higher average age amplified their old-fashioned attitudes.

As the elves and dwarves moved around gathering information about the current situation, they approached me to report what they had learned.

“They’ve already had several confrontations, it seems. No deaths, but quite a few serious injuries.”

“I see… Their small numbers must be because they sent the seriously wounded home. Being militia, we can’t blame them for that.”

“By the way, things seem to have gotten more serious.”

“Why?”

“They say they spotted armed individuals scouting this area recently. Not farmers, but dressed as mercenaries… It seems the other side isn’t planning to give up easily.”

“Mercenaries!”

The inspector let out a shriek.

Mercenaries, of course, move according to money.

They would carry out any request as long as they were paid, regardless of city government or royal authority. The inspector was overcome with despair at the thought that government authority couldn’t stop the mob.

“Don’t worry, Inspector. It’s not such a big deal.”

“How can this not be a big deal! Do you think those dying people would have any pocket money left? They must have scraped together everything they had to hire mercenaries, which means we’re facing hundreds or thousands!”

“And why should that concern us?”

“…Pardon?”

I drew my orichalcum greatsword and sent a blade of energy toward the forest beside the road.

Hundreds of trees fell like sheets of paper, and the inspector stared at me blankly.

“We’re going to win.”