Ch.660Two Subordinates’ Battle of Nerves?

My training, which had continued while breaking countless black iron swords, persisted even after arriving at the border fortress.

Though I did have to switch to other tools when the supply officer, looking utterly miserable, lamented that if I broke any more swords, there wouldn’t be enough black iron blades left to arm the knights.

“Crack!”

I relaxed the muscles in my arms—where sinews and tendons visibly protruded—and set down the piece of metal I was holding. The ground trembled slightly with a heavy “thud.”

“Good heavens…”

Leonore stared at the metal piece I’d put down with disgusted eyes. Metal piece—no, how should I describe this?

Iron pillar?

The chunk of metal, thick and large enough to serve as the central column of a decent mansion, was twisted like a rag wrung out by a maid harboring infinite hatred for household chores.

It was something created by gathering an enormous weight of steel, following the supply officer’s suggestion that if I needed metal for training that wouldn’t break—rather than a weapon to wield against enemies—a steel pillar would be better.

Given its size, it wouldn’t easily shatter, and even if it did break, unlike black iron which was difficult to repair without a dwarf’s help, steel could be melted down and recycled.

“There’s a limit to being inhuman. How on earth do you even lift that thing?”

“Well.”

I answered curtly while massaging my stiffening arm muscles.

It was definitely heavy. Just lifting it while concentrating on my Karma made sweat pour down my entire body like rain.

This iron mass resembled Joshua’s giant-hunting sword transformed into a club.

It was so ridiculously massive and thick that others couldn’t even contemplate lifting it, and even I found it challenging to wield—whenever I tried swinging it, my entire body would just get dragged along with the momentum.

‘Would this be enough to kill Orhan if I hit him with it?’

[He’d certainly go flying backward.]

Hersella snorted as if telling me not to entertain futile dreams. True enough, if something as simple as a sword’s weight could defeat him, someone like Hatan would have tried it long ago.

After catching my breath for a moment, I picked up the twisted metal chunk again and channeled the power of Murder Karma into it.

“Ohhh…”

Nigel, who had been watching me—or more precisely, watching me lift the metal mass—with deep admiration, put down the boulder he was holding and hurried off somewhere.

He was probably going to pester the poor supply officer to order some steel weights. Though they would be considerably lighter than mine.

“Ahem…”

After Nigel left the training ground, Jahan, who had been leaning against the wall, cleared his throat and approached the boulder Nigel had left behind.

“Hnngh!”

With a grunt of exertion, Jahan lifted the boulder high with both hands, then removed one hand and, trembling as he supported it with just one arm, looked at me with a slight smile.

What is this guy trying to do now? Does he want praise for lifting it with one hand? The sight was so ridiculous that it even broke my concentration on the Murder Karma.

He’s free to harbor whatever strange competitive spirit toward Nigel, but what’s the point of showing off when the other person isn’t even here?

[That’s right! As expected of my Champion. We can’t let those Imperial bastards outmuscle us!]

…I guess there was a point after all.

Hearing Hersella’s voice in my head starting to boast about her Champion, I sighed like an officer who had just been gifted a platoon full of rejects.

It wasn’t a bad thing that he was showing an unusually cheerful side to relieve tension, but this was taking relaxation too far. It was completely farcical.

[What are you waiting for? Give my Champion some words of praise right now!]

Hersella was even encouraging me to participate in this farce. And her tone suggested that if I didn’t immediately praise Jahan, something very annoying would happen to me.

At most, she’d interfere with my use of Karma power, grumble inside my head all day, or go completely silent—but any of those options would be troublesome.

“Haah…”

I set the edge of the metal piece on the ground and praised Jahan with reluctance in my voice.

“Impressive. As befits the Champion of ‘Aishan-Gioro Haschal.'”

Hearing those words, Jahan grinned despite his trembling arm.

With that bandit-like face smiling like that, rather than inspiring confidence, it gave me the impression of hearing lines like “Heheh, what a windfall. Can’t believe a woman like this just fell into my lap.”

“…Do I have to lift that too?” Leonore muttered, looking at Jahan with an expression that was either contemptuous or disgusted.

—-

While my companions and I were absorbed in our training, others were busy fortifying the border fortress without a moment’s rest.

Fortifying a fortress might sound redundant, but seeing the soldiers working with shovels, pickaxes, and logs under the scorching sun, you’d understand it was the perfect description without any exaggeration.

The Dane border fortress was, charitably speaking, inadequate, and plainly speaking, a disaster. It was closer to a checkpoint than a fortress, with just one small, low castle.

I gave Ludwig such a “is this really a fortress?” look that he had to clear his throat and offer an explanation.

“It used to be a proper border fortress. Not as tall as the Wall, but it had fortifications… a moat and an inner castle too. It was completely destroyed nine years ago.”

Apparently, the border fortress at that time was demolished to its foundations by the Ka’har led by Orhan, and the rebuilt fortress didn’t receive proper central support, resulting in shoddy construction.

When I first heard this, it seemed absurd, but then I remembered that the Emperor at the time was a mentally ill bastard who was manipulated by Isabella and died from overexertion after molesting a young girl, and suddenly it made sense.

In an era full of idiots, whether emperors or nobles, who would care about rebuilding a border fortress?

If it had been Ludwig’s territory, he would have reinforced it even with his own money, but the Dane border area belonged to the Empire, so he couldn’t intervene.

And after Leopold ascended to the throne, there were so many issues to deal with in such a short time that he couldn’t pay attention to this matter.

Anyway, the border fortress we arrived at looked incapable of stopping not just Ka’har, but even Dane farmers. That’s why Ludwig immediately began converting it into a proper defensive position.

The first step was to behead the border administrator who had welcomed Ludwig while sweating profusely, and mount his head on a pole.

He was some baron, but I didn’t see any value in remembering his name.

If mere negligence in fortress management had been his only crime, Ludwig would have punished him moderately and moved on, but a brief investigation revealed he was far more problematic.

He took bribes to smuggle Danes across the border, embezzled merchants’ goods as passage fees, and when attractive women were among travelers, he would conduct “personal” inspections before declaring them spies and sentencing them to life imprisonment or execution.

Interestingly, all the “spies” sentenced to life imprisonment were women, and they served their sentences not in dungeons but in the administrator’s mansion basement.

Even if Ludwig hadn’t beheaded him, once the Empire stabilized, he would have been dragged to the execution ground anyway.

All the female “spies” who had received “life sentences” participated in his execution. It was quite a passionate execution ceremony. Even by my standards.

I can guarantee that even Lacy, who once discovered a naked man rubbing himself against an Elpinel statue, couldn’t have reduced a person to such a state.

After roughly disposing of whatever remained of the administrator in a field, Ludwig began creating various defensive structures using the fortress’s defensive forces and the soldiers he had brought.

They cut down trees to make palisades and stakes, dug wide and deep moats in front of the palisades, and built watchtowers and defensive positions everywhere.

Of course, he merely gave orders while the soldiers did all the hard work.

Still, the work of digging and cutting trees was made easier thanks to Joshua’s help.

With one swing of his giant-hunting sword, all trees within a radius of over ten meters would be cut down, and when he dug into the ground with that sword, he created ditches that would have taken a hundred soldiers hours of labor.

“Ohhh, as expected of Sir Joshua…!”

“The first sword of Landenburg!”

The soldiers, spared from the grueling labor of shoveling all day under the scorching sun, praised Joshua like a savior, but Joshua himself wore the face of an enlightened sage who had realized the truth of the world—utterly dejected at having to use his hero-level strength to dig dirt.

“I didn’t cross the Wall for this kind of work…”

“It’s by the Margrave’s order… In a way, this could be considered training too…”

Heinrich, who was also recruited for digging because of his suitability for the task, encouraged Joshua while shaking the ground, softening the hard terrain to make it easier for soldiers to dig.

Heinrich didn’t look particularly happy either, so I decided to keep secret the identity of the person who had suggested to Ludwig that these two should be recruited for digging.

…I did nothing wrong. It may look funny, but it’s actually good training for them.

Even heroic tales require repeated use to become proficient.

—-

Ludwig held military meetings every day and exchanged various opinions with his subordinates. Not that it produced any results.

The commanders could only discuss basic tactics like forming a circular formation with soldiers and placing archers inside to counter enemy mounted archers.

I couldn’t blame them, as this area lacked the conditions for implementing sophisticated strategies.

There were no steep ravines, no forests wide enough for large-scale fire tactics, and no canals large enough to drown all the enemies. The commanders must have been just as frustrated.

“In the end, we can only hope the Danes will fight as hard as possible.”

Someone’s remark, seemingly born of frustration, clearly summarized our situation.

—-

Three days later.

“I want to meet Aishan-Gioro Haschal. If not her, then whoever is in command here.”

A Dane man with three arrows lodged in his back and mottled burns on his left arm came looking for me, supported by a Dane female warrior.

It was a very familiar face.

I truly never imagined we would meet in a place like this.