Chapter 26: Shameless Acts

A harbor is the liveliest place in a city. Sailors and passengers from passing ships gathered there, and the inns and taverns prepared for them were always especially rowdy. Local fishermen would sell the fresh river fish they had just hauled in right from their small boats, and there were always housewives in plain clothes who still tried every way to dress fashionably, or cooks from wealthy families, who came here to pick out their next meal. To save a few copper coins or squeeze out a bit more for themselves, they would argue with the fishermen until spit flew in all directions—these women must have been the best talkers you had ever seen. They could buy a fish perhaps as thick as two fingers for a third less than the original price, then leave the stunned and speechless fisherman behind, waving their spoils in the air to show off their skill to their female companions, as proud as a general holding high a victory banner. Of course, the small mistake of delaying the cooking because they were too busy bargaining was something they would never mention to anyone.

This was a harbor. Here you could see the bravest sailors, the shrewdest merchants, the most well-traveled travelers, the most capable housewives, the cleverest children, and the clearest, most refreshing wine.

But none of this appeared in Kampnavia, a beautiful and small harbor city known as the “First Sun of the Morning Light River.”

All because of the war. After the news came that the Winston had already taken control of most of the northern bank of the Morning Light River, all the cities on the southern bank fell into deep despair. In every dark corner of the streets and alleys, the citizens spread word that the Winston devils were invincible and unbeatable. In the rumors, the Winston had all turned into green-faced, fang-mouthed demons with three heads and six arms. Burning, killing, looting, and robbing were only their required courses, and they could eat a child without even spitting out the bones. The docks were crowded with sailors who sat around bored because no ships could set sail. The taverns were crowded with travelers using alcohol and gambling to ease their war worries. Not a single fishing boat worked; there was no fresh river fish. The struggling fishermen lived off their already meager savings, and some began borrowing from relatives and friends. Those with money and connections had all already left this most unsafe city near the front line. The city guard, whose job was to maintain order, had no heart for their work at all. Fights, brawls, cheating, and swindling had become commonplace. Even serious crimes such as rape, murder, and armed robbery were frequent. Many soldiers and guards also joined in such crimes. All management and command functions had completely collapsed. The whole city had completely lost the glory of a pearl of the harbor and sunk into the final madness before destruction.

This was the sight we saw after we set foot on the dock at Kampnavia.

We said goodbye to Hugh and Red Flame and the others and entered the city. Their work was no easier than ours. Hugh had to repair the ship as soon as possible, replenish supplies, and try to set sail before the battle began. Kelsey, besides having to deal with those same matters, also had to find a safe place for nearly a hundred orphans on the ship to stay. That was almost harder than making her fight a hundred warships alone.

Before long, we stood before His Excellency Consul Count Peter Schulz. The ruler of this city was a complete aristocrat. His fat cheeks and bloated body proved that to us. He sank deep into a large, high-backed chair, spreading all his flesh flat across the soft cushion.

“Sir, we have received news that the Winston will attack Kampnavia in three days.” It was still Fred who stepped forward to report.

“What!” The Viscount’s expression was as unpleasant as if he had just swallowed a cockroach. I guessed he would rather actually swallow a cockroach than hear such news.

“The enemy has about ten thousand men and about thirty warships in total, commanded by Duke Uthers de Rivera. Please make preparations early.” Fred continued his report with neither arrogance nor humility, while the Viscount had almost collapsed in his seat.

“Ten thousand… You’re right, we need to make preparations early.” The Viscount’s eyes darted around, no one knew what he was thinking.

“You mean they attack in three days?”

“At dawn three days from now, sir.”

“Good, then that’s good.” The Viscount’s expression eased a little, and his legs were not shaking as much as before. He straightened his back and said to us, “You have all worked hard. Rest here at my place today, and tomorrow go to the Garrison Army headquarters to submit your transfer orders.” He paused, then added, “As for the matter of the Winston attack, do not disclose it to anyone for now, so as not to cause chaos in the city…”

We were arranged in the guest rooms of the official residence. Such treatment was a bit unusual for ordinary soldiers. I read a trace of worry in Fred’s eyes. After dinner, I never saw him again.

In the early hours of the morning, Fred appeared again. He shook each of us awake one by one and told us to put on our clothes and go out with him. I saw that his face was ashen.

We followed Fred to the back courtyard of the official residence, where several carriages were parked. Many servants were busy moving heavy chests onto the carriages, while Count Peter Schulz stood anxiously to the side, urging them from time to time: “Hurry, hurry up! Finish moving everything tonight, and as soon as the city gate opens tomorrow morning, we leave…”

It was very dark all around. Only a few torches stood near the carriages. No one discovered us crouching by the wall.

“He’s trying to run away!” Rodrick exclaimed. We were all extremely shocked, and then angry. This cowardly noble had actually given up his responsibilities and duties before the war came and planned to slip away secretly. Even if this happened to an ordinary soldier, it would have been shameful enough.

“You shameless coward!” Dakla growled in a low voice.

“Stop him, Fred,” I suggested. The despicable behavior of this scum was enough to make anyone with a shred of conscience burn with hatred.

Before Fred could speak, Carlson had already jumped out.

“Who!” A wary servant heard the noise.

“Lord Viscount, where exactly are you planning to go!” Carlson stepped out of the darkness. The flickering torchlight shone on his face, casting uneasy shadows.

“It’s you! What are you doing here…” the Viscount shouted in panic.

“Don’t tell me you intend to abandon your subordinates and your people and leave this place of trouble where war is about to break out?” Carlson’s eyes were wide open, almost shooting sparks of fire. I had never seen him so angry.

“Kill him!” the Viscount suddenly shouted, ordering his servants to charge at Carlson.

Without waiting for orders, we also drew our weapons and rushed forward.

In order to avoid being discovered while fleeing, especially to avoid being known by the soldiers, Count Peter Schulz had only brought a dozen or so close servants and maids, without even alerting his own guards. With these people’s skills, they naturally did not cause us much trouble. In just a few exchanges, half of the servants were already lying on the ground unable to move. The rest saw the bad situation and slipped away if they could. In the blink of an eye, the noble Viscount was “delighted” to discover that he was already completely surrounded by us.

“What are you doing? Stop! I command you to stop!” He gave orders in a panic.

“You are the one who first gave up command of the army, sir. Why should we obey you?” Fred stood in front of him, his face full of disgust.

“You… let me go. I’ll give you a thousand… no, five thousand gold coins.”

Carlson dashed up and slapped him hard across the face, making the pampered, waited-on lord howl in pain.

“I am a noble appointed by His Majesty the King! Commoners who strike a noble are punished by having their hands cut off!”

Carlson swung his hand back and slapped him again, replying, “Desertion in the face of battle is treated as treason, and everyone has the right to kill you.”

The Viscount struggled to argue: “I didn’t want to run away. I was just…”

More than a dozen slaps landed on his face in succession. “You weren’t trying to run? Fine, then why don’t you call your guards? Have them come and arrest us!”

The Viscount’s originally round face became even more swollen, black-and-blue, and shiny. Blood flowed from his lips and teeth, and he could only whimper and moan, no longer able to speak.

“Should I gather the soldiers for you and tell them that you planned to slip away alone before the war arrived, leaving them here to die? They would very much like a taste of their commander’s blood, I guarantee it.”

The Viscount hurriedly shook his head to object. He knew very well that in front of a large group of angry soldiers, he would soon be torn to pieces.

Carlson continued to slap the Viscount across the face, one slap after another, while roaring in fury: “It’s useless nobles like you who abandoned so many soldiers on the battlefield. Do you know how many people you killed?! They were such good soldiers, do you even know that? The most humiliating thing is that they never had to die. It was your incompetence and shamelessness that killed them…”

Seeing that the noble Viscount’s face had become hard to recognize, we hurriedly pulled Carlson, who had lost his reason, away. When we pulled him away, I faintly caught a few sobs in his gruff voice, and I felt confused…

“Could it be that this vulgar, lazy fellow had once…”

Count Peter Schulz suddenly grabbed Fred’s legs and shouted through loud sobs, interrupting my doubts: “Let me go, I beg you! I don’t want to die! Let me go…”

Fred barely suppressed the urge to strangle him and demanded loudly: “If you leave, what will happen to your soldiers? What will happen to your people?”

“They’ll all die sooner or later!” the Viscount screamed hysterically. At this moment, you could no longer find any so-called noble bearing on him. “There are fewer than two thousand soldiers in the city, and the Winston have a full ten thousand. They would all die sooner or later anyway. I don’t want to die with them!”

“Shameless!” Rodrick spat fiercely on his face.

“I’m a coward. I’m afraid of death. Who isn’t afraid of death? I’ll give you this position. I’ll leave you all my property. Just let me go.” As he spoke, he pulled out the official seal, the appointment certificate, the family crest, and all sorts of things from his body, and threw them aside in a fit of hysterics. “I don’t want to die…”

We were all dumbfounded. No one had expected this fellow to throw a tantrum like a woman. Now we truly had no way to deal with him. Were we really supposed to kill this useless idiot?

At this moment, we had no idea what our future held. Should we stay and continue our military careers? A city that had lost its commander would collapse at the first touch, which was no different from seeking death. Should we leave? But we didn’t know where else to go. A group of stragglers who had lost their unit would most likely become bandits or be punished for desertion. We had already fled across almost half the country, and no one knew where the next stopping place would be.

Fred picked up the seal and the certificate from the ground, hesitated, and then said to us: “Friends, there are two paths before us.”

There are some people in this world who seem to have a certain quality about them that makes others trust them, makes others feel safe, and makes others willing to rely on them when there is no other choice, entrusting their lives to them. Without a doubt, Fred was exactly such a person.

During the past time, my young friend had repeatedly proven his wisdom and courage, saving us time and again from the brink of destruction. Our respect for him had already far surpassed what we felt for our nominal leader, Carlson. Yes, Carlson was a good officer, but only on the battlefield. He only had combat experience. Fred, however, had the wisdom to lead us out of trouble. Even Carlson himself had begun to realize this, quietly starting to change, accepting the leadership of his former subordinate.

Right now, we were looking at him, waiting for his decision.

“First, we leave this city that could collapse at any moment, continue to flee, and save our lives, just like… just like our Lord Viscount.” He kicked the fat man at his feet.

The bloated Viscount let out a disdainful “hmph” from his nose. He obviously took my brave friend for someone who, like him, avoided responsibility.

Our faces showed expressions of contempt. Although we did not bear any responsibility for this city like the Viscount did, the thought of leaving “just like him” made disgust well up in us.

“But the fact is, if we leave here, we will have nowhere else to go. We will be a group of deserters. Even if no one pursues us for being deserters, they will still send us to whichever front line happens to be closest. Under the leadership of our brilliant high command, we won’t have to worry about missing any opportunity to get ourselves killed.”

“Second, we stay. Not as a soldier going to die, but as a general going to win a victory.” Fred’s voice suddenly rose, his face shining with an unusual glow, and he looked at us with passion.

None of us reacted for a moment. We looked at him hesitantly.

He shook the seal and certificate in his hand and said, “This city has solid defenses, two thousand trained soldiers, and a population of nearly forty thousand. If commanded properly, we have every possibility of winning. At the very least, we have this chance. Our life and death are in our own hands. In fact, it’s very simple…”

He drew out the black Ink Shadow. With a swing of his hand, he stabbed it into the ground. Lifting his head high, he looked at us and said: “We just have to defeat ten thousand men, and that’s enough…”