Chapter 27: The Leader Who Stole a City

Today, the call to assemble sounded from the military camp in Kampnavia City. I did not know how long it had been since the Garrison Army had held a full assembly. These soldiers seemed to have long forgotten what it meant to be a soldier. They took more than ten times the allotted time to finally assemble, and their ranks stood so crooked and sloppy that even we new recruits, who had served less than a year, frowned at the sight.

The Garrison Army soldiers were surprised to find that the person standing on the high platform in the camp today was no longer the fat man who used to swagger and throw his weight around, but several young soldiers in simple armor. Of course, Carlson was an exception; he could no longer be considered young. The soldiers, including the junior officers, whispered among themselves in the ranks, not knowing what was going on.

They did not have time to think anymore, because Fred had already stepped forward. Holding the city lord’s seal and the certificate, he announced in a loud voice, “Soldiers, I am the new master of this city, Viscount Frederick Ka Guderian.”

He was not completely lying. In fact, the Viscount, who was desperate to flee for his life, did not mind going through a proper and legal procedure in a short time, declaring that he was ill and needed to leave Kampnavia to recover, canceling his children’s inheritance rights to Kampnavia, and legally transferring his family’s ownership of Kampnavia to Fred, the newly appointed garrison officer, and so on. Besides that, he also had to write a confession admitting that he had fled the battlefield, and we kept it, to prevent him from taking revenge on us later. Judging by his cowardly and stupid behavior, I thought we would never see the day he came for revenge. But to be precise, Fred was not completely telling the truth either; his Viscount title was completely fictitious. However, the law stated that only a nobleman with a title had the right to exercise the authority of a city lord. We did not mind slightly deceiving Delanmaya’s imperfect legal system at a moment of life and death, and stealing a city in this way.

Fred’s words did not cause much of a reaction. From among the soldiers came these sounds:

“Did you assemble us just to tell us this?” “We already know. Dismiss us.”

The common people did not care who their ruler was. They cared more about what they would eat tonight and what they would wear tomorrow. What they asked for was not great. As long as they were given food and warmth, they were willing to listen to your call. Unfortunately, not every ruler understood this.

“I know you don’t care who I am. But I’m going to tell you something that has to do with your life and death.”

In an instant, the noisy clamor disappeared. The area below the platform was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. When it was a matter of life and death, in this age of war and chaos, no one could remain indifferent to such news.

“At dawn two days from now, our enemies, the Winston, will attack this city.”

The crowd below immediately fell into chaos. Panic appeared on every face. Some people shouted in despair, and some even burst into tears on the spot. There had been too many legends about how cruel and fierce the Winston were — enough to break down the Garrison Army’s will to fight. Let them have a mental breakdown for now. It was much better to break down now than to break down after seeing the enemy.

“There will be deserters among you, and some will start tonight,” Fred continued his speech as the voices below gradually died down. “Perhaps they won’t even wait until tonight. Right after this meeting, perhaps not even half of the soldiers standing before me will remain.”

The soldiers looked at one another, not understanding why Fred would say such a thing. Some people’s faces quietly turned red. They had already thought of deserting before their comrades.

“Those who run away can live — for another three months, or five. You can go home, see your wife and children one last time, and then wait for the Winston to come to your door and kill again. When that time comes, you can still run, abandoning your family and friends, just as you are abandoning your comrades this time.”

“I allow you to run, but there will always be a day when you cannot run anymore. On that day, everyone walking on this land will be the murderous beasts of Winston. Sooner or later, you will die one by one at their hands. And unlike those who fought to the death, you will not even have a chance to get even. You will die at their hands, and you will drag your wives and children down with you.”

At some point, the crowd below gradually grew quiet. The soldiers began to listen seriously to Fred. Some people in the back could not hear clearly, and even secretly moved closer to listen.

“Now there is an opportunity for you. You don’t have to die, and you don’t have to run.”

“What should we do?” someone below shouted.

“You should be ashamed of that question. You are not just soldiers. You are warriors. The way you solve problems should be by fighting! You have swords in your hands. Are you going to beg the enemy to spare you like dogs?” There was a force of anger in Fred’s voice, and it spread a strange atmosphere through the crowd below.

“We can’t beat them,” someone shouted in a disorderly way.

“Yeah, they’re too powerful.”

Fred frowned. An army did not fear a few cowards appearing in its ranks. Cowards usually didn’t dare to voice their opinions in a crowd, so their negative influence on others was actually very limited. In most cases, cowards were actually more easily influenced by others and became people who performed well in battle. Roll was such an example. What really gave officers a headache were the people who were smart and bold and liked to contradict their superiors. They often had great prestige among the soldiers and habitually used contradicting their superiors to show off their courage and uniqueness. They were the opinion leaders among the soldiers, and sometimes they could cause even more damage than a powerful enemy.

Fred pointed at a tall, burly soldier — the one who had been shouting the loudest just now — and ordered him to step out and answer.

“Have you ever fought the Winston?” Fred asked loudly.

The soldier looked a little sheepish. “No,” he answered lazily, swaying his body, which drew a few light laughs from the surrounding soldiers.

“No, sir!” Fred’s expression changed, and he shouted harshly.

Startled, the soldier instinctively stood at attention and answered, “No, sir!” The people around immediately fell silent.

“I’ve fought them. I’ve killed no fewer than thirty of the Winston. The strongest of them was probably about as strong as you.”

The soldiers let out disbelieving jeers. Indeed, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed that a young, handsome youth like Fred could kill people on the battlefield without even frowning.

“I can prove it to you.” Fred made a gesture, and I handed the tall soldier a sword.

“Attack me. Use all your strength.” Fred ordered loudly. The soldier hesitated, then slowly thrust the weapon in his hand toward Fred.

He suffered for his hesitation. Fred used the scabbard to knock aside the incoming blade, closed in on the soldier’s body in an instant, and then viciously drove his right knee into the man’s groin. The soldier screamed, pressed his legs together, fell weakly to his knees, and then rolled around on the ground. The soldiers below exchanged glances. None of them had expected that the new commander, who looked so gentle and refined, would be so ruthless when he moved.

It was a long time before his painful cries stopped. The soldier struggled to his feet, using the sword to support himself, and glared at Fred with bloodshot, hate-filled eyes. Of course, his thighs were still firmly pressed together from the knees up.

“You didn’t obey orders, soldier. I told you to attack with all your strength.” Fred arrogantly lectured the miserable victim, not even looking him in the eye. “You may continue whenever you want.”

“Ah…” The hatred of being humiliated blinded the injured soldier’s eyes. He no longer thought about the consequences of killing his commander in public, and he carried out Fred’s order very well. Although the discomfort between his legs made his steps unsteady, he still charged forward very fast. He swung the long sword in his hand with all his strength, hoping to use his strong build to overwhelm Fred’s thin and weak body and take revenge for the wounds he had suffered.

Fred didn’t give him a second chance. After quickly and precisely dodging the incoming long sword, the hard scabbard of Ink Shadow thrust viciously into the soldier’s lower abdomen. The intense pain instantly drained the big man’s strength, and he rolled to the side again. If the heavy blow to his groin just now had made him scream in agony, this painful lesson left him with only enough strength to moan.

Shocked gasps came from below the platform. Fred’s delicate appearance and his powerful strength formed a huge contrast in people’s minds, and the soldier’s painful moans on the platform made that contrast even more convincing. More importantly, everyone knew very well that if what had struck the soldier’s abdomen was not the blunt scabbard but a sharp blade, the soldier would already have been a mangled corpse.

Fred was very satisfied with the intimidating effect he had created. He looked contemptuously at the defeated man lying on the ground and announced loudly, “I can promise you that the Winston are no harder to deal with than him.”

The crowd began to stir. The pitiful loser’s inability to withstand a single blow left a deep impression on everyone. Under Fred’s deliberate guidance, the soldier unconsciously became a substitute for the Winston, and in an instant, the image of the Winston as strong and fierce in people’s minds was weakened. People’s competitive pride could easily delude them into putting themselves in Fred’s position. I guessed that many people below were subconsciously thinking: such a thin young man could easily defeat the Winston, so why couldn’t I?

Fred did not forget the defeated man who had helped him complete this transformation — although the man’s help had not necessarily been given willingly. My handsome friend walked up to him, put away his arrogant expression from just now, helped him up in a friendly manner, and brushed the dust off his body.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Fred asked him.

“Locklen, sir!” He was clearly not used to speaking so closely with a senior officer in public, and he was a little awkward and flustered, especially right after making a fool of himself. But I could tell that if the first blow had made him feel humiliated, then being knocked to the ground the second time had already made this strong, arrogant big man feel sincere respect for Fred. This could be seen from the way he strictly observed military etiquette.

“Where is your home, Locklen?” Fred asked gently.

“Bunker City, sir!” Locklen puffed out his already straight chest even more.

“Bunker City? Bunker City, which has already fallen?”

“Yes, sir.” Locklen’s eyes reddened, and tears streamed down. “I still haven’t heard any news of my parents and my wife.”

“Cheer up, young man. Be a man. Don’t hang your head.” When Fred said “young man,” I secretly found it funny. This tall, sturdy soldier had a face full of beard and was at least twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, yet he was called “young man” by Fred, who was not even twenty. It just seemed out of place.

“You’ve only lost contact for now. Everything will be all right. One day we will fight back across the river, and there will be a day when your family is reunited.” Fred comforted the sad soldier in a loud voice. “But first, we have to hold this city and win this battle.”

Locklen suddenly raised his head, straightened his body, and shouted loudly, “Throw those Winston sons of bitches into the river and win this battle! Whoever dares to disobey the commander’s orders, I, Locklen, will be the first to fight him to the death!”

The originally slack and despairing army finally burst out with the belief and courage to win. Filled with the desire to fight, the soldiers shouted loudly, “Victory!” and surged toward the platform.

On the platform, we also shouted with abandon, not showing the slightest calm just because we had been part of planning the whole thing. Fred had not only successfully ignited the soldiers’ fighting passion, but also made us find a reason we had to fight. His words reminded me of my home far away in Rid City — my parents, my brothers. I truly felt that I had to fight to protect them. I was convinced once again that my friend was a born leader. He was destined to be an extraordinary great man, and at this very moment, he had successfully taken the first step toward greatness. I could only feel sincerely honored to be able to stand beside him at such a moment.

In the heated, wild atmosphere, my friend successfully won the soldiers’ support and truly took complete control of the first city of his life. Owning a city would never be the end of Fred’s honor. On the contrary, his destined, turbulent, and magnificent life had only just begun. That was what I believed.

Yes, we were just as honored as the enthusiastic soldiers, because we had witnessed the birth of a young leader.