Chapter 46: Accidents, Troubles, and a Turnaround

“Marquis, my Minister of Military Affairs, do you still have any objections?” Our king frowned, and a trace of displeasure appeared on his face. As a monarch, even a person as indecisive as him would be annoyed by others repeatedly interrupting him and challenging his decisions.

“No, Your Majesty.” Marquis Meneval did not take the monarch’s displeasure to heart. He nodded symbolically, scanned Fred up and down twice with his little eyes that gleamed with a strange look, and then continued, “I have nothing to say about Baron Dawson’s defense. I believe that deciding to reward the Count precisely reflects Your Majesty’s fairness. What I mean is, the reward for Count Guderian seems too meager, not yet enough to match his magnificent achievements.”

His words caught us by surprise. Even if he wanted to hide his embarrassment from slandering Fred in the beginning, it would have been enough for him to simply distance himself like the others. Unexpectedly, his attitude had completely changed within such a short time, and he was now fighting for credit and rewards for Fred. I vaguely felt that this cold-faced, high-ranking official did not have good intentions, but I couldn’t figure out what his actual purpose was.

“Oh, you think so? Then what reward do you think would be fitting and appropriate?” Seeing that the always arrogant Minister of Military Affairs was rarely agreeing with his opinion, the King was in a great mood and asked kindly.

“If a newly formed army could inflict such huge damage on the Winston, and cover the main army’s safe retreat with such disregard for their own lives, then I believe it would not be excessive to grant the Count the rank of Major General and give him the right to command his own army. What does Your Majesty think of this?” When saying these words, Marquis Meneval rarely displayed his obedience and earnestness.

“I see… Count Guderian is so young. I’m afraid that granting him the rank of General right now…”

“Your Majesty, a promotion beyond the usual rules like this is precisely what shows Your Majesty’s boldness of employing the talented without being constrained by conventions!” The Marquis was completely like a changed person, sparing no effort to fight for greater honor for Fred. He worked so hard that it was as if he were Fred’s own blood uncle.

“Then, does anyone else have any opinions?”

Except for General Vincent, all the other civil and military officials present unanimously agreed with this suggestion—after all, no one would offend the Marquis, who held military power , over such a small matter. At that moment, I saw General Vincent look angry and resentful. He seemed about to open his mouth to say something, but was suppressed by a strange look from Marquis Meneval.

“Good. Since everyone thinks so, Count Fred, you are now the new Major General of the Army. Congratulations, young man. No one has ever become a General at as young an age as you.” The King seemed to hold Fred in high regard, acting almost happier than if he himself had become a General—oh, of course, there wouldn’t be anything to be happy about if a king lowered himself to become a General.

The King personally hung the medal on Fred’s chest—this was the honor he deserved. Fred responded to His Majesty’s affection politely and with restraint, and swore loyalty to every inch of Delanmaya’s land. Just when I thought everything had ended perfectly, Marquis Meneval suddenly proposed: “Your Majesty, the Winston army is now pressing on our borders, and our army has just been defeated. We need a general with both courage and wisdom, one who is brave and resourceful, to lead the entire army in resisting the foreign invasion. General Guderian has fought against that army twice, with outstanding results. I believe he is the best choice.”

As soon as the Winston invasion army was mentioned, Your Majesty Miguela instantly went limp all over, shrinking into his seat and looking at Fred pitifully, asking in a soft voice: “My General, can you do it?”

“I am willing to fight a life-or-death battle against the Winston Army, to share Your Majesty’s burdens and save the soldiers and people of Delanmaya from misery and suffering.” Without hesitation, Fred answered firmly.

“Good. In that case, General, you are now the Commander-in-Chief of Delanmaya’s 9th Legion.” Marquis Meneval exchanged an ambiguous look with General Vincent and the other officials in the hall…

Although I felt something was wrong from the very beginning, I still underestimated the craftiness and viciousness of those bureaucrats. We had fallen into a vicious trap, and none of us realized it until we stood at the entrance of the 9th Legion’s headquarters.

The so-called 9th Legion of Delanmaya was in fact a collection of stragglers whose original units had been disbanded. At some unknown point in time, all combat units that had suffered heavy casualties in various battles and could not restore their organization were assigned under the banner of the 9th Legion, making the 9th Legion a shelter station for homeless soldiers. Especially in the past two years, the losses from the war against the Winston had caused the number of soldiers this motley legion had to take in to keep increasing. Now it had almost reached a scale of fifteen thousand men, nearly a quarter larger than an ordinary regular legion. But whether it was organization, equipment, training, or discipline, everything was extremely loose and sloppy. Generals who knew this army’s real condition had almost never entertained the thought of leading it into battle. “Almost never suffering battle casualties” and “the more intense the war, the more people in the unit” were the dark traditions of this unit that could not be erased, hovering over everyone in the army like a shadow.

I’m not saying the soldiers in this army lacked ability. On the contrary, they might be the fiercest and most cunning bunch in the Delanmaya Army. You see, those soldiers who survived from situations where nearly their whole unit was wiped out were definitely not easy to deal with. But the problem was exactly that. Almost every soldier here could be called a sly old veteran. They had plenty of ways to deal with their superiors. The soldiers who had once escaped from the same unit had formed their own factions. They only obeyed the orders of the leaders of their factions and completely ignored the orders of their officers. At ordinary times, the various factions would rub against each other, and fights and brawls happened often. But if some clueless officer tried to change the status quo by making an example of one faction, the entire legion would fall into an unprecedented atmosphere of unity, making that unlucky officer suffer some huge losses he couldn’t explain clearly.

“This is quite a formidable unit.” Carlson, the only one among us who had once been in the mid-level command and knew the inside story, evaluated the unit this way. He called such a unit a “sand dune.” Sand is loose, irregular, and hard to control. But once heaps of sand gathered together and were blown by a hurricane, rolling and tumbling in a certain direction, that tremendous destructive power was absolutely not something any forest or grassland could withstand.

Alright, alright. Even if Fred was that hurricane, I believed he was fully capable of doing it, as long as he was given enough time. But why did I have to be put in charge of this army’s supplies and logistics? Compared with their messy and mixed troop types, the total of fifteen thousand men really wasn’t that many: there were two Light Cavalry battalions—those were the units with the least trouble; three Heavy Cavalry squadrons—mind you, I said three squadrons, not one battalion, because the three units had independent organizations; one and a half archer battalions—their weapons included longbows, short bows, standard crossbows, and so on and so forth, and there was even a squad equipped with hunting bows that were not standard military issue, which I had never seen before; two and a half Pikemen battalions—some of their equipment was one-handed spears with one-handed shields specially used against infantry, some was standard two-handed pikes, some was two-handed extra-long pikes, and… sorry, I really couldn’t remember clearly anymore; plus several light and heavy infantry battalions whose weapons were even more bizarre, with every kind of thing imaginable. I dared to say that the weapons used by this regular army were even more chaotic than what many bandit gangs carried, and many of them were antique junk eliminated by one war after another. I guessed that just counting and recording everything would take me more than ten days, not to mention dealing with the Quartermaster’s Office while pushing through layers of obstruction: “The 9th Legion?” The bureaucrats at the Quartermaster’s Office revealed sharp smiles. “Sorry, according to the current inventory, we can’t fully meet your department’s needs. The Ministry of Military Affairs has ordered that anything the Quartermaster’s Office cannot supply can be converted into money at market prices. You only need to sign your name and you can take the money.” Seeing my suspicious expression, they put on airs and said, “Don’t worry. Marquis Meneval has ordered that the needs of the 9th Legion be fully met. We would never deduct a single copper from your department…”

Money? What use was money? The clothes, weapons, armor, and equipment for more than ten thousand people could not be bought just because you had money, especially since these things came in so many different varieties. Even if we wanted to reform the military system and unify the organization, the amount of standard equipment issued was far from enough. Did they want me to buy them in the market? This kind of standard equipment had originally been purchased in bulk only by the state, and that part was usually ordered from weapon merchants. Very little of it circulated in the market, so it was absolutely impossible to equip a whole legion.

This was truly ridiculous, I thought helplessly. Here I was complaining about having too much money to spend. In this world, any kind of accident could really happen, as long as you met people malicious enough.

Chaotic organization, scarce equipment—Marquis Meneval was sending us to our deaths, but he deliberately gave us more than enough money to prevent us from having any excuse. Was the hatred of those noble lords toward an outstanding young general really that intense? If they had used even a small fraction of their scheming skills in the royal court to resist the Winston, perhaps the war wouldn’t have developed into such a passive situation.

I dejectedly reported this news to Fred, and everyone frowned deeply. Everyone knew what this meant: the disadvantage of lacking equipment was not something that could be offset by morale and strategy alone, especially when we were facing a shrewd and powerful opponent.

Just as we were at our wits’ end, the camp guard suddenly announced: “General, someone is asking to see you.”

“What kind of person?” Fred ordered irritably. “If it’s still those old men who want to curry favor by inviting us to dinner, just send them away for me.”

“It’s a young man, General. He says he is your friend.”

“Friend?” The young general hesitated for a moment. We didn’t remember having any acquaintances in the capital. “Let him in.”

……

“What can I do for you, sir?” Our guest walked into the tent. He was indeed our friend. It was just that Fred had his mind focused on the large stack of supply forms and hadn’t seen clearly who had come in.

“I’ve come to repay a favor, sir, and by the way, earn a little money.” The guest answered with a smile.

“Hugh! Hugh Enrique! Why are you here?” The familiar voice woke Fred’s memory. He raised his head, saw the visitor’s face, then immediately stepped forward, grabbed the visitor’s right hand, and dragged him over to a chair.

The man who had come was none other than Hugh Enrique, the young genius merchant, the president of the Enrique Chamber of Commerce, and the owner of the merchant ship who had saved the Golden Rose together with us. Rodrick and the others who had fought alongside him on the Winston warship gathered around to greet him, and Millia, Poirot, and his Dark Elf female assistant Miss Eliot also quickly became familiar with the professional merchant who was good at dealing with people. Everyone didn’t say much unnecessary polite nonsense, and Hugh soon made clear why he had come:

“I heard you ran into trouble.”

“How did you know?” Dakla asked in surprise.

“Hey, I’m a successful merchant. If I didn’t have enough connections and informants, why would so many procurement plans from the Quartermaster’s Office pass through my hands? And…” he said with a mysterious smile, “I know more than just this. General Vincent and the Minister of Military Affairs are in-laws through their illegitimate children. I bet you didn’t know that. And this is exactly the reason you’re here.”

“So what if we know now? We’re still helpless. Without equipment, what do we have to fight the Winston with?” Roll said with a sigh.

“Not necessarily,” Hugh stood up with a radiant expression, raised his head, and said: “Because of me.” This was exactly what Fred had said back then beneath the walls of Kunlan when he saved the merchant caravan from disaster. Now the young merchant returned the words to us unchanged, carrying his own pride and friendship.

“What? You have a way?” Having been driven crazy by the supply situation, I immediately shoved the group of people aside and successfully grabbed Hugh for myself.

“Of course. As soon as I heard you had come to the 9th Legion, I knew this kind of thing would happen, so I made some preparations in advance.” As Hugh spoke, he suddenly frowned and said hesitantly, “But…”

“But what? Stop going back and forth like that.” My heart tightened.

“It’s just that your army’s composition is too complicated. I can’t fill all of it within a short time. All I have right now is a few thousand sets of standard equipment.”

“No problem.” Fred answered. “I was just planning to overhaul this unit. Standard equipment is the best.”

“Then that’s great. And I can also find quite a few craftsmen who forge armor and weapons. I estimate that within at most half a month, all the equipment can be delivered and put into use.”

“You’ve really helped us a lot!” Fred said loudly. Everyone wished they could throw this supply depot that had fallen from the sky back into the sky to celebrate.

“Don’t get so excited yet, gentlemen.” Hugh interrupted our praises at the right time and revealed his merchant face again. “Who’s in charge of paying the money? Let’s talk about the price…”

What came next was not something rigid-minded soldiers like Dakla could understand or take part in. Hugh and I spent almost an entire afternoon in what was called “a contest between merchants.” This bloodless contest left all the laymen present dumbfounded. Strings of numbers flew rapidly back and forth between Hugh and me, like feathered arrows shooting at each other. This was a war of real gold and silver. Unlike other wars, we both hoped this war would bring the greatest benefit to both sides. When we finally completed the transaction on terms acceptable to both sides, I saw almost everyone present, including Fred, wiping the cold sweat from their faces. Only Millia stared at us with eyes shining, even taking out paper and pen to record the entire process of our discussion—a woman’s enthusiasm for bargaining skills doesn’t change just because of who she is. Also, Eliot kept asking Poirot what we were doing (the trading markets in the underground world were far more dull; the poor kid had never seen a bargaining scene before), and Poirot’s answer was: this was a complex speech contest and numbers game that caused tremendous harm to the physical and mental growth of young people.

“You’re the greediest bloodsucker I’ve ever seen. This deal made you earn a full twenty percent more profit than your fellow merchants.” I said to Hugh, half in jest and half in earnest.

“Then you’re the stingiest miser I’ve ever seen, Jeff. When the goods were scarce and had no market supply, you could still cut almost ten percent of my profit. It’s really a shame you didn’t become a merchant.” Hugh said with a roguish grin, patting my shoulder.

“Is this how you express friendship to your friends? Merchants really can’t be trusted!” Riley shook his head, expressing his dissatisfaction with Hugh.

“Alright, alright, the national treasury is paying for it anyway. You guys got a five percent kickback from me. I’m a merchant, and pursuing profit is my greatest principle. This has nothing to do with friendship. What’s more, we’re only a medium-sized chamber of commerce…” As he spoke, Hugh suddenly smiled with a strange expression. “Speaking of friendship, I wonder if the following piece of information is enough to show my friendship…”