Marcus couldn’t help but stare in awe at the scene before him.

He had left behind the battle between the Legionnaires and the five adventurers. It was quickly winding to a close and the outcome was obvious, anyway.

He’d really, truly expected the army to have a more difficult time dealing with the party. And at the start, they had. But it hadn’t taken long for them to wear the adventurers down. Especially not once their more experimental units had entered the fray.

It was… worrying. It meant that just a few high-level individuals weren’t enough to take down the army. They’d either need a lot more people or a lot more powerful individuals to stand a chance, or to make a battle worth retelling.

Not that he wanted the Legion to fail, of course. He had a good thing going here. The amount of experience he was raking in and the stories he was collecting were both unheard of. Besides, if they really did conquer Novara, then he wouldn’t have to worry about being a wanted individual anywhere he went.

But that battlefield was long behind him. Instead, Marcus had chosen to continue following the auxiliaries and the other cohort as they were redeployed elsewhere. Where, he wasn’t certain. But perhaps it was a different kind of battle.

His instincts had been right on the money.

Marcus’s legs wobbled beneath him as he jogged. Each step ate up distance at an astonishing rate that rivaled even a fast horse. Even then, he wasn’t gaining as quickly as he’d like. His only saving grace was that the auxiliaries couldn’t yet match the ungodly pace that the Legionnaires tended to set, either.

He prayed to whatever gods might have been listening that no one needed him to use a different skill today. [Running] was blessedly low on stamina consumption, but he’d been at it for far too long. If he had to so much as [Charm] a person he may well puke.

As he crested a final hill, he finally spotted a long line of Legionnaires that ran three men deep. The line had arrayed itself around a disorganized mass of peasants wearing ill-fitting armor, if any, and clinging to battered swords and spears.

Marcus didn’t need his skills to pick up on their terror. The group was little more than a bunch of [Farmer]s, [Baker]s, and [Stablehand]

s, from the looks of it. He would have been surprised if a single one of them had anything adjacent to a combat class at all.

That certainly explained where the baron had dug up his “army” from, at least. He’d been wondering how the man had come up with so many fighters given the war in the west. As it turned out, he hadn’t. He just threw whatever bodies he could at the problem.

The Legion’s line slowly advanced, herding the group of scared rabble back toward the rest of the Legion and their dwindling fight. A few brave, foolish, or suicidal souls sprinted out of the mob and charged the Legion, attempting to break through.

Marcus braced for the inevitable impact as the Legion acted. But contrary to the prickly mass of blades and spears he’d expected, the soldiers instead met the attack by turning aside and tripping the men as they stumbled through the line in surprise.

The Legionnaires behind the wall quickly seized the individuals who came through in this way, quickly binding and hauling them away. Marcus saw several hundred people already bound and kneeling behind the Legionnaires.

Marcus figured there were a few possible reasons for this. The first was that the Legion had decided to practice a bit of mercy. He laughed at himself for even considering the idea and crossed it off the list. The second was that they intended to take them prisoner for some other use. The third…

His mouth went dry as he recalled the fates of Habersville’s former guards. This was a different scenario. These men were enemy combatants in war, not traitors. But would the distinction matter to the Legion?

Marcus swore under his breath and attempted to squeeze a few more drops of stamina out as he ran toward the mass of prisoners. The Legion weren’t stupid. They wouldn’t simply kill so many people for the misfortune of losing to them in war. But just in case… he’d make himself available to provide suggestions of how to make use of them. Uses that spared their lives, of course.

***

Baron von Lattimore’s hands shook from where they gripped the edge of his desk. His breaths came too rapidly as he stared down at the map before him. It was being updated by his [Logistician] ’s skilled hands as quickly as the man could manage, which was part of why the sight of his troop numbers plummeting was so alarming.

They weren’t even halfway to their destination, and already they had encountered a problem. No, not just a problem—a disaster. Over the course of the last few minutes, their numbers had halved. And though he couldn’t say for sure, he sincerely doubted they were giving as good as they were getting.

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The numbers thankfully stabilized soon after, just as the adventurers split off from the main force. He hoped that meant they were hunting down whoever or whatever had done this.

And then the first of them went down.

The baron put his head in his hands, clutching at his hair. Yet he was unable to tear his gaze away from the map. The situation had been shitty from the start. Yet every time he’d tried to improve it just a little bit, it somehow only seemed to get shittier. Why? What more could he possibly do?

“Sir?”

He glanced up at the [Logistician]. The man’s brow furrowed in obvious concern, The baron sighed, carefully setting his hands against the wooden desk once more and waved him off. “My apologies. I lost my composure.”

The man gave him one more look before continuing to update the map. Another adventurer vanished from view as they fell to unseen enemy forces.

Baron von Latimore once again considered his options. But at this point, he couldn’t see a way out. If the enemy was powerful enough to destroy a host of conscripts and some of those high-level adventurers so quickly, then there was nothing he could do. His only choice was to give up and surrender to this group of monstrous forces that had invaded.

Only that wasn’t an option either. The whole reason he was in this predicament was because the duke had ordered him to quash Habersville’s apparent rebellion and retake it. An order that had come from the king himself.

Neither of those men were ones to be denied. He had to do this. Failure was simply not an option. Even if success was impossible.

The baron forced himself to take a long breath as he studied the map again. The remainder of his forces had begun a retreat, but who knew how far they’d get? And if they fell, he certainly didn’t have the resources to raise another army, even one as lackluster as this.

The results were clear. Yet he could still do damage control.

More of the adventurers blinked out of existence as von Latimore pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’m going to get some fresh air. Let me know if anything urgent comes up.”

He strode out of his office with as much dignity as he could scrape together. After walking a short way down the hall, he ducked into an alcove and into a hidden side door that led outside the manor.

A private walled garden greeted him. Broad-leafed trees shaded the space, their branches laden with fruit, while flowers covered the ground and spiraled up trellises.

He lifted his chin toward the clear blue sky above and breathed in the sweet air. The garden was not as impressive or expansive as might be expected. He was only a baron, after all. But it was still one of his favorite places to come. And not just because of the plants.

A faint giggling reached his ears from further down the path. As the baron rounded the bend, the vibrant bushes set along the path parted to reveal a small table set for tea. And there before it sat the most beautiful woman in the world. His wife, Mariella.

She was facing away from him, ringlets of golden hair obscuring her face. But he could still tell that she was looking down at the little girl sitting on her lap—the most adorable one in the world, obviously. She had a square sugar cube balanced on her nose like a circus animal doing tricks.

The woman chuckled as the girl tossed her head back, attempting to catch the cube in her mouth. She succeeded only in flinging it across the garden. But the motion alerted her to the baron’s presence.

“Daddy!” The little girl shouted as she leapt up, sprinting to tackle him at the knees. Her smile put every flower in the garden to shame with its brilliance.

For a moment, he felt the tension of the morning recede to the back of his mind. All of the day’s problems could wait. For this one small moment, he allowed himself to enjoy his family.

Von Lattimore reached down and lifted the little girl, placing her on his shoulder. His wife rose gracefully from her chair and turned to face him. Her smile was gentle and soft, and he found that the right of her still managed to soothe his heart.

The moment couldn’t last. Images of a rapidly encroaching army crept into his thoughts and poisoned the peace that has washed over him. His wife seemed to read the shift in his demeanor. Her brow furrowed with concern, a question clear in her eyes.

“…I think it will be best if you take Elizabeth and stay with your father for a little while.” He said.

Mariella was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “All right. When should we leave?”

“As soon as possible. Today, if you can.”

Her face tightened, but she didn’t object. Her implicit trust was a ray of light among everything else. The fact that there was no need for further explanation or an argument saved both of them time and energy.

Of course, he would have been happy to explain if she’d asked. But she seemed to understand the need for haste.

She turned toward the edge of the small clearing. “Silva. Take Elizabeth to her room and help her pack.”

A well-groomed butler seemed to emerge from the bushes as the little girl gave a plaintive whine of protest. At a bit of urging from her mother and a bit of reassurance from her father, she reluctantly followed Silva out of the garden.

As their daughter left, the baron walked forward and took his wife’s hand. His expression turned serious.

“The situation is that dire?” She asked simply.

He nodded. “Our forces didn’t even arrive before they were taken by surprise and dealt a serious blow. I can only imagine our enemies are already on their way here. We might have two or three days before they arrive, at most.

The baron hesitated, then sighed. “I… doubt we’ll be able to defend it. If we do, it will be with heavy losses. Your father coming to our aid is our best chance. But barring that…”

She reached up with her free hand and stroked his cheek. “I will do what I can to convince him. But… is there no way to convince you to leave as well?”

Von Lattimore shook his head. “I cannot. I—” he swallowed. “I wish I could, Mari. But these are my people. I have a duty to protect them. And besides… even if I do run, I suspect the powers that be will not take kindly to cowardice.”

“Then let me—”

“No.” He cut her off, already shaking his head. “You need to keep Elizabeth safe.”

Mariella closed her mouth, pain flickering across her face. But she nodded in understanding. “I will. Come back safe, Klein.”

No further words were needed. They simply enjoyed each other’s company for the last few minutes they had together before she would have to leave.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep