I Became the Commander in a Trash Game Who Copies Skills

Chapter 18. Clouds of War (3)

External enemies.

A time-honored method to quell internal crises.

The conquest of the Vampire Archduke could be interpreted in that context.

Honestly, the Empire was in a precarious state.

“It looks fine on the surface, but it’s rotting inside, ready to burst.”

Lords busy with territorial wars.

Mage towers and guilds chasing short-term gains.

Even high nobles, meant to stabilize the center, were split into pro- and anti-Emperor factions, feuding for nearly a century.

Exaggerating a bit, the Empire was on the brink of existential crisis.

How did I know so well?

“…The Emperor hero start was notorious for its insane internal management difficulty. I must’ve ruined about thirty Empires.”

That’s about it.

Anyway, the vampire conquest was a rare opportunity for the Empire.

Focusing on an external enemy made internal unity easier.

In the game, the vampire conquest was a major Empire event with a high probability—about 50%, by my personal stats.

The other 50%?

That’s the scenario where vampires invaded the Empire.

“I’ve never seen these two nations team up.”

The issue was this:

While the war was inevitable, it had never happened this early.

A “conquest” wasn’t a minor border skirmish.

It was a full-scale war, naturally requiring long preparation and resolve.

Logistics. Administration. Command. Training.

The list of preparations was endless.

Even with all that, success wasn’t guaranteed—it was a gamble.

In the game, the vampire conquest typically appeared closer to mid-game.

This war was a new event added in World Scenario 4.0.

The viscount wasn’t assassinated.

I rescued his granddaughter.

And he learned the full story of her kidnapping.

A conditional event, so to speak.

“The surface reason is punishing traitors. The personal reason is family vengeance and his granddaughter’s retribution. The true hidden intent… strengthening imperial authority.”

I grasped the context.

Now, it was time to gather information.

With World Scenario 4.0’s ripple effects hitting faster than expected,

I needed to collect as much intel as possible and read the flow of major events, including this war.

That’s why…

“Ma’am! Four beers here!”

I was sitting in a tavern.

The Mercenary Guild Tavern, again.

“You know the foul-mouthed old man’s forge? I went to the shop behind it yesterday…”

“Pfft, nonsense!”

“What? Already finished your beer? Another one!”

In Warlord Conquest, fighting wasn’t everything.

Swift information gathering was one of the most critical activities for victory.

Since nearly all events in this luck-based garbage game were probability-driven,

quick and accurate intel was essential to read precursors.

“The best early-game info hub is the Mercenary Guild Tavern.”

Taverns were natural rumor hubs.

Especially the guild tavern, where the main clientele was mercenaries.

Due to their wandering nature, they were well-versed in fresh rumors from all over.

It was no different now.

Amid the drunken shouts and roars, carefully sifted, there were some decent tidbits.

“The merchant guild’s looking for a mercenary corps to escort to the southern kingdom. If the trade succeeds, spice prices might drop.”

“Something’s up with the orcs. Rumors say they’re gathering a horde around a shaman.”

“A war out of nowhere? It hasn’t been long since those corpse-shovelers attacked!”

Rumors from afar.

Movements of big players.

Baseless nonsense.

A jumble of information.

Gathering intel here was simple.

Eat stew, keep ears open, and mentally sort the info nonstop.

Traits like [Keen Hearing] or [Spirit Contract: Sylph] would’ve helped.

But I had a problem.

I didn’t have a single sensory trait.

Sitting here for hours wouldn’t yield much.

Of course, there was always a way.

Like now…

“As you know, I’m a sword-wielder, so my handwriting isn’t exactly neat.”

…As long as someone else listened for me.

I brought both lieutenants and Olif.

This guy could enhance his senses with aura.

“It’s fine. As long as I can read it.”

“…Understood.”

Olif, with aura-enhanced hearing, jotted down what he heard.

I scanned and sorted the scribbled notes.

It wasn’t an easy method, naturally.

But what other choice was there?

“Vulcan Mercenary Corps is coming.”

“Wasteland Mercenary Alliance joining too.”

“Tenev merchants participating in the war. Impact on prices.”

Maybe because he’d been an aide, even without detailed guidance, Olif was already noting down significant details.

His handwriting was atrocious, though…

Was that a letter or a sword stroke diagram?

“…I’ll need help reviewing this later.”

“Yes.”

I’d leave the note-taking to Olif.

I pulled out an envelope from my pocket and spread its contents on the table.

There was a reason I gathered both lieutenants and Olif.

One important decision remained.

“C-Captain. Is that…?”

Brol’s eyes widened as he stared at the paper I laid out.

“A formal employment contract?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, that signature…”

“Viscount Pewin.”

“…Damn.”

Whether our mercenary band would join this war.

That’s what we had to decide.

***

Yesterday morning, Viscount Pewin handed me a contract.

“‘A formal employment contract. Review it carefully, and if the terms suit you, sign and send it back.’”

“Formal employment” was how high nobles typically hired mercenary bands.

In simple terms, it was like outsourcing troops.

The hired party had to stay near the employer’s forces for the contract’s duration.

If nothing happened, it passed quietly.

If a specific task was assigned, you’d perform it for additional payment.

“…If nothing was going to happen, they wouldn’t hire you.”

Formal employment missions usually fell into two categories:

Territorial wars between lords, where deploying the Imperial Army was officially forbidden, or large-scale wars too big for the standing Imperial Army to handle.

“This is the latter.”

The viscount offering formal employment meant this war was serious.

Even mobilizing the Imperial Army from Burken Fortress and nearby domains wasn’t enough.

The moment I signed the contract, I’d be heading to the battlefield with the viscount, no question.

A battlefield was fundamentally different from a reconnaissance or mop-up mission.

People would get hurt. Some would die.

“…So you came to hear our opinions.”

Personally, I’d already decided, but in cases like this, I needed to hear the members’ thoughts.

Even if I had the final say, listening or not made a big difference.

Leading a group meant that.

“Damn, what’s there to say? Let’s do it!”

Brol was in favor.

“Captain, this is a chance! No other band gets a formal employment offer from a noble this fast!”

He wasn’t wrong.

Formal employment was typically offered to bands with proven track records and trust.

Normally, mercenaries hired for war were placed under the existing command structure.

Think of the Burken defense battle.

Even after convincing the baron to make me a commander, I still followed Olif’s orders, didn’t I?

Formal employment was different.

You moved with the main army and followed orders, but the band itself was treated as an independent unit.

It meant acknowledging the band’s tactical judgment to some extent.

Thus, formal employment was a mark of a band’s recognized ability.

“Well, in this case, it’s more about the favor grind paying off.”

I calmed the excited Brol and turned to the others.

I needed their opinions too.

“…Isn’t a large-scale battle a bit premature? We had mistakes during the last mission. Like Hanson and Samuel.”

Karen’s point was valid.

A battlefield wasn’t a simple reconnaissance mission.

The enemies were incomparable in scale and unit type.

“I’ll follow you wherever you go, Captain.”

Olif spoke.

No, give me an opinion.

You’re the most experienced here.

“If you insist on asking, I’d say neutral. The pros and cons are clear.”

“Pros and cons?”

“Yes, the pros are high pay and gaining renown. The members will gain valuable experience too.”

“And the cons?”

“There’s one. The band could disband after a single mission.”

In short, high risk, high return.

Perspectives varied.

Focus on the risk, or the reward.

The three opinions split.

One for.

One against.

One neutral.

The decision was mine.

I’d already made up my mind.

After a brief silence, I picked up a pen and said,

“We’re joining the war.”

War was unavoidable.

This world was destined for a fiery abyss.

But nothing had changed.

I’d clear this game.

And I was ready to do whatever it took.

“Build a faction to support me and strengthen my own power.”

When I first arrived in this world, the strategy I set upon acquiring [Infernal Meteor] with [Warrior’s Insight] still held.

I needed to seek out places where I could observe the most skills in action.

And those places only existed on battlefields.

The paradoxical statement: “To survive, head to the battlefield.”

With [Warrior’s Insight] and [Warrior’s Binding], that was the closest thing to truth for me.

And above all…

“Karen, Olif. Starting tomorrow, gather the members at 9 a.m. We’ll train daily until deployment.”

For me, this battlefield wasn’t high risk, high return.

It was low risk, high return.

***

After signing the contract, I visited the viscount.

He was delighted and told me to stand by comfortably until deployment.

“When do you expect to march?”

“Well, about two weeks, I’d say. Don’t worry. I’ll call when the time comes.”

So, at least two weeks of free time.

The biggest perk of formal employment.

Usually, no tasks were assigned during the pre-deployment wait.

It meant ample time to prepare for battle.

And the first thing to do…

“Brol, Karen. We need to recruit more people.”

The war news had drawn mercenaries, flooding the market with manpower.

Time to expand the band.