I Became the Commander in a Trash Game Who Copies Skills

Chapter 22: Deployment (3)

The battle to seize the fortress began with a barrage from the mortar teams.

The result, following the relentless bombardment, was somewhat anticlimactic.

The vampires didn’t respond at all.

To be precise, there wasn’t a single vampire left in the fortress to respond.

“…Strange, isn’t it, Miss Karen?”

“Indeed. Abandoning a frontline fortress like this? It looks pretty well-fortified too.”

“You’re right. The walls are sturdier than they seem. I heard from the military chaplain that they’re reinforced with necromancy or something.”

The occupation of the fortress proceeded cautiously.

After nearly an hour of sporadic shelling, reconnaissance was conducted using spells.

Swift cavalry and light infantry double-checked before it was officially declared that the vampires had fled, abandoning the fortress.

I heard that even after the occupation, mages and engineers spent considerable time checking for traps.

The main force didn’t fully enter until late afternoon.

Under the command of Archduke Gabir and Viscount Pewin, each unit was quickly assigned roles.

They began inspecting supply lines, establishing a security system, and turning the fortress into a garrison.

Some of the fortress' empty rooms were distributed as temporary lodgings for each unit.

That was why my mercenary band, including the two platoon leaders, was busy cleaning out rooms.

“Anyway, no more sleeping rough for a while! Hahaha!”

Ouch, my ears.

Brol’s booming voice sparked laughter among the crew.

The expressions of the mercenaries sweeping up stone fragments from the floor were noticeably lively.

Well, the past few days of rough camping had been tough.

Thinking back to when strong winds nearly blew away a few tents…

It was dizzying to recall.

We had spare tents, but those cost money.

The mercenary band’s finances were already stretched thin.

“Well, those corpse-loving bastards must’ve had a reason to flee! They got scared! Hahaha! Probably pissed themselves running, crying for their lives! Oh, wait, do vampires even piss?”

“…Crude old man.”

“No, Miss Karen, that’s not what I meant…!”

Here they go again.

It was almost miraculous how well the soldiers followed those two.

Or perhaps, thinking about it, it was proof of their skill as platoon leaders.

Once they entered training or combat, their demeanor changed entirely.

“Keep up the good work.”

“Captain! Where’re you going? Captain!!”

I left the cleanup to the two of them and stepped out of the building with Olif.

I planned to tour the fortress before sunset.

***

“It was called Wolfskrig in the past,” Olif explained.

“Three hundred years ago, it was one of the key trade gateways of the Vampire Archduchy.”

That made sense.

Even in the game, Wolfskrig was a sizable fortress.

The same held true now in reality.

Despite its name, the fortress' massive facilities and buildings were large enough to comfortably house nearly ten thousand troops.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Clatter! Clatter!

The fortress buzzed with the activity of working soldiers.

I walked slowly with Olif.

Facilities that had been gathering dust were being cleaned and repaired.

Warehouses were filling with supplies brought in by carts, and sentries positioned strategically along the walls kept watch with hawk-like eyes.

There was a strange vitality in the otherwise somber fortress.

It was a liveliness unseen under the rule of the Vampire Archduchy.

The dead had few masters, and the facilities they used were minimal.

The risen dead didn’t need rest or dining areas.

“Ash!”

I ran into a familiar face.

A soldier from the swordsman unit I had commanded during the defense of Burken Fortress.

The same guard who had opened the gate for me at night.

“I heard you were officially hired by the Viscount.”

“Correct. News travels fast.”

“Getting formally hired after just your second contract? Anyone who didn’t know better would call it a lie.”

Well…

I had just put the doting grandfather Viscount in my debt.

Anyway, the soldier and his companions, who appeared to be working with him, were shirtless, tilling the soil.

Curious, I glanced over and noticed that the soil in this area bore no trace of necromantic mana.

“A field?”

“Yes, the priests purified it. It’s not a large area, but it’s enough to plant garlic or onions. They said they’ll gradually expand the purified zone, so we might plant turnips too.”

Temporary fields were a common supply method since ancient times.

Unlike grains, crops that couldn’t be stored long-term were typically sourced or grown locally.

Of course, a few small fields couldn’t sustain an entire army’s supply needs.

But growing turnips, garlic, onions, or beans would significantly enrich the soldiers’ meals.

It could also serve as a temporary solution if the supply line was cut.

An army had to prepare double or triple contingencies.

That was just the nature of dealing with the massive variable of war.

“Keep up the good work.”

“Yes, Cap— I mean, Ash!”

As I wandered the fortress, one thing became clear.

White priestly robes stood out everywhere.

Priests moved between wells, small fields, and supply warehouses, tirelessly using the [Purification] miracle.

Now that a garrison was established, they were thoroughly purging any necromantic mana contamination.

[Deploying Warrior’s Insight.]

[Skill acquired.]

[Miracle: Purification (Level 2)]

“….”

They wouldn’t purify me, would they?

My greatest asset right now was necromancy.

Anyway, this explained why the Archduke had brought so many priests and holy knights.

In the game, removing contamination was simple.

You entered the church menu, clicked the ‘Purify’ button, and that was it.

Efficiency depended on the distance to the nearest church and the size and number of church forces.

Reality was different.

The same result required someone’s blood, sweat, and panting effort.

‘Alina wanted to come too… She would’ve had a rough time if she did.’

I suddenly recalled the apprentice priestess who nearly became a fallen saint.

It hadn’t been long since her abduction and return, so the church had barred her from joining.

She knew it was for her own good, but during our late-night meeting, she had pouted.

Wasn’t she scared after what that necromancer did to her?

She really wasn’t your average person.

“Captain, we’re here.”

Before I knew it, we were back at the lodging.

Circling the fortress, I had identified several structures and defenses not detailed in the game.

The realization hit me again:

Wolfskrig, as this fortress was called, was an exceptionally defensible location.

Far more so than it appeared in the game.

To occupy it without shedding a single drop of blood…

It felt almost too easy.

“What do you think after looking around?”

“….”

Olif seemed to share my thoughts.

He had been quiet for a while, likely mulling something over.

“It’s not certain, but…”

“Speak.”

“Tactically, abandoning Wolfskrig is a poor move. But strategically, it’s possible.”

The veteran strategist’s expression wasn’t optimistic.

“With sufficient reinforcements, rather than wasting a moderate number of defenders, they could retreat, regroup with reinforcements, and launch a counterattack to retake the fortress, easily crushing the enemy forces.”

The enemy forces being us.

To put his cautious opinion bluntly, a counterattack was likely imminent.

I shared the same thought.

That night, the Viscount summoned me.

Along with the other mercenary captains under formal contract.

***

The command headquarters was located in the lord’s castle at the fortress' center.

The six-story stone structure, where Wolfskrig’s lord once resided, was undoubtedly the tallest building in the fortress.

Its height and position were likely why it was chosen as the command center.

The vampires seemed to have thought the same, though traces of human sacrifices lingered throughout.

“By Luark, a young man was rotting on a table, his stomach sliced open. Damn those corpse-loving bastards, cutting open a kid alive and feasting on his entrails!”

“That’s horrific.”

“I’ve been through a lot, but that was disgusting. Luark curse those bastards! Ptooey!”

The man spitting in disgust was Poodle, the captain of the Poodle Mercenary Band.

With a simple demeanor, chubby cheeks, and bushy sideburns and beard, he had been nicknamed Poodle since childhood.

Despite his appearance, he was quite capable.

After all, he was a mercenary captain formally contracted by Archduke Gabir.

He was also a devout follower of the Luark Church, the Empire’s state religion.

Well, most mercenaries leaned into either superstitions or religion.

“Here, try some of this. My wife dried it. It’s well-seasoned. Only a few left, but I’m sharing with you, little brother.”

His friendly, generous personality, fitting his appearance, was decent for a mercenary.

During the past week’s march, the Poodle Mercenary Band had been right in front of ours, and we had bonded a bit.

As a result, we were now heading to the command meeting together.

Chewing on dried trout jerky.

“Anyway, the lord’s castle is safe now. The engineers and mages worked hard, and the priests finished purifying it.”

“I see.”

“Whoever built it picked a great spot. Even if those corpse-lovers attacked tonight, the command center wouldn’t fall.”

Well…

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Wolfskrig’s lord’s castle was well-positioned for visibility and hard to hit.

But “hard to hit” applied to conventional siege weapons like catapults or mortars.

“Wait… didn’t they say an Infernal Meteor spell hit during the Burken defense?”

“Correct.”

As Poodle belatedly recalled, spells like Infernal Meteor were an exception.

Blocking fireballs raining from the sky required powerful defensive magic.

“It’s fine. Infernal Meteor isn’t very accurate.”

“Oh, right! By Luark, you’re a mage, little brother!”

Accuracy was Infernal Meteor’s greatest weakness.

Significant impact zones only formed with near-maximum proficiency.

A Level 7 spell at max proficiency was practically the work of a Level 8 mage.

In the Vampire Archduchy, only two Level 8 necromancers existed:

One was the still-slumbering Duke, and the other was the Blood Princess, who wasn’t active at this time.

So, it wasn’t a concern for now.

Anyway.

“Show your identification.”

Poodle and I soon arrived at the command headquarters.

After a brief inspection, we entered.

The meeting room was on the fifth floor, a spacious area overlooking the fortress.

“Looks like everyone’s here.”

There were about thirty attendees.

Archduke Gabir, Viscount Pewin, their respective staff officers, and twenty-nine mercenary captains and band leaders.

The Archduke’s gray-haired staff officer explained the conquest army’s upcoming tasks.

In summary:

“For the next two weeks, we will fully establish Wolfskrig as a stronghold before the next advance.”

“The main force will repair the fortress, secure the supply line completely, and establish defensive measures to the best of our ability.”

“The task for mercenary bands and units is reconnaissance. This is traitor territory, so move cautiously.”

“There are two main objectives: monitor approaching threats and scout the next advance route to identify risks.”

The meeting was brief.

We were given our assigned reconnaissance areas, notes based on prior data, and predictions about terrain and enemy movements.

The Archduke then dismissed the meeting.

For mercenary captains accustomed to the battlefield, given the necessary information, we could devise strategies and deliver results on our own.

“Opposite directions, huh? Shame. But our lodgings are close, so let’s grab a drink sometime!”

“Drinking during a mission is punishable.”

“I know, I know! Just saying! Haha!”

That Poodle guy.

He’d probably get along well with Brol.

Pushing aside idle thoughts, I returned to the lodging and went to sleep.

***

The next day.

At dawn, I led my unit out through the fortress gate.

“How far is today’s reconnaissance route?”

Karen asked, unfolding a map.

“Here.”

I pointed to a spot about ten kilometers southeast of the fortress.

The reconnaissance route differed from the march path.

The march route had remnants of a three-hundred-year-old road, but this was pure wilderness.

A desolate field with eerie winds.

A sticky river.

A forest with a grim atmosphere.

And occasional encounters with wandering undead.

“Fire!”

“Spears—up!”

[Archer unit deploys Volley.]

[Spearman unit deploys Spear Wall.]

[Swordsman unit deploys Shield Wall.]

Of course, wandering undead were no match for our mercenary band now.

We had upgraded numbers, equipment, and systematic training.

[Deploying Warrior’s Binding.]

[Bound defeated enemies.]

[Zombie (2), Skeleton Swordsman (1)]

I gathered forces I hadn’t yet used in actual combat as we moved.

Along the way, we found traces of human sacrifice in the forest.

Among the bone fragments were small human bones.

“Damn… those inhuman bastards…”

I wouldn’t comment on how a race that saw humans as livestock or tools viewed boys or girls.

It was probably no different from how we viewed calves or lambs.

After documenting the B-horror movie-like ritual site, we returned to the fortress in the late afternoon.

The next reconnaissance would cover a longer distance, requiring an overnight camp.

We set out early in the morning, as usual.

We reached the turnaround point slightly ahead of schedule and set up camp on the way back.

That night.

Inside my personal tent, a vibration began to hum from somewhere.

“…?”

It was faint but rhythmic, like a phone vibrating, as if calling someone.

With a bad feeling, I quickly rummaged through my gear to find the source.

“Damn it.”

It was a statue.

A statue taken from Tribus von Zarhill, the second Vampire Duke.

It was vibrating.

As if calling me.