I Became the Commander in a Trash Game Who Copies Skills

Chapter 50. Last Will and Testament

The rain fell drizzlingly.

The city streets became muddy.

It was good news for the farmlands near the city that had just begun to be cultivated.

The weather in the southern part of the Empire was quite bizarre, with two rainy seasons and two dry seasons alternating each year.

Thanks to this, there was the advantage of being able to farm rice a whopping two times a year, but on the other hand, wheat could not be grown.

Anyway, the drizzling sound of the rain had a mysterious magic that calmed the human mind.

What also calmed the mind in a similar way was regular expenses.

Rent, winter gas bills, summer electricity bills, and the previous month's credit card payments were times that quickly and surely calmed down even the most excited heart.

As the organization was completed and the recruitment of personnel was officially confirmed, a month's salary was withdrawn all at once.

A whopping 200 Florins.

It took my breath away.

“Could you read the contract one more time? The clause about the members' salaries in the special terms section, it’s written correctly, right?”

“Yes, until the end of the contract period, the salaries of the members belonging to the Ash Mercenary Band will be borne 50-50 by Archduke Burken and the Imperial army. The corresponding personnel is limited to a maximum of 1,200.”

“…That’s a relief. Store it away safely again.”

“I understand.”

I was processing documents with Olif.

One of the two moments when I really felt that the number of personnel had increased was when doing administrative work.

The other was during training.

Usually, Bart handled most of the administrative work, but there was also quite a bit of work that had to go through my final approval.

Especially the supply-related work, since we were in the early stages, I was looking at it one by one, and I was getting a lot of help from Olif, who had a long military career.

Of course, I was only learning the know-how.

His handwriting was so bad that I couldn't possibly ask him to write documents or anything.

“The salaries have been paid properly without any omissions. And you said the supply of weapons and clothing would be delayed a bit?”

“Yes, the merchant caravan is late because the rainy season has started.”

“Confirmed. If we had artillery, we would have been in real trouble.”

“You were singing a song about needing more gunpowder, but have you really given up on artillery?”

“Let’s think about it when we get a territory someday.”

I smiled as if joking and passed the document.

Of course, it was just words; it wasn't like you could use artillery just because you had territory or money.

Because under Imperial law, only the Imperial army could operate gunpowder weapons above a certain caliber.

Nobles could too, but only some nobles who had received delegation permission from the Imperial army.

Even if they gave special permission, I probably wouldn't use it in this civil war.

Because the role I would be playing would prioritize mobility.

After receiving independent operational authority, I had deliberated for quite a long time and decided which direction to move in.

Of course, my method also required firepower.

And I wouldn't be lacking.

“Thank you for saving me before.”

The magicians had joined.

They were almost the only branch of service that could replace high-firepower artillery.

They accounted for half of the twenty or so troops I had placed under my direct command.

Six were mercenary magicians.

Three were even veterans from the Imperial army.

One of their faces was familiar.

Looking closely, it was the magician I had saved in the Battle of Wolfskrig.

“You were an earth school magician.”

“That’s right.”

“Your colleagues who came with you too?”

“Yes, both are from the same Black Magic Tower.”

A magician from a magic tower was a high-quality force.

Among them, those from the Black Magic Tower, which was run by earth school and a few metal school magicians, were active in various fields compared to other magic towers.

Large-scale civil engineering, the Imperial army armory, the Imperial Gunpowder Graduate School, and so on.

They were essential personnel everywhere, and their treatment was equivalent to that of a quasi-noble.

You could tell just by looking at how, when I disguised myself as a magician in Burken Fortress, I was guided by the soldiers to the baron's barracks without any restraint.

Of course, wandering magicians often became the target of inquisitors, but that was another matter.

I handed a book to the magicians.

It was a book I had obtained in Gunterburk.

“This is….”

“I obtained it by chance. I heard it’s a lost earth-type spell, so do some research on it.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

They probably wouldn't be able to learn it right away.

[Devouring Purgatory] was a level 5 spell.

The magicians who had joined this time were distributed evenly from level 2 to around level 4.

Still, it was better than nothing.

I heard that just researching a higher-level spell was helpful for improving one's skills.

While the magicians were racking their brains over a single book, the other units continued their own training.

For reference, a training ground had been built.

It was thanks to expanding the headquarters as the family grew.

To be precise, I had purchased the buildings in the vicinity, including the existing headquarters building that the Emperor had given me as a gift, to form a single complex.

Unused roads and empty spaces between buildings were mixed and matched to create a training ground as spacious as possible.

An additional two hundred Florins or so went into this.

I guess it was fortunate that land and buildings were cheap in Wolfskrig because it was a frontier.

Time flowed ceaselessly.

The pouring work also began to be handled one by one.

Training.

Administrative processing.

Communication with the merchant caravans with which we had signed supply contracts.

Construction of the mercenary band building.

And so on.

Once a week, I met with the Archduke to discuss operations.

One day, I even reunited with an acquaintance I had made in Gunterburk.

The Kambad Merchant Guild Master, with whom I had contracted for the supply of swords, spears, and armor, had come in person.

“The arms and armor have been put in that warehouse over there. Ah, this is the herb you requested separately back then. It’s what the Golden Knights of the Theocracy use. It was hard to get.”

“Thank you. How are things in Gunterburk these days?”

“There? Don't even mention it. The atmosphere turned to shit after the Count died. It might have been better if it had fallen to the beastmen; maybe fewer people would have died.”

There was some exaggeration mixed in, but it must have meant that the political situation in Gunterburk was difficult.

In fact, not long after the anti-Imperial faction Count of Gunterburk died, a fierce secret struggle broke out over the ownership of the city.

By the way, seeing a merchant from that distant city openly talk like this, it must mean that the news of the civil war had now become an open secret even among civilians.

It seemed that rumors had also spread in Wolfskrig over the past few weeks.

Because of that, a strange atmosphere seemed to be forming within the mercenary band.

The one who caught the change in atmosphere among the members first was, of course, old Brol.

“Well, it’s stranger not to be anxious. Isn't it?”

Old Brol said.

While writing with a quill pen, gripping it tightly in his hand.

It was a simple report.

The handwriting was terrible, but it was readable.

Considering he had only just learned to write, it would gradually improve.

For now, even in its current state, it was much easier to read than Olif's hieroglyphics, which were no different from a sword path.

“Is that so.”

“It’s a civil war. A land-grabbing territory war is usually a sloppy affair on both sides. But this is really a matter of you die or I die.”

By the way, the atmosphere among the members.

It seemed more serious than I thought.

Seeing old Brol, who was excited almost 24 hours a day - a third of which was due to being drunk - speaking so quietly and softly, it was certain.

Just because they were mercenaries who lived on the battlefield didn't mean they didn't fear death.

It was the opposite.

Because they were close to it, they felt its fear more vividly.

They were just forgetting it with alcohol, women, and gambling, and with silly jokes among their comrades.

“Brol.”

“Why, what’s the matter? I’m definitely not saying I’m scared. I’m saying the kids are, definitely…”

“Do you have a last will and testament too?”

“Uh, yeah. I have one I wrote a while ago. But why do you ask…”

“Gather the members tomorrow morning. Tell Bart to prepare plenty of paper and graphite.”

Fear was a natural phenomenon.

But that fear breaking morale was another matter.

Personally, I believed that the soldiers' morale was directly related to their trust in their commander.

In Burken Fortress, to gain that trust, I stood in front of the soldiers with a spear and blocked the path of a charging Skeleton Wolf.

Now, ten times as many people as back then were watching me.

I would gain their trust before we set out.

***

Mercenaries who live a rough life have their own unique culture.

Numerous superstitions are a part of that.

‘If you write the name of your first love by your bedside the night before a battle, you can return alive.’

Or, ‘If you carry an item given by a cleric, you can return alive once even from a battlefield where you were supposed to die.’

Things like that.

There was one more major culture as popular as superstition, and that was the culture of writing a will.

Being a mercenary was a profession that used a sword.

It was a life that walked side by side with death, with only a thin line in between.

The experience of closing the eyes of a comrade growing cold and taking out a blood-soaked will from their bosom was a nightmare that everyone, unless they were a novice, had experienced at least once.

Morning came.

I gathered the members in one place.

The newly prepared parade ground was quite spacious, but since there were so many people, it was a scene as packed as a can of sardines.

I went up on a roughly made wooden platform.

I didn't like to draw out the preamble unnecessarily.

“Everyone must have heard the rumors.”

There was no big reaction.

Instead, a heavy silence permeated the members.

The attribute of silence was anxiety.

“Officially, it’s still confidential, but the rumors you’ve heard are true. The threat of civil war is right before us. The anti-Imperial faction, led by Marquis Ricardo, has already gathered an army, fortified their strongholds, and completed their preparations to raise a banner against the imperial family.”

Only then did a murmur spread.

I raised my voice a little.

“We will subjugate the traitors.”

Because that was the only way to survive.

Because there was no future for an Empire swallowed up by the anti-Imperial faction.

In the first place, the head of the anti-Imperial faction, Marquis Ricardo, was a figure from the Order.

Like most heroes belonging to the Order, he too wished for and desired the extermination of mortals, including humanity.

In the end, participating in the civil war was a choice for all of us to live.

However.

“But I want you all to live.”

I was sincere.

This time, I didn't use [Lord’s Unyielding Mind].

“I want you to live and gather here again, to live a daily life of laughing and teasing each other as usual.”

If Terren had survived.

He would surely have teased me, calling me a fake knight.

“I want you to live for a long time, suck my pockets dry of my salary, and in the end, make me sit on the streets.”

A few people laughed.

The atmosphere was lifted.

“I’ll be honest. Some of us will die. I don’t have the power to prevent everyone’s death. I’m sorry for being an incompetent commander.”

Although I had promised Terren.

I couldn't protect everyone.

“But even if you die, don’t die just for the Empire and His Majesty the Emperor.”

“…….”

“Even if you die, let’s die for our families.”

I repeated the story I had told the soldiers in Gunterburk.

That day, half of the hundred soldiers who had faced the Minotaurs had died.

I had nightmares for three days straight.

Nightmares where the dead soldiers appeared, nightmares where the [Lord’s Unyielding Mind] trait didn't work.

“If your wife knows how to weave cloth, I will provide a weaving machine.”

“If you have a debt to your brother, I will cancel the debt.”

“If your parents need a field, I will provide one.”

“If you wish, I will send your children to the best educational institutions in the Empire.”

I distributed the paper and graphite I had prepared in advance.

The low-quality, tough paper was a type that mercenaries favored for their wills.

“Before we set out, write a new will and submit it. With one wish for your family included. That is a bill of lading you are putting up with your life as collateral to me.”

As I watched some scribbling on the spot and some taking the paper and going somewhere, I came down from the platform.

I had had two major accidents in my life.

The first accident was in my late teens.

My dream was shattered.

The second was in my early twenties.

My heart was broken.

The place where my heart was broken was the military.

In that place where every able-bodied South Korean man had to go, I had an unfortunate accident, and I had the experience of no one taking responsibility and no one being on my side.

After having a life-and-death accident in a group that demanded my life in wartime, the only thing that came back when I had even lost a place to return to was a cold discharge certificate.

The memory of a cold winter.

The cold floor of an empty room in an empty house.

It would probably not be forgotten until I died.

At least I would not let my people have the same memory.

***

A week after that.

A public notice for the subjugation of forty-eight nobles, including the traitor Marquis Ricardo, was posted all over the city.