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Chapter – 45
“H-Helen, ma’am!”
Bergman looked quite flustered by Helen’s firmness.
“The enemy’s forces are over five hundred strong! There’s no way we can face that with the garrison we have here!”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Then why…?”
“If it were within my authority as commander to order a retreat, I would have done so. But I don’t have the right to withdraw troops without authorization from high command.”
“But at this rate, we’ll all die. You, more than anyone, know what it means to be wiped out.”
“Then we die.”
“……”
“I’ll say it again. Without an order from above, there will be no retreat. Until then, we’ll hold the fortress and carry out our mission.”
Carlyle could roughly guess why Helen made that decision.
The Dekaron Army did not allow low-ranking officers stationed in Kuberin to abandon their posts.
Why?
Because lower-ranking and inexperienced commanders often panicked and evacuated their forts at the slightest sign of trouble.
That was why the army required at least a major’s rank before a commander could make such a decision.
Helen, being only a lieutenant, had no authority to order a withdrawal.
The problem, of course, was that holding the fortress against the Butcher Tribe while continuing mana-stone mining was essentially a suicidal mission.
But the military, wherever you went, was an institution driven more by bureaucracy and stubbornness than by reason.
“Isn’t there any other way?”
“Not for now.”
“Hmph. That’s a problem. I’d rather not die here.”
Kudo frowned.
“For now… we’ll have to make full use of Private Carlyle’s ability.”
At that, every soldier in the meeting turned their eyes toward Carlyle.
“…Me?”
Carlyle froze under the sudden attention.
Just moments ago, everyone treated him like a useless bomb ready to blow up — and now this?
“If the enemy launches a full-scale assault, that’s one thing. But if they keep attacking with small, scattered skirmishes like today, Private Carlyle’s sensing ability will be invaluable. Don’t you agree?”
“Well… that’s true.”
“Then I’ll be counting on you, Private Carlyle.”
“I get what you mean, but… exactly what do you want me to do? There are multiple mining sites operating at once, and there’s only one of me.”
“Good point.”
Helen’s lips curved into a faint smile.
“I think assigning you to a single site would be a serious misallocation of resources.”
“You don’t mean…”
“Starting tomorrow, Private Carlyle will move between the mining sites, detecting and intercepting enemy infiltrations before they strike.”
“…”
Carlyle’s face twisted as the meaning sank in.
The mining sites numbered anywhere from three to five — and they weren’t close together.
They were scattered all around Fort Bowden.
That meant he would have to move tens of kilometers quickly through rough mountain terrain.
Kuberin was full of steep, brutal landscapes — physically punishing even for trained soldiers.
And if his luck turned bad, he could easily run into barbarian raiders — a deadly risk.
In the soldiers’ words, being ordered to “run through these damned mountains and forests all day with your life on the line”…
“That sounds like abuse, ma’am. What kind of commander gives a lowly private such a dangerous and exhausting mission?”
“Private Carlyle.”
“Yes?”
“Who would ever mistake you for an ordinary private? You’re a direct descendant of the noble and mighty House of Sigmund.”
Oh, now they remember that?
Carlyle almost laughed out loud at the hypocrisy.
“My stamina and knee joints might disagree, though.”
“You’ll be fine. The Sigmund bloodline is famous for producing individuals of exceptional physical ability.”
“So they say, but…”
“I’d rather not put it this way, but — this isn’t a request, it’s an order, Private Carlyle.”
“…”
He shut his mouth.
In the army, rank is absolute — and a private had no way to disobey an officer’s command.
“It won’t be for long. A day or two at most. Until we receive the withdrawal order or reinforcements arrive.”
“Fine.”
“Good. The survival of this unit is in your hands. Don’t let that pressure you, of course.”
“…”
Helen said she didn’t mean to pressure him, but the weight of her words landed squarely on Carlyle’s shoulders.
“I’m counting on you.”
“Our little rookie’s gonna run himself ragged, eh? Hah!”
“That’s why they say it’s best to stay average in the army — neither too good nor too bad, ha!”
Bergman and a few scouts laughed mockingly.
But not everyone found it amusing.
“Kudo, have Corporal Marder assist Private Carlyle in the recon missions.”
Helen’s order made both Kudo and Marder grimace.
After the meeting —
‘I’ll have to come up with something.’
Carlyle walked toward the barracks, thinking things couldn’t go on like this.
Not just because Helen had dumped a heavy burden on him.
A recon mission? Sure — if it were just for a day or two, he could handle it.
But if the Butcher Tribe launched a full-scale assault, they’d all be in trouble.
And the presence of an evil necromancer’s dungeon near the fortress made the area even more unstable.
‘If I’m not careful, I’ll end up beheaded by some savage.’
He didn’t fear death, but he wasn’t eager to experience it, either.
‘Still… now that the knife’s at my throat, I finally feel a bit of motivation.’
He gave a wry laugh at himself.
He’d sworn that as Carlyle von Sigmund, he would spend his life in idleness — but here he was, planning how to survive.
‘There’s no way to get stronger overnight… maybe I should raid Antiros’s Laboratory.’
Antiros’s Laboratory — one of the hidden dungeons scattered across the Bloodstained Plains.
If luck was on his side, he could find rare, powerful items there.
‘Though I’ve never been lucky with RNGs…’
He remembered his awful luck in gacha games.
While others pulled rare items in a few tries, he’d fail after dozens or hundreds.
Even back when he was obsessed with playing Overlord, he always avoided chance-based mechanics.
‘Still… nothing to lose, right—’
Then.
‘Huh?’
Carlyle suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Kudo asked beside him.
“I just… got the feeling someone’s watching me.”
“Sir?”
“Like… someone’s staring at me right now.”
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s around.”
And indeed, there wasn’t.
It was late at night — lights-out hours.
The only movement came from sentries in the watchtowers and patrol squads of four moving along the walls.
No one seemed to be eyeing him.
“Probably just your imagination,” Kudo said, waving a hand.
“It’s common for soldiers new to the battlefield to feel on edge.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you’re exposed to the violence and chaos of war, your nerves become hypersensitive.”
“Ah.”
“Rookies often suffer from anxiety or paranoia. Don’t worry too much.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“Haha.”
Kudo laughed.
“Still, I’m surprised.”
“About what?”
“That even a Sigmund could suffer from nerves.”
“Sigmunds are human too, you know.”
“True, but your kind are said to be born different — born with a sword in hand, so to speak.”
“That’s just a myth.”
Carlyle dismissed the old “Sigmund birth legend” with a snort and kept walking.
‘Yeah, probably just nerves. It’d be weirder not to feel jumpy in a warzone. It’s not like I’m a psychopath.’
Then he said to Kudo,
“Hey…”
“Yes?”
“Would it be okay if I went outside the fortress for a bit?”
“If you’re planning to desert, you should probably sneak out quietly instead of asking me outright.”
“I’m not deserting.”
“Then why?”
“You probably know this already, but Kuberin’s nights are dangerous. Not just the barbarians. There are… other things out there.”
“I know.”
“Then why go?”
“Well…”
Carlyle began explaining his reason for wanting to leave as they approached the barracks.
Blink. Blink.
Somewhere in the dark, the eyes of the dead watched him.
“Hm.”
Kudo frowned after hearing Carlyle’s story.
“So, you’re saying there might be a powerful magician’s laboratory somewhere nearby — and the source of this information is the Sigmund family library?”
“Something like that.”
“Good grief.”
“…?”
“The fact that the House of Sigmund even has a library — that’s the real miracle here.”
“Th-that’s…”
Carlyle was at a loss for words.
Kudo’s jab was sharp — almost surgical.
The House of Sigmund, a renowned martial family, excelled in swordsmanship and tactics — but they were practically illiterate in magic or scholarship.
Other noble houses even mocked them, calling them ‘the northern brutes’ or ‘sword-wielding idiots’.
And indeed, there was no such thing as a library in the Sigmund estate.
Well, technically, Duke Guntram’s office had a private study with a few thousand books, but still.
“In any case, we should report this to Lady Helen first and proceed carefully—”
“And if the fortress comes under attack before that?”
“Well…”
“I have to start recon tomorrow. If the enemy launches a full assault, it’ll be too late.”
“So you’re saying… we have to explore that magician’s dungeon tonight?”
“Exactly.”
“This isn’t a decision I can make alone. Let’s bring it to Captain Bergman.”
“Fine by me.”
Bergman’s reaction was unexpectedly positive.
“What? There’s a place like that nearby? Damn it, kid, you should’ve said so earlier! Guess I’m not getting any sleep tonight.”
Grumbling, he brought Carlyle to Helen and relayed the report.
“A magician’s dungeon, huh. Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“I wasn’t sure the information was reliable — and I doubted you’d believe me.”
“That hurts. You shouldn’t assume things like that.”
“Well, it’s hard to bring things up when the person you’re talking to despises you.”
“When have I ever despised you?”
“You’re doing it right now.”
“…This is tricky. Night operations are risky.”
Helen frowned, thinking hard.
‘She’s got a petty streak after all,’ Carlyle thought.
But Helen ignored him and mulled it over seriously.
After a moment, she made her decision.
“Operation approved.”
