Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C31

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Chapter 31: Expansion (Part 12)

Having finally resolved the unexpected incident on his side, returned to command his troops. At this moment, he couldn’t help but feel relieved: thank heavens it was just a battle against a disorganized mob. In a formal military confrontation, he wouldn’t have been able to spare time to discipline his unruly son.

But different people had different thoughts. As soon as Sir Minty turned away, the young man’s entourage of servants and confidants gathered around him. They noticed their master’s thunderous wrath hadn’t fallen upon them, each exhaling in relief. However, with the curiosity characteristic of their age, they whispered, “Young Master, are we going to war?”

The youth nodded carelessly, smiling. “Of course we’re going to fight. But they’re just a bunch of rabble—how could they be more formidable than the ? Remember, our future enemies may be the true elites of this kingdom. As for these rebels, let them be the first stepping stone on our path forward.”

“But from what his lordship said, they seem quite powerful.”

“Rest assured, even the most outstanding commoners have limited horizons,” the youth snorted. “Besides, I know Father’s intention—it’s just a delaying tactic. He thinks I can’t see through it? His words of praise don’t necessarily mean much. But no matter, once I’ve countered all his arguments, let’s see what he says then.”

He watched Sir Minty’s gradually disappearing figure in the forest, unable to suppress a sly smile.

---

The light inside the room brightened slightly.

However, the arguing voices outside grew louder. Brandon frowned, finally standing up and walking around the walnut desk to the louvered window, trying to see what was happening in the courtyard below.

Through the white slats, he quickly spotted , , and his three mercenary leaders gathered together, seemingly in heated argument. The little princess of the stood aside, apparently trying to mediate. Further away, leaned against her under a , chewing a blade of grass and watching indifferently, as if uninterested in the events unfolding.

“What’s going on?”

Brandon didn’t understand why these people were arguing, but after hesitating for a moment, he decided to go down personally to check. After all, conflicts among his core members were not a good sign.

But as soon as he opened the door, a dark figure rushed toward him. If Brandon hadn’t reacted quickly, they would have collided head-on. Taking a step back, he realized it was , and the wild elf girl also stepped back. “My lord,” she composed herself and handed him a note—

“What is it?” Brandon was startled. What kind of day was this, with one thing after another? He took the note while closing the door behind him, glancing at the paper in his hand. Astonished, he exclaimed, “Samuel has mobilized and already crossed the ?”

By "Samuel," he naturally meant Sir Minty.

Long before the battle with the cave dwellers, scouts from the mercenaries had been stationed along the . After reclaiming the lumber mills, Brandon redeployed his informants densely between and the Gers Ford. Thus, as soon as Sir Minty crossed the Gers River, the news reached him.

Flora followed closely behind, nodding. “Yes, my lord.”

“That means they had started mobilization yesterday. This is much earlier than anticipated… This guy isn’t simple—” Brandon couldn’t help but remark.

Among all the reliable people around him, none were more familiar with or the art of war than Chael. According to the young mage’s judgment, Sir Minty shouldn’t have set out early because of the rules governing the conduct between Eruin’s nobles. Generally, few dared to overstep.

Of course, except for outsiders like Brandon who knew nothing about such conventions—

If not early, then it must be late. Given the indecisiveness and timidity typical of most Eruin nobles, Chael estimated Sir Minty’s forces would mobilize two days later. But now, it seemed this noble’s capabilities might exceed the average among Eruin’s lower nobility.

“Roughly how many men?” Brandon asked again.

“A few hundred, not exceeding a thousand.” Fleur replied expressionlessly. “But across the Gers River, Clenxia’s scouts reportedly didn’t dare venture too far. We don’t know if there’s more coming.”

“Don’t worry, there won’t be,” Brandon shook his head. “Sir Minty is just a vassal. How many men could he possibly have, and still divide his forces? Only a few hundred. He really looks down on us…”

“I’d rather everyone look down on us than deal with your peculiar ideas,” the wild elf girl glanced at him, unusually taking the initiative to respond.

Brandon smiled, dropping the topic, but then remembered something else. “By the way,” he asked, “I remember mentioning that from the Gers Ford eastward to Graharl Mountain, there are several shallow crossings along the riverbank within the forest. Crossing a large force might be troublesome, but Clenxia’s scouts wading across shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

“Yes, but who wants to go to their death?”

“So mercenaries are still inferior to professional soldiers,” Brandon shook his head. “Of course, I’m not talking about you.”

“The are similar.” Fleur responded. Though mercenaries claimed to make a living from war, they lacked the strict discipline of true soldiers. In fact, they viewed war as business—how much employers paid determined how much work they did.

Most mercenaries undertook singular tasks during wars. Employers were well aware of this, often using mercenaries to temporarily bolster troop numbers. Apart from local powers like , few treated them as main forces, even though many mercenaries possessed exceptional individual skills and experience.

In real warfare, discipline was paramount. This was why Brandon hadn’t reorganized these mercenaries. The lax nature of veteran soldiers was hard to change, so he planned to incorporate all mercenaries into the , allowing them to fulfill their roles in future wars.

In this era, employing mercenaries was quite common.

As for the army in Brandon’s plans, recruits would naturally come from the locals, with only a few exceptional talents absorbed from the mercenaries. Frankly, he didn’t intend to heavily rely on mercenaries. The concept of his own army was still in its infancy; turning this blueprint into reality had barely begun.

In his view, the situation was incredibly complex—

The impending pressure wasn’t small either. Now that Sir Minty had mobilized, he was merely a pawn sent to scout ahead. Not to mention the looming shadow of pressing over everyone's heads, and his knights alone could bring enough trouble to this nascent territory—

Brandon couldn’t get news from the north, but he presumed had received the message and begun assembling his forces. Given this knight’s loyalty to Grudin, he would undoubtedly move his army to confront them as swiftly as possible.

However, thinking about the elite knights under Palas’ command, Brandon wasn’t worried but rather felt regretful. Those were the most professional soldiers in the , trained in the art of war since childhood. It would be great if they could serve under him.

Of course, he knew this was wishful thinking. Brandon crumpled the note into a ball and tucked it into his pocket, already putting the matter aside. He understood that building an army required step-by-step progress, much like eating a meal bite by bite.

But the news of Sir Minty’s mobilization didn’t surprise him. The battle with the cave dwellers wasn’t without purpose. By now, and his tribe had sealed off the area from the Gers River banks to Cold Fir City.

As for Sir Minty’s fate, Brandon didn’t need to spend much effort pondering. A few hundred private soldiers, a handful of knights, and perhaps some mercenaries facing over a thousand cave dwellers—the outcome was predictable.

Putting this aside, he asked, “What’s going on downstairs?”

This time, Fleur shook her head. “I don’t know—” She had naturally seen the arguing group when passing through the courtyard, but due to her characteristic indifference, she didn’t concern herself with matters unrelated to her.

Brandon nodded, not asking further. The two descended the dim spiral staircase to the ground-floor hall. Upon entering, the hall—which compared to a few days ago when Brandon had lost his temper here, was newly repaired, even the long table replaced—voices of the argument outside became clearly audible.

However, the first thing Brandon noticed was sitting at the other end of the long table, almost her entire body sprawled over it. Roma wore a pair of strange glasses, her small arms pressed on piles of parchment, seemingly copying something—

As for the arguing sounds from the courtyard, she appeared completely oblivious.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Roma abruptly turned around. Seeing the young man, her small face immediately blossomed into a radiant smile, lifting her head and chirping brightly, “Brandon!”

Brandon shook his head, walked over, and removed the glasses perched on the delicate bridge of the girl’s nose, asking exasperatedly, “What are you doing looking like this?”

“Accounting,” Roma lifted her pointed little chin, replying matter-of-factly.

Brandon suddenly understood, nodding. Since taking over Cold Fir City, Grudin’s private property in the city, naturally, became part of the spoils rightfully inherited by this “lord.” Besides the post-war rewards and bonuses distributed to the mercenaries, a substantial amount of money remained.

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