Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C33

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Chapter 33: Expansion (Part 14)

“’s forces have reached Gers Ford.”

Brandon paused briefly before speaking these words.

The group was momentarily stunned, not immediately comprehending.

Brandon didn’t avoid mentioning this to Master Craftsman Beru, but after realizing the topic, the elder bowed slightly. “Since this doesn’t concern me, I’ll take my leave.” He placed his hand on his left chest in Eruin’s noble salute, then added respectfully, “Though, , Lord Brandon, I await good news.” With that, the elder calmly exited the courtyard.

“What? How did we miss this?” Yuta turned back after the irritating old man left.

“The report came directly to ,” Brandon replied, introducing the wild elf girl beside him. “This is . You all know her now. Let her explain.”

All eyes turned to the elven maiden. Fleur, unfazed, lifted her chin slightly and calmly recounted the current situation.

Upon hearing that Sir Minty had only brought six or seven hundred men across the ford, with just a few knights, and that his army consisted mostly of untrained peasants rather than professional soldiers, the group exchanged odd glances.

“Wait, is this guy really rushing to his doom?” Yuta flicked her long red hair behind her neck, shaking her head in disbelief. “With so few men, we could crush them easily.”

“Could it be a feint?” asked prudently.

“No, I doubt Sir Minty imagines we’d be so bold,” Brandon analyzed. “Grudin’s most loyal knights were wiped out during our final battle in the inner city. The remaining private militia consisted of disreputable mercenaries and adventurers who scattered. Do you think they’d risk their lives to report back?”

The group fell silent. Abandoning one’s lord wasn’t honorable, especially in this era, where such actions might lead to the gallows. Naturally, no one would volunteer for such a thankless task.

“Therefore, Sir Minty and likely gathered their intelligence from other sources—perhaps refugees fleeing or the barony,” Brandon continued.

“After that night, to prevent further escapes, we issued orders to blockade the area around Cold Fir City,” interjected. “Your men have set up layered sentries within ten miles. Whether Sir Minty’s spies can infiltrate is something you’re well aware of.”

Yuta and Clenxia exchanged glances. Their confidence stemmed not from arrogance but from experience. Though not the finest soldiers, their mercenaries were seasoned hunters. They trusted that Sir Minty’s spies wouldn’t breach their lines, let alone gather accurate intelligence.

Yet, the nobility’s overconfidence in launching an attack with such limited information revealed their disdain. It seemed they didn’t regard this group of “commoners” as a serious threat.

Brandon looked up and noticed Yuta and Clenxia straightening their postures. Surprised at first, he soon understood. After subjugating and his tribe, the mercenaries realized their diminished status within the collective. Facing ’s retaliation, they had no choice but to rely on Brandon. Once he demonstrated sufficient strength, they set aside unnecessary thoughts, focusing instead on securing their future positions.

Even Yuta, who wasn’t power-hungry, had to consider her subordinates’ welfare.

Brandon smiled inwardly. Another reason might be at play. Hearing that Sir Minty had only six or seven hundred men while they had thousands of cave dwellers hidden in the forest, it was essentially a guaranteed victory. Naturally, everyone wanted a piece of the glory.

He glanced at Yuta, then Clenxia. and his men were still on the front lines. The former captain was the first among the three leaders to express submission, even secretly negotiating before the lumber mill battle, pledging all his men under Brandon’s command. However, Brandon knew favoring one leader too openly might make the others suspicious. After some thought, he said:

“Clenxia, prepare to support Frein. Bypass the main battlefield after the fight begins, cut off Sir Minty’s retreat, and capture as many as possible. Capturing Samuel himself would be ideal—he’s useful alive.”

He paused. “Of course, assess the situation yourself. Accept the order.”

The silver-haired man’s eyes lit up, as if a weight had been lifted. Glancing at Yuta, he answered gravely, “As you wish, my lord.”

With that, Clenxia adjusted his sword like a true knight, bowed, and strode out of the courtyard. His confident footsteps echoed on the cobblestones outside.

Only Yuta remained in the courtyard, frowning but ultimately silent. , seeing the quarrel resolved, sighed in relief and gave Brandon a slight bow in elven courtesy. “My lord.”

Brandon nodded, turning to Antietta. The noblewoman visibly relaxed; the money-seekers had been swiftly dismissed, leaving her momentarily relieved.

But it was only an illusion. She felt no ease at all. Problems wouldn’t resolve themselves, and delaying wasn’t a solution.

“Sir Brandon, aren’t you going to the front lines?” Antietta asked after a moment, holding her documents.

“What’s there to see?” Brandon shook his head. He saw no suspense in this battle. Entrusting it to veterans like Tiger Finch, Frein, and Clenxia was far more effective than leading it himself.

He knew his strengths lay in leading ambushes, his old forte, not commanding troops. Being a lord already gave him headaches; for everything else, laziness was preferable.

With time better spent solving urgent issues, he turned back and asked, “How much money do we have left?”

“About 3.5 million torr, including Grudin’s valuables and precious metals converted. But considering time constraints, it’s worth less in practice. Our liquid cash is less than a third of that amount,” Antietta replied promptly.

“And, Sir Brandon,” the noblewoman added seriously, “the food problem is pressing. Tonygel’s annual production barely meets consumption. Every additional person means another mouth to feed.”

Fearing Brandon hadn’t considered it, she reminded him, “Sir Retto still leads thousands of refugees in .”

Brandon hadn’t forgotten. Nodding, he listened as Antietta continued, “Regarding food trade, it’s not simple. First, we lack ships—”

“Gris Port should have ships,” Metissa softly reminded. Though unfamiliar with the human world, she’d recently studied Tonygel’s geography in preparation for potential war.

“Even if we controlled Gris Port, it’s just a fishing harbor,” Antietta countered. “There might be merchant ships docked, but renting them would require merchants willing to work with us—and that’s another hefty expense.”

“Second, we can’t allocate all our funds to one issue. Even delaying everything else, at least half must go to the impending war. Honestly, I don’t know how long this situation will last. Earl Jandel won’t make things easy for us.” Sighing, the noblewoman continued, “Moreover, though we nominally control Cold Fir City, most of the barony remains beyond our grasp. We’re struggling every step of the way—”

She slumped, clutching her files. “Compared to this, I’d rather hide in . A clever housewife can’t cook without rice, Sir Brandon.”

Fixing Brandon with a reproachful gaze, she added, “As for the magic lab you promised me, I understand delays are inevitable. But Master Beru seems impatient…”

Brandon couldn’t help but smile bitterly. He understood the noblewoman’s meaning—it wasn’t unrelated but quite relevant, just currently impossible. He knew Antietta spoke the truth. With Tonygel’s autumn harvest over, trade was the only solution for food—but ultimately, it boiled down to a lack of funds.

Thus, raising money was his top priority.

He did have funds in Braggs—Roma’s first business venture, entrusted to Retto’s daughter Su when they left. If all went well, it amounted to hundreds of thousands of torr.

However, with Earl Jandel’s territory blocking the route between Tonygel and Goran-Elsun, those funds were unreachable. Brandon had to seek solutions elsewhere.

His first thought was Shafrend’s silver mines.

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