Chapter 8.1 – Fortress Assault Exercise

Gaikaku Hikume’s “Lowly Slave Knight Order” had almost doubled in size after adding a hundred human foot soldiers.

All of them were now gathered, listening to Gaikaku—their soon-to-be Knight-Commander.

“As you know, up to now I only bought slaves with the bare minimum of skill. And the reason for that is…”

He was about to speak candidly about his future policy.

“Because they were cheap.”

Gaikaku was a genius mage, but eloquence was not his gift—or perhaps he simply didn’t bother to dress things up. The goblins looked completely lost, while everyone else wore sour expressions. Being told that by one’s employer, no matter how true, was never pleasant.

“I wanted to pour my budget into weapons development and facilities. That’s why cheaper slaves were better. One reason I kept you all from dying was the same—it costs a lot to buy replacements, and raising them is a hassle.”

But this wasn’t an irrelevant ramble. What followed was the real point—something vitally important to them.

“So for that reason, if any of you died, I’d just be disappointed—nothing more.”

(Just disappointed? Only disappointed?)

“But that was before. From now on it’s different—completely different. If you die, I’ll be in serious trouble. It would mess up my entire life plan.”

The blunt honesty only underscored his seriousness.

“I’ll be clear: even though we call ourselves a knight order, our overall power isn’t that great. Under the fool’s premise that both sides fight until the last man, we could still lose to a force of around a thousand. But… what makes us decisively different is that our soldier-knights don’t die.”

Gaikaku explained the order’s frightening strength with cold logic.

“Even elite knights die when they’re worn out. When we killed that elite officer, not even the Supreme Knight Commander-sama found it strange.”

In a formal one-on-one duel, being dozens of times stronger than an ordinary man would be absolute. But in war—where numbers aren’t equal and ambushes are possible—that edge isn’t decisive. Rare elites are impressive, but none are literally one warrior to a thousand.

“That’s exactly why we form a knight order—gathering multiple elites, having them cover one another, and thus avoiding attrition. It lets us keep the losses that ruin ordinary units to an absolute minimum—though if we do take losses, they’re huge…”

Frankly, succeeding at the same missions as a knight order isn’t impossible for a regular unit. The problem is that regular soldiers die. When they do, you have to reorganize, request replacements, wait for them, integrate them with veterans, and season them in battle—all while the unit’s effectiveness is shaky.

“In short… we have to keep completing missions our own way, limiting losses. I’ll give you tactics for winning without dying, but you must execute them with everything you’ve got.”

That single line was Gaikaku’s message.

“You have to obey my orders, but erase the notion that ‘if we follow orders we won’t die.’”

I’m not telling you to die—just give it your all. That’s the plain meaning.

“If you do, you’re not just soldiers who might or might not come back—you’ll be knights, expected to survive.”

Had Gaikaku said this only a few days earlier, it would’ve sounded hollow. But now Tistria herself was proposing he become a Knight-Commander. In a sense, knighthood itself was guaranteed—though how long the glory would last was another matter.

“A-hem! Truly, a stirring proposal! You’ve moved our hearts. But let’s stop at the pep talk—tell us what we actually need to do!”

Someone finally voiced that awkward reality—the former Amazoness Mercenary Corps leader, now the infantry captain.

“Well said. You were a merc, after all. Anyone can talk.”

The ex-captain spoke smoothly with the new employer, and the human foot soldiers felt a little relieved.

Just what did this shady man intend to make them do? Frankly, they were nervous.

“Depending on the next mission… what I expect from you is ‘normal.’ I hired humans because I wanted normal. That’s all.”

Gaikaku said nothing outrageous, and the mercenaries relaxed. Evidently, the man understood war.

※

Gaikaku Hikume appeared at Count Borick’s castle two days in a row. Waiting for him were Tistria—officially “absent”—and Borick himself, now jobless after yielding the title to his son. Tistria’s face was composed and emotionless; Borick wore unconcealed hatred. With Gaikaku still hiding his own face, talks began.

“Shall we say the matter is settled?”

“Yes… I, Gaikaku Hikume, humbly accept appointment as Knight-Commander.”

“Excellent. We are most grateful.”

All quite natural—aside from the surprise that Gaikaku was the organization’s head rather than its messenger. Maybe he was only a proxy, with a true master hidden, but in any case the result was unremarkable.

Borick, however, could not suppress his fury. A man who wouldn’t even show his face or reveal his rank—useful only for deceiving the populace—was being made Knight-Commander. It was outrageous. Murderous rage blazed in his eyes, yet the other two showed no reaction. Keeping Borick present was merely to signal: “We’re no longer your pawns.”

“As the new Knight Commander, you would normally be granted audience with His Majesty and receive decorations. First, however, we’d like a display of your ability.”

Hope flickered for Borick. At least it wouldn’t be a simple appointment.

(Yes, strike him! Threaten him the way you did me!)

Borick wanted Gaikaku humiliated just as he had been—begging for his life before Tistria, making her despise Gaikaku as she despised him. Maybe then she’d think Borick the better choice.

“We’ll assign you several missions. Complete them in short order.”

(Wh-aaat?!)

Borick nearly screamed. He longed to grab her, shake her, protest at the top of his lungs—though he’d surely be struck down.

(Why?! Why didn’t you do that for me, yet you do it for him?!)

He cursed the world’s caprice—or its unfairness. If he demanded an answer, she’d calmly say, “He never claimed to be strong.” Borick knew that inside, but acknowledging it was too humiliating, so he cried out in his heart instead.

“Your first mission is…”

She handed him a thick sheet. It bore a map and some text.

“Recapture a fortress currently in enemy hands.”

“…A fort garrisoned by roughly a hundred soldiers?”

“Yes. It was once a key point on an old highway, so our two nations took and retook it for years. But a new, more convenient road and slight border shifts made it less valuable, so we let it lie… It should serve as an adequate touchstone.”

Even for the enemy, abandoning a capture would be disagreeable, so they kept a token force there.

“Retaking it is your task. Let me state the evaluation criteria plainly.”

She deliberately voiced the obvious—her own brand of sincerity and fairness.

“First, the shorter the time required, the better. Second, take as many prisoners as possible so we can demand ransom. Third… hold damage to the fort to a minimum.”

“Understood.”

Nothing unreasonable there; anyone else would set the same terms.

“And, just to be thorough…”

Emotionless, she added a caution.

“You are, nominally, a knight of the order. Avoid any misconduct that would sully the order’s reputation.”

She didn’t elaborate. The countless possible infractions and the merciless penalties for them needed no explanation—nor could someone who required each crime spelled out be trusted as a knight.

“Can you comply?”

“Leave it to me.”

Gaikaku accepted without a flicker, and Borick’s hatred flared higher.

“Why?! I could do that! Nothing’s different—he’s just receiving orders directly from Lady Tistria instead of through me! Why cut me out?!”

Tistria herself had said Borick could have been Knight-Commander. It wouldn’t have been bad for her or Gaikaku, and it would have been best for Borick. What ruined it was Borick’s own pride. Had he been honest, none of this would have happened.

(Why, why, why?!)

Despite being told, he pretended to forget. He remembered, understood, even accepted—but admitting it would crush him, so he forged an enemy to keep his self-pity burning.

“Oh, one more thing.”

Tistria abruptly changed the subject.

“If trouble arises outside your missions, report to me directly. As Supreme Knight Commander, I’ll respond appropriately.”

“…I’ll rely on you, should the need arise.”

She issued the order without emotion—but it was more a warning to Borick than to Gaikaku. Borick understood enough to tremble. In the end, this man—no matter how furious—was extinguished by a single drop of fear. That was his measure.

※

A small fortress that could house about a hundred men—low in strategic value, but not useless. It might become important again, and as a training ground it was ideal. Garrison duty isn’t just about fighting; long confinement teaches what troubles arise and how to handle them. Because it wasn’t a key position, both soldiers and officers could practice—and if attackers did come, they could literally hole up and fight.

“Enemy approaching?”

Triman, third son of a noble family—unable to inherit, so he became a soldier. The keen-faced young man currently commanded the fort. He was here for training, but if an attack came, he had to respond. Surprised that the unlikely had happened, he was nonetheless calm.

“Sir!” A camp has sprung up nearby, and about a hundred infantry are advancing slowly this way!

A veteran reported to Triman. He was old enough to be Triman’s father yet still treated him with proper respect as commanding officer.

“Any siege engines?”

“Only long ladders!”

“I thought so…”

Siege engines—battering rams, towers, giant catapults, cannon—were powerful and essential for taking a castle, but expensive and hard to transport. No one would expend that effort on a fort of merely a hundred. At most they’d lash ordinary ladders together.

“They’re probably treating this as an exercise. If our siege defense drill is their siege assault drill, that’s all.”

“A nuisance, sir.”

“Think of it as more practice. With roughly equal numbers, defenders inside a fort hold an overwhelming advantage.”

Triman’s judgment was largely correct; most officers would say the same.

“So we simply take up our normal defensive positions and follow procedure. Unless someone’s been siphoning off our stores and we lack weapons or rations.”

“Hardly, sir—we inspected only days ago. Out here in the sticks, you couldn’t fence the stuff in so short a time.”

The veteran chuckled at Triman’s joke—glad the commander wasn’t panicking.

“In that case our victory is certain. Dig in and outlast them—that’s what a siege is.”

Through the veteran, he issued orders. Nothing fancy—just man the defenses per the plan. So the soldiers took their posts without confusion.

The fort’s layout was simple: stone outer walls on four sides; a larger gate to the north; one small door on each other side. Inside the walls were quarters, storehouses, and so on. A covered walkway atop the wall let them station archers.

Being an older model, it lacked cannon, but as a small fort it was perfectly functional. The sudden attack made the troops tense, yet the excitement banished the boredom of routine drills.

“Enemy composition confirmed: twenty human infantry each to east, west, and south—sixty total. To the north, twenty heavy infantry who appear to be ogres. Eighty overall.”

“…Are they mocking us?”

The veteran relayed the wall-watchers’ report to Triman, who stood with him on the narrow parapet—and was frankly aghast at how few there were.