Chapter 9 – Individual Scores

Gaikaku’s provisional Lowly Slave Knight Order escorted the enemy officers—anyone of command rank—into the nearest town.

Although many enlisted men were injured, the veterans were named acting commanders and ordered to fall back to a friendly base.

Anyone below the noble class brings no ransom—worse, they eat into the larder—so this outcome is standard.

Yes—standard. Even after wiping them out before they grasped what was happening, Gaikaku still processed prisoner intake and releases strictly by the book.

Almost anticlimactically, Toriman’s group became POWs under what amounted to mild house arrest—a tatami-floored cell with the door bolted.

Then a Full Knight appeared before them. It was nothing dramatic—just prisoner interrogation.

Interrogations are routine and can be rough.

This time, however, it was—in Earth terms—“humane.”

They were led to an interview room that felt more like a reception parlor, where the Full Knight—a retainer of Tistria—would speak with them.

“My name is Wesun … a Full Knight directly under the Supreme Knight Commander. Bluntly, I’m elite among humans. I’ll be your interrogator.”

“…Your nation has treated me, a defeated commander, with great mercy. So long as it harms no interest of my homeland, I will answer anything. Honestly, though, I doubt I have much to tell.”

The entire officer corps, not just Toriman, was present.

Yet Toriman alone spoke on their behalf.

“As you’ve likely guessed, we were green recruits guarding the fort for maneuvers—and still managed to lose it in two days despite perfect gear and full manpower.”

“That’s fine. You still held a castle and fought our unit. Tell me what happened, how you judged the situation, and what you did.”

Full Knight Wesun maintained a respectfully calm expression.

Perhaps influenced by that—improper though it sounds—Toriman began to speak earnestly.

“…That is the whole of it.”

“I see. Forgive a blunt question, then…”

The battle lasted only two days; there wasn’t much to say.

Once his account ended, Wesun asked:

“You never considered a night raid on our camp?”

“…Patch up the wounded just enough and drive them into a reckless charge?”

“It isn’t impossible. Frankly, it was the only way to damage that unit.”

They didn’t know every one of the enemy’s tricks, but they knew the enemy could strike from beyond their range.

So staying holed up was pointless; they had to sally forth.

But if they did so in daylight, they’d never overcome an equally sized force that included ogres.

That left only a forced night sortie, despite the wounds.

“True, it wasn’t impossible. But precisely because it wasn’t, the enemy would have anticipated it.”

“…Agreed.”

“If our foe were merely reckless rabble, they might have left gaps. But a unit that coordinated so precisely? Hard to imagine.”

Their first strike put them overwhelmingly ahead.

Even so, Gaikaku’s subordinates withdrew exactly as ordered.

That told us Gaikaku was a methodical man, and his women followed him to the letter.

“But you could have hurt them—landed at least one blow. No?”

“…”

“I don’t think your decision was foolish. Yet in the end you were beaten senseless, never struck back, and surrendered. How will your homeland see that…?”

Wesun’s point was hardly off-base.

It’s common for enlisted men to die to save a commander’s pride.

In fact, officers who spare their troops are sometimes scorned.

“Indeed … some will judge it that way. But…”

Of course the thought had crossed Toriman’s mind.

Even so, he never doubted surrender was the right call.

“As I said, I was convinced we couldn’t land a clean hit. A raid would be met with perfect defense and turn into a massacre. I wouldn’t survive either … no honor in that.”

“…”

“To the troops, the enemy already seemed like incomprehensible monsters. Order a night raid while they’re wounded, and I might be the first they kill.”

Toriman deliberately listed only logical reasons.

He didn’t tell the enemy he refused to throw away men for a worthless fort.

(If I spoke the truth … I couldn’t face those who died there. And telling the victor “It was nothing” would be unbearably pathetic.)

Reading his face, Wesun decided the interrogation was over and rose.

“…As a knight and a soldier, I dislike judgments made only after the fact.”

Thus his next words were off-the-record musings.

“A commander must always weigh potential risks against gains. In that sense, you did not misread the scales. You lost before you could exercise that judgment … but accepting defeat with dignity is praiseworthy.”

Wesun, too, saw little value in that fort.

Had civilians or nobility been inside, he would have demanded a night raid.

Since not, wasting men was wrong.

“I can’t say what awaits you at home, but while you’re in our country, I’ll see you’re treated properly.”

“…My thanks. May I ask something impertinent?”

As Wesun reached the door, Toriman called out—the same question everyone from the fort wanted answered.

“The unit that stormed our fortress … what were they? Why such a seemingly logical yet irrational attack?”

“I’m not required to answer … but I will.”

Wesun told the truth.

“Their commander was Gaikaku Hikume. He’s slated to become captain of a newly formed Knight Order.”

“Then his subordinates are elite—knights-to-be?”

“I don’t know.”

He admitted he hadn’t even investigated.

“Just remember the name Gaikaku Hikume and report it to your homeland. It will matter, sooner or later.”

※

Wesun, Full Knight under Tistria, headed to the captured fort where Gaikaku Hikume was stationed.

Though Gaikaku was nominally acting Knight Commander here, Wesun outranked him.

Yet Gaikaku remained ostentatiously humble.

“Why, Sir Wesun—welcome, welcome…”

“Heh-heh-heh-heh”

“…Enough clowning, Captain.”

“Oh, no, no … I’m but a newcomer. Compared with you, direct aide to Tistria-sama, I’m scum…”

“Heh-heh-heh-heh”

Was it ingrained habit, deliberate mockery, or a ploy to hide his true nature?

Gaikaku Hikume kept playing the obsequious servant.

Wesun wanted to complain but held his tongue.

“I interrogated the enemy commander. The situation was just as you reported…”

“Surely you don’t think I’d lie to Tistria-sama.”

“…But you never reported your methods.”

“That was by Tistria-sama’s leave.”

“…A real magician, aren’t you.”

Gaikaku had detailed the outcome but not the means, and Tistria had approved.

So Wesun let it slide.

“A hand-over unit will arrive shortly to relieve you here. Guard it until then.”

“[Hee-hee-hee] As you command.”

“After that you’ll receive your next mission. Depending on the result, you’ll be officially confirmed as captain and your followers as a Knight Order.”

“I am unworthy of such honor…”

Here Gaikaku, still playing the servant, voiced a formulaic question.

Personally he found it pointless, but a servant would ask.

“Will Tistria-sama be pleased with this result?”

“…Of course. By Knight-Order standards you achieved a passing grade. At least the Supreme Commander’s honor is intact.”

“And the score, if I may?”

“Around ninety points.”

“So strict—I’d hoped for a hundred…”

Gaikaku acted blatantly disappointed, but Wesun saw the performance … a ritual formality.

“…Tistria-sama never bends her own benchmarks: seize the fort quickly, kill few enemy soldiers, keep castle damage minimal, and commit no atrocities. You killed twenty men and didn’t take it the same day—no perfect score.”

“Oh… my apologies…”

“Other Knight Orders could have done it. Couldn’t you, if you’d tried?”

That was half true, half lie.

Famous orders could fly their banners and make the enemy surrender outright.

Under the same anonymous conditions, even they’d have struggled.

“Forgive me … my humble talents would have required risking much to reach full marks.”

“…”

“As an unorthodox knight, I lack such decisive boldness…”

“Captain, no need to grovel.”

Wesun answered with genuine respect, not mere politeness.

“Tistria-sama never changes her standards, but I respect your choice. If a perfect score demands crossing a shaky bridge, know your limits and bank a solid ninety. There’s no fault in that.”

Back then, the fort housed only mediocre troops—

but that’s hindsight.

Had even one soldier of true knightly prowess been present…?

Seeking a perfect score might have cost Gaikaku his people.

Even one such foe wouldn’t change the outcome; the commander would still surrender.

But dead comrades don’t come back.

With all facts in hand, it seems like needless worry now—

yet low-probability dangers are still dangers to avoid.

(Unspoken: risking lives for a mere exam—over a worthless fort—would be the real folly.)

“In time your martial fame will spread. It must, or ‘Knight Order’ is an empty title. And when it does…”

The more famous Gaikaku becomes, the higher Toriman—his first opponent—will be rated.

His experience will be valued, and he’ll find a path to redemption.

※

Inside the captured enemy fort, Gaikaku’s band lived rather casually.

They drilled guards, but not everyone stood watch at once.

With a Dark Elf among them, nights were especially uneventful.

Thus each spent free time as they pleased…

Yet someone visited Gaikaku’s best room every night:

the human team’s infantry captain.

Though Gaikaku had rescued her, she was blamed for her mercenary troop’s fall into slavery, and had lost her subordinates’ trust.

On duty they obeyed her, but off duty… not so much.

“‘Get the captain to sleep with you!’”

“‘Flirt so he won’t abandon us!’”

“‘But I formed the Amazoness so we wouldn’t have to do that…’”

“‘And landed us all in slavery!’”

“‘Useless manager!’”

Chasing a perfect mercenary band, she’d walked a dangerous tightrope—

and spectacularly fell. Hounded by harsh words, she ended up at Gaikaku’s bedside.

“Uuugh… I thought we were bound by unbreakable ties…”

“Hard to complain when you nearly dragged them down with you—actually, you still are.”

As a woman in the trade, her body was packed with muscle.

Scars from blades marked her; “beautiful” wasn’t the word.

She wore racy lingerie, yet one wouldn’t mistake her for a courtesan.

Gaikaku draped a jacket over her.

Not after the deed—the deed never happened.

He wasn’t so low as to touch someone who had no will to act.

Still, for the infantry’s sake, rumor said otherwise.

“Your ideals are fine, but you shouldn’t act without a concrete plan. Rank-and-file think ‘The brass must have a strategy,’ and that’s okay. But a commander can’t.”

“Do what everyone else does…”

“Because that’s the normal thing—easier said than done, though.”

A group that exists to pursue ideals can’t dismiss those ideals—

a contradiction that sent the Amazoness Mercenaries into slavery.

She never gauged reality, risks, or returns.

“But don’t mistake this: They haven’t abandoned you yet. Work hard and they’ll respect you again. Don’t get desperate—keep pushing.”

“Yes… Captain.”

The Amazoness Mercenaries—a textbook bad example.

※

The Supreme Knight Commander’s personal castle—the Knight Order headquarters.

Tistria had returned.

She was currently sorting the missions pouring in from each region, deciding which order to assign.

Some she flatly refused; others she accepted but let wait.

One request, however, was thorny.

Not merely difficult to defeat—more complicated and, frankly, unpleasant to touch.

Even so, her face didn’t twitch.

Her job wasn’t to sympathize with victims but to process tasks precisely.

If emotion got in the way, solutions would only slow.

Yet she entrusted that case to one knight.

“Assign this mission to Gaikaku Hikume.”

“Th-this mission?!”

“Is there a problem?”

“Sending a group not yet an official order … the task is far too heavy.”

“So official orders outrank this one? All other missions fall below it?”

“…I didn’t say that.”

“I understand your concern, but I’ve staked my position. If they can’t handle every mission, I can’t recognize them as an order. Therefore, giving them this mission is my responsibility.”

The Lowly Slave Knight Order led by Gaikaku Hikume—their final hurdle before official recognition.

A job only a true Knight Order could resolve.

“Understood … but allow me to say this.”

“What is it?”

“If he resolves this completely, to the client’s satisfaction, I will personally acknowledge him as captain and his people as knights. On my honor.”

He would accept them not because hierarchy said so, but by his own will—a knight’s vow.

The mission was…

“Illegal Mage—Illegal Drug Distribution.”

Such was the task.