Chapter 102

Elder Brother, the Mad Dog

“So let me get this straight—there’s an enemy force camped five miles out, and the great warrior insists on putting the men to work plowing fields?”

“Got a problem with that?”
“No, no. None at all. How could there be? Just that in a few days, men like us will be spilling our guts with our heads chopped off, and the women will be violated, and a few years later, children who don’t even know their fathers will be growing up as orphans.”

Bill sneered.

“If you’ve got complaints, stop flapping your mouth and prove it with your sword. Ingeris said the sword hanging between your legs is so small you fell asleep halfway through. You sure you’ve even got one?”
“Fucking hell, why bring that up now? For a big barbarian, you’re awfully interested in other people’s nights.”
“Can’t help what I hear.”

Besimer dug into his ear with the middle finger of his right hand.
His ring finger and pinky had been torn off in a battle with hell wolves.
His clothes were filthy rags, barely covering his vital parts, leaving him practically half-naked.
For the past several months, he had done nothing but till the land, breaking over a dozen shovels in the process.

“Enough, both of you.”

Carlson, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke.

“The messenger only delivered a declaration of war. It wasn’t an ultimatum. That means we still have time.”
“I’m telling you, we don’t have time. Carlson, with just you and me, we could wipe out those ragged bastards out there. Besides, you think big brother would just leave Vinfelt alone? The youngest brother will definitely bring reinforcements.”

“Big brother” meant Count Goethe.
“The youngest brother” referred to Isaac.

Besimer looked at the situation optimistically.

“I can fight anytime. But sowing the fields can’t be delayed any longer. Winter’s coming. Once the blacksmiths finish making the large plows, we’ll start turning the land in earnest. We need people—not just wolves.”

Besimer scratched the spot where his fingers had been torn off.
Though the wound had healed and been stitched, it still itched as if it were there.
But to him, that itch was neither despair nor loss—it was glory, a longing for battle.

For now, however, the hope Isaac had planted was greater.

The hope of turning the frozen wasteland of Vinfelt into farmland—into a place worth living in.

—Take care of Vinfelt.

Besimer recalled the voice of the Wolf King.
Whether it had been illusion or reality, he would never forget the weight of that thick hand resting on his head.

“What if the war starts before reinforcements arrive? Damn it, a so-called great warrior of Baitur is out here plowing fields—what’s the point of training ourselves to death? The other soldiers don’t feel any tension either.”

Bill grumbled, looking to Carlson as if asking him to do something.

“If you’re going to keep yapping, come fight me. Your brain’s clogged up with numbers. I’ll open a breathing hole in your skull with my axe.”
“Am I insane? If I’m going to fight Captain Besimer, I’d rather fight that hell wolf monster instead.”

Bill flinched, but still snapped back.

“Oh, that’d be an entertaining sight.”

Besimer laughed.

“Carlson, listen. We have to sow before late autumn passes. That way, the crops can survive winter and be harvested in spring—Günter said so. For a meaningful harvest, not just the residents of Vinfelt, but the soldiers too have to work together.”
“I told you—the young master ordered us to prepare for war. And the enemy numbers at least three hundred. Women and children will build defenses and prepare supplies. The rest will train.”

“Carlson!”
“I’m just following orders. Farming can wait until after the war. Sowing now won’t give us food for this winter anyway.”

“Thank goodness you’re here, Carlson. At this rate, I was about to desert. There’s no hope otherwise.”

Bill sighed in relief at Carlson’s words.

“Go ahead and desert. The day you’re caught, I’ll personally chop you into pieces and feed you to the wolves.”

Besimer stood up.

“The meeting’s not even over. Where are you going?”
“To see Ingeris. We were going to try something new today. Bill, she’s a good woman.”
“Ah, shit… you don’t mean—right?”

At Besimer’s mischievous grin, a curse slipped out of Bill’s mouth.

When Bill had first come to Vinfelt under Isaac’s orders, Ingeris—a tribal woman—had shown curiosity toward his more refined, city-like demeanor.
But after a few nights together, she quickly lost interest and now avoided him altogether.

“Well. As you know, this is a harsh environment. Strong men are needed.”
“Then let’s die together, you bastard captain.”

Bill jumped to his feet.
Even so, he only reached up to Besimer’s chest.

“You’ll be the only one dying.”

Besimer twisted his lips in mockery.

“Don’t create unnecessary conflict among the leadership.”

Carlson warned.

“It’s fun.”

Besimer snickered.

Bill’s face flushed red and blue with anger.

Carlson shook his head.
Once again, he felt it—
he was someone who followed in the shadows, not someone meant to lead from the front.

Of the three gathered in the command tent, he was probably the one who most wanted Isaac to return to Vinfelt.

“Besimer. We need a conclusion before you go.”
“You can come to one without me. I’ll do as I please.”

With that, Besimer left the command tent.

“What are we supposed to do about that lunatic?”
“Besimer isn’t the kind of man you can tame. He was born that way. Honestly, he’s already compromising more than you’d think.”
“I still can’t believe a man like that acts all respectful, calling the young master ‘brother.’ But… reinforcements will come, right?”
“What do you mean?”

“I mean reinforcements. Surely the count wouldn’t abandon his own son.”

Bill laughed awkwardly at his own words.

At least within the estate, the count was highly respected.
He loved his children dearly and treated his servants better than most nobles.
For years, he had tried to cure Isaac’s unusual condition, and even with the family’s strained finances, he paid decent wages and granted leave when needed.

A man like that wouldn’t abandon his son.
Nor would he abandon his territory, Vinfelt.

That was what Bill believed.

“It’s getting noisy outside.”
“Huh?”

Carlson, with his sharp hearing, stood up first.
Bill noticed it a moment later.

“Brother!”

It was Besimer’s booming voice.

***

The Vinfelt camp hadn’t changed much.
Compared to before Isaac left, the only addition was a newly built command tent.

Inside, thick leather and cloth covered the walls, blocking out the cold wind.
A metal brazier cast a soft glow and warmth.

At the center stood an oak table with several wooden chairs.
Only Isaac’s seat was draped with a bearskin.

“Reinforcements? There aren’t any.”
“What about the soldiers who came with you?”
“I just picked them up along the way. They won’t be participating in the war.”

Isaac briefly explained what had happened in Goethe.

“…Ah. So we’re completely screwed, is that it?”

The more Bill listened, the more the color drained from his face.

“Young master—no, I guess it’s Baron now. Anyway… can I desert?”
“Sure. I won’t stop you. Just leave your head behind.”
“…Fuck.”

Bill smacked his own head.

“What are you doing?”
“I can’t hit your head, can I? What, you’d say I killed a viscount’s servant just because I was in a bad mood?”
“You did.”

Isaac didn’t mention the rampage of the Spirit King or Botmer’s schemes.
He only stated that he had executed a servant of the Botmer family on his own, and that it had led to a declaration of war.
The rest was neither necessary nor something they should know.

“Anyway, we can’t change the past, so let’s talk about what comes next.”

Isaac spoke calmly.

“What comes next? What kind of ‘next’? Should we discuss the future where we all die together?”
“Sounds good.”

Besimer grinned, and Carlson nodded.
No one paid any attention to Bill’s reaction.

“What do you mean ‘sounds good’? Have you all lost your minds? Sir Carlson, Captain, please say something!”

Bill grabbed his own hair.
He felt like he was the only one in the tent who understood how serious the situation was.
At this rate, they were all going to die.

“Just hear him out.”

Carlson said flatly.

“…Ha.”

Bill felt the strength leave his body.
Even Carlson was acting like this.

“Brother, I think we should start by plowing the land. What do you think?”
“The land?”

“The forge is almost finished, right? Once the iron arrives, we just need to make plows.”

Besimer said in a voice oddly innocent for his size.

“Ah, right. We were going to plant potatoes before autumn ends, weren’t we?”

“Not just potatoes. Any winter crop will do. Winter wheat, improved wheat, winter barley, winter rye, turnips—even oats.”
“You’ve been studying?”
“Heh. Among the tribal folk who fled from the Black Forest, there were quite a few slash-and-burn farmers. Picked up a few things by listening. Apparently, they even brought plenty of seeds.”
“That’s good. Then once the iron ore arrives, we’ll have the blacksmiths start the bellows.”
“Perfect.”

Besimer grinned.

What’s perfect about this, you lunatic?
Bill clamped his mouth shut, as if to stop himself from screaming.
If Isaac didn’t hold his life through a magic contract, Bill would have already done whatever it took to escape.

“Looks like we’ll be busy. There seem to be more of those blue flowers outside than before. If we’re going to use all of them as green manure, plow the land, and sow seeds, we’ll need all the villagers and tribespeople working together.”

Suddenly, Bill slammed the table and shot to his feet.

Confused gazes turned toward him.

“There’s a damn army of hundreds right in front of us!”

Bill’s eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging in his neck.
Yet no one looked surprised or shaken.

They only stared at him with chilling calm.

Only then did Bill realize.

To them, an army of hundreds didn’t matter at all.

Are they fools… or monsters?

A chill ran down his spine.
Especially when he met Isaac’s blue eyes—his body felt as if it were freezing.

“So, Bill. What’s your plan?”

Facing that gaze again, Bill finally remembered what kind of person Isaac was.

He had wiped out an entire gang to save a few maids and pierced the boss Niers’s skull in an instant.
If something got in his way—even the mayor of Bernsi, a powerful figure—it made no difference.
He had used Weissman and Bill’s lives as bait to eliminate the remnants of a great house.
More than a hundred lives had been erased like that.

“…Ah.”

Bill trembled slightly, letting out a faint groan.
Without realizing it, he lowered his eyes.

Hadn’t he sensed it all along?

Isaac was not a boy, not a noble’s son, not even a mere mage.

He was simply… something Bill had never seen before in his life.

And Besimer and Carlson knew that well.

Bill, Bill, you idiot.

The thing he should fear wasn’t the hundreds of enemy soldiers—
it might be the one sitting right in front of him.

“W-we train everyone who can hold a weapon alongside the soldiers. The elderly, women, and children who can’t fight will focus on defenses and supplies.”

As he continued, Bill’s voice grew smaller.

It was nothing more than an obvious answer.

“With that… can we win?”

Isaac asked.

Bill couldn’t answer with confidence.

“Carlson.”
“Yes.”

“Who’s commanding them?”
“The second son of the Botmer family—Rutger Joachim von Botmer.”
“Tell him to join us for lunch.”
“…Where?”

“Somewhere suitable between their side and ours.”
“The Botmers are not known for their honor.”

Carlson spoke plainly.
It meant they might set a trap.

“Neither am I. Did you forget? I’m a mad dog.”

“…Understood.”

Carlson stared at him for a moment, then stood up.

“Did I say something strange?”

Isaac asked.

Bill was speechless, while Besimer burst into laughter a moment later.

“Mad dog brother, how about a drink to celebrate your return?”