Chapter 140: Act 73 – Brendel’s Strategy
He turned around and indeed saw the pale-faced young man with frost-white hair.
Next in his line of sight were more than a dozen heavily armored Jaedran infantrymen lurking behind the woods. The Jaedrans were one of Erluin’s most common mercenaries—it was as if the residents of this coastal region were destined to be professional soldiers. In fact, this tradition had deep roots, with the constant feuds between the eleven port city-states in the Jaedran region giving rise to the profession of mercenary.
A typical Jaedran mercenary should at least be clad in finely crafted, heavy scale armor, carrying a flame-steel spear on his back, along with a half-person-high shield, and a longsword or hand axe hanging at his waist—that was the tool of their trade, the only wealth each Jaedran inherited from their forebears.
Brendel didn’t even need to remember this background from past games, as he had already known it by heart.
“What’s going on?” He tugged at the reins to slow the horse as he asked.
“Those are clearly heavy infantry, … Mister,” Antinna replied, the sharp vigilance hidden in her beautiful gem-like black eyes as she looked back. “They’ve placed the heavy infantry at the back; it’s obvious they still don’t trust us.”
Brendel glanced back and suddenly gained some insight. He smiled and said, “Not trusting us is a normal reaction.”
“But…”
The maiden’s question drew a displeased hum from the young man beside her.
Brendel shot a glance at this guy and asked, “Then why did you place these Jaedran mercenaries at the back?”
“It’s none of your business,” Leidi replied crisply.
“Mister, it’s like this: they are moving too slowly through the forest,” the thin young man, who Brendel had seen that morning, tugged at his sleeve and answered. “Mr. Makarolo stationed them here to prevent any sudden incidents; it’s not that he doesn’t trust you all.”
“Two birds with one stone, I see.” Brendel showed a knowing expression but didn’t forget to tease, “But compared to you, your companions seem a bit less eloquent.”
Leidi’s face immediately turned cloudy, and he walked away without a word, leaving the thin young man there with a bitter smile. Brendel looked at this young man and asked, “What’s your name?”
“I’m Sanford.”
“Sanford? That doesn’t sound like a local name?”
“Because I was originally an apprentice baker in Bruglas… that was before I became a mercenary,” the young man said as he looked at them. “Mister, from your accents, it seems like you are from there too?”
“I’m not, but they are.” Brendel pointed his chin toward Antinna and Miss Romaine.
Sanford gave a shy smile, glancing at the young woman riding alongside Brendel. However, Antinna turned her head away, not wanting to look at him; after all, she still had noble origins—although fallen, the blood of Erluin’s nobility flowed through her veins, making her reluctant to engage too much with a commoner. But Romaine had no such concerns; the Merchant Miss winked at the young man, as she was from Buche and could be considered a fellow townsman.
“Given that, it does make sense. But to bring heavy infantry into the forest for combat is inherently a flawed consideration,” Antinna said, looking at the Jaedrans at the edge of the woods.
However, her words were immediately met with a rebuttal.
“Madam and Mister, you can’t say that; one must eat to survive in this world. Mr. Makarolo kindly took us in, and we naturally must show our loyalty. Just look, you’ve never heard of a mercenary abandoning his comrades in danger to run far away alone.”
A sudden voice echoed from the forest. A scruffy Jaedran mercenary, shouldering a pitch-black firearm, emerged from the back of the woods. He wore a smile, shaking his head, lamenting in a heavy accent from the coastal region.
Brendel, Antinna, and Romaine looked back at the man together. The young man squinted; being able to move freely like this in a mercenary group indicated that he held some status.
“Frank, the assault team leader,” the Jaedran mercenary introduced himself, scratching his nose.
“What’s that?” Brendel’s gaze fell on the object in his hands.
“A flintlock musket; it’s my treasure,” Frank patted the pitch-black firearm and grinned.
Brendel knew what that was—using discarded magic crystal shards as the ignition source and active elemental probes to strike the shards to ignite the powder, it was a ‘gun of this world.’ The Aoflan had started to field flintlock muskets thirty years ago, establishing two flintlock companies; the dwarves had an even longer history, having used matchlock guns that dated back to the Silvery Year.
Firearms had tremendous close-range power. The finest flintlock muskets could deal damage on par with brass-tagged weapons within fifty paces. The tactics concentrating on firearms had also matured considerably by this era, but compared to similarly mature enchanted projectile forces, it didn’t hold a decisive advantage.
However, he knew many mercenaries liked to use firearms, especially pistols, though using rifles was still rare—after all, this era didn’t have bayonets. Brendel glanced at this guy, thinking that in a magical world, firearms didn’t profoundly change warfare in the same way they had in his world; gunpowder weapons weren’t widespread, and thus he had no intention of figuring out how bayonets worked.
Antinna felt a slight flush in her face as she thought, “Rude mercenaries—” but still remained vigilant, asking, “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, the strategy you mentioned is something only regular armies would worry about. We’re struggling mercenaries, and naturally, we have our own way of doing things—whether heavy infantry or light swordsmen, everyone must fight shoulder to shoulder no matter the environment. What you said is correct, but it also needs to consider reality…” Frank respectfully replied, but despite his courteous demeanor, a hint of irreverence could be detected.
Antinna was momentarily taken aback; she well knew her knowledge was quite superficial, having come only from books, but being confronted directly as an entitled young lady still irritated her. This young lady glanced at Brendel and then back, her bright eyes still wary, but she quietly asked, “Do you believe what they say, Mister Brendel?”
Brendel looked at Frank and nodded.
“But,”
“But what?” he countered.
“Do you really believe—” Antinna looked at him, questioning with her eyes.
Brendel smiled, waved at Frank and Sanford, then urged his horse to speed up. He didn’t respond, leaving only a silhouette for the noble daughter to consider. But Antinna was always a competitive nature; she urged her horse to catch up, coughing and asking, “Mister, I feel they are a bit off.”
“Why?”
“Intuition.”
“What about Little Romaine? What do you think?” Brendel asked without turning back.
“I don’t know,” Romaine shook her head vigorously. “But Aunt has said that explaining too vaguely or too detailed are both signs of insecurity!”
Brendel smiled faintly at that, glancing back to give her nose a playful flick, saying, “Knowing full well yet still taking the long way around, what a cunning little fox.”
“I really don’t know!” Romaine raised her brows in protest, anxiously trying to defend herself.
Antinna felt awkward among the playful banter of the couple, but she finally understood. Brendel was not clueless but was rather too clear; it seemed he had long suspected these guys’ motives. Saying that heavy infantry moved slowly and thus was placed at the back sounded too much like an excuse. With this thought, she exhaled in relief.
“Since that’s the case,” the noble lady glanced at Romaine and Brendel, blushing, and asked, “What should we do?”
“Adapt as you go,” Brendel replied.
At this moment, he had completely recalled the storyline mentioned in the strategy, thinking that as long as their delivery wasn’t aimed at him, everything could be settled easily. However, this situation itself brought some troubles; a headache began to brew as he realized that he had sought to reduce complications only to find himself ensnared in new ones—all he could do was blame Makarolo and Bud for provoking such a tricky opponent.
It was described as competition between two mercenary groups, but it was more accurate to say that the black hand behind the mercenary group known as ‘Cards’ had set its sights on the Gray Wolf Mercenary Group.
He couldn’t help but look at the people around him, feeling no concern for their fates but rather pondering how to extricate himself from this dilemma. That said, it was rather unusual for a small mercenary group to attract the attention of those kinds of people.
Hey, the Tree Shepherd—
Compared to the Tree Shepherd, the disciples of the Everything Returns Society seemed like law-abiding citizens.
But what did the Tree Shepherd want with the ‘Gray Wolf’ Mercenary Group? Though he didn’t want to stir up trouble, Brendel unconsciously employed a player’s mindset to think through the whole situation. The strategy provided a mission flow, yet the specifics were quite rough—not to mention the background, which hadn’t been mentioned at all.
He tapped his forehead, thinking that he needed to find a way to extract himself before the ‘Gray Wolf’ Mercenary Group clashed with the Tree Shepherd. The mission’s BOSS was the Divine Envoy ‘Eckmen,’ and the root of the term ‘Eckmen’ derived from the runic language ‘Eaam’—symbolizing vast mountains and endless oceans. In ancient times, there was a giant beast also called ‘Eckmen’; whether existing in Cruz mythology or in the tales of mountain folk, it symbolized walking between mountains and forests—a giant, living, moving hillside.
The giant beast ‘Eckmen’ was said to be a descendant of the Giant’s shaman of the mountains, with legends suggesting that only when it was connected to the Earth could it possess infinite life.
As for the Divine Envoy ‘Eckmen,’ to Brendel, it resembled just a name of a symbolic monster. The envoy was merely a creature grown on the bodies of animals and humans with the blood of the god cultivated by the Tree Shepherd—despite its sacred title, it was, in essence, a product that distorted nature and desecrated deities, much like the Golden Demon Tree.
Brendel couldn’t help but recall his previous encounters with the Divine Envoy ‘Amar’ and the Divine Envoy of Darkness ‘Black Lotus’; the former, in its incomplete form, was almost at level fifty, and he had fought against it with his teammates in a random encounter in an underground instance of Ampere Seale, eventually triumphing after a tough battle. The latter truly was the complete Divine Envoy, a level sixty-seven elite boss, the ultimate BOSS of the ‘Perfect’ main quest of the Deldatal hero—their group had needed two teams to eliminate this monster.
The Divine Envoys were terrifying; even an immature form at level fifty held the strength of an average golden elite. Brendel had no intention of ever engaging with it. However, there were still benefits to be gained; he looked at Bud and Makarolo ahead—historically, the ‘Gray Wolf’ Mercenary Group was supposed to have perished in this battle, yet Makarolo and the Swordsman Bud had not died, which indicated something amiss.
As for what the problem was, it depended on one’s perspective.
In any case, Brendel’s thoughts were swirling.
He had to know that the drop list for Divine Envoys included the Celestial Spear ‘Fanna,’ one of the highest-level fantasy weapons around level fifty, boasting a special attribute that ignored all physical defensive capabilities, making it quite renowned. Meanwhile, the drop list for the Divine Envoy of Darkness contained the ‘Dark Side of the Moon,’ a mythical weapon that had driven countless judgment players mad—it was said that this scythe was used by the Grim Reaper, Descar, with attributes that hinted at its notorious power.
Beheading, a terrifying attribute with a one-percent chance of ignoring all protection to inflict fifty percent of current life true damage on non-boss units.
Annihilation, damage dealt with a weapon bearing this attribute would suppress all healing effects (10%).
In short, while Divine Envoys were powerful, they had another moniker—treasure troves. The Tree Shepherd was indeed wealthy, and only Lady Martha would likely know where they obtained so many rare items from. Of course, this wasn’t the most outrageous thing; “The blood of the deity of the heavens came from the Cloud God Gamas, the dark god’s blood came from the Abyssal Goddess Yilian, and the earth god’s blood came from the mountainous sovereign—the giant shaman connected with the blood of the gods. By Martha above, how did they obtain the blood of these long-fallen gods?” Brendel shook his head, mumbling to himself.
In the dark ages that followed, the gods of the heavens perished into stars, marking the era of mortals. Except for the one true god, Lady Martha, this world was no longer dominated by sentient powerful forces.
Now, those referred to as gods were either false deities or merely among the many stars called ‘rules’ up in the sky.
“What are you thinking about, Mister?” Antinna noticed his distraction.
Brendel shook his head, blurted out, “The power of mountains and rivers.”
“The power of mountains and rivers?”
(PS. Yesterday there were two updates; I lost internet after dinner and it’s still not restored. I’m currently uploading this from outside.
Even if heaven wishes to destroy me, I remain unyielding. I will certainly ensure my hard work is not in vain.
There’s still a big chapter of 4,000 words left.
Finally, I continue to ask for monthly votes; seeing the current vote count is truly disheartening = =!) (To be continued. For further details about what happens next, please log in for more chapters. Support the author, support legitimate reading!)
