Chapter 346: Act 114 – The Border of the Black Forest (Part 1) (Second Update)
Kuran was puzzled by Brendel’s strange proposal when Antinna and Xi arrived at an abandoned manor near Firburh. The two ladies’ coach drove deep into the manor, where they were received by several mercenaries who had been waiting. As they disembarked from the coach, their first sight was a group of noisy young people in a clearing not far away.
The manor had been renovated a few months ago; the broken walls were replaced with new wooden fences, and its scale had actually expanded significantly compared to the past. Red pines were planted around the perimeter, which would grow lush in the coming year, enough to obscure everything inside the manor.
Within the pine forest, there were dark sentries, supporting the lookout posts on the wooden walls. The defenses were tight; this was the secret camp chosen by Brendel, which would also serve as the training camp for the future White Lion infantry.
The manor was divided into two parts. The southeastern quarter was allocated for the mercenaries and adventurers under Brendel’s command to use as dormitories. These individuals would provide protection and maintain order until the first batch of White Lion infantry matured; in the future, Brendel planned to either integrate them into this emerging legion or transfer them elsewhere.
But this depended on how loyal Crenshia was to the collective.
In charge here was the silver-haired, handsome middle-aged mercenary captain.
Crenshia had initially harbored doubts about Brendel’s decision to transfer him from Firburh, but after realizing the significance of this place for Brendel’s group, he quickly understood that it was not a distancing but rather a reassignment.
The captain became proactive, organizing camp operations efficiently. Brendel had a good eye for people; Crenshia’s abilities in combat were merely mediocre, but this meticulous man possessed exceptional talent in logistics.
This was evident from the current orderliness of the camp; everything was well-organized, and those responsible for sentry duty exhibited fewer of the bad habits left over from the past, despite having been mercenaries or adventurers just a month ago.
Of course, there were some unavoidable exceptions—
After getting off the coach, Antinna stood under the shade of a red tree beside the coach, with the silent Xi standing protectively next to her. The trees around them were common evergreen hardwoods from the region of Duke Toniger, adding a dark green hue even in winter; the noble lady stood in the shade, watching the noisy scene in the clearing not far away.
There were about sixty young people.
The mercenaries were maintaining order on the playground, but most of those young people had been selected from local residents, inexperienced and not well-traveled. When they saw a coach stop at the roadside shaded by trees and a noble lady descend from it, they immediately stirred.
“Look, that noble lady over there!”
“How could a noble lady show herself in a place like this?”
“She must be the lord’s daughter?”
“Don’t be ridiculous; the lord is still young, I’ve seen him!”
“Then it must be his fiancée.”
“That’s possible.”
The whispers inevitably reached Antinna’s ears; she listened silently and then glanced back at Xi, “What’s the matter?” The girl adjusted her red ponytail, slightly startled, and looked back at the noble lady.
“Nothing,” Antinna replied, turning back again.
She gazed at the young people; this was one of the lord’s plans—the formation of the White Lion infantry had been on the agenda since the beginning in the region of Toniger; however, building a powerful legion was not an overnight task. Brendel intended to cultivate a batch of youths as the backbone of the future White Lion army — both an officer system and his own personal knights.
These youths mostly came from nearby areas—farmers, artisans, or sons of small merchants, with some hailing from the manor itself, the descendants of gentry or of mercenaries and adventurers.
However, they shared a common characteristic: their ages did not exceed twenty, and some were still boys. They were like blank slates, full of potential for development.
They stood there, whispering and debating, filled with unease and curiosity about the future; they had been here for just three or four days, going through simple training, and perhaps had already tasted the lash of a whip from the mercenaries to impress the importance of discipline, but they still forged ahead with youthful awkwardness and restlessness.
Only a few of the youths, hailing from mercenary or gentry backgrounds, appeared somewhat composed, standing apart and easily attracting the noble lady’s gaze.
“Who are those people?” she asked.
“The children of the nearby manor,” replied the mercenary beside her.
“Children of the manor?” Antinna asked, puzzled. The children of the manor were usually the offspring of gentry. How could they end up here?
“They sneaked out.”
So, it was noble youths seeking thrills; the noble lady looked at them. “Have they been investigated?” This question was actually redundant, as arriving here meant they had lost their chance to retreat; these people would be sent into the Black Forest, regardless of their mindset.
Antinna only hoped these young people would not regret their choices.
She took out her pocket watch — a gift from Brendel; although it was just a relatively inexpensive silver-plated watch, she had used it carefully, treating it like a treasure she had no intention of replacing.
She flipped open the cover, and the dial showed the time was nearing eleven in the morning.
She looked up and then saw a mercenary running toward her from the playground; the mercenary stopped in front of her, pressed his hand to his chest and bowed, then said, “Almost ready, Miss—”
Antinna nodded.
The mercenary bowed again and then turned to run back.
She took a breath, quietly blinking her eyes, and saw four covered wagons turning into the clearing on the opposite side.
These carriages were, of course, different from those used by nobles; instead of being delicate like handcrafted items, they resembled large, inferior versions meant for transporting goods by merchants and farmers.
However, the mercenaries paid no attention to their purpose; they were numbering the young people in order, registering them and distributing tags before ushering them onto the wagons — the tags were crafted by Brendel based on the worker cards issued by the Schafflund silver mine, made of similar wood, though beneath the seemingly rough craftsmanship was Tam’s engraved magical seal. The authenticity could be determined with a red crystal inscribed with a detection spell.
This crystal was held by several of the people responsible for this plan; however, apart from Brendel, whose crystal was permanent, the others had to replace theirs regularly as they had a limited lifespan.
As the young people boarded the wagons in succession, the clearing fell silent, as if the previous commotion had been an illusion; it was only then that Antinna let out a gentle sigh.
She watched the last person board before turning to Xi and saying, “We should get on board as well.”
“Aren’t we going with them?” the red-haired girl asked.
“We’ll take the other route,” Antinna replied quietly as she walked toward the coach. “The lord’s whereabouts are a secret, and we can’t let others see our coach.”
The red-haired girl nodded, observing the meticulous aide with a hint of admiration for her attention to detail.
“Do you want to go?” she asked as she followed behind Antinna.
“Go where?”
“To the Black Forest.”
Antinna stopped, but this time she did not respond.
…
The Border of the Black Forest —
When Brendel disembarked from the coach, feeling the lazily warm sunlight of the afternoon, he couldn’t help but stretch his muscles. He looked up, seeing the sun’s rays shining over the tops of rows of black pines, forming a dazzling halo, with the sparse sunlight in the forest falling gently on the grass.
Then he heard a complaint from behind, “I knew you were up to no good.”
Brendel turned back to see the depressed Kuran jumping down from the coach. Since leaving the Schafflund silver mine, it was rare to see him in full battle gear; he was equipped with a longsword, short sword, and dagger, along with a short bow and a quiver, looking more like an adventurer than a traveler.
He took a deep breath; although the Black Forest was fraught with dangers, the air was refreshingly crisp. Despite the forest’s damp coldness, it carried a freshness of grass and trees.
Kuran lowered his head, seeing his boot sink into the thick meadow; he stomped his foot, causing the snakes, insects, and rodents beneath the mud to scatter.
“Centipedes, scorpions…” the elder shook his head. “This really is a hellish place.”
“I heard you fought outside the civilized borders during the November War,” Brendel asked.
“Don’t even mention that experience,” Kuran replied, unable to bear the memories. The brutality of the November War sometimes forced them to retreat into the Black Forest to fight; it was the only time after the era when commanders cared little about consequences in planning their tactics. Both sides were blinded by rage, like two dying beasts clutching each other’s throats, neither able to be the first to bring the other to death.
The horrors of war exceeded the imagination of later generations; often, only dozens or even a few people survived in the battle-ready army. On the battlefield, mountains of corpses and rivers of blood were common sights, with tens of miles of death often peppered with bodies.
In most cold weapon fights, it was a hellish scene.
Brendel understood and chose not to bring it up again.
However, the third person to jump down from the coach was Carglis, the young man who disembarked last. He yanked the mage apprentice Duncan from the driver’s seat and dragged the poor elementalist disciple a short distance into the forest.
“Let go of me!” protested the man with a duck as a familiar loudly, but in terms of strength, he was no match for an elevated swordsman.
Carglis ignored him, looking around, taking a deep breath. “Is this really the Black Forest?”
“What’s the matter, not satisfied?” Kuran shot back irritably.
“It looks about the same as the forest of Harlang Mountain,” Carglis observed, curiously eyeing the depths of the forest, which was dim like a dark-hued oil painting.
“Hmph, let’s hope you don’t regret it.”
“Regret?” Carglis shook his head, turning back with a grin. “I had a little at first, but now I don’t at all. I can’t believe I never thought about adventuring in the Black Forest before!”
“That’s because you were just a little lunatic before you met this big lunatic,” Kuran thought silently as he glanced at Brendel.
…
(To Be Continued, for more chapters and to support the author, please visit the official reading site!)
