Chapter 119

Chapter 119

***

Perhaps what moves the world is the unseen rather than the seen.

Thus, a truly wise person looks beyond what is visible to the eye.

Entering Adelibari, Rickart read the feelings harbored in the eyes of the people looking at him.

Who on earth is this person, what can he do, and why did he come. It was a heart mixed together with bewilderment and surprise, anxiety and expectation, despair and hope.

From a well-dressed old man whose hair had turned stark white, to a man whose back of his hands revealed stubbornness, a young child flashing bright, curious eyes, an beautiful woman hiding her hair with a headscarf.

People of different genders, doing different things and playing different roles, old or young, from different social unities all looked at Rickart and the soldiers following him with similar hearts.

Lightly brushing off those gazes, Rickart swept his eyes over the people. And then turned his gaze to inspect the city.

He had already looked down at the city's overall view from the mountain pass, but coming inside felt different.

To be honest, it was the most beautiful among all the cities he had visited so far. Beautiful enough that he couldn't hand it over to the enemies solely for that reason.

Adelibari was a city harmonized with the forest in the shape of a low, flat basin, and unlike other cities, its antique buildings weren't packed closely together but were spaced widely apart.

Clear river water flowed right through the middle of the city, and a long arched stone bridge crossing the river was impressive.

The bridge was sturdy, yet artistic carvings were engraved here and there, and statues of ancient heroes stood positioned in lines on both sides. Some had broken over the long years, and some still stood intact.

If there was a single drawback, it was the small size of the city; in terms of population, it was actually embarrassing to call it a city. It was more like a slightly large village.

Because it was the King's resort town, it seemed they put care into building the city, but with limited interaction with the outside world, it didn't seem to have grown that much.

On the other hand, he wondered if it maintained this beauty because of its small size.

While Rickart was proudly inspecting the city, someone stepped forward.

A middle-aged man wearing a loose hat and well-dressed in long silk clothes, but with firm skin and no wrinkles, he looked very young.

"Welcome to your visit to Adelibari, Sir Hero. I am Markwin, the mayor. If you came to enjoy the hot springs, I will guide you separately. Would you like to unpack first, or look around the city first?"

There was no way Rickart came here for sightseeing. Even though the person called mayor couldn't possibly not know that, he asked this question as a sort of euphemistic expression.

It meant who are you, and what are you here for.

Since they hadn't even expected reinforcements to arrive, they were glad, but knowing nothing about his identity also made them anxious.

Yet, because he possessed military strength, they couldn't recklessly provoke him either. The mayor, taking a risk, stepped forward in his own way and asked the unfamiliar conqueror.

Fortunately, Rickart wasn't having vicious, ignorant personalities like usual mercenary commanders.

"Calling me a hero is overpraise. I am Ricky...... Rickart of the Stormhearts Kaldebern family. On my way to the Eastern Frontier, I met the warriors guarding the peak here, heard about the difficulties of this place, and came to help."

The citizens who were blankly staring at Rickart and carefully listening to what he said, murmured at the word Kaldebern. It was because the Kaldebern family meant he was a descendant of Kaldebert.

Whether this could be believed or not, they had to make their own judgments, but in the current situation, they couldn't verify it.

Because they had seen him driving the enemies off the mountain. Moreover, since he had soldiers under his command, they didn't dare ask.

What if they asked unnecessarily and lost their heads for being insolent? The one holding the sword right now was Rickart.

Currently, there were almost no troops in the city. It was closer to just holing up inside, relying purely on nature and the city walls. If the enemies had bypassed and swarmed in, the city could truly have fallen with the few remaining troops.

Over this time, Grantz's notoriety was so high that whether they surrendered or not they were going to die anyway, so they had merely been trembling in fear.

"Drinking water seems sufficient, but how much food is left and how many weapons do you have? Able-bodied men who can fight?"

This time Rickart asked. Unlike the mayor who used euphemisms, he was straightforward.

Normally, it was the city's top-secret information so it couldn't be disclosed, but given the situation, he had no choice but to answer.

However, since it was no different from revealing all the cards he held, his heart wasn't at ease.

"I will explain gradually while attending to you separately. I will tell my subordinates to prepare a place for the soldiers to stay."

Markwin spoke as calmly as possible. Rickart nodded. Because he understood his position.

Rickart and his friends, and the group originally heading to the Eastern Frontier together, headed to what looked like a city hall.

The soldiers, being Adelornians originally and having frequently come here in the past, were not viewed with much vigilance. From the city people's perspective, the outsiders were only Rickart and his group.

The hall was like a small palace. In fact, it was a detached palace where kings stayed when they visited in the past.

"This palace is called 'Non Curarum' in the ancient tongue. It means without worries."

Mayor Markwin said. Considering the current situation, it was a truly ironic name.

Passing through the corridor, the delicate carvings engraved on the walls and pillar pedestals were impressive. A witch with a scary face, a knight slaying a dragon, a horse with wings, etc.

Beyond the drawn curtains was the audience chamber, and following the hallway, at the very end were the king's bedchamber and rooms nearby where attendants stayed. The place to enjoy the hot springs was in the backyard.

When guided to the king's bedchamber, Rickart shook his head.

"I am not a king. I will stay in another room."

Perhaps because his words were unexpected, Markwin looked at him with a slightly surprised face. Having only seen people acting arrogant relying on their prestige, Rickart was the exact opposite.

Rickart wasn't acting humble or anything; rather, because the Adelorn Royal Family was somehow intertwined with his own family, he felt uncomfortable and declined.

Actually, there was even a separate Count family in the Kaldebern family, though not exactly a branch family, so staying in a place where past kings of Adelorn came to rest and stayed made him feel somewhat uneasy.

Even if they declined as time passed, he thought he should actually pay more respects precisely for that reason.

Bowing to a person or family with high prestige could be out of fear, but conversely, looking down on them because they fell into ruin, wasn't that truly a bad thing to do.

So Rickart and his group stayed separately in the cozy rooms where the king's attendants used to stay, a few to a room. Of course, even those rooms were much better than most high-class inns.

No sounds of mice running around the walls and ceilings could be heard, and there was even a separate fireplace in each room.

Rickart unpacked and declined the hot spring bath as well. Being able to wash in warm water even if it wasn't a hot spring was luxury enough for him.

When the detached palace's servants brought neat silk clothes, Bremen and Roy's family didn't know what to do with themselves, feeling so overwhelmed.

Since even Rickart and Marie, who were nobles, felt awkward, it was totally understandable. Bori was the most unhesitant and natural at wearing the silk clothes.

"Not expensive for nothing. The texture is nice."

It wasn't that they hadn't seen silk even once in their lives, but it was all low grade. Wearing clothes made of truly top-grade silk felt as though a soft breeze or clouds were wrapping around his body.

After washing cleanly and putting on silk clothes, everyone looked so radiant they were almost unrecognizable.

"Things to see when living a long life. I thought I would never enjoy such luxury again when I was kicked out of the clan."

Roy lowered his head and couldn't take his eyes off the turquoise silk clothes he wore. He kept caressing the clothes.

"You brat, how old are you to say 'things to see when living a long life'. You shouldn't get used to comfort."

"Why?"

"Because it makes you stop."

Rickart pulled Roy's head in as if embracing him and stroked it roughly.

"If you become a Sword Master, is it okay to stop?"

Bori asked.

"You do whatever you want."

"A bit disappointed. In the past, you raised me on your back."

"Now you carry me on your back."

After washing clean in hot bathwater and wearing nice clothes, feeling elated was inevitable, so Rickart just exchanged banter with Bori.

Rickart and his group didn't go anywhere else and just chatted loudly in the hallway of the detached palace. The women were busy admiring the exquisite embroidery on the clothes.

Then Mayor Markwin came seeking them again.

"Are there any inconveniences."

"We've been living braving the dew, so what inconveniences could there be. Thank you for showing us such favor."

"Favor, that is undue. But would you like to rest a little more, or shall I guide you to the armory?"

Rickart looked back at his group before looking at Markwin and saying.

"Please guide me to the armory."

Markwin nodded and walked toward a warehouse attached to the detached palace. This time Rickart followed him alone.

Passing through something like an indoor garden inside the detached palace, and following the mayor continuously, a door locked with a huge padlock appeared.

Unlocking the padlock and throwing the door open, well-organized weapons and armor were displayed neatly in the cool interior.

Sunlight simply entered through thin crevices near the ceiling, it's hard to even call them windows.

Spear blades flashed in the sunlight, looking extraordinary. What was extraordinary was that they were well-maintained. This clearly meant they had been diligently cared for over a long period.

"These are weapons and armor prepared for the king's escort in contingencies. The blades are made of meteoric iron, and the spear shafts are ash wood. All the armaments here were made by the legendary blacksmith Vilund from Zoltgen."

The final pride could be felt in Markwin's words.

Rickart strolled slowly through the armory, inspecting the weapons. Spears, swords, axes, maces, shields, helmets, and various types of armor.

"When were these made?"

"A hundred years have passed, but aside from replacing a few parts, they are kept in as original a state as possible, looking like new."

Hearing Markwin's words, Rickart frowned and tilted his head.

"......That's truly strange."

"What are you referring to?"

"If you manage weapons so diligently and earnestly, how did the situation get to this point without you even suppressing a peasant uprising? If you had put even half the effort you put here into training elite soldiers, it wouldn't have reached this state."

Looking at the well-managed weapons that seemed almost excessive, Rickart felt an awkwardness rather than admiration.

Looking at ruined countries, they were inevitably serious about useless things, and it felt exactly like seeing that.

Managing weapons isn't a useless task, but anyway, wasn't the important thing raising and using people. And accumulating experience to cultivate better abilities.

Catching the meaning of Rickart's words, Markwin instantly flushed momentarily out of shame.

"Managing them is good, but now is the time to take them out and use them. Even if they break on the battlefield. Take all these out and distribute them to the soldiers."

"A-All of these? They are treasures made by a legendary blacksmith."

Dumbfounded, Rickart let out a snort and said.

"Do as you please. Do so if you wish even this place to fall. Then you will see them in the enemies' hands. If you are alive, that is."

With that, he himself grabbed a helmet, chainmail, and other gear and went outside.

And then he asked Marie to make him a surcoat. With the family crest, a white cross on a red background.

Originally, things like flags or surcoats were made by a wife wishing her husband martial luck in battle, which is why he asked her.

After that, he went outside with his group and looked around the city. The shade of the trees was cool, the river water was clear, and the wind blowing from the mountains was refreshing.

If it weren't for the current situation it would be a really great place for sightseeing, but setting sentiments aside, he figured out where what buildings were located, where the soldiers were staying, and what the terrain was like.

Heading toward the city's main exact gate, something like a wall reaching chest-high stood continuously.

Wondering if this was really the city wall, actually just below it was a cliff about 4 or 5 meters drop, so a wall that high wasn't needed.

When a battle broke out, it was enough for archers to protect their bodies, so they seemed to have built it to this height.

Moreover, a long wooden structure with a roof was built on the wall, which had the advantage of hiding from the outside where the troops were and how many were deployed.

It was good for blocking snow and rain, and in fact, for those defending, that was the biggest advantage.

Both the weapons and the walls, he thought they were truly incredibly good at contemplating, designing, and maintaining things.

But ultimately, the ones utilizing all this were people. If the people were subpar, all these were useless things.

"Wow, shit, but really, if they all swarm in at once, there's no answer, right?"

Bori said while looking down through an arrow slit on the wall. No lie, people were covering the ground darkly, stretching all the way to the horizon.

No matter how much he was told numbers weren't important, seeing such a sight right before his eyes inevitably made one feel disheartened.

"I see huge anxiety in my eyes."

Rickart said.

"Really?"

"Imagine those many people turning their backs on that guy Grantz. He's probably most afraid of that. That's why he recklessly increased his subordinates."

Ultimately, he was essentially the same as that guy Ringwald he met in the past. Like an expanded version of that, he was a guy who was swallowed by what he started and failed to properly resolve things.

Looking at the troop deployments or the fact they tried to strike by bypassing, they didn't seem entirely stupid, but even so, having started something he couldn't handle, he was strategically at a disadvantage.

Of course, only Rickart knew how to cool-headedly assess the tide of war like this.

Because it wasn't an era where military academies existed, and literally speaking, one couldn't possess this very insight without experience.

Rickart quietly assessed the enemy's troop deployment, and one by one, plans began to come to mind.

In his head, countless low-level plans arose, and by stitching them together, he sought the path to victory.

Then reaching a certain conclusion, he called all the soldiers and city people together.

Because there was no plaza or anything, Rickart stood on the ledge of the stone bridge and, looking at the hundreds of people filling the riverside, spoke as if giving a speech.

A statue of an ancient hero stood beside Rickart. The statue's gaze was directed at the enemies outside the city.

"I will help you and defeat the enemies. But, you must also help me to defeat the enemies. I'm not talking nonsense. We can win. It can be done if we do it, so will you not do it, or will you do it? Let me ask that first."

Everyone was merely blinking their eyes or had anxious expressions. If Rickart told them what to do they would do it, but they shouldn't be dragged around reluctantly.

Rickart was asking for more than that. Namely, voluntary fighting spirit.

"When I came here, I heard Adelornians have strong pride. Now, do you not even have the blade of pride to strike down on your enemies? Has it rusted, or is it already broken? What I'm asking is not for you to go out and fight. I am saying let's do the necessary things that each person can do. Women, mend torn combat clothes, and men, carry stones if you must. If there are neighbors in need, care for them like family, and push and pull carts to transport food. What I want is for everyone to unite as one for victory."

The concept of universal conscription simply didn't exist, so the concept that they themselves had to step up and fight even when facing imminent death didn't exist either.

For instance, if you went to a farmer or merchant and told them we're all about to die so you have to fight, they would merely be bewildered saying, 'I'm not a soldier?'.

So if they lost a war, they ended up handing the right to life and death over to the opponent.

That was the common sense of the current era, and everyone lived like that. The tens of thousands of people swarming around down there were the proof.

But not anymore. At least from now on.

Rickart wasn't demanding people to fight, but asking them to at least handle logistics. The soldiers would fight, and at the minimum, you do what you can do.

In conducting a battle, handling logistics was perhaps more important than taking up weapons and going out to fight. Repairing broken weapons or armor promptly, ensuring food supply doesn't stop, properly paying salaries.

Of course, it wasn't like they could immediately comprehend just by saying this. Rickart knew that too.

"Since it seems you don't find me reliable, I will make one promise. Every day, I will personally step forward and take the enemy's unit flags. Instead, if you do not keep your promises even though I keep mine, I will hold you accountable. If anyone disagrees, raise your hand freely and speak."

Rickart spoke confidently while seemingly polite. And subtly pushed and forced them. It wasn't a very special technique; when taking control of people, this was originally how it was done.

Great commanders always tried to keep their promises to soldiers. Not because they were nice, but because it fit the proper order of things.

Rather than recklessly telling them to go out and fight to the death, "I've done everything I ought to do for you, yet you don't listen? Then you die."

By doing so, authority was established, discipline was enforced, orders were properly followed, and proper operations could be unfolded. Rickart learned this kind of thing from Kaldebert.

In his previous life, his first commander boldly charged and died; the second commander issued absurd orders relying purely on authority and lost their base; and the third commander was Kaldebert.

Of course, civilians weren't soldiers. However, without their participation, plans leading to victory couldn't be executed.

Anyway, everyone silently agreed to Rickart's semi-coercive promise.

Rickart thought this was enough for now, and waited for night to fall.

When a cool moon rose, he wore his armor and proudly went down to the main gate. To take the enemy's unit flag.

A unit flag was honor and pride for soldiers, or perhaps more than that. Having it taken meant not only disgrace, but fighting spirit breaking and unity failing.

There were many mercenary companies under Grantz's command, and there were also lower-level units, so there were overflowing flags to take.

Though the moonlight was cold, the citizens of Adelibari all gathered on the city wall and looked down below. Even if it was a semi-coercive promise, they watched to see if Rickart kept it or not.

Above all, to the eyes of the people ignorant of battles, it looked as though he was going out alone to fight against those massive numbers. So Rickart appeared like a crazy person, and even seeing it with their own eyes they found it hard to believe.

Anyway, it was truly spectacular. They had been too scared to look until now, but with tens of thousands of people filling the wide plain lighting fires here and there, it looked like countless stars had risen on the ground.

Those rich in sensibility already felt the first line of a chanson de geste coming to mind.

He fluttered his red cape, and walked into the cluster of stars.