The Geoni Village expedition force, which had departed from the Royal Capital of Central, had entered a rest period after passing noon.
They had set out early in the morning, but the rest stop wasn't scheduled until midday.
The walking speed had to match the group, which he found tedious.
"We're slower than the information we received suggested."
His companions were one thing, but the real problem was the allies surrounding them.
Using the Fifth and Sixth Generation Skills to assess the situation, he could see that yellow dots — hostiles — were encircling them. It was hard to say they were safely among allies at all.
The Second Generation spoke to him through the Jewel.
"I've said it before, but keep your guard up not just against enemies, but allies too. This is obviously a hastily assembled, underprepared lot. Once night falls, some fool will make a move."
He gripped the Jewel and looked at Clara.
"Clara, let me take over operating the Porter next. Get some rest until then."
But Clara shook her head.
"Before I take a break as support, I think we should let Aria-san and Miranda-san rest first."
A typically earnest response from Clara, and since she was using her Skills, she understood. Everyone was more fatigued than usual.
(Familiar environments make things tough, huh...)
He tried to persuade Clara.
"Aria and Miranda need to stand watch. Besides, I'd rather they rest first precisely because we'll need a night watch too."
Clara surveyed their surroundings.
She had been an adventurer for longer than the rest of them, so she had more experience. However, she had apparently never done mercenary-type work before.
Still, after looking around, she seemed to grasp the situation.
"There were no instructions regarding night watch, but it seems to be everyone's own responsibility. Understood."
Once Clara was convinced, Lyle looked around.
Away from the main road, an armed group was sitting along the roadside.
He bit into the distributed bread — it was plainer than what they had brought themselves. Edible, at best, but the people around him looked dissatisfied.
The Fifth Generation spoke from within the Jewel.
"Lyle, this group is fragile. The knights have some measure of skill, but most of the others aren't even properly equipped."
It made sense that they, standing out as they did, would be targets.
And if Monsters appeared on top of that — what then?
(Two minor encounters so far. The knights handled both, so we weren't affected. But their movement is too slow.)
There were several small groups that had failed to react when Monsters appeared. Some were individual participants, and it was impossible to predict how they would act in a fight.
Rest period.
Standing and surveying the area, Lyle found that besides Clara, the two people under their protection were nearby.
Novem was also keeping watch, while Aria and Miranda lay down after drinking the warm beverage Shannon had prepared.
Monica had tried to emerge, but Lyle pushed her back inside the Porter.
The Third Generation made a suggestion.
"Moving individually is a hassle. Why not propose they group up? Lyle, could you pass that along to Marcus — tell him to report it up the chain?"
Lyle gripped the Jewel and called out to Marcus.
Marching while wearing full equipment had worn out both Marcus and Bread, their faces showing fatigue.
"Marcus, I need you to relay something to the person in charge."
"Hm? What is it?"
He seemed to be spacing out.
(There are a lot of people, but you shouldn't drop your guard so much... whatever, it's fine for now.)
Before cautioning him, Lyle looked at the group and spoke to Marcus.
"There are quite a few people participating as individuals, not just as groups. If possible, it'd be easier to work with if they grouped up. Please propose that to the person in charge."
Marcus scratched his head.
"I don't really know anyone here. Besides, wouldn't it be better if you said it yourself, Lyle? You've got experience."
It would certainly be easier if Lyle could do it himself, but being an adventurer was inconvenient at times like these.
He was only participating because Marcus had hired him.
The Fourth Generation complained.
"Lyle, they'd refuse even if you asked, which is why I'm telling you — someone of higher status! ...Tch, not like you can hear me anyway."
He sounded irritated.
Lyle softened the Fourth Generation's point and relayed it.
"They won't listen to me. But they'll listen to you, Marcus."
Reluctantly, Marcus stood up and headed toward a nearby knight who was resting.
Watching him go, Bread opened his mouth.
"Truly, there are those in positions of nobility utterly unworthy of their rank. How lamentable."
Clara, sitting on the ground with her knees drawn up, watched sideways as she heard this.
During the march as well, Bread had been full of complaints.
Mostly directed at Lyle and Marcus.
Ever since learning that Lyle was the former heir to an earl's household, Bread had been keeping his distance.
The Sixth Generation spoke.
"I won't say don't be jealous, but this guy sure complains a lot. Having someone like this around really dampens the mood on a march."
The Second Generation agreed.
"In times like this, you really need someone who can brighten the mood — a mood-maker. Aria and Miranda are both feeling down, and Shannon and Monica are inside the Porter... Think about the atmosphere, would you?"
The knight who had been resting looked their way and said something to Marcus.
But Marcus didn't move, so the Third Generation gave up.
"...No good. This group has zero motivation. Let's change our approach. Lyle, the next time Monsters appear, go all out and make sure you stand out when you take them down. As spectacularly as possible."
That was doable, so Lyle tightened his grip on the Jewel.
An acknowledgment.
The Fifth Generation also offered advice.
"Marcus and Bread are useless — they have no composure. Have everyone observe the faces around us. We'll find the few competent ones during the march and bring them into our fold."
Lyle moved next to Clara and decided to act on the Fifth Generation's instructions.
"Clara, do you have a moment?"
"Hm?"
"When the rest is over and we start moving again, could you observe the people around us too?"
Clara nodded.
"You mean, watch out for anyone who might pose a danger to us?"
"Ah, well, that too, but... if possible, I'd like to find people who could cooperate with us."
Watching Marcus trudge back with his shoulders slumped, Lyle thought of words of encouragement and spoke to Clara.
"I'd like to increase our numbers if possible."
With just those words, Clara understood.
"Bringing plenty of supplies was the right call. Simply sharing them will win us allies... I'll pass the word to Novem-san and the others myself."
Clara stood and headed toward Novem.
Meanwhile, Marcus was walking toward Lyle.
Seeing him, it was clear the approach had failed.
Bread murmured under his breath.
"And this is why this man is..."
(If you're going to complain, at least do it somewhere I can't hear.)
Marcus was enduring in frustration because he had heard the response but failed to get them to accept the proposal.
"Sorry. He said to do what we want."
"They lack motivation. Well, at least we know that much — that's enough. When the time comes, we'll handle it ourselves."
"What's that? You've got some kind of plan?"
When Marcus asked, Lyle kept watch on their surroundings and replied.
"Well, I'm just going to cause a big flashy scene."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
As Marcus looked puzzled, Lyle used his Skills to search for nearby enemies.
The battle came some time later.
Whether drawn by the large group moving through, or simply lying in ambush, they were attacked by Goblins at a clearing in the woods.
A Volunteer Soldier who had been struck by armed Goblins was already covered in blood by the time they arrived.
It wasn't his post, but Lyle looked around and shouted.
"Fall back! I'll handle them!"
He drew the Saber from his right hand and muttered a small complaint.
"Would it have killed you to come out somewhere with better visibility?"
There were five Goblins in the attacking group. Lyle cut down the nearest one with his Saber and immediately cast a spell.
"Let's make this flashy... Lightning!"
The speed. The power.
Lightning was easy to use, and Lyle cast it frequently.
More than anything, it was spectacular — perfect for his current purpose.
The Goblins that had tried to flee were scorched black, emitting sizzling sounds as they collapsed to the ground.
The violent sound drew a mounted knight rushing over.
Having taken down all five Goblins, Lyle sheathed his Saber and looked at the arriving knight.
The horse was equipped with a crossbow, and the rider was a stout, small-framed knight who rode straight toward Lyle.
He handled the horse skillfully — a middle-aged man with a trademark toothbrush mustache.
"Where's the enemy? Casualties?"
Lyle glanced at the fallen Goblins and explained the situation.
"Five here, that's all of them. Already finished. One injured from the attack. I have someone among my companions who can treat him. Shall we bring him over?"
Hearing this, the knight maintained his vigil while offering Lyle a bow of gratitude.
"Good. You've been a help. Still, you used magic... quite the talented mage. Your name? Oh — I am Clark Assher. I serve as deputy to this expedition's commander."
Introduced as the deputy of the female knight Lyle had seen before departure, Clark gave his name in return.
"I'm Lyle. An adventurer hired by Marcus Canning."
The Second Generation spoke up.
"Made a name for yourself. If only the visibility had been a bit better... well, those who pass through here afterward will see the aftermath."
Lyle headed toward the injured Volunteer Soldier and the companions who seemed to be with him.
Clark called out to him.
"Hmm. That peculiar group, was it... I'll remember. If you've slain the Monsters, the Magic Stones and materials are yours. Be quick about collecting them if you plan to. I'll file my report, so forgive me for taking my leave."
With that, Clark issued a few orders to a nearby knight and rode off.
The nearby knight who watched all this happen stood there, dumbfounded.
The soldiers around them also looked troubled, watching the knights.
They had likely been stationed as lookouts for the group, but they were completely nonfunctional.
The Fourth Generation spoke.
"These are exactly the type to have their numbers worn down. You'd do well to remember that deputy. Maybe bring some wine tonight and pay him a visit?"
The Seventh Generation added.
"Lyle, the main target is that knight, but there are other subordinates around him too. Bring a decent amount. Have Monica make something."
The Third Generation joined in.
"Warm food alone would make a difference. But have Marcus handle it — Lyle, you're just supporting."
Wondering if this was really okay, Lyle agreed nonetheless.
Then he approached the fallen Volunteer Soldier.
Blood-soaked, but the wound didn't seem deep — he was conscious.
"Are you all right?"
"Does this look all right to you? Damn it! I finally got to participate as a Volunteer Soldier, and now this..."
Watching the young man's frustrated expression, Lyle offered a wry smile.
An older man nearby came to Lyle for help.
"Don't be absurd — thanking you! Sorry about him. He's not a bad kid. You said earlier that you could treat wounds? I hate to impose, but could you help him?"
Looking at their equipment, the older leader-type wore chain mail, but the injured young man and the others around him had mismatched gear.
"I have companions behind us. Shall I bring him there?"
Then one of the group spoke up.
"Hey, wait. What about the Monster drops? If someone swipes them..."
Lyle glanced around.
Using his Skills, he detected several red indicators — people watching from hiding, sizing up the situation.
"We'll collect them when we pass through. If we miss them, so be it. The injured come first."
Hearing this, the leader-type expressed his gratitude.
"I'm sorry about this. I'll repay you, I swear."
Lyle led the trio of wounded back to the Porter.
—Night.
Inside the tent, Clark was making notes from the day's events.
Not records for the unit — personal ones.
"Insufficient rest, slow movement speed, four small-scale engagements, two injured..."
By lantern light, he recorded the information and felt relief that there were no deserters.
Losing someone on the first day would hurt the unit's morale.
Moreover, if the casualties were from something as minor as Goblins, it would raise serious questions about their command capability.
"Sigh, why can't they understand?"
Clark finished his notes, tidied up, and prepared to turn in early for the next day. But he heard footsteps approaching his tent.
"Deputy! A gift from the guy named Marcus! He says he'd like to pay his respects."
Clark glanced at the cheerful expression on his subordinate's face.
The subordinate had led them here. Behind him stood two men carrying supplies.
(...Now what to do about this.)
Clark wasn't exactly the type to be squeamish about such things. He had received this kind of flattery many times before, but once you accepted, you were obligated to reciprocate to some degree.
If you went back on it, you'd make enemies.
"Send them in."
The subordinate led the two into the tent and then left.
With the entrance open, the sounds from outside came through clearly.
It sounded like a drinking party was underway.
(They're using an underhanded approach. We didn't bring much in the way of alcohol this time.)
It had been deemed unnecessary and cut from the supply list by Norma.
She was still young, had little experience with this sort of fieldwork, and was rather fastidious. Or rather, when she judged something would work against her, she would refuse it outright.
She had argued that alcohol impaired judgment during missions and imposed strict limits on bringing it in.
"Hello. Marcus Canning, if you will. This is sort of, well... a token of goodwill, you might say."
Clark prepared a wooden crate, and the two sat down.
The orange-haired young man seemed restless.
But the blue-haired boy — that was the boy he had encountered during the march.
"...Marcus and Lyle, yes? So, what is it you want from me? Wouldn't it be more appropriate to bring such gifts to the captain rather than the deputy, who has limited authority?"
Norma despised this sort of behavior.
In her view, only the incompetent resorted to such tactics.
Marcus glanced at Lyle.
Lyle nodded, and Marcus spoke.
"We want to survive and earn some merit. But the way things are going, survival itself is questionable. That's why we wanted you to take certain actions."
"Hmm. Such as?"
Clark looked at the wine and food that had been placed atop the wooden crate.
Even in the field, the dishes were still steaming.
The wine also appeared to be of decent quality.
"Well, about that..."
Marcus looked at Lyle, and Clark said:
"This was Lyle's idea, wasn't it? Very well. Let's hear your proposal."
The fact that he was giving Marcus face — Clark understood how adventurers were perceived by knights.
Clark listened to Lyle's proposal, resting his chin on his hand.
"Our proposal is regarding the organization of the Volunteer Soldiers. Could you have the individual participants group together? At the same time, we'd like the Volunteer Soldiers already in groups to consolidate as well. Assign leaders and establish roles for the march. And also—"
"And also?"
"We would like to request that Marcus be appointed as leader to lead the Volunteer Soldiers."
Clark wanted to agree with Lyle's request to properly organize the Volunteer Soldiers — soldiers that Norma viewed with such contempt.
But it wasn't as though Clark hadn't considered this himself.
"...We don't have time to train them. The captain is prioritizing the march. We can get the individual Volunteer Soldiers to group up, but proper organization — that won't be possible until we reach the village."
Lyle looked at him, and after a brief pause, gripped the blue gem at his chest.
(That a gemstone? They hired such a skilled fighter for this expedition? Doesn't look like he has that kind of money... but it's helpful right now.)
Clark looked at Marcus, unable to understand why Lyle had been hired.
Lyle spoke.
"Then if we could at least group them into several units and designate leaders, that would be sufficient."
"...Understood. We'll go with that. But don't expect smooth sailing. Who gets to be leader often causes disputes. Also, if the other party agrees, you're welcome to recruit Volunteer Soldiers into your group. We don't have much interest in the Volunteer Soldiers ourselves. I realize that's a problem, but..."
Seeing Clark's troubled expression, Lyle paused to think.
Marcus seemed uncertain about what to do.
(Effectively, this kid is the leader. Judging by his magical ability, he's more reliable than his subordinates.)
"...The food will get cold. Our cook is quite skilled, so I guarantee the taste."
Clark said:
"Is that so? Then I'll have some."
He reached for the food and took a sip of wine, his face brightening.
"It really is good. The cold weather makes it taste even better."
Inwardly, however:
(Well, I've accepted the gift, so I'll have to deliver. But how best to organize them?)
Even if he selected the highest-ranking knights from the roster, there were mostly low-ranking knights of equal standing.
There were also second and third sons who were not knights, all hungry for merit.
Just choosing the leaders would be difficult, and if handled poorly, it could spark conflicts.
Still, if he wanted to earn the trust of Lyle and his group, doing nothing was not an option.
(Sigh, why do I keep getting stuck with these troublesome assignments?)
He couldn't truly enjoy the fine food and wine.
Clark sighed inwardly at his own misfortune.