Baron Dante sat at his heavy oak desk, looking down at a document.
It was a report containing the names and personal information of those selected for the latest round of conscription. Martin, his loyal retainer and conscription officer, had personally delivered it just moments earlier.
“Well, well...”
Dante let out a brief exclamation of admiration as he turned the first page.
After a while, having finished reading the entire report, Dante addressed Martin, who stood straight and upright near the door.
“Excellent work, Martin.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“But tell me... Since when have you been so skilled at paperwork? And look at this handwriting. It's so elegant that one might think a noble wrote it personally. Could it be that your true talents lie in civil administration rather than military affairs?”
His words were by no means empty praise.
Throughout the decades he'd served as a lord, Dante had received countless reports, but this was the first time he'd encountered one so systematically organized and easy to read.
Most military reports he'd received in the past had been terribly crude.
The hastily scribbled handwriting was often nearly impossible to decipher, and information was frequently scattered all over the page without any semblance of organization.
Reading the reports themselves had often been an ordeal.
But the document he currently held was entirely different.
The paragraphs were aligned so neatly that they might have been measured with a ruler.
The names, ages, and places of origin of the conscripts were organized clearly and systematically, making everything immediately comprehensible.
Even a casual glance was enough to understand the entire contents perfectly.
And what about the handwriting itself?
The strong yet elegant penmanship possessed far more dignity than that of most professional scribes.
“Have you been hiding such talents all this time?”
At Dante's question, Martin gave an awkward smile.
“No, my lord. Actually, I wasn't the one who prepared that report.”
“Hmm? You didn't write it?”
Dante's eyebrows rose slightly in puzzlement.
If Martin hadn't written it, then who had prepared such an exceptional report?
He couldn't recall there being a scribe of that caliber among the conscription party.
“If it was not you, then who?”
“It was written by a young serf we conscripted from Radford Village.”
“What? A serf?”
Dante couldn't help blurting out the question in a bewildered voice.
A serf?
And not just any serf, but a boy brought from a remote backwater like Radford?
That boy had prepared this report?
It was almost impossible to believe.
Martin chuckled softly before continuing.
“I couldn't believe it at first either. But it's true. The boy possesses an exceptional intellect, and when I spent some time teaching him, he also displayed remarkable talent for martial arts. I suspect he has noble blood running through his veins.”
“Well, well...”
Dante couldn't help expressing his amazement once again.
To think that such a boy had been living in a remote village like that.
It was like discovering a precious treasure buried in the mud.
“If he returns from the front lines after rendering distinguished service, I believe he would make an excellent loyal retainer for Your Lordship in the future.”
“A retainer, you say...”
Dante's eyes gleamed at Martin's suggestion.
Martin was one of his most loyal retainers.
If someone like him was praising a young man so highly, then the boy certainly couldn't be ordinary.
Naturally, Dante couldn't help wanting such a promising talent for himself.
He fell into thought for a moment before suddenly clapping his hands as though a good idea had occurred to him.
“But tell me something. If the boy is truly that talented, wouldn't it be better not to send him to the front lines at all? Even for a scribe, the battlefield is dangerous. Wouldn't it be wiser to bring him into our household right now?”
At those words, Martin appeared to consider the matter deeply.
After a moment, he cautiously began expressing his opinion.
“Of course, that wouldn't be a bad approach either, my lord. However... In my humble opinion, sending the boy to the front lines would prove far more beneficial in the long run.”
“More beneficial? What do you mean?”
“Although the boy is exceptionally talented, he is still nothing more than a child who knows little of the world. If Your Lordship were to take him under your wing and appoint him as a retainer right now, he would undoubtedly be grateful for your generosity and pledge his loyalty. But would that truly be genuine loyalty?”
Martin's voice was calm, but the reasoning behind his words was as solid as steel.
“Let him experience the living hell that is the battlefield firsthand. Allow him to feel the terror of death and the ugliness of humanity down to his very bones. Then, when he survives that horrific reality and returns, Your Lordship can grant him the status of a free man along with the prestigious position of a retainer. Comparing the hell he endured with the paradise Your Lordship has bestowed upon him, the boy will offer you an absolute loyalty far beyond anything he could feel now.”
“Oh...!”
Dante found himself nodding at Martin's words.
It was certainly a reasonable argument.
Trials caused people to grow, and a single ray of light glimpsed at the very depths of despair could shine more powerfully than anything else.
If Martin's reasoning proved correct, the boy would become the most loyal sword and shield the Dante barony could ever hope to possess.
“And my lord, there is no need to worry too much. The boy is merely a scribe who will handle administrative duties in the rearmost lines. As long as he avoids stray arrows, there is very little chance of him dying in battle. On the contrary, experiencing practical administrative work on the battlefield will provide an excellent opportunity for him to develop further as an administrator.”
Martin's logical explanation melted away the last traces of anxiety remaining in Dante's heart.
It was an optimal judgment reached after carefully considering every possibility.
As expected of one of his most dependable retainers.
“Very well. Let us proceed as you suggest. What did you say the boy's name was?”
“Jake, my lord.”
“Jake... A fine name. Make sure he is properly looked after so that he can return safely.”
“As you command, my lord.”
After Martin withdrew, Dante picked up the report he'd been reading earlier.
No matter how many times he looked at it, it truly was an exceptionally well-written report.
***
Meanwhile, the serfs conscripted from the various villages throughout Baron Dante's territory had gathered at a training ground outside the castle.
They were undergoing basic military training, clumsily handling crude spears and wooden swords that most of them had never even held before.
Jake, however, was completely removed from all that commotion.
Rather than being at the training ground, he was sitting on a hard wooden chair inside a small office tucked away in a corner of the castle.
“So, you are Jake?”
An elderly civil official sitting behind the desk looked up from a stack of documents and regarded him.
The man had a sharp appearance, with graying hair neatly combed back.
His name was Clarence, a veteran civil official who had handled administrative affairs at the lord's castle for several decades.
“Yes, sir. My name is Jake.”
Jake straightened his back and answered politely.
He was scheduled to receive private instruction from Clarence.
Unlike the other serfs who would be deployed to the front lines, Jake would be participating in the war as a scribe.
“There is only one thing you will be responsible for at the front lines. As the personnel scribe assigned to our unit, you will prepare lists of the wounded, casualties, and dead after every battle.”
“Oh, that sounds simpler than I expected.”
“Ha! Simple, you say?”
Clarence let out an incredulous chuckle.
“Do you even understand what you will have to do to compile those lists? After every battle, you will have to walk through that hellish chaos of blood and torn flesh yourself, checking the condition of each soldier one by one.”
Jake was momentarily rendered speechless.
Only then did he realize that the job was anything but easy.
The number of soldiers conscripted this time alone was approximately three hundred.
If he had to personally sort through that scene of carnage after every battle, identify the survivors, confirm the dead, and compile the lists, even ten bodies wouldn't be enough to handle the workload.
“...I'll do my best.”
“As you should.”
“Um... May I ask you one question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Where exactly is the front line we're being sent to?”
Clarence's eyes widened at the question.
“Hmm? You do not even know that?”
“No one's told me.”
Jake answered calmly.
Clarence nodded with an expression that seemed to say, 'Well, that makes sense.'
After all, no one would have bothered sharing such sensitive information with a mere serf beforehand.
“The Caelan Plains.”
Clarence unfolded a map and pointed toward a particular location.
“It is a region bordering the Kingdom of Arcadia. Minor skirmishes between our two kingdoms have been occurring there for a very long time. However, the situation has changed completely since a new king recently ascended the throne of Arcadia.”
With that, he began explaining the conflict between the Kingdom of Tessian, where they lived, and the Kingdom of Arcadia.
The Kingdom of Arcadia, led by its newly crowned and warlike king, had laid claim to the Caelan Plains and crossed the border with a massive army.
As a result, a full-scale war was currently raging along the border between the two kingdoms.
Furthermore, all the nobles of the Kingdom of Tessian, including Baron Dante's household, were sending their troops to the region under the king's orders.
Jake listened attentively while rapidly organizing the information in his mind.
“Do you understand everything now?”
“Just one more question. Approximately how many people are currently gathered on the Caelan Plains?”
“Hmm. Well, if you combine the armies of both kingdoms, there must be at least several tens of thousands.”
“And I imagine there are plenty of nobles there as well.”
“Of course. The knightly orders and territorial armies of all the most prominent noble families have gathered there.”
Clarence answered casually, but Jake was inwardly celebrating.
'What luck!'
This was a crisis, but at the same time, it was an extraordinary opportunity.
After all, the presence of so many nobles meant there would be just as many opportunities to demonstrate his abilities in front of them.
It felt as though a shortcut to success had suddenly opened up right before his eyes.
'That's right. My administrative abilities, thanks to my [Translation] skill, and the swordsmanship Martin taught me. If I can make good use of those two things, I'm certain I'll be able to seize an opportunity.'
Jake strengthened his resolve.
But Clarence, who had no way of knowing about Jake's burning ambitions, merely pointed toward a sheet of parchment lying on his desk.
“Now then, I shall explain the reporting format. This is an extremely important document that will be submitted directly to His Lordship, so you must memorize the format and procedures precisely. Not a single word can be wrong.”
“Yes, sir. I'll remember that.”
Jake straightened his posture once more and listened carefully to Clarence's explanation.
And so, he began diligently receiving private instruction in the practical administrative duties he would have to perform during the war.
***
Approximately one week later.
At last, all preparations were complete.
A force consisting of three hundred conscripts, including Jake, along with a single knight commanding them and thirty territorial soldiers, departed for the Caelan Plains.