A month had passed since they had left Baron Dante's castle behind and begun their long march.
And at long last, Jake and his companions had reached their destination.
‘So this is the Caelan Plains···!’
Jake stopped halfway through unloading the baggage from a horse and held his breath without realizing it.
An endless expanse of military tents filled his vision. Tents large and small had been erected haphazardly, forming an enormous city, and countless soldiers hurried back and forth between them.
The groans of the wounded and the shouts of commanders rang out incessantly from every direction. Near the tents, crudely piled heaps of corpses rose like mountains, black with swarms of flies.
‘Now that I'm actually here, I'm getting nervous.’
His heart had just begun to pound with anxiety when—
“Everyone, wait here for the time being!”
Rosell, the knight of Baron Dante's household who had led them there, raised his voice. Then he headed alone toward the largest tent, which appeared to be the command headquarters.
At that, the tense ranks of soldiers slowly fell apart. Exhausted from a month of arduous marching, they sat down wherever they could and began to rest.
Jake also leaned against a pile of baggage to catch his breath. But his respite didn't last long.
“F-Friend!”
A huge shadow fell over him, accompanied by a voice trembling with fear.
He didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.
“Hector.”
“It's··· it's so scary here!”
Hector glanced around with a face that looked ready to burst into tears at any moment.
At the sight, Jake gave a short sigh and nodded.
“I'm scared too.”
He was half sincere.
No matter how effectively the [Iron Will] skill blocked mental debuffs, it couldn't protect him from the sheer terror of witnessing the living hell spread out before his eyes.
“Can't we··· can't we go home?”
Jake shook his head firmly at Hector's innocent question.
“No.”
“Waaah···”
In the end, large tears began to gather in Hector's eyes. It was a sight at odds with his enormous build, but no one laughed at him. Everyone there felt exactly the same way.
‘I need to find some way to calm him down···.’
Jake thought for a moment, then spoke in as composed a voice as he could manage.
“If we survive, we can go home.”
Hector's hiccups stopped abruptly.
He lifted his tearstained face and looked at Jake.
“R-Really?”
“Yeah. Really. So we've got to survive, no matter what it takes. Got it?”
Jake looked Hector straight in the eyes and spoke firmly.
Hector stared blankly at him for a moment before finally nodding.
“O-Okay.”
“Remember when we sparred? If someone attacks you, just do what you did against me.”
“Yeah!”
Only when Hector nodded vigorously did a faint smile appear on Jake's lips.
In truth, Jake wasn't particularly worried about Hector. Their sparring sessions had shown him that Hector's physical abilities far exceeded the limits of an ordinary human.
He possessed monstrous strength, enough to toss three or four average soldiers aside with ease. His stamina seemed almost limitless; he could swing a wooden sword all day without growing tired. His log-thick arms and legs were weapons and shields in their own right.
‘Yeah, as long as he watches out for incoming arrows, there's no way he'll die here.’
He might even distinguish himself on the battlefield and rise through the ranks. The real problem was Jake himself.
Just then, Rosell, the knight who had gone to the command tent, reappeared.
A soldier who appeared to be an adjutant stood beside him.
“Adjutant, assign quarters to the conscripts and the territorial soldiers.”
“Understood.”
As the adjutant bowed his head, Jake rose to his feet.
At that moment, Rosell's gaze turned toward him.
“Wait. The scribe will come with me instead of the adjutant.”
Instantly, the eyes of the soldiers sitting nearby all turned toward Jake. Their gazes were filled with undisguised jealousy.
But Jake simply ignored them and stood up. They were people who would be living in an entirely different world from his own anyway.
Just as he was about to walk toward Rosell, however—
“H-Huh?”
Hector's bewildered voice came from behind him.
When Jake turned around, he saw Hector looking back and forth between him and Rosell, at a complete loss. He looked like a puppy abandoned by its mother.
“Hector, don't worry. We'll only be apart for a little while.”
“B-But···!”
“What did I tell you friends are?”
“P-People who trust and help each other!”
“That's right. So trust me and wait. You do the job you've been given, and I'll do mine. If we do that, we'll meet again. That's how friends trust each other.”
At Jake's words, Hector moved his lips silently for a long while. He seemed to have something more he wanted to say, but in the end, he slowly nodded.
Once Jake saw that, he approached Rosell without further delay.
‘···Now it's really beginning. My rise through the ranks.’
Jake's heart began to pound fiercely.
But it wasn't only fear that made it race.
Burning ambition.
Right in the heart of hell, he intended to seize his chance to rise in the world, no matter what.
***
Rosell, a common-born knight serving Baron Dante's household, had disliked the boy named Jake from the moment he first saw him.
The reason was extremely simple. Despite being a lowly serf, the boy was handsome enough to put most noble sons to shame.
Golden hair fluttering in the sunlight and blue eyes of unfathomable depth. Even covered in dust, he couldn't conceal his air of nobility.
Worse still, he had won the lord's favor and secured the position of scribe, a post far above his station. Naturally, Rosell couldn't look kindly upon him.
While others risked their lives fighting on the front lines, that bastard would sit comfortably in the rear, doing nothing but pushing a pen.
Yet after just one day at the front, Rosell had been forced to abandon that arrogant judgment entirely.
“···Huh.”
Inside the cramped tent assigned for his personal use, Rosell let out an involuntary exclamation of astonishment, mingled with a hollow laugh.
The faint glow of an oil lamp illuminated the parchment in his hands.
It was the “Soldier Status Report” Jake had prepared and submitted shortly after their arrival at the front.
But it wasn't merely a roster listing names, ages, and places of origin.
It was a practically flawless set of personnel records, briefly documenting the current condition of each of the three hundred conscripts, any minor illnesses or injuries they suffered from, and even their psychological states as observed during the march.
‘Did a serf boy really write this report?’
Rosell swallowed hard as he went through the report once again, from the first page to the last.
The paragraphs were aligned as neatly as though measured with a ruler. Every piece of information was organized so clearly that he could take it in at a glance. It was on an entirely different level from any of the rough military reports he had received throughout his life.
And the handwriting? Its strong yet elegant strokes possessed far more refinement than those of the elderly clerk at the lord's castle.
‘Wait a moment···.’
A scene suddenly flashed through his mind.
‘Come to think of it, his swordsmanship seemed rather unusual when he was sparring with that fellow Hector.’
During the long march to the Caelan Plains, he had occasionally witnessed Jake crossing wooden swords with a huge, bear-like boy.
At the time, he hadn't thought much of it. As a knight, he had no reason to stop conscripts from voluntarily training to improve their chances of survival. If anything, such efforts deserved encouragement.
But looking back on it now, the sight seemed strange no matter how he considered it.
The way Jake swung his sword was nothing like that of a country bumpkin who had never handled anything but farming tools.
His lower body provided a firm, balanced foundation, and the path of his wooden sword was concise and efficient. Though still rough around the edges, his movements clearly belonged to someone who had properly learned the fundamentals of swordsmanship.
‘Not only is he exceptionally intelligent, but he's talented in martial arts as well···!’
Rosell fell into thought for a moment.
As he stroked his mustache, his gaze gradually grew more contemplative.
‘Yes··· Now that I think about it, it's about time I took on a squire.’
To a knight, a squire was more than a mere servant or subordinate. This was especially true for someone like Rosell, a commoner who had earned his knighthood through skill alone, without any connections or backing.
A squire served as a knight's hands and feet, maintaining his armor and weapons, and sometimes even became a comrade to whom he could entrust his back. A capable squire was the most reliable assistant a knight could have, allowing him to concentrate entirely on fighting and commanding his men.
Conversely, an incompetent squire would be nothing more than a burden that endangered his knight's life. Merely imagining a fastening on his armor coming loose in the middle of battle, or failing to receive his weapon when he needed it, sent a chill down his spine.
‘But if it's that boy···.’
As far as Rosell could tell, Jake was an absolutely ideal candidate for a squire.
The administrative ability demonstrated by his report meant he could be trusted with tedious duties such as managing spoils of war and drafting correspondence. His unusual swordsmanship also meant he could at least defend himself, and perhaps even provide valuable assistance in combat.
Even his handsome, noble-looking face would be an intangible asset, lending Rosell prestige in his dealings with other nobles.
‘No··· It's still too early. I'd better watch him a little longer.’
Rosell cautioned himself against making a hasty decision.
But his mind had already tipped heavily in Jake's favor.
As if to strengthen his resolve, he went over the report in his hands once more.
The more he looked at it, the more he liked it. It was a truly flawless report.