Chapter 21
The supplies were just the surface reason.
The real purpose was the regular inspection.
To check if the Vanguard (the Guardian Corps) was truly fulfilling its duty.
To see if they might secretly turn their blades toward the Garrison instead.
That was the purpose of the inspection.
For ten years now, Marken had been the one in charge of inspecting the Vanguard.
That made him the person in the Garrison who understood the Vanguard’s circumstances better than anyone else.
On top of that, he had built a close relationship with Barnard, the deputy commander of the magic division.
Barnard was greedy but without ambition.
Marken had figured that out long ago.
“Tell the coachmen the roads are treacherous here. Tell them to be careful.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the soldier left to warn the drivers, Marken’s eyes turned to the wagons lined up in rows.
There were the usual five supply wagons, plus three more that had been added—eight in total.
One of those would be handed over directly to the magic division.
In return, Marken would receive detailed inside information about the Vanguard from Barnard.
It was a secret exchange known only to the two of them.
Once they traded this time too, the inspection would be over quickly…
“…What’s that?”
“Looks like smoke…”
Dark, heavy smoke was rising beyond the walls of the Vanguard stronghold.
“I can see that! I’m asking why the hell it’s rising now!”
“I–I don’t know either…”
“Damn it! I’ll go first! Follow me!”
Marken snapped the reins and spurred his horse forward.
A bad feeling gnawed at him.
In these snowy mountains, of course, people lit fires.
It would be strange not to, in this bone-freezing cold.
The problem was where the fire was lit, and the blackness of that smoke.
That wasn’t the smoke of burning wood.
And no one would burn wood outside the fortress walls.
The only thing they burned outside was the same thing, always—
The corpses of dead soldiers.
But the great blizzard had passed two months ago.
The snow worm flood should have long been over.
So why were they still burning corpses even now?
Marken forced his horse through the acrid smoke and stopped at the fortress gate.
“The Garrison inspection is here! I want to see the one in charge of this place—”
“…You again, Marken?”
It was Gardner of the Vanguard’s combat division, stepping forward.
“You survived again, Gardner.”
“Got lucky. Plenty of men didn’t this time.”
Gardner gestured toward a nearby pit.
It was deep, but the thick smoke made it impossible to see inside.
Marken clicked his tongue.
“Pathetic. So many dead just holding back some bugs? Must be your deputy’s worthless command—”
“Sorry, but I’ve been promoted.”
“…What?”
“Not deputy anymore. Commander now.”
“…Ah, I see. So you climbed up using their corpses. Congratulations, Commander Gardner.”
“……”
“Truly, congratulations.”
His voice was loud and mocking. The surrounding Vanguard soldiers glared coldly, but Marken didn’t care.
All they could do was glare. Nothing more.
From atop his horse, he sneered down at Gardner.
“So the commander hides behind his men… no wonder they’re all dead, eh?”
“…I have no excuse—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, so keep your mouth shut.”
“…Huh?”
One of the younger soldiers, holding a shovel, suddenly cut in.
“What’s this, Gardner? Can’t even keep a brat like this in line? Disappointing. You haven’t changed since your mercenary days. What the hell happened, eh?”
“My apologies. I’ll take responsibility.”
“But—!”
“This isn’t your place to speak. Step back, Ronan.”
“…Wait, wait. Ronan? Did you just say Ronan?”
Marken turned his dark eyes on the young soldier glaring at him, then grinned.
One of the names Cedric had specifically told him to confirm.
He’d checked before leaving—what crime had dragged the boy here.
“So you lived, you filthy royal impostor.”
“…!”
At those words, Ronan bristled and nearly lunged, but Gardner grabbed his arm and held him back.
“Stand down, Ronan. He may look like that, but he’s an inspector from the Garrison.”
“That’s right. Even this commander here ranks lower than me, boy. So don’t you dare look at me with those eyes.”
Marken leaned in close, growling.
“Makes me want to crush you.”
“I apologize. Please, let it go. Most of the new recruits ended up in that pit.”
Gardner pushed Ronan back as he explained.
“How many? We brought three extra wagons. You lot will gorge yourselves like pigs.”
“Three survivors among the new recruits. He’s one of them.”
“…Three?!”
Marken burst out laughing.
“Over a hundred sent, and only three alive?! At this rate the snow worms will come pouring down the mountain themselves! Hahaha!”
As he laughed, the wagons carrying food and supplies rumbled in.
“Bring the wagons inside. Then I’ll meet these survivors. Leave that brat out.”
“I’ll call them.”
Marken sneered and led his horse through the gates.
The eight wagons followed.
Inside, the stronghold was desolate.
Only a handful of soldiers moved about outside, all looking half-dead with exhaustion, dark circles under their eyes.
Clearly, the flood had dealt heavy losses.
“Unload the supplies!”
Gardner’s men staggered forward to start unloading.
“You, Hog. Over here.”
“Eh? O-okay.”
The big, awkward recruit lumbered forward.
“He’s another of the three survivors.”
“H-hog, sir.”
“You didn’t just run and hide, did you?”
Marken arched his brow, mocking.
“N-no, never!”
“Good. A body that big ought to be useful. Go haul the supplies.”
Hog bowed nervously and shuffled off.
“And the last one?”
“There he comes now.”
Marken turned to look—
And froze.
A boy with golden hair and sapphire eyes approached.
Refined features, spotless clothes. He looked like a noble’s son.
“…What the hell is that supposed to be?”
“Ask him yourself.”
Gardner left toward the supplies.
Before Marken could call out—
“Did you bring these supplies for us?”
The boy walked up with a bright grin.
“Ah, thank you so much.”
“…Uh, yeah. And you are…?”
“Esric. Esric Spelder.”
“…Es… the Academy exile?!”
“You know of me?”
“Ha! Trying to flaunt your pedigree, are you? All tidy while everyone else looks like corpses?”
“Thank you.”
“…What?”
Esric just smiled wider. Marken blinked, dumbfounded.
“I dressed up because I heard the inspector was coming.”
Laughing lightly, Esric looked like he was making a fool of him.
Arrogant bastard.
Now Marken understood why Cedric remembered their names.
He wanted to slap the boy’s smug face, but forced himself to hold back. There would be plenty of time later.
“…At least you know your manners. Fine. Take me to Deputy Commander Barnard. I have something—no, something for the magic division specifically.”
“In that case, you can just give it to me.”
“…What?”
“I am the magic division.”
Marken’s brow twitched.
“You little brat. You think I’m here to play games with you?!”
“Huh? I don’t understand why you’re angry…”
“Keep mouthing off, thinking you’re my equal? Are you insane?! A rookie magician isn’t the same as the deputy commander!”
“Not the same. Because I am the deputy commander now.”
“…Wha—what did you just say?”
“I said I’m the magic division commander.”
Esric smiled, serene.
“Barnard died during the flood.”
“That’s impossible.”
Marken knew exactly what kind of man Barnard was.
That coward had survived every flood by hiding behind his men, using them as shields while he built his power.
There was no way he’d die in battle.
Which meant…
He’d been killed.
But why now? Didn’t they need the magic division to survive the floods?
And if he’d been killed—who did it?
As the questions tangled in his head—
“He’s probably ashes by now. I made sure he was the first thrown into the pit.”
Esric smiled brightly, his blue eyes gleaming cold.
Marken shuddered.
“You said you had something for the magic division? Oh, you really don’t need to bother…”
Esric’s smile widened. Marken swallowed dryly.
“Thank you. Truly.”
Gardner led Marken and the other inspectors to meet with Siruella.
“…You really think showing this much won’t give us away?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.”
Ronan fretted beside me, but I just patted his shoulder.
“The more suspicious things there are, the easier they are to fool.”
The corpse pit, the exhausted-looking soldiers, even Barnard’s supposed death—
All of it had been staged to mislead Marken.
“…I don’t understand. If the goal is to hide our strength, why go so far with this act? Wouldn’t simply concealing it suffice?”
“No. Like I said—better to control what they suspect than leave them guessing. If we just said we survived normally but Barnard died, that alone would draw suspicion. So if they’re going to doubt us anyway, we make sure it’s in the way we choose.”
At that, Ronan nodded in understanding.
“…But are you okay? I mean, your crime. You kept it secret until now…”
“It doesn’t matter. Everyone already knows.”
“…What? Since when?!”
“During laundry duty. I had nothing else to talk about.”
The laundry—Ronan groaned.
After losing the log-carrying contest, the combat division had been stuck with all the laundry work.
The magic division refused every new bet, so the combat division kept doing the chores, grumbling all the while.
That constant work had made Ronan closer to the others.
“…So?”
“They understood. Some said they’d been falsely accused too.”
“Not many of them truly were, I bet.”
“I think so too.”
We both burst out laughing.
“Enough joking. Go finish unloading.”
“Yes, sir. Commander Esric.”
Ronan grinned wryly and headed toward the last wagon.
Marken and his men were already inside with Siruella.
All that remained outside were the three extra coachmen.
By the fire where they warmed themselves—
“…Huh?”
I spotted a familiar face.
As I drew closer, my suspicion was confirmed.
One of the mercenaries who had once attacked me.
The one who had driven the wagon that brought me to Ice Rock.
“Hey.”
It was Daik.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
