The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon-Chapter 303: Unearth (23)

The logic didn’t add up.

"What does your succession ceremony have to do with Rubia?" I asked bluntly.

Not all cities carried equal weight. Influence varied by strength or reputation. The lord of Grassmere, the City of Weapons, was undeniably prestigious. Perhaps no noble could rival his standing in the South. Regardless, he was no emperor. Nor was he an imperial judge, appointed with royal authority. A mere lord had no power to hand down decrees binding by imperial will.

A declaration of support could mean something. But to Necron? A few words alone wouldn’t drive them away. And in the end, the ceremony was Chandler’s. What place was there to meddle in the succession of another city? Such interference would likely only breed scorn.

Yet the lord remained calm, courteous, his composure unwavering.

"Hah..." He chuckled softly. "In truth, the leading lady herself instructed me not to speak."

He was talking about Rubia.

"Not to speak?"

"Yes. She anticipated situations like this. She asked me, pleaded, really, not to say a word of her plans. Even to you, her benefactor. And how could I possibly disobey? She will soon be a peer in rule, after all."

"Mm..."

Her intent was hard to gauge. Was it simple caution? Or did she mean for me not to know? But the lord radiated certainty. His faith in her was no patchwork, but a finely woven garment, each thread deliberate. I held my tongue, reluctant to press further.

He unlocked a drawer, withdrew a prepared ledger, and handed it over. "Then, allow me to show you this instead."

I opened it to the first page. "Records of trade with Rubia?"

The lord’s lips curved faintly. "Exactly."

[Skill: Accounting Lv. 1 activated.]

Even with rudimentary knowledge, the truth was obvious. This was no trade. This was unilateral support. Other names filled the pages as well. Kirk Ray, for instance. Where Rubia poured out aid unstintingly, he bled them dry.

"Yube’s work," the lord said. "He’s done far more than I, truth be told. At least, so far."

He laughed easily, but what the ledger detailed was no trifling effort. In a short span, Yube and the Grassmere lord had poured their all into Rubia’s cause.

"My thanks..."

"Think nothing of it. To call it my final duty even made it a joy." His smile broadened. He glanced at Chandler, resting a hand briefly on his son’s shoulder. "My successor will be in your care as well."

"I’ll help where I can."

The lord nodded, pleased. "There is something I wish to show you both. Come."

We descended together, past the blood-red raven statue, toward the temple where Isaac had once been sealed.

Rumble.

The great doors opened onto a vast chamber, bright and alive. Where once only silent golems and a necromancer’s coffin lay, now the air thrummed with activity.

"Salute the lord!"

Thud!

"That’s alright. Do what you were doing."

A hundred soldiers ceased their drills, bowing in unison.

Chandler’s eyes widened. "Father... who are these men?"

"Troops raised in secret," the lord replied simply.

Swoosh!

The training resumed. Steel bolts punched through practice dummies, shattering the thick wooden boards behind them. These wrist-mounted devices spat iron shot with terrifying force. It was unlike anything I’d seen on the battlefield, and had outstripped even improved crossbows.

The lord’s smile lingered. "I hear you’ve joined the Merchants’ Guild as a full member."

"And?"

"Through their introduction, our smiths have worked with their engineers to create these. They are costly, and materials scarce, but..."

A soldier demonstrated the dummy collapsing into splinters. "Haah!"

Crash!

The scarecrows, struck by arrows, toppled one after another beneath the swings of the next squad’s blades. They were a force that could barely be called trained soldiers.

"Since when?"

"After you saved us, my lord, we began training. It was late, but before then, we had no will at all."

It was because of Isaac. No one could have the will to fight when their very life was being drained away in real time. Now that they were freed, the lord had begun taking various measures before passing the title on to his son.

"And if we only play the role of an armory, we’ll be swept away and left with nothing. Especially since we’re on the border."

I sensed a faint hostility toward the imperial throne. Had Nexmond perhaps spoken of me to him? No, this was likely nothing more than the natural thought of any lord of Grassmere.

The lord’s gaze was strange. There was nothing he could truly accomplish with these soldiers against the Empire. He knew it, and so did I.

Could these men ever hold meaning? Once those near the level of swordmaster or mages stepped onto the battlefield, numbers ceased to matter. The hundred soldiers gathered here, I could slaughter them all in ten minutes by myself.

And yet, I saw the lord’s own will to live reflected clearly in their eyes. Even flies struggled not to be caught in a spider’s web. None of them would simply stand still and die. They clenched their teeth, resisting even natural death to the bitter end.

The lord wasn’t a fool. There were only four swordmasters in the Empire, and mages rarely left their northern tower without reason. In truth, encountering an imperial swordmaster was no more likely than meeting a natural disaster.

What one faced every day were not disasters, but petty, ragged groups who used them as an excuse to run rampant. With that in mind, the lord’s secret training of soldiers could’ve been a surprisingly rational choice.

I said without much thought, "Shall I help with the training?"

More than the lord, Chandler, standing at his side, beamed brilliantly. "Please, let me join as well!"

"Would you truly do that?"

"It is not difficult."

"Thank you. The grace you have already given us is higher than the heavens. How could I ever repay it...?"

I brushed off the lord’s formal gratitude with a perfunctory reply, before stepping among the soldiers. Strengthening Grassmere’s forces was hardly a poor choice. Chandler also held near-maximum Affection for me. Power he could wield would, in turn, become power I could guide in detail.

Helping Rubia would require putting humans at the forefront. This was hardly the last time such a need would arise. They were worth training.

***

[Skill: Fear Lv. 1 activated.]

"Ugh... Uuh..."

The skill I had absorbed from the Kraken proved effective even in training. Merely letting a faint stream of fear seep into the sparring soldiers brought about results that seemed like real combat. My Instruction skill experience rose rapidly, and I realized I could teach far more than I had expected.

[You have acquired Physical Arts Instruction Lv. 0!]

[Spear Arts...]

[Archery...]

[You have conducted focused Swordsmanship Instruction with diverse trainees.]

[Swordsmanship Instruction Lv. 3 achieved!]

[Disciple designation now available.]

[Current disciples: 0/10]

[— Disciples gain Affection more easily through sparring.

— Your Reputation increases additionally based on your disciples’ achievements.]

It was an amusing skill.

Disciple designation.

[Eligible target detected.]

[Eligible target...]

...

[Eligible...]

Every one of the hundred soldiers before me could be designated as a disciple. Of course, I had no intention of making strangers into disciples. Only ten could be chosen. Perhaps the number would rise as the skill level increased, but for now, even Chandler’s inclusion was something I had to consider carefully.

"That will be enough."

I ended it briefly. Even in that short time, the soldiers’ skill had risen steadily. Slaughtering them was never a matter of if, but when. Their openings were blatant, and even without striking, simply radiating killing intent made them feel as though their throats had been cut or their hearts pierced. The training efficiency was explosive. I filled in what flaws I could. They had become a much more usable force.

Ignoring Chandler’s repeated pleas to follow me wherever I went, I slipped away toward Erast.

Stealth... Detection.

I concealed my presence and vaulted over the city gates. Perhaps moving underground took longer than expected, but I sensed no trace of the Krotte in the city. Naturally, they’d move slower than I, who’d sprinted. Since I’d already spent considerable time in Grassmere, if they had gone somewhere other than Erast, that too would have been fortunate.

Swoosh!

After a brief scan of the city, I headed toward the inner keep where Rubia resided. I had heard the reports and even confirmed the ledgers. Nevertheless, I wanted to see her with my own eyes.

Isaac’s condition remained unchanged. Unless a barrier was raised to block out ghosts, appearing carelessly here was too dangerous. Imperial ghosts, lying in wait for irregular incidents or unexpected appearances, could be lurking anywhere.

Even so, I wanted to see her, even from hiding. Had she changed much? I wondered how my actions had affected her. Within my Detection field, voices surfaced.

"That’s the one. The ogre who’s set to appear in the Grassmere lordship inauguration’s friendly match."

Nearby were five men in familiar attire, lying prone with telescopes, spying ahead.

"Should we shoot an arrow from here?"

"Idiot, don’t. That monster woman wouldn’t take a hit so easily. It wouldn’t reach her anyway."

"Isn’t this the time to strike, while she’s outside?"

"She’s destined to lose. The boss has plans. Her disgrace must be public."

"Ugh..."

"Come on, let’s head in."

Kirk’s group withdrew. Disgrace? A friendly match? It could’ve been related to the plan the lord of Grassmere had mentioned. I considered tailing them immediately, but for the moment, I let them be and approached the clearing before the inner keep.

Swoosh!

Despite her massive size, her blade cut through the air with a sharp whistle. The one they had been observing through their lenses was Christina. Her movements flowed smoothly in a continuous rhythm. What a reassuring sight, she seemed to have grown stronger since we last met. At this level, she’d indeed be a worthy disciple.

As I watched her, a familiar voice drifted through the air. "Christina?"

Through the weathered stairs of the inner keep’s passage, worn down by years of wind and rain, she appeared.

Perhaps it was because I had been apart from her.

Perhaps it was thanks to the help she had sought from the Merchant Guild and the lord of Grassmere.

Rubia was still alive, unscathed. I gazed at her briefly.

Status window.

Almost without realizing it, I called it forth. A new entry appeared.

[Current Domain – Erast]

[Governance Lv. 2]

[A temporary level gained before formal ascension as lord. Results accumulated thus far will be reflected immediately upon enthronement.

[Governance level rises according to the domain’s development and the trust of its people...]

Governance Lv. 2. So victory was already halfway secured. Barring overwhelming interference, she would surely ascend as lord.

Yet Rubia’s expression brimmed with worry. Her feelings were vivid, conveyed through every gesture. "Christina... are you truly certain?"

"There is no problem," the knight replied with resolute confidence, her tone as solid as stone.

Win or lose, nothing could be changed by a friendly match. Especially since it had no bearing on the seat of Erast’s lordship. Even if death or injury in the bout were a concern, Christina was more than strong enough. No matter who Kirk’s side put forth, she would prevail.

"But still..."

I could not tell what troubled her. Then Christina lowered her voice, speaking barely above a whisper, so soft that only my Detection skill caught it.

"Trust me. This is no ordinary matter. The lordship itself is at stake."