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Chapter 42: A King Is Merely One Who Commands Soldiers!
🕑 Added 2025-01-09 21:30:10 +0000 UTCBack in the days when the Orc Kingdom and the Sherlock Dynasty vied for dominance over the Old Continent, their battles plunged the heavens and earth into chaos. The war raged on for over three centuries, culminating in the destruction of the Orc Kingdom by the Sherlock Dynasty. Millions of orcs were massacred, but the Sherlock Dynasty itself was drained by the centuries of conflict and eventually fell to the rising Fars Empire.
Nevertheless, the Orc Kingdom had once been a top-tier power of the Old Continent. Legend held that the slaughtered orc nobles had hidden vast treasures before their demise. These tales were well-known and, in some cases, proven true, as adventurers who discovered these treasures became wealthy and influential.
For seasoned individuals like White Wolf and Louis Simy, a dubious treasure map would evoke nothing but skepticism. Yet for the low-ranking adventurers, such "restraint" was a luxury they did not possess. Just as they had flocked to Yorktown for the rumored legacy of a demon hunter, they were easily swayed by the allure of a treasure map, no matter how questionable its origins. After all, someone was offering to pay them; even a futile trip wouldn’t leave them at a loss.
Particularly clever was Charlot Mecklenburg, who, after facing White Wolf’s derision, adjusted the map’s backstory. No longer a secondhand-store find, it became a cherished relic left by his uncle, lending it a veneer of credibility.
The remaining adventurers, stirred by his words, joined Charlot’s new team. Only two groups declined his invitation, and they departed Yorktown without delay.
Charlot turned around, beaming, and said to White Wolf, “Mr. White Wolf, sell me all your ale!”
“I’ll treat everyone here to a drink.”
The adventurers erupted in cheers, and the area before the massive wooden lodge became a raucous celebration.
…
Charlot drained his mug of ale in one gulp, then smashed it forcefully onto the ground. He raised his head and let out a furious roar!
He had always carried himself with a gentle demeanor, which was true to his nature. Whether in his previous life as a mathematics teacher or in this one as a civil servant handling administrative duties, Charlot had been a mild-mannered individual.
But Warden Magru Trell had signed his dismissal order, casually erasing a lifetime of Charlot Mecklenburg’s hard work. Worse, he had forced Charlot to betray Menielman Soumet and brazenly suggested he’d discard Charlot like a used rag afterward. Charlot had endured enough.
Previously, Charlot had resolved to bide his time and bear the humiliation. Perhaps Menielman would emerge from her political struggles and offer him a lifeline. However, in that moment, Charlot recalled being hunted by the detectives from the Fierce Horse Detective Agency. A surge of fury rose within him, shattering his illusions.
Wiping the traces of ale from his lips, Charlot glanced at the hundred-plus adventurers he had convinced to join him. An idea, once familiar yet never seriously considered, surfaced in his mind.
Since he was already on the run, unable to return to his cushy role within the government, living the quiet life of a "salary thief," why not aim for something grand?
“Damn it!”
“Nobles and kings—are they born better than anyone else?”
“A king is merely one who commands soldiers!”
“Right now, my strength is weak, and this rabble of adventurers is hardly useful. But one day, I will command thousands of warriors, return to Strasbourg, and sever Magru Trell’s head. He’ll learn there’s no good end in messing with a transmigrator.”
Huang Haisheng, a man of peaceful times, had never faced the horrors of war in his previous life. Revenge had never been on his agenda. Even while being pursued, he had considered it mere "self-defense."
But in that instant, Charlot finally understood the phrase, "One who wields a blade inevitably develops a thirst for blood." Was his persuasion of these adventurers truly about some mythical treasure from the ancient Orc Kingdom?
He didn’t even have a treasure map. And even if he did…
What use was a mere treasure map?
Even if he found the treasure, he’d still be a wanted man in the Fars Empire.
Even if he fled to another country, he’d still face oppression by corrupt officials.
Charlot’s mind cleared, and a newfound determination filled him. Surveying the rowdy adventurers, he raised a hand to the sky and shouted, “To everyone who joins me on this treasure hunt, I, Kainan, swear upon the ancestors of the orcs that your future fortunes will not fall short of a hundred gold écus!”
“Let’s move out!”
With a swift kick, he shattered the suitcase he had used to conceal his identity. It held nothing of value anyway. Grabbing his alchemical staff and the Vampiric rapier gifted by Louis, he strode confidently out of Yorktown.
The adventurers, awed by his commanding presence, began dropping their mugs and following him. Once the first few joined, the others fell in line, trailing after Charlot in groups of two and three. The scattered crowd started to coalesce, showing the faintest signs of unity.
Watching the mess left in front of his lodge, White Wolf remarked, “Louis! Your friend is extraordinary. He’s destined to accomplish great things.”
“However…”
“Why do I sense the air of a desperado about him?”
“You don’t deal with desperados.”
Louis Simy chuckled wryly. “He’s an imperial civil servant.”
“And a highly promising one at that.”
White Wolf raised an eyebrow. “What kind of promise?”
Louis Simy replied, “His companion is the daughter of a count.”
White Wolf stared at him in astonishment, then murmured, “No wonder! To marry a count’s daughter, you’d need the spirit of a desperado.”
Louis Simy spread his hands; that wasn’t what he had meant.
…
Once outside Yorktown, Charlot called out, “Who knows the way to Machubi’s ruins?”
An adventurer immediately shouted, “I’ve been to Machubi!”
Charlot smiled faintly. “Excellent. Please, sir, lead the way.”
Machubi had been a fortress of the ancient Orc Kingdom, once renowned as the impregnable Machubi. The Sherlock Dynasty had taken the stronghold through cunning and then set it ablaze, reducing it to ruins.
Centuries later, the site was desolate, shrouded in terrifying rumors. Only a handful of adventurers dared visit in search of fortune.
Hearing they were heading to Machubi, some adventurers hesitated. The tales surrounding the fortress were too grim. However, seeing that this was no small party but a group of over a hundred, led by a Transcendent, they found renewed courage. Besides, rumor had it that Kainan held a treasure map that could guide them past dangers. Emboldened, they pressed on.
Charlot’s choice of Machubi stemmed from two reasons. First, this ragtag group couldn’t endure a long journey. Even elite troops struggled with long-distance marches.
Machubi was nearby, just over 200 kilometers from Strasbourg—a mere two- or three-day trek for the adventurers, making it an enticingly "manageable" target.
Second, in a week, he would owe them their first wages. While he could afford to pay…
Well, he wasn’t particularly inclined to.
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