Episode 66
War Proxy Corporation. A mercenary organization with operational capabilities surpassing those of its clients.
Building such a massive organization doesn’t happen overnight. The first task was clear: to elevate the reputation and value of the mercenary group itself.
Their first employer was a noble seeking to hire mercenaries for a territorial war.
Initially hesitant due to the exorbitant fee, the noble was left speechless upon meeting the representative of the mercenaries.
”……!”
The infamous “Black Prince” was there.
Why would the heir to the Saxon Duchy, a future grand duke, be leading a mere mercenary band? It was baffling, yet irrelevant. For a battle that would decide the fate of his territory, no expense was too great.
Not long after, the forces of two noble houses faced off on a hilly terrain.
Dale, the captain of the Black Armor Company, was present as well.
Not under the banner of the Saxon Duchy’s raven emblem, but under the flag of the Black Armor Company, marked with their black armor symbol. A knight in custom black armor wielded a greatsword, serving as the standard-bearer.
The Black Armor Company commanded the left flank. Opposing them on the right flank was the elite cavalry of the rival noble.
The battle commenced.
The enemy cavalry charged at the heavily armored infantry positioned defensively on the hill.
“Hold your ground! Do not break formation!”
“Maintain your positions!”
It was time to showcase the results of their grueling training in the frozen lands of the Saxon Duchy. But then, unexpectedly—
“Barrett M98B, 8.58x70mm.”
Dale muttered calmly. His shadowy cloak fluttered, mimicking the form of a firearm, and aimed at the charging enemy cavalry.
This was no mere projection of a formula Dale had shown before.
On that day, he harnessed the power of a 6th-circle dark mage, creating a shadow weapon of unprecedented form and power.
The Shadow Rifle.
Gripping this unmistakable weapon from another world, Dale aimed from within the ranks of the armored infantry. He pulled the shadowy trigger, targeting the enemy cavalry leader’s helmet.
Bang!
“One.”
The sniper bullet struck true. The enemy cavalry leader, charging with fervor, toppled from his horse.
“What, what just happened?!”
“The leader fell with a single shot…!”
“Was it an arrow?”
“Impossible!”
Despite the confusion, the enemy cavalry couldn’t halt their charge, but a wave of panic began to spread.
“No way.”
A 3rd-circle mage participating in a minor noble skirmish shouldn’t possess the power to pierce a knight’s armor. Or so it was believed.
“Our captain took down the enemy cavalry leader!”
“How? Was that magic?”
“I heard a 3rd-circle mage can’t pierce knight armor!”
Amidst the Black Armor Company’s armored infantry, cries of astonishment erupted.
“Reload.”
As the distance closed, Dale chanted again.
The more vividly and precisely he envisioned the target, the stronger the destructive power. It was incomparable to indiscriminately firing shadow bullets.
Distance, power, accuracy—each parameter was amplified nearly tenfold.
Even though Dale specialized in close combat, he hadn’t forsaken the advantages of a mage’s long-range capabilities.
Bang!
“Two.”
Dale pulled the trigger of the Shadow Rifle again. Each time a shadow bullet struck, another charging cavalryman fell.
Helmets shattered, skulls cracked, brains burst, and death was instantaneous.
“Three.”
Bang!
The cavalry, protected by armor, couldn’t comprehend the terror of a battlefield where bullets rained down. The fear of death from an unseen source, the terror of a comrade falling dead from a single shot.
The courage, the lifeblood of a cavalry charge, crumbled before this fear.
“Four.”
In truth, the number of cavalrymen Dale’s bullets claimed was insignificant. Just a few. But the fear stemming from those few deaths was not.
Fear spread like a plague.
As the distance closed, the emotions hidden beneath the cavalry’s helmets became apparent. The fear that they might be next spread rapidly.
“Five.”
Bang!
The equalizing rain of death. No matter how much one trained for battle and honed their bravery, the unknown fear of death was not to be underestimated.
After several shots, the distance between the two sides closed.
But the enemy cavalry, driven by fear, had galloped too quickly, causing their formation to scatter.
The disorganized cavalry’s lances descended upon the Black Armor Company’s armored infantry. But the lances carried fear and dread, not the decisive blow they needed.
“For the captain!”
In contrast, the force facing the cavalry was a hundred-strong armored infantry, their morale soaring.
Sir Yones, leading them, shouted.
“For the Black Armor Company!”
“We die where we stand!”
The Black Armor Company roared their battle cry. Their formation was unbreakable.
“Life’s all about being born with a silver spoon.”
Dale muttered as if it were someone else’s business.
That night, a victory celebration was held at the Roosevelt Southern Fortress, honoring the Black Armor Company’s achievements.
Wine, meat, women. Luxuries rarely afforded to mere mercenaries were laid before them.
“You’re amazing, Captain!”
“Never thought I’d be treated like a noble in a castle!”
A mercenary, with a woman on his arm, shouted boisterously, devouring the meat on the table. Could there be a greater paradise for mercenaries?
“Don’t get too carried away. You’ll be seeing this often.”
Dale added, as if it were someone else’s concern.
“Oh my, you’re truly the Prince Dale!”
“I heard about your exploits in today’s battle from my father!”
“They say you single-handedly decimated the enemy cavalry with your wit!”
Ignoring the flattery of the Roosevelt baron’s daughters beside him.
“You’re so dashing and gallant!”
“It was only possible thanks to my subordinates’ efforts.”
Their enthusiasm was boundless.
And why not? Beside them was the heir of a ducal house. For a lower noble’s daughter, it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to even speak to him. The Roosevelt daughters weren’t doing it out of affection. It was the way of the world they lived in.
The gap between nobles and commoners, and even among nobles themselves, was vast. But was it any different in his past life? Likely the same in any world.
A truly bitter reality.
The next morning.
Sir Yones, staggering from a hangover, awoke to find their young captain seated before him.
“Ca-Captain!”
The hall of the Roosevelt Southern Fortress, where last night’s revelry had left everyone sprawled, was a mess. Sir Yones and the mercenaries lay with their heads on tables or sprawled on the stone floor.
“Are you dogs or men?”
“I-I’ll wake everyone and assemble them immediately!”
As Dale muttered as if it were someone else’s business, Sir Yones hurriedly raised his voice.
“No, let them be. They’ve never experienced such luxury. Let them enjoy it a bit longer.”
Dale shook his head gently.
“I waited because I have something to discuss with you.”
“With me, sir?”
“Yes.”
Dale nodded.
“Once we return to the Saxon Duchy, I’ll assign a few people to train you.”
“Train me, sir?”
Surprised, Sir Yones tilted his head.
“In the future, as we build a reputation beyond what we have now, and with the Saxon heir leading this organization… Nobles will entrust us with their forces and operations based on that trust.”
“Yes, I suppose they would.”
An organization with operational capabilities surpassing those of its clients. That was the purpose of the Black Armor Company.
“But even if that’s the case now, who will lead this mercenary group to victory in war when I’m not around?”
“Well, as the deputy, that would be my responsibility.”
“That’s why you need to learn. How to win battles, how to fight in different situations, where to engage. So that even without me, the Black Armor Company can guarantee ‘victory in war.’”
Dale continued.
“Once we return, the high-ranking officers of the Saxon house will train you day and night. Don’t neglect your sword training under our knights.”
“Why me, sir?”
Listening to Dale, Sir Yones asked again.
The fact that a mere second son of a low-ranking noble was entrusted with the military operations of a great noble family was not lost on him. He understood the weight of such a responsibility.
“You just happened to be there.”
A path to success that even his father and brothers dared not dream of lay open before him.
“Is that really all there is to it?”
“What, did you think we were bound by the threads of love or something?”
Dale replied as if it were someone else’s business, his answer unchanged from before.
“So, it wouldn’t have mattered if it were anyone else in my place?”
But Lord Yones pressed further, and Dale responded.
“Who else could have been in your place?”
“Well…”
Lord Yones swallowed his words, finally grasping the true meaning behind Dale’s words.
When the Duke of Saxon summoned his vassals to counter the demon horde’s advance, Lord Yones was among them.
At sixteen, he had left home to make a name for himself as a wandering knight, starting from the bottom and eventually becoming the leader of a hundred-strong mercenary company.
He believed that those who had nothing could still triumph over those who had everything. With that belief, he challenged Saxon’s “Black Prince” and was defeated. Yet, it was this very defeat that allowed Lord Yones to stand where he did now.
“Commander… no, Prince Dale.”
Understanding Dale’s intentions, Lord Yones quietly knelt, bowing his head in an indescribable display of loyalty.
“Kenneth Yones, vice-captain of the Black Armor Company. I will never let you down, Prince Dale.”