Entering a Company From Another World! – Chapter 691

War is the final means by which nations resolve their disputes physically.

If conflicts can be resolved through words, such phenomena would not occur.
It is understood that if it ends at the preceding stage, consumption will be less, but it is a wasteful act as a final resort that arises when each party’s profits, feelings, and ideologies clash and do not align.

During wartime, various industries suffer blows, and costs far beyond what is normally conceivable are incurred.
So, when these costs are escalating, can those who have always been wasteful and lived luxurious lives lower their living standards and manage?

To state the answer first, it can only be said that it depends on the person, but it is likely that more than half would say it’s impossible.
Can someone who has always eaten delicious food suddenly live on bean sprouts?
Can a man whose daily life involves being accompanied by beautiful women and showering them with gifts stop doing so?
Can a woman whose hobby is collecting precious metals and designer goods resist a new creation?
Can someone who has always been far removed from the act of self-restraint suddenly endure such ascetic practice?

Conclusion: It is plain to see that attempting to do something suddenly that has never been done before will lead to succumbing to one’s desires.

“Hahaha!! Bring more alcohol!!”

In addition, the privileged class, who do not believe they need to suffer, are so steeped in that ideology that they fundamentally lack the notion of working with sweat and toil.

“I am the chosen one.”

Their daily life consists of enjoying themselves while using others.
For people who have made that their norm, they may dream of being active and praised in war, but it is not necessarily the case that they will develop the ideology of saving money because war is expensive.

This is the mansion of a certain lord in a certain country.
A lord who, by virtue of his bloodline alone, gathers conscripted soldiers called militiamen, entrusts the troops to his subordinate generals, and merely waits for the fame that comes in the form of war spoils.
It would be one thing if there were hidden evaluations such as the previous generation being competent or if he were actually making some hidden efforts, but this family’s bloodline has historically consisted of individuals who have simply reveled in life, wielding the power of their noble status like an umbrella.
In other words, he is the lowest of the low as a ruler, someone who could easily be exhibited as a specimen of a corrupt noble.
He spends his days with alcohol, women, and parties to show off, and the money for these activities is sustained by the taxes citizens offer.
If he falls short, he levies emergency taxes with the ferocity of destroying an entire village.
Recently, there is the justifiable cause of needing resources for the war against the Demon Lord’s Army.
Furthermore, it allows him to satisfy his craving for honor by being able to deliver a welcome report to the person who is the Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Forces.
He can aim for a win-win situation based on his own convenience.
He can also legally gather beautiful women as offerings.
Everything can be done as he pleases under the guise of a holy war.
Given this, it is strange that rebellion does not occur.
However, the corruption that history has woven is difficult to eradicate.
Those who gather around corrupt rulers tend to be of the same ilk, with corrupted ideologies that seek to maintain the current system.
Those who oppress the powerless congregate.
That is what history has woven.
As a result, an environment has been created solely for the purpose of exploiting the populace to the point where they cannot rise up.
Even now, they can impose the hardship of war on others and get drunk on fine wine and women in safe zones.
The pretense is a meeting to develop the territory, but anyone observing them with beautiful women at their side, drinking alcohol, savoring delicacies, and having their mansions guarded by soldiers while they revel noisily, would never, even under duress, call it a meeting.

“My Lord, there is a woman of marriageable age in the village I govern, renowned as the most beautiful in the land. Tonight, I have brought her with me. She wishes to express her gratitude to you, my Lord, for governing this land and enduring hardships.”
“Ho ho! You are most welcome. Tonight, I shall accept your sentiments!”
“I am grateful. Therefore, though I am reluctant, I have a pressing request.”
“Indeed! I am in good spirits now! Speak your mind!!”

This exchange is commonplace, and the fate of many lives is decided by a single word from the rulers gathered here.
Despite this, the words that emanate from them are only those that make it sound as if they have become gods.
In this war, decent lords have entrusted their territories to their trusted subordinates and are leading their troops themselves.
As a result, complaints from neighboring, decent territories have decreased.
One could say it is a vicious cycle, a backlash from suppression.
They are ignorant of the feelings of the common people who suffer daily.

In the banquet hall, where such behavior is taking place.
Clouds cover the sky, and it is nighttime on Earth.
It has arrived.
The first to notice was a guard soldier, who, with loosened vigilance, let out a yawn.
It came so boldly and directly that even such a careless guard noticed.
On a bright night, in a certain country under a cloudy sky that resembled a world of the sun, a group walked boldly down a single road.
They advanced in an orderly fashion, disciplined soldiers.
Initially, the soldiers on the city walls thought it was some lord’s army arriving.
With a sluggish train of thought, the soldier wondered if there had been any such report, but as the approaching soldiers gradually became visible, their faces instantly turned pale.
“Enemy attack!! Enemy attack!!”
The approaching soldiers were a horde of armored demons.
A legion of demons, carrying spears, with swords at their waists, and shields on their backs.
Horns growing from their heads, and skin of various colors unlike human skin.
Arms as thick as a man’s waist.
Facing this well-trained legion, the soldier, on the verge of collapsing, barely held on and, with fumbling, grabbed a nearby hammer to sound the alarm.
The sound of the bell, rung with all their might, meant to resonate as much as possible, drew off-duty guards from the mansion, wondering what was happening.
“What the hell, so noisy.”
The captain, drunk and seemingly unwilling to deal with any troublesome matters, climbed onto the watchtower.
His armor was haphazardly put on, and he was intoxicated. He did not wear a helmet, and his only weapon was the sword at his waist.
His attitude was clearly unmotivated.
He glared at the soldier who sounded the alarm with displeasure, as if to scold rather than praise him, but the soldier was too preoccupied to care and pointed the hammer towards the approaching legion.
“C-c-captain! A demon legion!! They’re attacking!!”
“Ah, what nonsense are you spouting…”
With such panic, he suspected the soldier might have been drunk and dreaming, and considered giving him a punch. However, the captain looked in the direction the soldier was pointing.
“…”
Then, as the blood drained from his face, his intoxication dissipated simultaneously.
He had such an experience.
The Demon Lord’s Army arrayed themselves as if waiting for their preparations to be complete.
Their numbers were far from sufficient to defend this city.
How could such a force, capable of surrounding the city, suddenly appear in this country? Where were the guards, the scouts?
The captain’s mind filled with thoughts of shifting blame to someone else for what they had been doing.
However, not many people in this country are seriously engaged in warfare.
This area, far from the front lines, viewed the war as something external, accepting only the convenient aspects.
Did they expect competent scouts to function in such a country?
The patrol soldiers who had gone out for reconnaissance were drinking and boasting in regions where no magic beasts appeared.
Suppressing them would be a trivial matter.
Without any messengers arriving and no preparations made, the large army was discovered only when they had approached the city’s immediate vicinity.
It was the worst-case scenario imaginable in war.
Even if they were to fortify themselves in the castle, they could not even call for help.
Or rather, could they even fortify themselves in the castle at all?
The captain, who should normally have ordered the castle gates closed, was unable to do so.
He was distraught by the sheer magnitude of the event.
Is this the extent of soldiers who haven’t experienced war, have been lulled into a false sense of security, and are drowning in greed?
Their pathetic state, despite their arrogant attitude towards the weak in everyday life.
From afar, watching the demeanor of those soldiers, one demon stepped forward from the demon horde.
Just one look at that demon was enough for even a child to know.
This demon was the leader of this legion.
He possessed a presence that was both imposing and, despite being an enemy, made him seem like a hero.
The demon, swaying the kanabō (iron club) strapped to his back and showcasing his trained physique, walked alone towards the castle walls.
He stopped halfway.
At that point, the captain felt a sense of relief. If that demon were to enter the city unimpeded, their fate would be sealed.
A thought of extreme optimism, that the Demon Lord’s Army might not necessarily attack, brought him a sense of security.
But that was short-lived.
The demon took a deep breath.
The soldiers, without bows and watching in silence, wondered what he was about to do.
“I am one of the Seven Generals of the Demon Lord’s Army!! Oniō Raidou!! We declare war upon this country!! Humans!! If you wish to stop our advance, resist with all your might!! In half an hour, our forces will attack this city!! Prepare yourselves!!”
The Demon King’s declaration of war instantly tightened their loosened emotions. It was a roar that, even now, pushed the reality of their engagement in war upon them.
Still, the captain could not quite accept what had happened.
“C-captain!! What should we do!?”
However, it was the flustered soldier who sounded the alarm who finally made him understand that he would have to fight the Demon Lord’s Army.
“Close the castle gates!! Gather the soldiers!! I will go inform the Lord of this matter. You all defend this city with all your might!!”
Only then was he able to issue the most basic of instructions, an instruction that could be described as minimal, but better than no instruction at all.
After issuing the order, the captain hastily descended from the watchtower and ran towards the stables.
“Damn it! Why did this have to happen!!”
While running, he continued to issue similar instructions to passing soldiers, gathering as many of them as possible on the castle walls.
He sprinted to the stables and saddled the finest horse among them.
“Ah, dammit!!”
However, the fact that the demons were attacking disrupted his hands.
While frustrated, the captain, having saddled the horse, mounted it and headed towards the lord’s mansion.
“Captain, where are you going?”
He gave the impression of heading to the lord’s mansion, but instead, he headed towards the gate in the opposite direction from the one the Demon Lord’s Army was approaching.
“The Demon Lord’s Army is attacking!! I’m going to the next town to call for reinforcements! You all defend this city to the death!!”
Instead of seeking instructions from his superior, he chose to flee for his own preservation.
Mounting his horse, he quickly gathered his belongings from his house along the way, made the minimal preparations for his escape, and, ignoring the panicked soldiers, bolted out of the open castle gate.
He urged his horse forward, driven by the fear of fleeing, of escaping from that demon.
It was not something a leader of the city’s soldiers should do.
However, his heart loudly made excuses, saying it was unavoidable for the sake of saving his own life, and thus justified his actions.
He didn’t care what happened to the city, his subordinates, his drinking buddies he’d gotten along with, or his favorite prostitutes.
As long as he was safe, that was all that mattered.
Thinking thus, he moved away from the city.
The city receded further and further with the speed befitting a fine horse.
He had thought that as long as he could no longer see the demon, it would be enough.
Therefore, he slowed his pace from a gallop to a walk, considering resting his horse.
“Did I escape?”
The surroundings were quiet plains, with no one around.
He thought he had secured his own safety.
Therefore, he did not notice the arrow shot from a distance, and the captain’s life was extinguished.
“In war, you see, it’s common sense to be careful not to need reinforcements.”
It was a goblin, lurking as an ambush, that did this.
The goblin, clad in a ghillie suit, seemingly exasperated by the fate of a soldier who showed no vigilance, witnessed the end of the self-serving man.
Today’s Word:
There are events that elicit the phrase, “there is no room for sympathy.”
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