Chapter 167 One Hundred Sixty-Six Chapter: Running Accounts
The bedroom was dim, and Jima got up from the large bed, stretching lazily.
It felt so good to have enough sleep. That guy George surely didn’t understand the importance of adequate rest—early to rise? What a joke.
Jima rubbed her eyes, opened her personal system, and checked the system time: ten o’clock in the morning.
She had slept for a full ten hours, how nice! Today was going to be another energetic day.
It was still early.
Jima took a shower, changed her clothes, and after having breakfast, she first went to browse the dream realm, confirming that Duke Kassong’s army had not fallen into any traps.
Although patrolling in the dream realm during the day was indeed inappropriate—most beastmen didn’t sleep during the day—what if the enemy discovered that she could patrol in dreams and altered their own schedule?
Nothing happened.
She returned to the real world, caught up with the troops, and went to find George.
The troop stretched over the land, infantry wearing pot helmets and round helmets, dressed in thick patched cotton armor, carrying long spears or shields. Their only metal protection was their helmets.
They were usually farmers who trained at the knight lord’s castle during the off-season. Under the lord’s commands, they followed their knight lord’s banner to the battlefield.
These ordinary infantrymen made up the majority of the army.
The rest were mostly noble knights, fully armored, riding on fine horses meant for transport, and at the front of the army was the highest commander—Duke Kassong, dressed in luxurious plate armor adorned with gold reliefs.
George was next to him; under the opulence of Duke Kassong’s armor, George’s plate armor looked cheap and unremarkable.
Discussing serious matters while marching on horseback was highly respected among knights.
“…Your father did not fulfill his knightly duty,” Duke Kassong said. “He forgot that he was first a knight and then a merchant, failing to respond to the divine call. Fortunately, he has a noble son who adheres to the chivalric code.”
“Whenever I talk about my biological father, I always feel unhappy,” George said. “I would prefer others to call me a bastard.”
“A follower of the God of Dawn is honest,” Duke Kassong said. “Undeniably, you are a bastard. But your adherence to the chivalric code and your honor prove that you are the true knight. According to the chivalric code, only true knights can own territory.”
“Are you trying to interfere with his territory?”
“I want to strip his title for you; his territory should be inherited by you, not the son of a merchant.”
“That does not conform to the chivalric code.”
“But he is not a knight and has failed to adhere to the code, sending only mercenaries who are driven by greed to fulfill his divine duty.” Duke Kassong waved his hand in disdain. “I’ll have that group of mercenaries sent away immediately.”
George paused for a moment and said, “But I don’t want his earldom.”
“Don’t want to be bound by territorial affairs?” Duke Kassong said. “That’s normal; you are young. You can entrust the territory to other knights for management. Many traveling knights do this before pursuing the Holy Grail.”
“Not that,” George said. “My stepmother worries that I will usurp their territory.”
“Women do not understand the chivalric code; why should you care?” Duke Kassong said. “Unworldly farmers always think knights are eyeing the grain in their hands.”
“But I do not want their slander to become reality, my lord.”
“Very well.” Duke Kassong said, “I respect your decision. Additionally, I have some combat missions for you.”
“Please, go on.”
“In your application, you wrote that collecting evidence against the Mother of Beasts would have an impact on the battle, correct?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Detach from the army and scout ahead; when you reach the war zone, you can also collect evidence against the Mother of Beasts. It would be best if you could ascertain the main force’s position.” Duke Kassong said, “You can find a few knights in the army to help you; they will be eager to follow you.”
“Understood.”
This task was entirely normal.
Usually, strong individuals like George, who only brought themselves to assist, were utilized to engage in ‘extraordinary battles’ with the enemy, scouting for the army, and combatting the enemy’s extraordinary beings, covering their own army to gain an advantage and launch raids against the enemy camp.
A mounted squire approached respectfully and said, “Lord George, a succubus is looking for you.”
“Perfect timing; I need to find her as well.”
After they met, they moved slightly away from the army, walking to the roadside.
George briefly explained the mission.
Jima said, “Well, a perfectly normal task, just finding someone and putting in a little effort. By the way, about the intelligence transmission—should I, as the logistics officer, handle that myself, or find a knight to do the legwork?”
“First, do the legwork; if the situation gets tense, then use your ability to enter dreams.”
“Oh.”
Jima thought that today was going to be another calm, normal, and boring day with nothing to talk about.
Rows of old farmer soldiers walked past them nearby, their faces darkened, hands calloused from farm work resting on spear shafts, their cotton armor old and unwashed, gray and dusty.
One of the old farmers carried a flail on his shoulder. This two-handed weapon looked like an oversized nunchaku with a few rusted nails sticking out of its ends.
George stopped his horse to look at them.
Jima asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Do you see that flail?”
“Yes, it’s good for breaking shields; a favorite weapon of farmers.”
“Yeah, they need to use the flail for threshing wheat while farming,” George said. “When called up, they carry the flail to the muster point, going from farmers in the morning to fighting man-eating beastmen in the afternoon.”
“Isn’t that quite normal?” Jima said. “Farmers know how to use a flail, and they can bring their own. Just add a few long nails, and it becomes a military weapon.”
“That’s not it.” George said, “How can they, wearing patched cotton armor, withstand the arrows of beastmen? They still have to charge forward and fight the beastmen. In the eyes of their commander, they are cannon fodder; their only use is to delay the knights’ flank attacks, but they are husbands, fathers, and sons.”
Jima looked at these farmer soldiers, straining her conscience to squeeze out a few tears of sympathy.
It was simple; George liked it. He surely preferred a woman who felt pity for these cannon fodder at this moment, even if that pity was just a little.
But not a drop.
Jima couldn’t be bothered to lie, so she said:
“So you want to reduce casualties?”
“Defeat the beastmen as quickly as possible.”
“Do you plan to charge to the front and attract the enemy’s arrows with your body?” Jima asked. “Or using your body to draw arrows?”
“I think you have a big bias against beastmen,” George said. “They aren’t stupid enough to waste arrows on a fast-moving and heavily armored strongman.”
“Then, do your job well. Do you have suitable candidates in mind?”
A calm, run-of-the-mill day had passed.
At least, that’s what Jima thought before returning to the Dream Palace to get the income statement from Adolf.
“How is this possible? The income has actually shrunk by one-twentieth? Has the book been sealed?”
———
But the computer will.
