Marquis de Marmen

Like a wise man, Cardoj sat quietly on his horse and commanded the troops to move forward. Locke, who was watching from afar, was envious of the baron's steadiness. When could he be like the baron? His horse was so hard to please. Not only was it slow, but it also gave him a hard time. If it weren't for Locke's strength and murderous aura, he wouldn't have been able to control the stupid horse.

It was noon, but the baron didn't give the order to rest. In fact, he wouldn't even give the order for the whole day because there was only one day left before they reached Bimore. Locke received news that Cardoj and Cashel were going to travel for a day and reach Bimore before nightfall.

The troops continued to advance. For ordinary soldiers, this was indeed the case. Even the squad leaders had to keep their spirits up and keep an eye on their subordinates. Otherwise, some unlucky bastard would fall behind and go missing. In the past few years, the number of soldiers who went missing accounted for half of the deaths. No one could let their guard down. Of course, this only applied to those below the jarl level. Locke and Jersson were chatting comfortably on their horses. The baron's order to only give horses to platoon jarls and above was extremely friendly. Locke had never thought that the boring march would be so relaxing on horseback. He could chat with other platoon jarls, borrow a bow and point at some birds flying in the sky, improve the quality of his supper, or chase after Yun'er on horseback. It was all in the name of 'equestrian training'. Locke was having a very good time.

Locke had just ridden from the back of the troops to the front. He had just checked to see if his platoon had fallen behind, and there was a light hickey on his cheek. Well, not bad. His platoon was full of energetic lads, so they definitely wouldn't fall behind. Even if there was, it would be Jersson's problem. After all, he was the platoon jarl while Locke was only the deputy. He only had to take care of his men and leave the rest to Jersson.

Locke and Jersson were on good terms, and Jersson only jokingly complained about Locke's inaction during meals. "You're the elder brother now, so you should at least take care of me," Locke said to Jersson.

"Locke!" Yoshk shouted as he rode his horse to the centre of the group.

"Yes, I'm coming!" Locke quickly responded.

"What's the matter?" asked Locke as he rode Bru to Yoshk.

"You brat, hide those women well. Don't let the ordinary soldiers know!" Uncle Yoshk frowned and reprimanded him. "Keep a low profile for the next few days. We'll be in Wallier soon. There will probably be a fierce battle. Show the baron well when the time comes!"

"Got it, Uncle," Locke quickly replied.

Yoshk rode his horse back to his platoon. Locke hurried to look for Jersson. He had been a lot more presumptuous these days, but that had something to do with Yoshk and the others getting to know him better.

When Locke had just been promoted to platoon jarl, he had been busy attacking Farlans. After that, he planned to wander the village and went to Wallier to trade in the black market. Locke rarely came into contact with people of his current rank. Fortunately, Yoshk helped him find out a lot of information. For example, the baron had such good horsemanship because he had studied in Aomar when he was young. In Locke's eyes, Aomar was just a legend.

.....

"Quick! Don't fall behind! " The platoon jarls shouted in unison. Locke used to be one of them, but now that he was a platoon jarl, he realised that the platoon jarls were the core of the platoon. Each platoon jarl led a ten-man squad that was inseparable from each other and formed a strong brigade. Compared to Cashel's troops, Locke realised that the main reason why they were stronger than Cashel's troops was because their squad jarls were more cohesive. Locke, who used to be a squad jarl himself, didn't know the reason behind this.

Just like a fool, under the leadership of a wise man like Cardoj, he burst forth with power greater than ordinary people. Locke never denied that he was a fool. He knew that he hadn't read many books and his knowledge was limited, but he also knew that he could only do better by relying on wise men like Cardoj, Solon or Uncle Yoshk. That was why he was a platoon jarl. Locke was always proud of himself because he felt that he was smarter than most of the ordinary soldiers in his battalion. He felt that he was slightly smarter than most of the fools.

Locke was looking forward to Bimore. Although there would be a fierce battle before that, it didn't matter. He'd been through it for four years, so one more battle wouldn't matter. Locke couldn't guarantee that he would survive the battle, but he felt that he wouldn't die in Bimore. Bimore was a small place. Indeed, the count's territory was already a small place in Locke's eyes. Yoshk and the others had said that the count's resistance was at most two to three thousand men, while they had an entire division with more than five thousand men. Not to mention, they were a group of battle-hardened elites. They could easily take down the count's territory.

As for Locke's anticipation, it was because Yoshk had promised to bring him to the division's logistics department when the division met up. Maybe he could get some potions that would be useful to him. In Locke's eyes, potions were linked to mysterious magic. When he asked Yoshk about the relationship between the two, Yoshk's answer was ambiguous, as if he wasn't too sure himself. However, he was sure that there must be some connection between the two.

Locke's impetus had been dormant for a long time. Although it had only been a month since he started cultivating, he felt very unhappy that there wasn't an obvious improvement like at the beginning. Moreover, the slow improvement in his strength made him feel insecure. To be honest, veterans who had lived on the battlefield for more than three years were much stronger than new recruits, but they didn't feel as secure as new recruits. The longer they lived, the more timid they became.

For the past two days, Locke had tried to ask Solon for the redsea flower, but Solon refused, saying that it wouldn't improve even if he took it. At first, Locke was a little dissatisfied, but after a few times, he realised that perhaps what Solon said was true. After all, Locke felt that Solon wasn't a stingy person.

"The redsea flower is the most precious medicine for becoming a Knecht. Only nobles with deep roots would have it." One day, when Locke was fretting about not having the redsea flower to improve his strength, Glace suddenly said. Locke was even more convinced that this woman wasn't as simple as she seemed. He was even more determined not to let her go and marry a woman who was likely to be a noble. Locke grinned and thought to himself.

The relationship between Laffey and Locke became more and more harmonious. Locke was surprised that Laffey had also taken the redsea flower before. According to Laffey, it was given by their head maid to guard maids like her. She even took it twice because she was protecting the young mistress. Perhaps twice was the redsea flower's limit, Locke speculated.

"We'll arrive outside Bimore in the evening. I hope to meet my old buddies there," said Yoshk to Locke. As a veteran platoon jarl, Yoshk's acquaintance wasn't limited to Cashel's troops. It could be said that he was well-acquainted with the entire 2nd Division, though only in the middle and lower ranks. As for the other divisions, he was also acquainted with some of them. Even the independent cavalry division, Cardoj, was on good terms with a few of them when he escorted Cardoj to the division headquarters.

"Uncle, you have to introduce me to a few seniors," said Locke with a smile.

"No problem, kid," replied Yoshk boldly. Uncle Yoshk answered boldly. His forthright personality made him popular everywhere, especially in the army.

The temporary headquarters of the Falcon Corps was located in the Als Valley in front of Bimore City. Rows of dark green tents were erected in this barren valley. At the very center of the valley, a brown eagle was spreading its wings and the war flag was fluttering in the wind. From time to time, the loud voice of a herald could be heard from the tent below the eagle.

"2nd Division's 3rd Brigade is in position!"

"2nd Division's 7th Brigade is in position!"

"3rd Division's 5th Brigade is in position!"

.....

"Report! Half of 2nd Division has arrived! " Said a herald in a black Faustian uniform to a stooped old man standing in the centre of the tent. If Locke were here, he would definitely be envious of the herald's neat uniform and sword and ignore the old man. Because if he really had to compare the Faustian uniform, the herald's was a real uniform, while Locke's was just a bunch of rags. The old man, on the other hand, was no different from an ordinary old man, except that his eyes were brighter and sharper than ordinary people.

"What about 3rd Division?" asked the old man calmly, but there was an unquestionable tone in his voice.

"Uh …" The herald paused before replying, "Only 1st Brigade and 3rd Brigade are in position at the moment."

"Hmph! What a bunch of useless nobles! They're stuffing all kinds of trash into Falcon. Do they really think this is a rubbish dump? " The old man waved his hands violently, and a gust of wind blew past. Based on this move alone, the old man had at least the strength of a high-rank Knecht. Impetus release was the signature ability of a high-rank Knecht.

Author's thoughts

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

Do you want to vote

Creating is hard, cheer me up! Vote for me!

I want to book

I bookmarked this book, come support me with a thumbs up!

Do you want to collect Did you like it? Add to library!

I would like to comment

Do you have any idea of my story? Comment and let me know.