Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

Chapter 519: What Do You Mean Leading An Army Requires Actual Work?

A white-furred coat with golden accents and a signet ring was waiting for me on a desk in my personal cabin aboard the flagship.

If you don’t know what a flagship is because you never went anywhere near the sea — it’s basically the main ship in a fleet of ships.

Quietly, I stared at the pristine white coat.

Just beside it, the signet ring of the Heir Apparent was resting on a small velvet cushion. It was made out of polished gold, etched with the roaring lion crest of my family.

Between the blood diamond ring Juliana gave me, Lily and Alexia’s brooches pinned to my chest, and now this…

I feared I was going to turn into a walking jewelry display very soon.

“Young Mistress Thalia has informed the family that DwanSlasher broke during the fight between you two,” said an armored woman standing near the door. Her tone was deferential, and her head lowered.

I had seen the knights of Zelda’s Order address my sister in that tone, in that manner, once.

I had been jealous of her once.

But finally, I had achieved all that I wanted to achieve back then. Back when I was a child.

I won’t lie and tell you that I didn’t feel satisfied.

After all, I had already promised to narrate this story as truthfully as possible.

So, no. I’m not ashamed to admit that a small part of my chest preened.

All those years of being called the disappointment, the disgrace of House Theosbane… and now, the Elders had admitted that I was indeed more fit to be the next Lord of Luxara. I was better than my sister.

It felt so, so good.

But… not as good as I’d hoped.

Standing in the quiet cabin, surrounded by metal furniture, I gazed down at the very coat and ring that symbolized everything I used to crave.

DwanSlasher was missing, yes.

It was a sword that had been passed down from one generation of heir to the next for nearly two centuries. To lose a relic like that was… shameful, to say the least.

Well, I remembered it broke when she tried to block my Vajra. So technically it was also my fault as well, I think?

…Meh.

It was fine.

DwanSlasher was a Rare-grade sword anyway, which equated to B-rank.

I had Divine artifacts that made Rare-grade weapons look like butter knives. So not inheriting one sentimental, outdated relic was not that big of a deal.

“But in its place,” the knight by the door continued, formal and polite, “our best artificers have sent you an armor that they forged using the scales of the Calamity Hydra. They have also sent you a few Cards that would be a good fit in your Arsenal.”

…Well, damn.

Calamity Hydra was a Greater (A-rank) Spirit Beast that my elder brother Ezra killed two years ago during one of his deployments.

The beast was in the process of ascending to Ancient-grade (S-rank).

Artifacts forged from such beasts that died mid-ascension were absurdly rare.

Because the Hydra had almost touched a higher rank right before it was slain, any gear made from its carcass possessed properties far exceeding standard Epic-grade (A-rank) artifacts.

So what I was being given was practically a pseudo-Legendary-grade (S-rank) armor.

Not bad at all. I’d argue this was far better than DwanSlasher.

“Where is it?” I asked.

“In the ring, Young Lord,” the knight replied.

Ahh, yes. The signet also functioned as a spatial storage artifact. I picked it up, turned it over a few times in my hand, then threw it back on the iron desk.

“…You’re not going to wear it, my lord?”

I looked at the woman.

A narrow slit across the visor of her plumed helmet revealed her eyes. They were sharp and focused, but I could tell she was still perplexed.

“Nah,” I shrugged, picking up the coat and draping it over my shoulders without putting my arms through the sleeves. “I’ll take a look at it later.”

•••

Later didn’t come for a while.

It was a long journey to Iron Height.

Since we were travelling via an established sea route, we didn’t come across many aquatic Spirit Beasts.

Only a handful of times did we actually have to fight.

And even then, it was mostly lower-grade monsters stupid enough to leap out of the freezing water toward our fleet.

Most of them were vaporized by our Casters and ship-mounted cannons before they could even splash us.

It was boring. So boring that at one point I started to miss sailing across Lake of Grief with my pawns.

Even though our lives were at stake back then, at least it was interesting. Tsk, tsk.

Anyway, I spent most of the voyage in the war room, listening to General Marcus and Vereshia debate naval formations and troop deployments.

Vereshia’s duty was only to supply fleets to our army and help my men get to Iron Height.

At most, she was supposed to provide naval assistance, but she wasn’t obligated to send her own crew into the battlefield.

General Marcus wasn’t very pleased by this.

He wanted the Morrigan clan to commit their frontline knights to the mainland invasion force. He thought he could strong-arm Vereshia, but she held her ground and flat-out refused.

That only worsened the tension between them.

They were so passive-aggressive against each other, but both of them refused to openly show their hostility.

So instead, there were a lot of snide remarks and backhanded threats. It was like a disgruntled old man and a new-gen teenager forced to go on a road trip together.

Except that teenager had an army.

And the old man had one too.

…Haah.

I was so tired of everything.

Turns out, leading an army isn’t just swinging a cool sword and looking pretty.

There was a mountain of logistics involved.

Endless, soul-crushing logistics like distributing food rations, rotating the vanguard, and even managing such disputes between comrades.

The worst part was that none of it could be delegated.

…Well, technically, it could. That was what officers were for. But every decision still somehow found its way back to me.

How many soldiers would we deploy in the first wave?

How much food did we have?

How many healers would station at the front?

Which units would rotate after twelve hours?

How many casualties could we realistically sustain if/when our formation became ineffective once we landed?

And, perhaps most importantly, how many ships were we willing to sacrifice to get those soldiers onto the mainland? Vereshia had many strong opinions on this point.

I couldn’t wait to hand all this mess over to Ezra.