For better or worse, the duel between the two girls had broken the status quo and changed the dynamic inside the southern fortress.

The most notable change occurred during morning practice when eleven recruits swallowed their pride, bowed, and asked for guidance from the mercenaries. This unexpected display of repentance and humility managed to somewhat lute the cracks between the groups, and while not jubilant, the mercenaries agreed.

Yet it wasn’t the act itself that stupefied me, but the people that took action.

The majority of that little group comprised members of the old garrison I had chased away. Not the people from the southern villages who had fought side by side with me and should understand the approaching danger, but those lazy and complaining good-for-nothings took the first step.

During my time in Gladford, my opinion of that first batch of recruits had only sunk. Lazy, weak, horny, boastful. Former fieldworkers who would rather waste away their time in the bars than grasp the sword and train. Of my small group, only Drew had shown commitment and diligence.

But now the small group in front of me proved me wrong.

A box full of rotten apples might contain more delicious ones than the top layer revealed.

In exchange, the box of apples from the southern villages defied my hopes and contained a lot more sour ones.

A development that showed its ugly grimace during the evenings.

Or rather, the absence of any notable events established its existence.

Silence.

Absolute Silence.

It enveloped the recruits’ camp and drowned out the prior accusations and complaints. No builders wanted to fight, no defenders wanted to attack, and no one openly bad-mouthed the mercenaries.

A welcome change?

It wasn’t.

Back in elementary school, the other children had laughed about my bodily problems.

The popular kids could run all day and show off their strengths, but I sat there alone with my three best friends. Dizziness, headaches, and nausea. The odd one out.

Of course, tales of my classmate’s behavior had also reached the teachers’ ears and an hour-long lecture followed soon after. The result? Silence. The behavior had changed, but their feelings didn’t. They just left me behind, alone in my corner.

The evenings in the camp gave me that same feeling.

Unwelcome. But somehow nostalgic.

The recruits had masked their feelings and thoughts, but it still boiled below the calm surface. It was hidden in their gazes or visible when they avoided me outside the huts. It showed when their conversations hushed the moment they caught a glimpse of me. And yet it was the missing complaints that underlined this trend the most.

The most obvious example was Thea.

She surrendered her leadership role to Drew, moved out of the leaders’ hut, and found refuge between some villagers from her home. Her detours to avoid me possessed arcs so laughable big, it even drew amused chuckles from the more grounded recruits.

During morning practice, she would also arrive and watch Rhoslyn’s routine from a distance. Although she never talked to the sword maiden, let alone asked for actual guidance. She just stood there in silence, stared at the smooth movements, and vanished before the training ended.

Honestly, I didn’t know what to make of Thea’s actions?

Was she angry at me? Ashamed? Frustrated with the overall situation?

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

It was the first time someone I knew displayed such vehement reactions.

It had never reached this level during grade school and my later friendships fizzled out. No bang, no heavy impact. Just my disabilities and time taking their toll.

After my diagnosis, I became the one acting like this, breaking off friendships and pushing people away. Controlled by anger and frustration, with no specific cause or goal, even I didn’t know what I had actually wanted. So even that experience didn’t help me.

Somewhere in my subconsciousness, a part of me understood Thea’s feelings.

But I couldn’t put my finger on it.

I didn’t reach a conclusion.

Hence, I pushed that unsolvable problem aside and focused on the few things I could do.

Morning training, patrolling, and digging.

Thanks to the previous incident, I had to stop my rides with Rhoslyn and only patroled the vicinity on my own. If my presence stopped their chatter, it might also stop their next bright idea.

At the same time, I also tried to follow Rhoslyn’s example and changed my approach. There was no way I could remember the names of all 150 recruits in a short time, but I started with those who took part in the morning training. Names, strengths, goals, dreams. The bare minimum of information needed to understand them a bit.

In addition, each of the eleven volunteers also received a promotion.

Nothing big, but I copied Gladford’s system and appointed them to be Vinetars. Eleven group-leaders who would become the link between Drew and their group of ten recruits each. In secret, I also hoped that this obvious reward would spur the recruits’ motivation.

Like this, one more circle elapsed before the next caravan arrived.

“I didn’t expect you in person.” I welcomed the merchant in front of me.

The same gaudy clothes, the same bearing, the same beady little eyes filled with equal parts wisdom and greed for money.

“Everything can be bought with money. Even my presence.” Fabien gestured towards the carriage behind him, his friendly smile a bit too professional. “This delivery alone equals hundreds of cheap trinkets. No sane man would endanger his future.”

I snorted.

A merchant, dressed in luxurious clothes and able to keep a rare pet bird, would lose sleep over a handful of coins? I didn’t believe such obvious lies for a second. In fact, Fabien’s resources might even dwarf those of the smaller nobles in the city. Yet here he was, attending to minor business opportunities.

Admittedly, a few circles ago, he had also provided everything needed for the farmers’ funerals.

“If you need money, I might have another business opportunity for you.” I decided to relish the merchant’s presence, no matter his actual motivations. “I have use for your horses.”

“My horses? They won’t be of any help.” Fabien’s raised eyebrow showed his bemusement. “With the maiden’s soldiers next to you, I understand your craving for mounted warriors. But all of them are packhorses and fatigue is the only enemy they can fight. They won’t do you any good.”

A chuckle escaped my lips.

Heroic soldiers riding on slow and sturdy draft horses. That image was just too absurd.

“It’s not like this.” I corrected Fabien’s misunderstanding. “The harvest season will soon arrive. I want your carriages to visit the villages and collect the surplus crops.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.”

Our original arrangements had been different.

We had wanted to use the annual merchant caravans as intermediaries and buy their goods once they arrived in Gladford. But the rising number of leprechaun scouts increased the pressure and demanded earlier actions. Who knew whether the villages would still exist when the caravans arrived. Instead, we should buy as much crops as possible before it was too late.

One minor change to our plan was enough to transmit all this information to Fabien.

His knowing smile irked me, as I wouldn’t be able to make these predictions without my in-game experiences. Yet he only needed small hints to arrive at the same conclusion on his own.

No way he was a small-time peddler in a frontier city.

Luckily, he was an ally.

“Then I might have the perfect appeasement for an aching heart.” Fabien’s overacting interrupted my thoughts. “One of my contacts brought word that he found an impoverished retainer, excluded by his lord. A fallen noble, so to speak. It’ll cost some hefty coin, but this will fulfill your longing for a map.”

“Really? That’s great.” A smile forced its way onto my face. The shape of the mainland, the different kingdoms, and my location. My most pressing questions will finally find their answer.

“I still don’t understand why you would waste so much money on outdated information. But I’ll deliver it once it reached my hand.” Fabien’s posture displayed indifference. “In fact, even a small price reduction might be possible, if I was allowed to manufacture a copy at a later date.”

“We can negotiate it once the map reached me.” I laughed. So much for outdated information. Yet Fabien’s behavior also raised my opinion of him. He could have copied the map in secret, he might even do it anyway, but he still chose to leave no strain on our relationship.

“Then I’ll look forward to the day you achieve your goal.” Fabien pulled a small pouch from one of the many pockets on his coat. “Today’s delivery.”

He presented a small rectangle to me.

“A cracker?”

“Close. But not the same.” Fabien broke it in half, presenting one half to me. “This is a life’s brick made of flour, water, salt, and caraway. It’s popular with the sailors in the south because it’s nourishing and long-lasting. Perfect for your goal.”

One bite and I coughed my lungs out. Arid crumbs filled my mouth, followed by a penetrative flavor that took my breath away. Even by this world’s standards, it was pretty much unenjoyable.

Yet it still brought an honest smile to my face when bag after bag, carriage after carriage, was delivered to the storage hut.

This alone was enough to survive the winter season.