Chapter – 113
Carlyle and his group endured day after day, fighting a war against the feces.
If it weren’t for the baby dragon’s efforts, Carlyle and the others would almost certainly have been buried and died in the filth.
The amount of excrement produced every day by as many as 1,500 barbarians was, to put it mildly, enormous.
“Thank goodness. We can get out tonight.”
Beggman breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the blocked lab entrance had been cleared.
“We should leave once night falls. They might block the entrance again.”
Kudo agreed.
“Gather everyone. We need a briefing.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Under Beggman’s lead, the scout captain, the group discussed an escape plan.
“So this is the chieftain’s tent, this is the command post. These are the barracks. If we go this way, there are the palisades they built…”
Thanks to Marder’s aerial recon via Hugin, Carlyle’s group had a very detailed picture of the barbarians’ fortress interior.
“It won’t be easy.”
Carlyle, who had been silent, spoke up.
“There are too many sentries, and the escape routes don’t look good. If we end up in a chase, we’ll all die. It’s too far to the unit.”
Carlyle’s assessment was correct.
Even if they slipped out secretly, if they were spotted it would be very likely they would be captured before getting far.
That meant the difficulty of escape would be high — needless to say.
If they moved rashly, they’d be wiped out.
“I agree. There are too many sentries, and the palisade is high.”
“Hmm.”
“It might be better to hold out as long as possible.”
Kudo also showed reluctance.
“Hmm. We have to hang on as long as we can. But our rations are tight. So is the water.”
Beggman found himself unable to make a quick decision.
Even if the baby dragon handled the filth problem, without food and water there would be a limit to how long they could hold on.
“Why not just steal them?”
“Steal?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“Why don’t we slip out, steal food and water, and come back?”
Carlyle’s suggestion made the scouts startle.
Steal food and water from inside the barbarians’ fortress?
It was a plausible idea.
Escaping would require getting past sentries guarding the palisades and walls, but stealing a bit of food and water shouldn’t be that hard.
Besides, if food and water went missing, they’d likely assume it was an internal theft, so the risk of being discovered would be low.
The barbarians would never suspect that Carlyle and his group were hiding in the fortress’s underground.
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Kudo agreed.
“Yeah. That should be doable without much trouble.”
“Oh?”
The other scouts nodded in agreement with Carlyle’s plan.
“Where’s the food storage?”
“Here.”
Marder marked an X on the map describing the barbarians’ fortress interior.
“How many guards?”
“Not many.”
“Good. Let’s do it.”
Beggman accepted Carlyle’s suggestion.
“For a mission like that, of course the captain and Wilson are best suited.”
“What, you jerk?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Beggman and Wilson snapped back at the same time.
“You two are pros at disguising yourselves as barbarians. You’ve done it before, so why not now?”
Kudo tilted his head in puzzlement.
“That’s one thing and this is another!”
“You’re saying it nicely to mean he’s ugly!”
Beggman and Wilson shouted furiously.
That dawn.
Beggman, Wilson, and Marder, who had gone outside the lab, returned with food and water.
“…You startled me.”
Carlyle, seeing Beggman and Wilson, almost drew Grimungand thinking they were enemies, but relaxed when he confirmed they were allies.
“They look real.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“What it sounds like. They look like barbarians.”
“…”
“Dressing like that makes it convincing.”
Carlyle sincerely complimented Beggman and Wilson.
“…”
Beggman and Wilson looked uncomfortable, not sure whether to take it as an insult or praise.
How they interpreted it was up to them.
“Any problems?”
“Because we were disguised, it was too easy.”
“As expected. I knew you two could pull it off.”
Kudo smiled as if he’d expected it.
Beggman and Wilson were seething with anger.
“Hmm.”
Carlyle spoke up, struck by a sudden thought.
“If we can get into the food storage this easily, maybe we can do other things too.”
“Other things?”
“Like poisoning the water… or assassinating the enemy commanders…”
“…!”
The scouts flinched at Carlyle’s words.
They had only planned to steal food and water; poisoning meals or assassinations had never been imagined.
“You said the internal guard is not that tight. That means it could be worth trying. Even if not assassination, we could at least poison the food and water.”
“Hmm.”
Beggman thought for a moment, then spoke.
“You’re not wrong. But we don’t have any suitable poison.”
“We don’t need to kill them all.”
“Hmm?”
“Causing non-combat losses might be enough…”
Non-combat losses mean losses of combat effectiveness due to non-combat causes like disease or accidents.
“Non-combat losses?”
“Make them all get sick.”
“How?”
“There are lots of materials.”
Carlyle slyly pointed toward the ventilation shaft.
“Materials? You mean… excrement???”
“Yes.”
Kudo jumped in to support the idea.
“That’s a good plan. If we put a little excrement into their water, those who drink it will get dysentery. Of course, the barbarians won’t know the cause and will think a mysterious plague is spreading.”
Feces are teeming with all sorts of pathogens.
If they drank water contaminated with excrement, even the barbarians wouldn’t be able to fight properly.
“That sounds plausible.”
“Oh?”
The scouts’ eyes lit up at Kudo’s words.
Dysentery was no laughing matter.
Besides fever and abdominal pain, severe cases could die from dehydration.
If an even more serious disease like typhoid fever spread, the whole unit could lose combat effectiveness and be rendered helpless.
“Alright, it’s a good plan. Let’s do it your way.”
“Yes, good luck.”
“Hmm?”
Beggman cocked his head.
“You said ‘good luck’ — what do you mean by that?”
“It sounds like you’ll be doing the hard work.”
“The hard work?”
“If it’s just an idea, the captain and others have to carry it out.”
“Hey! You won’t even lift a finger?”
“I told you before, I’m a noble, I can’t do that kind of thing.”
“You jerk!”
Beggman lost his temper, but Carlyle didn’t bat an eye.
“That’s settled then. As scout leader, I’ll give the orders.”
“Then you’ll desert again.”
“What the—?!”
“Or kill me.”
Carlyle subtly showed his white neck.
He was expressing he would not do any work related to filth.
“This guy’s unbearable… sigh. Fine. Let’s drop it.”
Beggman squeezed his eyes shut.
“Just let it go.”
“He says he won’t do it even if you order him. What can you do? Still, he’ll do it properly when it comes down to it, so let’s forgive him.”
The scouts defended Carlyle.
They were annoyed, but he was a direct descendant of the Sigmund family and son of Duke Guntram, lord of Decaron.
No one wanted to force him into anything and risk what might happen.
After all, the current situation had arisen because Sergeant Kravel had persistently tormented Carlyle.
Meanwhile, Helen was doing everything she could to rescue Carlyle’s group even as Bowden Fortress was under attack.
But even if Helen ran here and there as a mere captain, she couldn’t come up with a good solution.
“If I move the unit to rescue them, you know what would happen. You know the damage could be irreparable, right?”
“We’re not planning to fight them. We’d create a diversion and withdraw…”
“And if we get encircled? What if many are wounded or killed during retreat?”
“…”
“There’s nothing we can do for now. Either hang on as long as possible or they escape on their own.”
Helen had been turned down after proposing a diversionary operation to Sergeant Kravel when, flap —!
Marder’s pet Hugin flew in to the windowsill.
Helen immediately untied the note from Hugin’s leg and read it.
“Hmm. Is it a whining message asking to be rescued?”
“No, it isn’t.”
Helen glared at Kravel as if her affection had drained away.
“Then what is it?”
“My subordinates have thought of a good plan.”
“Oh?”
“They plan to contaminate the barbarians’ water to cause non-combat losses.”
“Oh?”
“And they’ll try to assassinate key enemy commanders if the opportunity arises.”
“R-Really?”
“All of these ideas apparently came from Private Carlyle.”
“Ha.”
“My subordinates are not as incompetent as you think.”
There was pride in Helen’s voice.
Last time their final operation had been a disaster and the 3rd Company scouts’ face was bruised; finding a breakthrough in this crisis made Helen feel proud as their commander.
“That remains to be seen. We’ll have to see the results first.”
“If the operation succeeds, the higher-ups might send reinforcements. If you have solid evidence, support is more likely even in difficult circumstances.”
As Kravel said, if this operation succeeded, there would be no reason for higher commands not to send support.
If an epidemic reduced the enemy’s combat power, attacking them would be logical.
“I’ll take my leave then. Report progress to me as you go.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“I’ll be hoping for good results.”
“…?”
“If your operation succeeds, it could help my promotion. Whether I like it or not, they’re my subordinates, so I’ll be glad if things turn out well. Would I want them dead? Of course not.”
“…”
Helen left the office without answering.
She then returned to her own office, wrote a reply, and sent Hugin back out.
“I hope they succeed.”
Helen earnestly wished for the operation’s success.
Whether Carlyle and his group could get out of the enemy lines safely might well depend on it.
