That's right, that's what adventure is like!

Chapter 90 "The Viscount"

"I've been assigned to the supply train; will I be dealing with them?"

Turning his head, Roland looked elsewhere and asked the two in a low voice.

Harvey was silent for a few seconds, then tapped the axe handle with his thick fingers and sneered, "It's possible, but if you want to get clues about that thing, you'll have to gain their trust first."

He paused, then lowered his voice and said, "The supply corps is no good place. It's a shady place, and only newcomers and troublemakers are assigned there. The mortality rate is at least 80%."

Roland naturally understood this.

Not all soldiers return to the fortress during the rest period; many remain stationed at the outer positions, ready to respond to and launch surprise attacks at any time.

The heavy detachment's job was simply to transport supplies to them during the war, including dry rations, arrows, and...

Cannonballs, spell scrolls, and some war behemoths.

But the empire wasn't stupid either. They specifically increased the military merits of the auxiliary troops, with the aim of encouraging lower-ranking soldiers to cut off the kingdom's supply lines and seize supplies to replenish themselves.

Furthermore, according to Harvey, the threat from the Empire is not the primary concern.

"Those quartermasters," he glanced at them casually, his tone tinged with sarcasm, "though they were handpicked by the king, they're only good for betraying him."

"You'll find out tomorrow when you get there. The list says one hundred arrows, but you've only received seventy. If any of their men are still in the group, then none of you will return except for that one person; all the supplies are lost."

So dark?

Roland narrowed his eyes and asked in a low voice, "Just who are these people?"

"I'm not sure, I just vaguely sense a bit of aristocratic influence," Harvey cautioned. "If you're going to be transferred to another unit, it'd be best to do it sooner rather than later."

"Understood, I'll check on it later."

This information was crucial as they entered the battlefield for the first time. Roland kept it in mind and then followed the two men to the right front.

After leaving the main road, the noise gradually faded away, the light from the overhead canopy began to thin, and the surrounding tents became increasingly dilapidated, with silver patterns flowing intermittently, and some had been completely extinguished, revealing a dusty appearance.

The soldiers coming and going around were no longer regular soldiers in their standard red robes, but various civilians who had been temporarily conscripted, and their equipment was also a motley crew.

Harvey stopped in front of a tent area.

"We're here. There aren't many rules here. Just don't cause trouble, and generally no one will bother with you."

Roland glanced around and took in his temporary residence.

The tents were crammed together, the ground was covered with moldy hay, a few tattered suits of armor were thrown aside, and in the corner were black bread crumbs that had begun to breed insects.

No one cared about the arrival of a new recruit. The bare-chested orc was gnawing on the fat meat in his hand, the soldier in the corner was bandaging the wound on his thigh with a blank look in his eyes, and most of them were curled up in the tent, with faint snores coming from time to time.

It was lifeless and gloomy, like a graveyard; that was Roland's first impression of the place.

Harvey gave a few more brief instructions and then hurriedly left with Seth, as they had to deliver a mission, leaving Roland alone.

Roland thought for a moment, then instead of rushing to find the quartermaster, he stepped over a soldier lying lifeless on the ground and prepared to explore deeper into the area.

At this time.

A piece of metal fell to the ground with a thud, making a piercing sound. A hoarse voice came from the side, its tone filled with surprise.

"Roland Glorious!?"

The familiar name made Roland stop in his tracks, and he looked in the direction of the voice.

In the shadow of a tent, a thin young man pushed himself up from the ground, clearly injured.

His face was covered in grass clippings and bloodstains, and he wore an old coat that clearly didn't fit him. Only his deep-set eyes shone with an unbelievable light.

"You—you're still alive?"

The man stumbled and crawled over, a pungent smell of cheap herbs wafting into Roland's nostrils, causing him to take two steps back and look at him with suspicion.

He was certain that he had never seen this person before.

"Who are you?"

The man paused for a moment, then smiled bitterly and wiped the bloodstains from his face, which aggravated the still-healing scabs, causing even more blood to flow out.

"You don't know me, but I know you."

His voice was slightly hoarse. He looked around and led Roland to a corner, whispering, "I've seen your bounty poster. It's on the bulletin board in Qiming Town."

Bounty?

Roland was slightly surprised.

The wanted poster only resembled him by about 60 or 70 percent. After experiencing a series of adventures, his temperament changed. Now that he has returned to the village where he was born, the villagers probably wouldn't even recognize him.

This person is quite extraordinary.

"How did you recognize me?" he asked.

"Heh heh—" The man chuckled bitterly, pointing to his eyes, "My family has a special talent: we can remember everything we've ever seen."

"Besides, those who come here are either unlucky recruits or wanted criminals like us who got tricked, aren't they?"

Roland blinked and remained silent.

He didn't understand the meaning of that sentence.

Upon seeing this reaction, the man's pupils contracted slightly, and his lips trembled as he asked, "You—you didn't buy a noble title?"

"Um, I don't have enough money, what's wrong?"

These words were spoken lightly, but to the man, they seemed to drain all his strength in an instant, causing him to slump softly onto the hay, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, unable to utter a single word for a long while.

"Just as I thought—" he muttered to himself, his voice trailing off, "I'm the only idiot here, the only idiot—"

Seeing his reaction, Roland had a guess in mind. He squatted down and looked at him: "You're also wanted by a bounty?"

The man nodded blankly.

"Name? Age?"

"Cole Servais, 27 years old."

"Did you go to the town hall to have the bounty removed?"

"—Yes, Qiming Town is your hometown."

"How much did you pay for the title?"

At this point, Cole's lips moved, and he gave an ugly smile: "500 gold coins, a viscount title, legal, with the king's decree."

Is it really possible to buy one?

Roland seemed thoughtful. He had sensed something was amiss then. How could a mere clerk buy and sell titles so easily, and so cheaply at that?

Now it seems there really was something fishy going on.

I just don't know where the problem lies.

"It's territory," Cole said weakly, his face pale. "The territory allocated to me in the King's decree is an entire area that was seized by the Empire."

Roland remained silent.

Cole remained silent.

The two looked at each other, until Roland finally broke the silence: "You never had any doubts?"

"Of course there is," Cole said, covering his face, "but that clerk was a friend of my father's, someone who watched me grow up, so I thought—"

He didn't continue speaking, but fell silent. After a long while, he lowered his hand, revealing a pale, desperate face.

"500 gold coins, that was all the inheritance my father left me," he said, his voice trembling, as he pulled a crumpled, yellowed parchment from his pocket. "And this is all he left me."

Roland took the royal decree and glanced at it. It contained platitudes about glory and dedication, with the true power and obligations only at the very bottom.

— "Viscount Cole Servis, a military nobleman"

—"They shall have priority in allocating non-essential resources and be granted the right to expand their territory, subject to verification and grant after the war ends."

—"During this period, no one may leave the military camp without permission, betray their honor, or disobey orders. Anyone who violates this rule will be stripped of their title and executed."

It's all a trap.

Roland sighed. There are no "non-essential supplies" on the battlefield. Extraordinary supplies are out of reach, and white bread is out of reach too. What Cole will probably get is leftover bone broth.

Needless to say, the following items are completely unrestricted; you have absolutely no power over them, and if you go even slightly out of line, you might just die here.

but----

"This thing is somewhat useful," he said, tossing the decree around his neck and a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at Cole. "Want to make a bet with me?"

"What are we betting on?"

"I'll bet your luck, I'll bet you can leave here alive."