In later ages, anyone who caught sight of those deep blue surcoats and the silver wolf emblazoned upon the chest would instantly know the army's name.
—The Blue Wolves of Razgrim.
Feared by their enemies and revered by their allies as reliable elites, this was a title no one yet knew. This was merely the very first step, when those wolves donned the same blue for the first time and set out toward the royal capital.
◇
On the morning three days before our departure for the Founding Festival, I headed to the forge alongside Clarice.
Late last night, a messenger had arrived to report that the gear for all three hundred men was finally finished. Although I had received progress reports along the way, today would be my last chance to inspect everything in person. If any glaring defect turned up now, we wouldn't have time to redo the work.
"I heard they finished in time, but... is it really all done?"
"That's what the messenger said. Though he looked utterly exhausted."
"We brought in extra hands and outsourced work to other workshops. If it isn't ready, I'll be in trouble too."
Chatting as we walked, I opened the workshop door and froze in my tracks.
"...What is this?"
Bodies were strewn across the floor.
Not just one or two, either. Elsa lay flat on her back away from the forge, while the Master Blacksmith sat slumped against the wall. Another smith was sprawled over a workbench, and a man who had been helping with the sharpening leaned against a pillar with his eyes shut.
For a second, I genuinely wondered if people had died, but Elsa, catching the sound of our entrance, slowly turned her head toward us.
"Haah... haah... N-No... more...!"
"O-Oh."
"I... I finished it all...! All three hundred sets...! Every last one! I don't want to see another sword or piece of armor ever again... I don't want to touch a hammer for a long, long timeee...!"
Her voice was almost completely drained of energy, yet that final cry carried a strange, lingering intensity.
Looking around the workshop, repaired swords, shields, and armor were crammed tightly along the walls and across the workbenches. They hadn't reworked all three hundred sets from scratch. Equipment that was still usable had been left as is, only items requiring work had been selected, and lighter tasks had been passed to other workshops. Even so, the sheer volume must have been daunting.
The Master Blacksmith heavily raised his head.
"Duke... Just as ya ordered, we finished it all...! Last night, the final outsourced batch came back... and we went over every single piece until dawn... Ain't nothin' left that'd be dangerous to use in the competition."
"You truly made it in time...? Well done."
"W-Who do you think made us suffer like this in the first place?!"
Elsa glared up at me from the floor.
"That's why I provided extra hands, didn't I?"
"The people increased, but the days didn't! Halfway through, even the Master started claiming 'we can finish this much today,' and the other smiths started competing with each other too...!"
"You were the one competin' the hardest..."
The Master Blacksmith tossed back a retort, but his voice lacked its usual bite. Over the past few days, he must have swung his hammer right up to his physical limit.
Looking exasperated, Clarice checked the tags and ledgers arranged on a table. The bare minimum records regarding which workshop had handled which piece and what had been fixed had been properly kept.
"The numbers match... But you didn't let the quality drop just because you rushed, did you? Having the right count means nothing if it all breaks during the tournament."
"We didn't cut corners. In fact, right at the very end, this brat rejected two of 'em and sent 'em back."
The Master Blacksmith gestured toward Elsa with his chin.
"I had to...! There was a sword with a sketchy tang deep inside the hilt, and a piece of armor with damaged fasteners mixed in. It'd feel disgusting to just let those through after noticing them, wouldn't it...?"
"Thanks to that, we were stuck workin' until dawn."
"You're the one who told me to fix them after taking a look, Master..."
It seemed they didn't even have the energy left to bicker. Exhaustion written all over his face, the Master Blacksmith still managed a faint chuckle.
"Well, if she hadn't caught 'em, even I might've overlooked it. It was a rush job, but we ain't put out anything we'd be ashamed of."
Then that was more than enough. What I wanted wasn't flashy equipment that looked pristine. It was gear that three hundred men could rely on from start to finish without breaking down mid-competition.
"Clarice. Pay out the additional compensation as planned."
"I intend to. I've already consolidated the payments for all the assisting workshops as well."
"Add an extra bonus for Elsa too. The fifteen gold coins advance wasn't the end of it. Since she met the deadline, I'll pay as promised."
The moment she heard those words, Elsa pushed her upper body up slightly.
"...Really?"
"It was written in the contract, wasn't it? If I didn't pay, I'd be the one breaking our agreement."
"Then that's fine... Hearing that brought me back to life a little..."
—Good grief... What a mercenary attitude.
Still, since I was the one who imposed an unreasonable deadline, paying what was due once results were delivered was only natural.
With the inspection finished, I prepared to head back, and Elsa raised a limp right hand as she collapsed back onto the floor.
"Then... I'm resting for a while. Don't you dare bring me another job..."
"I'll be counting on you next time once I return from the royal capital."
"Hey, hold on! Were you even listening?!"
"I didn't say right this second, did I? It'd be a waste to stop after giving a single job to a smith this skilled."
Elsa fell silent.
"...You're gonna ask me next time too?"
"Who else is there?...Rest assured, I won't give you a schedule like this one."
It had nothing to do with her having only one arm. Since she pulled off this job, I would hire her again next time. That was all there was to it.
Elsa remained quiet for a moment, then looked away.
"...If you pay properly, I'll do it for you."
"That goes without saying."
"Then... well, I guess I'll consider it."
Her voice was gruff, but the corners of her mouth softened just a fraction.
Beside her, the Master Blacksmith slowly stood up, bracing a hand against the wall.
"Duke... Can I ask ya somethin'?"
"What is it?"
"Can commoners like us watch the military competition at the Founding Festival?"
"Yeah... Apparently there are general spectator seats around the grounds. They aren't elevated like the nobles' box, but I've heard you won't have any trouble watching the events..."
"Is that so... In that case, I think I'll go check it out."
Lying on the floor, Elsa raised her head as if looking at a madman.
"Master, are you serious?! You're going all the way to the royal capital after working this much?!"
"I'm goin' precisely 'cause I worked this much. Don't ya wanna see how the gear we fixed holds up in action? Testin' it in the forge and clashin' in a competition with hundreds of men are completely different beasts. If there's any flaw in how we repaired 'em, I can fix it next time."
The Master Blacksmith turned his gaze toward the racks of equipment and smiled, looking genuinely amused.
"Besides, I've been curious about what the Duke's private soldiers are made of for a while now! I wanna see how far the lads who got their gear thrown together in such a rush can go against the famous knights of the capital."
"Do as you like... There's no need to leave the workshop empty, so only those who can make the trip should come."
"I'm goin'. What about you?"
When the Master Blacksmith turned to her, Elsa flopped her back onto the floor again without hesitation.
"I'm not going! I'm sleeping! If possible, I want to sleep straight through the Founding Festival!"
If she was that exhausted, there was no reason to drag her along.
The Master Blacksmith snorted and said, "Suit yourself," but for some reason, Elsa spent the moments after quietly staring at the gear lined across the workshop.
◇
The day of departure.
In the courtyard before the estate, three hundred soldiers bound for the royal capital stood in formation alongside several supply wagons.
The repaired equipment had already been returned to the men. The shape of the armor and makes of the swords weren't completely uniform, but once they put on the simple surcoats in House Razgrim's colors, they looked far more cohesive than I had expected.
Since we couldn't afford luxurious embroidery for all three hundred men, the standard troops' surcoats only shared the base color and a simple insignia. Only unit commanders like Raisa and Lydia bore the crest of House Razgrim over their chests.
"...Oh. They actually look like an army."
Clarice, standing beside me, shot me a chilly look.
"They've been an army from the start, haven't they...?"
"Well, there's a fair number of former bandits and mercenaries mixed in, right?"
"They are your soldiers now, aren't they?!"
Well, that was true.
The wagons were loaded with rations, tents, horse feed, spare equipment, and other supplies for the road. Mobilizing three hundred men naturally cost a considerable sum, but once we reached the royal capital, an encampment for tournament participants would be provided, with water, firewood, and basic feed supplied by the kingdom.
Hearing that had brought me immense relief.
If we had to cover everything ourselves, the prize money for fifth place wouldn't come close to breaking even.
"Haa... Still, a pretty penny flew out of our pockets."
"That's only natural when moving three hundred men this far... You took this far too lightly at first, didn't you?"
"I won't deny it."
Up ahead, Raisa was walking along the ranks inspecting the men, while a short distance away, Lydia was verifying the wagons and headcounts. Having wrapped up her final checks, Lydia walked over to us.
"Lord Vain, all three hundred men are accounted for! The wagons are in order as well. Raisa-dono and I will oversee the troops on the road to the royal capital, so please leave that to us."
"I'm counting on you. It's much faster to leave it in your hands than for me to meddle."
"Yes! These are three hundred men you have entrusted to us! Even in the royal capital, we will show them a performance worthy of the soldiers of House Razgrim."
Bowing her head, Lydia seemed far more settled into this estate than before. Though she was still here under the arrangement with House Eldran, she now showed no hesitation whatsoever about leading Razgrim's troops.
A little behind her, Mylene stood quietly as usual.
"My Lord, please take care... Even for the Founding Festival, the road to the royal capital will be a long journey."
"Yeah. I'm counting on you to look after the estate."
"Of course! Until you return, My Lord, I shall take full responsibility to protect this estate!"
With Mylene, there was nothing to worry about. Managing the staff in my absence and receiving guests were matters she understood far better than I did by now.
"If anything comes up, check the instructions Clarice left behind. If that still isn't enough, act on your own judgment."
"...Are you certain?"
"You know this estate better than anyone, don't you? Waiting for my reply all the way from the capital would take too long."
After a brief look of surprise, Mylene placed a hand to her chest and bowed deeply.
"Understood!...I will protect it without fail until the day you return."
Beside her, Serena was already standing in full travel gear before I had even noticed.
"Serena, you can stay behind to watch the house too, you know."
"I am going."
Her answer was instant.
"There are three hundred soldiers in the capital, you know. There will be plenty of guards."
"The soldiers participate in the tournament, and I guard My Lord. Those are separate."
"...Is that how it works?"
"That is how it works."
If she insisted on going, I had no reason to stop her. I doubted anything dangerous would happen in the royal capital, but having her nearby would eliminate one extra worry.
Mylene looked at Serena and offered a gentle smile.
"Well then, I leave My Lord in your hands, all right?"
"Leave it to me."
Mylene holding down the estate. Serena watching my back. And Raisa and Lydia leading the three hundred men.
...Before I knew it, everyone had naturally figured out their roles and begun moving on their own.
I didn't have to manage everything myself.
I felt like I had finally taken a step closer to my ideal setup. At this rate, there wouldn't even be any room for me to interfere. Thinking that, I was about to head toward the carriage when Clarice tugged on my sleeve.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?!"
"Where else...? The carriage, obviously."
"Stand before your soldiers at least at the very end!...They are your private soldiers, aren't they?!"
"...Raisa and Lydia have already taken care of everything, haven't they?"
"That's not the point!"
Reluctantly, I stepped out in front of the three hundred men. Dressed in matching surcoats and fully equipped, they turned their eyes toward me all at once, projecting a strange, imposing presence far different from when I had watched them at the training grounds.
With this, they certainly wouldn't be laughed at in the capital.
"All right! Let's move out, everyone. Just make sure you don't get hurt. Also, if possible, place fifth and bring home that prize money."
Laughter rippled through the ranks, and Raisa closed her eyes, shaking her head.
"Danna... Couldn't you say something a bit cooler before we set off?"
"Coming back in one piece with gold in hand is the best outcome there is! What's there to complain about?"
"...No, fair enough. I figured you'd say something like that anyway, Danna."
The column began to move slowly. The soldiers alone numbered three hundred, but with the wagons and attendants included, the line stretched remarkably long.
I finally climbed into the carriage and let out a breath as I watched the procession through the window.
"Three hundred people... Just moving them is an absolute pain, isn't it?"
"Isn't that what I've been telling you from the start?"
Even before reaching the royal capital, I was already longing for that prize money. Please, at least place fifth, all right? As if completely deaf to my modest hopes, the soldiers marching ahead pressed forward with strangely powerful, determined strides.