Chapter 63: The Road to Rosenheim

On the day of the departure ceremony, I shared a deep kiss with Hilda at Breisburg’s west gate. Daniel and Sabine—who had recently started receiving lessons from Bertheim’s butler Wilhelm Göring—little Bodo, and Hans and Priscilla, who were deeply disappointed about being left behind, all came out to see me off.

Hilda firmly urged Oscar and Ted to assist me no matter what. My soldiers weren’t assigned to the infantry but instead served as my personal escort. Michael’s retainers were part of the escort forces as well. Michael, the ten Lance Cavalry knights, and I took the front.

In the center rode the Crown Prince, wearing gorgeous plate armor with a silver sheen and a red cloak trimmed with gold and bearing the Duchy of Beren’s crest. He held a helmet adorned with tall red feathers. On either side, Vermeer, Eisenach, and four other guard members surrounded him protectively.

"The prince looks so dashing."

"Truly magnificent. How can he be so imposing!"

The Crown Prince’s appearance was certainly knightly and striking, but on the other hand, he looked like a walking target. To the young women in the crowd, however, he apparently resembled a heroic knight. The Crown Prince’s expression seemed composed, but to my eye, he was quite nervous.

A bit farther back, Fiel was conversing with members of the Steinhof family. A small but somehow dignified old man was patting Fiel on the shoulder. Who was that? The question didn’t linger long. The Crown Prince’s face lit up when he saw the old man approaching.

"Master! Did you come to see me off?"

"Of course. It’s my disciple’s and my grandson’s first campaign, isn’t it?"

That old man was Adolf Ritter von Steinhof.

I didn’t know his face, since I had never received a related quest during gameplay.

His hair was white, but his body looked remarkably healthy.

He could probably still serve on active duty without anyone batting an eye.

"To see Sir Steinhof at the departure ceremony—how fortunate."

"This is my first time seeing him in person."

"That would make sense. He’s someone who rarely ventures outside."

After retiring, Adolf had scarcely left his home. The reason he still hadn’t passed the Ritter title to his son was simply that he was still alive—posthumous succession was the established principle. But rumor had it that his son, Fiel’s father, fell short of the Steinhof family’s expectations.

"Are you the newly risen Gale Knight?"

He passed by the Crown Prince and approached me directly.

I was momentarily flustered but maintained my courtesy.

"It’s an honor to meet you, Sir Steinhof."

"My grandson has taken a great interest in you. He’s still a rough-edged young man, but please guide him well."

"How could I presume to guide Steinhof’s eldest grandson?"

"It’s only natural for a senior knight to guide a junior one. Don’t decline."

Come to think of it, Fiel hadn’t received his knighthood yet. Unlike me, who had benefited from posthumous succession because my father had passed away, earning merit to receive knighthood was the proper course. So it wasn’t unreasonable for Fiel to see this campaign as something special.

I had promised to spar with Fiel but hadn’t been able to make time—I had been busy discussing the campaign with Michael or receiving much-needed riding and mounted combat instruction from Hilda. Sparring was important too, but shoring up my lacking skills before the campaign had taken priority.

"Your Highness, please mount your horse now."

"Very well. Everyone, mount!"

At the Crown Prince’s command, the knights mounted in unison.

I smoothly mounted Schatten and smiled down at Hilda and my retainers gazing up at me. It was just a campaign to suppress vagrant bandits, but since it was my first, I was nervous. Even so, I couldn’t let that show in front of Hilda and my household. The family head’s authority mattered.

"Begin the campaign!"

"Vanguard, depart!"

Since the Crown Prince was officially the commander, we moved in unison according to his orders. With Michael, the ten Lance Cavalry knights, and me forming the vanguard, we finally set off. My retainers followed carefully behind. Oscar and Ted were also on their first campaign, and curiously, Oscar was stiff with tension while Ted seemed perfectly relaxed.

Perhaps Ted was the type who simply felt less pressure, despite being a bit slow on the uptake. Normally, one would be rigid with nerves like Oscar or the Crown Prince. I had been tense at first too, but the deep kiss with Hilda had somehow released my anxiety. Michael also seemed energized from receiving his wife’s kiss before departing.

Maintaining the vanguard formation, Michael and I led the entire column. Michael separately organized a reconnaissance unit and sent it ahead. The public road had good security, so the likelihood of bandits appearing was low, but the most fundamental aspects of marching were reconnaissance and vigilance.

"Brother-in-law, do you know the most important element of reconnaissance?"

"Isn’t sending scouts to survey the terrain and confirm enemy presence the most basic principle?"

"Exactly right. You’d be amazed how many commanders don’t even know that much."

I knew because I had drilled it endlessly during my military service, but surprisingly, many medieval commanders prioritized glorious noble combat over reconnaissance. Surprise attacks were considered cowardly acts that violated the spirit of chivalry, so commanders generally preferred armies clashing head-on across open plains.

Specific tactics varied by commander, but most adhered to this convention. Michael was the type who had no fondness for such rigid orthodoxy. He held a pragmatic tactical view that didn’t shy away from surprise attacks, but naturally, the knights under his command weren’t fond of it.

Michael said quietly:

"Brother-in-law—the moment those knights spot the vagrant group, they’ll charge on their own."

"What? Without even waiting for your orders?"

"If I were His Highness the Grand Duke or Sir Steinhof, they’d follow commands."

Knights were notoriously difficult to control on the battlefield, because they had a strong tendency to value individual honor over collective victory. The French king struggled with the same problem when trying to rein in his own knights, and at the decisive moment, Adolf was said to have charged through the gaps left by knights who had broken formation.

Hearing Michael’s account, I was incredulous.

But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Those knights’ priorities placed more weight on impressing the Crown Prince than on securing victory. In other words, they were focused on how spectacularly they could crush the enemy. Michael had warned me in advance because he had seen plenty of such behavior on battlefields before.

I was a knight myself, but I made it a point to follow the commander’s direction as closely as possible.

Knights, it turned out, didn’t value discipline nearly as much as I had assumed.

"This spot looks good to camp."

"Then I’ll give the order."

After marching for half a day, with daylight gradually fading, Michael gave the order to make camp. The infantry hurriedly pitched a tent for the Crown Prince to rest in. Each knight also set up their own tent for the night. I shared a tent with Michael.

"Setting Michael aside—Wolf, aren’t you nervous?"

That was the first thing the Crown Prince said upon entering the tent where Michael and I were eating snacks. I couldn’t understand why he looked so haggard when there was nothing to worry about yet. Also, at some point, the Crown Prince had started calling me Wolf instead of Sir Streit.

He had picked it up from hearing Hilda call me by my nickname.

I allowed it because he was the Crown Prince—I certainly wouldn’t have permitted it otherwise.

"What’s there to be nervous about? We’re just marching to Rosenheim right now."

"I wish I could think that way, but my nerves won’t cooperate."

"You’ve been comfortable in Breisburg’s royal palace until now, haven’t you?"

When Michael said that with a grin, the Crown Prince nodded in agreement. Hmm, but the Crown Prince did have a remarkable capacity for self-awareness. Michael was clearly being sarcastic, yet the Crown Prince acknowledged the point without defensiveness.

"I don’t think I can sleep, so you two will have to keep me company."

"Can’t you spend time with Sir Vermeer or Sir Eisenach?"

"Those two got tired and fell asleep already. I understand in Eisenach’s case, since his injury hasn’t fully healed, but Leo turned out to be surprisingly lacking in stamina. I’d like you to toughen him up later."

So his usual companions had already collapsed.

"What about Fiel?"

"He’s working off his nerves by swinging his sword."

It seemed Michael and I were the only composed ones. In any case, the Crown Prince cornered us into staying up, and we spent the night fielding the various questions on his mind. The Lance Cavalry knights looked like they wanted to join in, but the Crown Prince didn’t spare them so much as a glance.

After that one night of camping, we arrived at Rosenheim the following day.