Chapter 5: Decanting

“At least assign me two, no, assign me four guards to protect me full-time.” Roang felt a pang of bitterness as he made this request. He was, after all, the Baron of the Nott family; why did he have to ask Zalanda for permission for something like this?

No, once they reached Dalouma, he would have to replace the captain of the guard, no matter what. He still possessed at least that much authority.

Roang hardened his heart. He had had enough of feeling like his own knight was riding on his head.

“No problem. Even if you hadn’t brought it up, Baron, I would have done so anyway. After all, the retreat route is different from being inside the castle.” Zalanda agreed without hesitation. “In that case, let’s begin!”

As efficient and decisive as ever, once she had finalized the agreement with Roang, Zalanda immediately gathered everyone except those on rotation duty in the small square of Nott Castle.

Zalanda turned to Roang, who was sitting on the podium, and asked, “Baron, are you sure you don’t want to say a few words to the subjects?”

Roang craned his neck to look down at the crowd. Seeing people pressed against one another, heads huddled together in a buzzing mass, his heart began to drum with anxiety. He waved his hand distractedly and said, “You do it, you do it. It’s all the same anyway.”

Although Roang had inherited the title of Baron of the Nott family and was addressed as “My Lord” or “Sir” by his subjects, he was actually only two years older than Gavin.

Their father, the old Baron Tersen, was, to put it kindly, a powerhouse who had stepped into the realm of the extraordinary; to put it bluntly, he was a crude brute. His ability to govern the territory was quite mediocre, relying first on Zalanda’s father and later on Zalanda herself.

The old Baron had essentially left Roang and Gavin to fend for themselves. Gavin’s situation was a bit special; he had always stayed by Zalanda’s side and learned a thing or two.

Roang, on the other hand, had been raised like a pig by Oust, becoming well-versed in eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling, but knowing nothing else.

They had originally thought they could rely on Tersen for decades, but who would have thought that last year, the old Baron would suddenly lose his mind, organize an elite force, and personally go to clear out a tribe of monsters in the mountain range, never to return.

Not even a messenger had come back. The high-ranking priest they had hired at a high price had performed a complete resurrection spell, but there was no response. It was unclear whether Baron Tersen and his men had met with misfortune, or if it was simply too late, their souls already judged and reincarnated.

Roang had been pushed into this position against his will. For all matters, big and small, he could only rely on Zalanda. He had appeared in front of the subjects fewer than ten times in total, so it was no wonder that the subjects of the Nott family knew only Zalanda Star-Lyndon, and not Roang Nott.

“People of Nott, this is the most perilous moment in the history of Nott Castle. We must work together to overcome these difficulties. The kind and great protector of Nott Castle, Lord Roang Nott, has agreed to open the ancestral armory and lend the weapons and equipment within to all subjects to help us survive this crisis. Let us thank our Lord of Nott…”

A gentle breeze blew through Zalanda’s waist-length, fiery red hair, which shone brilliantly against her fire-red cloak. The sunset fell upon her beautiful face, reflecting a hint of strength.

From beginning to end, she did not shout hoarsely, but her voice was full of vigor, her articulation clear, and her rhythm perfectly balanced. It was enough to carry across most of Nott Castle, allowing the majority of the people to hear her clearly.

Every brief pause was met with a tidal wave of cheers, each one louder than the last.

This was why the people of Tethyr in later generations supported Zalanda so fervently and affectionately called her “The People’s Zalanda.” It was not only because she viewed everyone as her own kin and subjects, but also because she possessed the capability to easily mobilize the morale of the subjects by using the opening of the Nott family armory.

The process of distributing equipment was busy but orderly. The Nott militia under Zalanda’s command displayed organization and discipline that exceeded that of a regular army.

Gavin was not surprised by this. Although he lacked the title of Nott militiaman, he had the reality of one, having trained alongside them for eight years.

What had once seemed natural, when compared with his later experiences, revealed that the father-daughter duo of Zalanda truly had their own unique method of training troops. Zalanda, in particular, was a famous workaholic regarding discipline and training. Whenever the militia held intensive training, she would inevitably eat, live, and train with them. After more than a decade of this, it would have been difficult not to produce elite soldiers.

Now, with the equipment accumulated and treasured by the Nott family for years, these young men had only one shortcoming: a lack of extensive battlefield experience.

Once that was filled, the Nott militia would transform into the Nott elite, and they would become Zalanda’s original core team.

“What are you doing?” When Zalanda finally recovered from the flurry of activity, she found Gavin following behind her, poking and prodding at things, having managed to cobble together a suit of armor that looked rather incongruous.

The base of his equipment was a studded leather armor, over which he had layered a chainmail shirt. Both were light armors, but worn together, they became medium armor.

On his left hand, he wore an iron gauntlet that reached the elbow but lacked a palm, over which he wore a thin leather glove. He held a small round shield, while his right hand wore a simple leather glove. He wore knee guards with spikes and boots that clearly concealed daggers.

A one-handed sword was strapped to his back, and at his waist, he had tucked at least one dagger and a one-handed axe. A one-handed crossbow hung from his right hip, and a gnome-style percussion pistol from Lantan Island was tucked into his left.

A shoulder strap was tied across his chest, and a combat potion belt was fastened around his waist, bulging with various small items.

When Zalanda looked at him, he was struggling to pull a tabard over his body.

“Arming myself,” Gavin said as if it were obvious. “When we retreat, combat will likely become very frequent. The Captain will be spread too thin, so I have to take care of myself. Maybe I can even provide some help to the Captain. Don’t forget, I’m also a member of the Nott militia.”

“A reserve! I don’t recall approving your official enlistment,” Zalanda corrected him sternly, though she did not make Gavin take off the equipment.

Gavin was indeed right. Once they set out on the retreat, she would not be able to spare much energy for him. Most of the time, he would have to protect himself.

It wasn’t just Gavin doing this. On the other side, Roang, along with Oust and the four personal guards who had just been reassigned, was also rummaging through boxes and cabinets, equipping himself with the best pieces from the Nott armory.

This was their right, and Zalanda could say nothing.

Fortunately, the Nott family had accumulated quite a bit of wealth over the centuries. There might not have been many magical items, but there was plenty of fine equipment, some of which were even high-quality pieces crafted by dwarves.

Not only was the entire Nott militia equipped, but even the civilians were able to receive a few pieces of defensive gear and self-defense weapons. Zalanda was particularly focused on spears and crossbows.

She prioritized their distribution, and many women and children also received one. In troubled times, there was nothing better than relying on oneself.

With these crossbows, relying on the wagon formation, they could still provide significant help, even if it was just random firing. Because now, every member of the Nott militia was equipped with at least a suit of scale armor, including fifteen suits of half-plate and five suits of full plate—Roang and his men had snatched the other five suits of full plate.

In Zalanda’s view, this was enough. Two squads of ten heavy infantrymen would be an absolute killing machine against the poorly equipped monster rabble outside.