Unhelpful Intelligence

Early the next morning, before dawn had fully broken, the familiar sounds of drilling rang out across the training ground once again.

There was still the morning run and formation practice, but today, a new item had been added—musket shooting drills.

Karl distributed the nine newly purchased matchlock rifles, keeping one for himself. He selected nine soldiers who looked reasonably sharp and had steady arms. After Brendan and Roland gave them a brief explanation of the loading procedure and shooting essentials, he had them conduct live-fire practice at a makeshift shooting range.

"Don't spare the powder or bullets!" Karl ordered. "Today's goal is to get familiar with the operation, feel the recoil, and try to hit the targets! Those who perform well get an extra meal tonight! The three worst shots will wash everyone's socks!"

The soldiers were both nervous and excited. Most of them had only heard of firearms before. Now that they were handling them personally, they found them novel, yet feared their deafening reports and powerful recoil.

Soon, smoke filled the range and gunshots rang out one after another. Their accuracy was appalling, and one man nearly blew up his rifle because he was too nervous to clear the priming pan. Fortunately, Brendan stopped him in time. Still, the atmosphere was exceptionally lively.

The very real expenditure of ammunition made the soldiers truly feel that their lord was investing hard-earned gold coins in them.

Naturally, the commotion reached the Governor's Office once again.

However, Earl Rochefort had not slept in that day.

He had risen early and was standing by the study window with a cup of hot mulled wine in hand, gazing at the little unit on the training ground in the distance as it gradually began to look more organized.

If yesterday morning's training could still have been dismissed as a passing whim or mere showmanship, then two consecutive days of drills, along with the lavish use of expensive firearms and ammunition for live-fire practice, was no game.

"It seems... I truly underestimated that boy from the Schmidt family," Earl Rochefort murmured, taking a sip of wine.

He had originally thought Karl was like every other discarded noble heir, sent here simply to go through the motions and await death. But now, it seemed this young man was serious—and remarkably decisive.

"Perhaps... he really can survive in the Northern Territory a little longer?" Earl Rochefort's eyes flickered. "Perhaps... he could even become a nail driven right under the Sauron Barbarians' noses? If that happens..."

A faint smile curled at his lips. If Karl truly managed to gain a foothold, then as Governor of the Northern Territory, Rochefort would naturally receive a share of the credit.

With that thought, he turned to Richter, the Guard Captain who had been standing respectfully behind him, and asked, "Richter, are the men assigned to cooperate with him ready?"

"They are ready, my lord," Richter replied at once. "Thirty Veteran Soldiers, well equipped. They can depart at any time before dawn tomorrow."

Rochefort nodded. After pondering for a moment, he added, "For this operation, Karl will nominally hold full command. You will follow his orders."

A trace of hesitation crossed Richter's face. "My lord, this... Lord Karl is still young and seems to have no combat experience. If he is given full command, then in case..."

Rochefort waved a hand dismissively. "He is only dealing with a pack of skulking Kobolds. This is a good chance to see what he is made of. Even if he makes a command error, the loss will only be a small transport convoy and thirty soldiers. I can afford that price. What matters is seeing whether he truly has ability, or whether he is merely good at empty talk."

"Yes, I understand," Richter said, speaking no further, though a shadow fell over his heart regarding tomorrow's operation.

That afternoon, Karl did not arrange any physical training. Instead, he summoned Brendan, Roland, and even Old Morrell, who had only just regained some of his spirits, to his tent.

He spread out a map and, combining the detailed information Old Morrell had provided about the terrain around Carnford with the Kobold ambush site given by the system—Riftstone Canyon—began carefully planning the following day's operation.

How should the marching route be arranged? How far apart should the front and rear units be? How far ahead should scouts be sent? If they encountered an ambush, how could the Small Three Talents Formation deploy in the narrow canyon? When should the Musketeers fire their volleys? How could they prevent the Kobolds from attacking from the flanks or rear?

Karl grew more excited as he spoke. All kinds of modern military theories and tactical concepts from games collided in his mind, then were adjusted to fit the realities of this world.

Brendan and Roland listened in stunned silence. They had never imagined that a battle involving fewer than a hundred men would require consideration of so many details.

Old Morrell interjected from time to time, adding professional insights about the terrain and Kobold habits.

The feeling of controlling the overall situation and personally planning a real battle sent Karl's adrenaline soaring. It was far more thrilling and tangible than playing any RTS game.

This was his first battle as a commander. He had to give it everything he had.

Just as the discussion was reaching its most intense point, the cold system notification sounded in his mind without warning:

[Daily mission updated]

[Mission]: Purchase a gift that Ms. Ella, the Jewelry Merchant's wife, likes and give it to her. (Incomplete)

Karl: "..."

The excitement on his face froze instantly, and he nearly choked on his breath.

Buy a gift for the Governor's mistress? What kind of ridiculous mission was that? His mind was filled with troop movements, formations, and fighting Kobolds, yet the system wanted him to handle this sort of thing.

But he now dared not take any intelligence from the system lightly. What if it concerned tomorrow's operation, or Rochefort's attitude toward him?

"You continue the discussion. I need to take care of something," Karl said through gritted teeth to the puzzled Brendan and the others before leaving the camp alone with a dark expression.

He could only handle this matter secretly himself. His subordinates absolutely could not find out, or they might mistake it for bribery. The image he had worked so hard to build could suffer because of it.

As for whether Earl Rochefort would find out, that did not matter. After all, Rochefort had assigned thirty elite soldiers to him. He could treat it as a return gift.

He asked around town about the Jewelry Merchant's wife's preferences. It was not difficult. The woman named Ella was quite high-profile, and he soon learned that she had recently become obsessed with blue pearl jewelry called Siren's Tear, produced on the southern islands.

Karl spent a full ten Gold coins at a jewelry shop to buy a silver bracelet inlaid with Siren's Tear pearls.

By evening, he learned that Ms. Ella was drinking and chatting with several noblewomen in a private room at an upscale tavern.

Karl forced himself to approach her and came up with a clumsy excuse, saying that he wished to thank the Governor for his care and that this small gift was merely a token of appreciation, hoping the lady would like it.

When Ms. Ella saw the bracelet sparkling with a captivating blue glow beneath the lights, she was indeed delighted. She accepted the gift and teased Karl a few times, saying he knew how to behave far better than those stuffy young noblemen.

Karl forced a smile as he dealt with her, then left the tavern as though fleeing. The notification for completing the mission sounded immediately.

[Mission]: Purchase and give a gift to Ms. Ella. (Completed)

[Reward intelligence issued]:

[Intelligence]: Ms. Ella's affair with Earl Rochefort has been discovered by her husband, the Jewelry Merchant Grimm. Rather than becoming enraged, Grimm is overjoyed. He believes this is an excellent opportunity to break into the high-end jewelry market of the Northern Territory and is planning to transport more luxury goods to Fran City for sale.

Karl stared at the intelligence and stood there speechless for a long while.

That was it?

He had spent ten Gold coins for this gossip-filled business news?

Would this intelligence be of even the slightest use for tomorrow's battle or Carnford's reconstruction? Was he supposed to go to Grimm later and wholesale jewelry as rewards for the soldiers?

For the first time, Karl felt a deep sense of doubt and helplessness toward the Intelligence System.

It seemed the daily intelligence was not always a lifesaving straw at a critical moment. Sometimes, it delivered this kind of ridiculous information that left one neither laughing nor crying.

"Forget it... at least I learned some gossip about the Governor's private life." Karl could only console himself that way. Shaking his head, he dragged his weary and slightly frustrated body back to the camp to continue planning his crucial first battle.

At least, the matters over there were real.