"Training's over," Konrad announced, rushing to the main square. "We have a situation."
While he was an expert illusionist now, he could only hope his acting was convincing.
Luckily, he only had to play the distressed leader, and that was something he had too much experience with. Welf lowered his sword with a sigh, looking at him with expectation.
He almost rubbed his hands, too, anticipating how people would react to his plot.
The blacksmith might've thought he knew what was coming, but after talking with Lily—
Konrad's plans—no, his whole intention—shifted a lot.
"This is Brigida Brave," he said, casting a minor illusion. "Daughter of a vassal of mine. She set out to help at the orphanage yesterday, but nobody saw her arrive."
The redhead raised an eyebrow, doubt and concern redrawing his expression.
"I know you're tired," Konrad continued. "And this ain't no adventure or glorious quest, but I'm worried. Can't focus on my tasks until I've found her, so—please help get it done faster."
Motivation.
According to his demonic girlfriend, that was what everything came down to.
He could bark orders, put his men through hell, but why would they stick with him?
They were human, not tools. Everyone with their own goals, morals, and motivations—
Until yesterday, he never considered them.
He chased control without thinking about what others might've wanted. But understanding people's needs was the first step towards achieving his own goals.
The more he had time to dwell on Lily's words, the more certain he got.
Gathering good swordsmen was great—but they could stab him in the back at any moment.
It was better to have loyal men, even if weaker or flawed, than to command soulless mercenaries. People with hearts. With brains. With the right kind of motivation.
Not something he could train into them, but something he could at least test.
"Orphans search the south side of town. But my hunch is, she's around these parts," Konrad continued, projecting a map of Halaima this time. "These areas are still in ruins."
"Oh, and the sewers flooded," Welf noted, scratching his head. "Wouldn't want kids to go there."
And that, right there, was what he was looking for.
He made up this entire story. The blacksmith even knew—or thought he knew—he was testing them. And yet, his brain was immediately sifting through any relevant information.
Welf was trying to be helpful because he thought a child was in danger.
Not because he commanded him.
"Yeah, I told the orphans to leave that area for me. But for me alone, it would take days to comb through it," Konrad claimed. "Good thing I've a hundred men with nothing better to do."
He held back a grimace, looking over his would-be warriors, gauging their reactions.
"That's it?" a knight asked with a frown. "Finding a kid should be easy. Halaima ain't that big."
And he walked right into his trap. For now, in a good way.
"True, but I take it you're new here," Konrad replied, showing the map in greater detail. "This area got the worst of a zombie fallout, and I can't be sure if there isn't any undead around."
There wasn't. But his men themselves would soon roleplay as zombies without them knowing.
"Also, the girl's mute," Welf pointed out. "Bet she's scared, too. Yelling her name won't do much."
Another helpful interjection, too bad he already knew he could trust the blacksmith.
He wanted to see the others take the initiative as well.
Konrad hoped to find his future commanders and loyal servants.
And get rid of the rotten ones before it's too late.
Ah, and for the record, Brigida returned to their countryside manor with her parents. They were building a new villa in town, but had to take their belongings before moving in for good.
Even if no real danger were present, Konrad wouldn't have put a child through a horror show.
Especially not the little blonde. She had so much magic potential that even he had to fear her.
"So, what're we s'posed to do?" a knight asked. "Can't these wildlings read tracks or sum'thing?"
Not a rotten one—yet—but this guy was already trying to push the work onto someone else.
Unless he considered it as a way to work together with the tribesmen.
"Good point. This is why we should form small, mixed groups," Konrad claimed. Both champions and tribesmen started to groan until he held up a finger. "But let me clarify."
He produced lots to pull from, offering it to the reluctant troops.
"I appreciate everyone volunteering to help, and I won't force any of you to do it," he said. "Feel free to call it a day early. But if you stay, you'll have to all work together to find that child."
His men were all eyeing each other with suspicion, but with a lead-up like that, nobody moved.
They passed the first test—even if not by much.
It was a dirty trick on his part, and they were yet to see what else he had prepared.
"Make sure your squad stays together," he warned. "Each of you should have a skilled tracker and swordsmen, too. Elect a sergeant if you can, and comb the areas as one small unit."
He handed out numbered parchment scraps like a lottery.
They went from one to twelve, with six matching pairs for each to divide his men.
Of course, they weren't actually written on the paper. He projected them, manipulating the results to ensure an even spread. He didn't trust anything to chance alone.
And, so far, nobody seemed to be happy with the results.
"Zombies are slow but tough," Welf noted, taking his lottery. He ended up with four champions and a fresh recruit. "They can't harm you if you run, but if they get to the child first—"
"What are the odds they're out there?" a tribesman asked.
He wasn't from the Blood Moons—they had already encountered them during the raid on Halaima. Lily's recruits and the champions had no idea what to expect, though.
Konrad opened his arms, trying to be as vague as possible.
"Well, according to the Church's spotty records, they had two hundred guards in the town at that time. We only ever accounted for one hundred and eighty, so—"
"We'll go armed," Welf said, grabbing a blade from a nearby rack.
Not his usual one. That part of the plan did not change, and Konrad already let him in on it.
While he was to give his soldiers hell and pit them against each other, he wanted no casualties.
Distracting them with the lots, he used a complex spell to disguise training blades as real ones.
"Whoever finds her, be gentle, and don't scare this girl," he said as they formed up.
He prepared fake images of her roaming the town like ghosts to lure the squads deeper.
He couldn't wait to see how his rescue simulation—no, his battle royale wargame—would turn out. So far, the mention of a lost child was motivational enough for everyone to volunteer.
But how far would they go?
And how well would they perform against each other in mixed teams?
"Report back here every hour. There are twelve streets for twelve teams. Good luck to us all."