From the Baptism of Fire (2)
Thus began our impromptu trio gathering under the guise of a study session. When Princess Charlotte first showed up, she had arrived with quite a few thoughts swirling in her head. The biggest question among them was, of course, about Baron Hebel's horrific suicidal feint tactic from yesterday's mock battle—and grilling him about it was the main point.
Come to think of it, wasn't that just half-assed? She'd let it slide at the time because her head was still foggy, but once she got home and replayed it slowly, she couldn't shake the feeling. Breaking it down carefully, the tactic Baron Hebel had used was a classic retreat-and-ambush strategy. Fast light cavalry provokes the enemy to induce a counterattack, then flees as if routed when the enemy charges. Once the pursuers' formation crumbles, the waiting main force—powerful heavy troops—ambushes the overconfident foe. Then, the retreating forces rally, enveloping and crushing the enemy's flanks.
It was a pattern straight out of the old wars against the mine-dwellers or the centaurs. Baron Hebel's plan was undoubtedly based on that theory. The problem? The most crucial element—the powerful main force—was woefully inadequate. Like, the centaur medium cavalry hadn't been prepared properly? And he'd filled the gap with a suicide charge...? It screamed half-baked, suspiciously so.
No way... did that 'heavy' comment mean he just didn't feel like bothering and ditched it? Reexamining their brief exchange from that day, it was hard to interpret it any other way. So, Charlotte had slipped in to probe him subtly, but now suspicions of being played were creeping into her mind.
They followed Baron Hebel's intensive reading, offering opinions, Q&A-ing each other... nodding along to the Ruticia Margrave's comments... and before she knew it, two hours had flown by.
...Aren't I just attending a lecture? No, lectures are professors talking to twenty-some students—this is basically one-on-one tutoring!
What the hell is this...? Why am I sitting through a history lecture again...? Just as Charlotte's mind drifted off into sage-like detachment, Baron Hebel had a knack for not giving anyone a moment to zone out.
"Now, Your Highness. What did I just say?"
"Uh... pardon?"
"Oh dear, you weren't listening. Back to the beginning, then..."
"Ah, wait—no...! It was the author's personal view on why the Empire unified and grew strong despite all the other races' nations, right?"
"Yes... and what was it?"
She'd been jabbing at the margrave moments ago, but now the target whipped around to her—startled, Charlotte blurted out an answer. No matter how she sliced it, failing to respond would mean he'd drag this out even longer.
"The author of From the Foundations of the City pointed to the Empire's advantages over other nations as our superior troop numbers and our proactive adoption of other races' tactics. So..."
"Humans may not match other races in innate physical prowess or mana affinity, but we have the versatility to mimic their tactics. That's what he highlighted as the Empire's—and humanity's—strength."
Baron Hebel hammered it home in a deliberately slower drawl, as if saying focus! His machine-gun delivery left no room for other questions, and Charlotte found herself wondering, Since when could this guy talk so much? She'd figured even he would need a break eventually, but that was half an hour ago.
"Um, Baron Hebel..."
"Yes?"
"How long are we doing this today...?"
Finally, unable to hold back for the sake of decorum, Charlotte broached the subject. The sun was starting to dip, and it was about time to head back...
"Oh... has it gotten this late already?"
Only then did Baron Hebel glance around the meeting hall, seemingly realizing the time. And then he said:
"But we still have something left to do..."
"Uh... does it have to be today?"
Meanwhile, the Ruticia Margrave—worn out from the sudden study marathon himself—seized the chance to chime in cautiously.
"Well... from my perspective, sooner the better. If not, tomorrow..."
"L-let's wrap it up quick today, Baron! I don't think I can make it tomorrow?"
As Charlotte waved her hands frantically, he scratched his head and replied, "Got it."
"What I had in mind was analyzing yesterday's mock battle as a basis... Shall we take a short break first?"
"Y-yeah."
"Then, if you'll excuse me for a moment."
He probably needed the privy too—declaring a brief recess, he stepped out of the hall promptly. Watching him go, Charlotte barely suppressed a sigh.
"Are you all right, Your Highness?"
"And you, Margrave?"
"I'm used to it, in a way... He does push like this whenever the mood strikes."
Albert von Beletia, the Ruticia Margrave, scratched his pale cheek awkwardly with a finger.
"Still, impressive you lasted this long."
"...I was just testing how far he'd go."
Didn't expect him to outdo my tutors. Sticking out her tongue inwardly, Charlotte snatched the papyrus he'd left behind.
"By the way, Margrave?"
"Yes?"
"What did you think of yesterday's mock battle?"
"Yesterday...? You mean what the princess and the baron did?"
"Yes. I'm curious about your take."
Normally, Charlotte had zero reason to care about the margrave, but now, with her mind and body flagging, she craved a vent session for the break. Plus, this was why she'd come anyway—to sort it out. And admittedly, she was a tad curious about how this man viewed his vassal.
A guy famous for his affable personality, getting along with anyone regardless of status. He'd become a margrave at a young age, left a regent in charge, and come all this way for studies—yet she'd never heard of troubles back home. With that reputation and influence, it made sense the emperor had once eyed him as a son-in-law. Of course, Charlotte herself had zero interest, and he'd long been engaged, so no entanglements there.
But how does a guy who loves people so much feel about his vassal shooting his own men to death? She couldn't help but wonder.
It gave the margrave pause too—he hummed thoughtfully before answering simply.
"Truth be told, I wasn't that shocked yesterday."
"...Why not? Does he have a history of this?"
"Haha, no... but how to put it."
Licking his lower lip, gaze dropping, the Ruticia Margrave struggled for words.
"I've already been shocked plenty by Baron Hebel."
"...What do you mean?"
"Let's just say it happened. I do have some lingering doubts, but I figure he had his reasons."
Evidently not keen to elaborate, he brushed it off vaguely. Charlotte probed lightly in response.
"You seem to treasure your vassal a lot."
"We've spent so much time together, yeah. Bit awkward for me to say, but... less a vassal, more like a strict little brother."
"Little brother?"
"We both lost our fathers around the same time. Territories are close, so I naturally looked out for him—led to frequent contact, and we'd been thick as thieves even before the academy. Ages match up, but he knows so much it's weird; I've leaned on him plenty."
So, Baron Hebel routinely proposed measures as routine as that suicide charge? No—managing a territory like that would've left this guy too uneasy to sit here. The margraviate must be stable, the border secure, for him to be away half the year unscathed.
What the hell happened...?
But the margrave seemed reluctant to spill, unlikely to yield under further pressing.
Can't exactly hash out tactics with him anyway...
With a nagging unease, Charlotte grabbed the pen and scrawled her all-nighter's worth of pointed critiques on the papyrus. Regardless of feeling duped, she had to tell him: you didn't half-ass it, right?
And his response back then.
To think I'd say that to someone who might've phoned it in...! Mortifying!
She was a little curious how he'd take it too. Assuming he'd even heard her properly, which she did.
"But why's the baron taking so long?"
As Charlotte feverishly drafted disses on the papyrus, the margrave stood and remarked.
"Yeah, later than expected. It's about time for me to head in."
"Pack up and go, then. I'll fill him in."
"You're leaving soon too—shall we go together?"
"Sure."
They gathered their things, then his too—the weight surprising them. Two superiors huffing and puffing over a subordinate's luggage made for a comical sight.
Stepping out of the hall to part ways with farewells. Then, not far off, a thudding voice boomed.
"So, Baron, you wanna duel me right now?"
A rage-twisted growl, winded and guttural. Classic orc battle-roar filled the shadowed alley.
Wondering what was up, they approached to see a giant—at least a head taller than the margrave or baron—leading a few others, head bowed low. Facing them off, for whatever reason, was none other than Baron Werner von Hebel.
"Baron Hebel...?"
It was perfectly natural they didn't grasp the situation right away.