Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Tail Chase (3)
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Two days before Michael arrived, urgent news reached Mayor Margeri.
"Mayor, we're in big trouble! Imperial Army soldiers are marching on Margeri Castle!"
This was beyond absurd. It couldn't get any more ridiculous.
Leading an army in without even a declaration of war.
Even calling the Empire's bastards rutting dogs who abandon their wives for whores.
How could any human pull off something this insane?
"How large is the approaching force?"
"Estimated at around 500 men."
"Damn it."
Margeri had 8,000 citizens, and with the surrounding farmers, that swelled to about 30,000.
Gather them to defend the walls, and a single battalion would be crushed with plenty to spare.
But an army was a controlled, massive collective that moved on orders.
'The Imperials are like cockroaches.'
"Whether it's 500 or 1,000, we can handle them. But those beast-like Imperials, charging in without declaration, will surely come swarming."
Spotting one cockroach in my sight meant dozens or hundreds lurking in that house.
Four or five Imperial soldiers? Deserters—kill them and be done.
But a battalion on the move?
"Guard captain, my thinking is the Imperials have launched a full-scale invasion. What's your take?"
"I agree. Which means holding here..."
He didn't finish, but the rest was obvious.
'We need to bolt right now.'
"With the Imperial horde bearing down, staying means dying like dogs."
"To ensure the citizens' safety and preserve our fighting strength, you're saying a temporary retreat?"
The mayor spoke with apparent regret.
But a smile crept across his face.
Fighting a horde to the death had its own honor...
But wasn't the point to live long and savor good food, fine drink, and luxuries?
'Only the penniless spout nonsense like "die when you're old."'
Fleeing without pretext meant summary execution, so he'd pushed to defend the city...
"Conscript every able-bodied man in the city... No, with the enemy at our doorstep, no time for conscription."
"Yes, exactly."
"Arm the guards before they arrive and prepare to haul as many military supplies as possible."
Burning your life in an unwinnable war was pure idiocy.
They rationalized it that way and fled the city with every last soldier.
In most cases, it was the right call.
There were no soldiers atop Margeri City's walls.
"Open the gates. Refuse, and we'll consider it a declaration of intent to wage war."
No soldiers on the walls meant no will to fight us.
Threaten to storm in if they didn't open...
They'd open to save their skins.
Refuse, and they'd have to fight us to the death. Lose an unwinnable battle, and they'd be branded war criminals.
"Battalion commander, the gates are opening."
"Good they lack the stomach for a fight. Would've been a hassle otherwise."
To seize the enemy's rear, we needed Margeri secured for the bypass.
Get bogged down here, and the flanking op was dead.
Rear strike or not, worst case, we'd take serious losses.
'Bluff and bravado are skills too.'
As long as the enemy bought it.
Entering the gates, the city's top brass—obvious at a glance—came out to greet me.
"I'm Albeo Pecorino, Chairman of the Margeri City Council. Are you the envoy from the occupation force, officer?"
"I'm the battalion commander of this unit."
"You seemed too young; I misspoke."
Fair enough. I was young for a battalion commander.
Imperial average was mid-40s...
I was barely mid-20s. Case closed.
By age alone, I should've been a fresh lieutenant.
"As the chairman knows, age doesn't matter. What counts is I'm a war hero with the Empire's highest honor, the Golden Eagle Medal, at this age. And a talent exceptional enough for major's rank and battalion command young."
"Noted."
They wouldn't dare mock me, the occupation commander.
But to stabilize even minimally, they needed firm belief I'd kill them for betrayal.
Instilling solid fear benefited both sides.
If they turned guns on me, I'd have no choice but to smash their skulls.
Nothing more pathetic than a moron high on his own "competence" bragging...
'But do it when needed.'
"First, for the battalion commander and soldiers weary from the long march, we've prepared a modest banquet..."
A squeaky-clean commander might refuse such an offer.
But turn down a banquet in enemy territory?
Tantamount to abandoning stable occupation.
Making them pay for safety guarantees aided their peace of mind too.
Host a feast, hand over supplies—they'd think we wouldn't harm them.
"Skip that. Convey our administration policy instead."
"Understood."
"No war crimes here: no rape, murder, or plunder. All city residents, return to your livelihoods immediately."
"Thank you for promising our safety."
Commit those crimes, and Margeri's citizens revolt en masse.
We'd be cut off, fully isolated.
No man lives alone; no army survives without rear support.
War crimes? Never, even on pain of death.
"Until the Imperial government issues orders, the city council handles internal affairs. Obey government directives thereafter."
"We are deeply grateful for this mercy."
"The Imperial Army aren't war-mad berserkers. We don't relish bloodshed."
"An honorable Imperial Army. We offer our respects and reverence to His Imperial Majesty."
They groveled well.
Everything I'd said was standard boilerplate.
Guarantee surrendered councils and elites' rights to the max.
No needless plunder, avoid backlash, etc.
Must-haves unless in dire straits.
Skimping for a quick loot haul? Digging your own grave.
"And I'd like to reward our weary soldiers modestly. Care to assist?"
"What do you mean?"
"No crimes, mind you. But we want compensation for guaranteeing your safety."
Unthinkable in a 21st-century army.
But here, salaries were pitiful: corporals got 20,000 marks.
Even adjusting for prices—far from Korea's—it felt like under 200,000 won.
A solid plunder haul meant fortunes, and plenty in our battalion had marched hoping for it...
Don't slip them some cash, who knows what crimes they'd commit.
'It's the bigwigs' pockets that'll sting anyway.'
"How much would suffice?"
"Around 500 million marks."
One million per man. Enough to curb their plunder lust.
The councilors would gripe but pay gladly—their family vaults weren't totally emptied.
Chasing ideals was fine, of course.
But view the world too rosily, and you'd get conned or ruin your life.
Compromise at sensible levels was key.
Especially as commander of a unit in active combat.
"500 million marks. Understood."
The chairman caught on, flashing a bitter smile tinged with relief.
Me demanding 500 million to pay the troops and prevent crimes? Now he could relax.
"We'll help prepare the banquet food too."
They might poison us. Standard precaution.
"Good."
"We'll rest today and tomorrow, then depart promptly. Report any soldier causing trouble or harassing women."
I turned to the commanders nearby.
"I'll execute them by military law on the spot."
Without the payout, soldiers would've exploited occupation status for every vice imaginable.
But misbehave after a fat reward?
'That one's begging to die.'
A solid warning kept it clean.
We stayed two days, refitted, scouted, and found the main road the enemy would take.
"...When the enemy comes, they'll pass through here."