Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 011
Chapter Title: Chapter 4: Wolf, Fox, Bear, and Me (1)
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The 15th Legion dumped all the wounded and prisoners on our 8th Legion before heading straight to the front lines.
They planned to join up with another legion as soon as they finished mopping up the remaining Astoria forces.
Moving out right after the battle without any reorganization—they must have been aiming to strike hard while their morale was high.
Thracia's army excelled at maximizing kills by keeping up the momentum, so it wasn't a bad choice.
The question was how HQ would respond.
For some reason, I had a feeling the 15th Legion commander had already accounted for that.
She was no ordinary player, that was for sure.
Just look at how she'd climbed to that position as a woman in conservative, rigid Thracia at her age.
Thirty-three or thirty-four, tops.
And she even looked younger than that.
"Hahaha! I had no idea you'd think so highly of me, Lieutenant. Marek Drpov is deeply touched!"
Compared to the 15th Legion commander, our own commander was like the friendly guy next door.
"Not to toot my own horn, but if we're splitting hairs, they're treated like the central army elites, while we're the provincial backwater troops."
But at least our commander knew his place.
That was why.
Why I'd turned down the 15th Legion commander's offer—which was practically a promotion—and stayed with the 8th.
The 15th's commander was an ambitious soldier.
And she seemed perfectly capable of realizing that ambition.
I already knew from experience just how exhausting and dangerous it was to serve under a competent, ambitious superior.
Exhibit A: the 15th Legion, dragged to the front like dogs without proper rest—though their high morale made it less pitiful.
"Alright, we've done our part. Let the other legions handle the rest. Time to pull back—move out!"
See?
Our commander, content with modest(?) achievements and willing to withdraw.
How humane and approachable.
"I've had it with Astoria troops. Never want to set foot near a battlefield again."
...A bit disqualifying for a frontline soldier, maybe.
But all in all, the 8th Legion's commander was a solid superior.
At least, that's what I thought. Others might disagree.
"8th Legion! Return to the fortress!"
After tending to the wounded and dead, we hit the road back.
Our lines were noticeably shorter than when we'd marched out.
Even adding the 200-odd prisoners couldn't fill the gaping holes.
Staff officer duty really isn't for me.
Watching it made my chest feel hollow too, so I sheathed my saber.
**
Back at Schrelgrad, the 8th Legion licked its wounds and began reorganizing.
We'd marched out 900 strong; a third came back as corpses.
Most units were understrength now, and a few were barely hanging on as coherent forces.
The light infantry company on the left flank had lost half its men.
Considering how briefly the Doppelzoltner had hammered them, the damage was absurd.
No wonder the empire's emperor trusted those war clowns more than his guards.
"What about the clowns?"
Remembering them, I asked about our Doppelzoltner prisoners.
"A few are touch-and-go with their wounds, but the rest are doing fine overall. Eating well, shitting well, sleeping well. Hard to believe they're captives."
Amazingly, thirty Doppelzoltner had survived.
They hadn't surrendered mid-battle out of desperation.
Even after their unit was shattered by the knights, they'd banded together and fought to the end, only surrendering when the Astoria commander was captured.
"I talked to one who speaks a bit of our language. They seem dead certain that their mercenaries, the Bauer family, or the Astoria army will pay their ransom—whichever comes first."
"Fancy bastards."
Regular mercenaries bargaining for ransom? Not even nobles.
"That Otto whatever-he-is guy too—just more mouth than prisoner."
I straightened up at the mention of Astoria's 4th Legion commander.
"Treat them well. They fought honorably to the end, like true soldiers."
Otto von Bauer had tried rallying his broken knights for a last stand, but we'd trampled them before they could regroup.
Right before capture, he'd challenged me to single combat to prove his knightly valor.
As no knight myself, I couldn't oblige, so I followed Thracia heavy cavalry protocol—knock 'em off their horse, then capture while they're groaning from the fall—with polite, formal procedure.
For the record, Thracia granted significant rights to those who captured enemy leaders (usually nobles).
I didn't know the exact amount, but if he paid ransom to go free, a chunk would come to me as a reward bounty.
"Hey? Feed 'em at least two meals a day, check on their fall injuries regularly, got it?"
"Of course, sir."
Jamal saluted with exaggerated flair, smirking like he got the picture.
While fattening my retirement fund, our army and Astoria's kept clashing.
Frontline reports poured in daily.
"Events are unfolding exactly as you predicted, Lieutenant. Not a single deviation."
The commander, now seating me routinely with the staff, praised me.
"If HQ had listened to you, the northern front might've stayed peaceful for years. Shame."
Was he clueless, or ignoring it on purpose?
Every time he praised me, Major Evgen Sanov and the staff's faces soured—and just seeing their shit-eating expressions made attending meetings worthwhile.
Before, they'd nitpicked everything I said.
Now their mouths were shut, thanks to that battle.
Even they couldn't mock after I'd tied down the knights with minimal losses, then wiped out the Astoria knights and Doppelzoltner.
Plus, the incoming reports matched my predictions perfectly.
With their 4th Legion shattered, Astoria's coordinated units lost their links and abandoned strategy, racing rearward like it was a competition.
Of course, Thracia command wasn't all idiots; they didn't let them escape easily.
Led by the 15th, several legions pressed hard, clinging to the enemy.
Both sides took heavy losses, but if we had to call a winner, it leaned Thracia.
Several Astoria legions were crippled and pulled from the field.
Their gaps caused front-line collapses, and in under a fortnight, Astoria was fully expelled beyond our original borders.
"All friendly territory reclaimed!"
The war, which had sprouted in spring's tender green, finally ended at summer's close, harvest not far off.
**
War's end didn't mean the army's workload vanished.
Reorganization would wait for reinforcements, fine—but other tasks piled up.
Infantry slaved all day rebuilding Astoria-wrecked facilities and roads.
And with harvest season looming, most conscripts and volunteers had returned home, leaving manpower short.
My situation wasn't much different.
Early war losses gutted both heavy and light cavalry, so Bluecoats and I patrolled everywhere, hunting stragglers and deserters in their stead.
If anything, peacetime was busier than wartime.
Amid the frenzy, I kept tabs on the capital's moves.
The commander helpfully briefed me on HQ and frontline news without asking.
"The royals officially declared 'victory.'"
Thracia HQ and the palace recorded this war as a win.
We'd defended successfully and reclaimed all territory—not entirely wrong.
Problem was, defensive wars were pyrrhic at best even in victory.
We'd lost roughly 8,000 troops—four elite border legions, gutted.
Factor in wrecked fortresses, towns, and intangibles, and the 'victory' claim was laughably hollow.
Small consolation: Astoria had mostly spared the pre-harvest fields, so the harvest should proceed on schedule.
"HQ's planning a major reshuffle of frontline units."
Reshuffle meant swapping out the entire border force.
Early-war frontline legions were effectively disbanding.
Thus, our 8th Legion's fate remained unknown.
"We'll see. Right now, we're barely a legion anyway."
With conscripts and volunteers sent home for harvest labor, we hovered just over 500—battalion size, not 2,000-man legion.
Usually, you'd purge and refill entirely, but I doubted HQ would go that far.
We'd sent the first victory dispatch amid defeats and crushed Astoria's 4th Legion retreating, sparking the counteroffensive.
Considering the legion's symbolism, they'd probably just top us up moderately.
"Oh, right—rewards and promotions."
I perked up my ears.
Here it came at last.
That's why I'd shipped Baron Otto von Bauer to the capital early, as retirement seed money.
"Heard some interesting rumors."
Had to be fun. Rewarding the meritorious was always exciting.
Personally, I hoped for big and splashy.
"Word is, the ceremony won't be military— the palace is doing it publicly. Source makes it nearly certain."
I hadn't hoped for that big and splashy, though.
**
"Lieutenant Yannick, report to HQ by [month] [day]!"
Soon after, a messenger arrived from command.
I'd been waiting eagerly, so I prepped for the capital without delay.
"Come back promoted, sir!"
"HQ's enemy territory. Enemy territory."
"Don't let those capital dandies—especially the Redcoats—get the better of you!"
Bidding farewell to the Bluecoats—whose low opinion of HQ was now crystal clear—I boarded the convoy carriage to the capital.