Chapter 44
Chapter 44
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Everyone Wears a Mask (2)
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The drinking session dragged on late into the night.
There wasn't much conversation.
Sure, there were plenty of words weighing on everyone's hearts, but none that could be easily spoken aloud, so they could only tilt their glasses.
"Cheers."
A toast so simplified that even the reason for it had been omitted.
Suddenly, I wondered.
Was he emptying his glass... or his heart?
Probably the latter.
Even after the drinking had gone on for quite a while, his eyes were sharpening instead of clouding with intoxication.
That made me think I understood why he'd summoned me back to the palace.
He needed a chance to completely shake off the past, and I'd simply been the trigger.
"Cheers."
Another toast to who-knows-what.
Gulp, gulp.
He drained his glass.
His opponent was gradually emptying his heart, while I hadn't let go of a single thing.
'You're all I've got left. You're the hermit now.'
'Compassion, honesty, patience, diligence, silence. I've taught you everything I can. It's up to you to carry it on.'
The ripples of old grudges stirred in his mind.
'Just in case, don't even think about revenge.'
'Try farming. Or become a forester? Raising sheep isn't bad either. They're fluffy and cute, right?'
Fragments of long-buried memories floated up chaotically from the depths.
'We did it to survive. If we hadn't retreated then, we'd all be dead.'
'An honorable death? What a joke. I clawed my way to survive... Wait, spare me. I'll apologize.'
I felt eyes on me.
Igor was staring straight at me.
Clink.
He poured me another drink.
Gulp, gulp.
I downed it in one go. He refilled my glass again.
The same thing repeated several times.
"..."
Suddenly, I saw Igor smiling silently.
His face looked freer than I'd ever seen.
For some reason, it made me jealous.
His smile deepened. My insides twisted further.
I drained my glass in one shot.
Now he was laughing heartily, shoulders shaking.
Something surged up from inside me.
Haaaah.
I let out a long breath.
I calmed my wildly thrashing heart.
I subtly pushed my glass away.
He didn't offer me more.
I looked up.
Through the glass ceiling, a deep indigo sky stretched out.
Damn, it's disgustingly clear.
I grumbled inwardly for no reason.
And so the drinking session ended.
The next day, I was summoned back to the palace.
Fortunately, this time it wasn't the garden or a drinking party.
Whoosh.
As soon as I entered the conference room, a dozen pairs of eyes stabbed into me.
The high command's veteran generals and General Langrid were watching me.
"For Thracia."
Not knowing what was going on, I saluted, and the one who'd called me here beckoned.
"Ah. I summoned Major Yannick. As the one who earned great merit this time and as a frontline commander, I wanted to hear your views."
I roughly understood the situation.
"Now that the main man is here, no need to drag this out. Let's get started."
Igor's gaze turned to the tactical map spread on the table.
Kazan, Astoria, and Thracia.
The battlefield I'd only been able to imagine as a lowly officer was laid out there in full.
Slide.
At Igor's glance, one of the high command officers stepped forward.
"Captain Ilya Graf here. First, to the wise and valiant..."
"Just the essentials."
"S-sorry, sir."
Captain Graf, who'd been boldly cut off from the start, stammered through the briefing.
"Before the overall situation, allow me to explain Astoria's position. Currently, Astoria faces 55,000 Kazan troops to the west and our Thracia's 35,000 to the south simultaneously."
These were precise numbers I'd heard for the first time, but up to here, I knew.
"So far, they're focusing their forces on the western Kazan front rather than our southern army, mainly defending and buying time against us."
This much I'd guessed too.
"Our forces are pressing Astoria from all directions. Their southern army has virtually no cavalry, so they can't counter our pressure and are focused on holding their forts..."
At this point, everyone in the room glanced at me briefly.
"Kazan’s advance has slowed far more than expected..."
"Why is that?"
"As reported to Your Majesty, Astoria's supreme commander, Oscar von Nightheart, intervened directly on the Kazan front, leading to Kazan defeats in key battles and breaking their momentum."
"His command in last year's battle against our Thracia was impressive too. He's definitely a tough one."
"Fortunately for us, Oscar von Nightheart failed to properly counter our cavalry penetrations..."
Though Graf was giving the report, it felt like everyone was looking only at me.
Noticing the room's subtle atmosphere, the captain trailed off.
"...Oscar von Nightheart has been forcibly recalled to the capital and is essentially under house arrest, per intelligence. Given Astoria's turbulent politics, it’ll take considerable time for him to return to the front."
This was unexpected news.
He'd been constantly sending congratulatory letters and scheming to mess with me at every chance.
Those who rise by slander fall by slander.
Reap what you sow, you bastard.
"...C-can I continue?"
Seeing the generals practically turned toward me, Captain Graf looked on the verge of tears.
"Whether due to the vacant supreme command or the burden of facing two nations, Astoria's responses remain passive defense, and our all-around pressure is proving effective."
I almost wanted to applaud him for finishing the report under these conditions.
"High command forecasts that within three months at latest, many of Astoria's key strongholds will fall to our hands."
"'Many' within three months? Since when have our reports been so vague?"
But despite his efforts, Igor showed no mercy.
"S-sorry! Forgive me!"
His face looked ready to burst into tears at the slightest touch.
Pale and sickly-looking, he seemed unfit for this role from the start.
Fortunately, no grown man broke down crying before the king and generals.
"Major Yannick."
Igor turned his attention to me.
"I'd like your views as a frontline commander."
I put on a troubled expression.
What did a lowly field officer like me have to say about strategies crafted by high command generals and staffers who pulled all-nighters?
Even if I had something to say, the atmosphere didn't allow it.
The veteran generals were already glaring at me like, How dare a mere major?
"This is just to hear a frontline perspective, so speak freely without pressure."
But when he laid it out like that, how could I hold back?
Ahem.
I cleared my throat and cautiously spoke.
"If I may, our current strategy seems aimed at steadily wearing down Astoria with minimal losses. Am I right?"
The veteran generals didn't respond.
"Exactly as you say."
If General Langrid hadn't stepped in, it would've been awkward.
Anyway.
Thracia's conservative, rigid high command always produced the same old strategies.
In simple terms, they prioritized not losing over winning—bluntly, playing it safe.
Frankly, I firmly believed the Thracia army was incompetent.
But that didn't mean everyone in it was.
There were plenty of capable people in Thracia's forces.
No need to look far: General Langrid right here, and in Killigrad, Lieutenant Colonel Evgen Sanov. Even the 8th Legion commander, dubious as he was, was decent for enabling his subordinates' capabilities.
There were many more skilled officers.
High command surely had young, fresh staff proposing bold, aggressive plans.
They just weren't adopted to suit the brass's tastes.
Not bad, though.
If we could avoid defeat, we wouldn't lose big.
But.
I think this:
Since we're on the offensive anyway, what's the difference between that and losing if we gain nothing?
Last war, Thracia got pummeled but boasted victory because we'd succeeded in stopping the enemy's offensive—that was the justification.
"This war's outward goal is holding Astoria accountable for their invasion, and practically, inflicting heavy damage to deter re-invasion."
The problem was dragging it out like this drained their strength as much as ours.
Though Thracia's vast plains differed from Astoria's barren northlands.
"Wouldn't it be better to end this war boldly and swiftly?"
Ending it early couldn't hurt.
"Sounds like you think we can end it whenever we want."
One veteran general glared at me like he wanted to devour me.
"Astoria's defenses are at full readiness. Rashly intensifying attacks against a fully prepared foe risks heavy losses."
"Doctrine requires at least three times the defenders for sieges. We don't have that."
The veterans growled one after another, as if waiting for this.
I'd properly earned their hatred.
Pointing out their strategy was flawed from the start right to their faces—naturally they'd want to eat me alive.
Nothing new.
High command veterans had been itching to devour me for ages.
My head wasn't full of flowers enough to think we'd get along now.
So.
"As you say. They've already concentrated forces in frontline forts anticipating our offensive."
Time to say what I wanted.
"But where did those forces come from?"
The generals frowned.
Whether they didn't grasp my point or hated a mere major questioning them, didn't matter.
I was getting excited.
"Thracia, through His Majesty's wise and great decision, has centralized most of its forces."
Igor let out a snicker.
But the generals unaware of our past were stunned, faces paling in shock and fury at the king's laugh.
"Astoria shows signs of centralizing lately too, but still relies heavily on noble private armies."
I paused here and looked at the generals.
At least one should've caught on by now.
"You're suggesting rear attacks."
General Langrid, as expected.
"If their roots are threatened, they'll waver."
"Shake them a bit more, and some might pop out of their holes."
At my words, General Langrid scanned the map.
"Not without merit, but too risky. Venture deep into their rear, and we could get encircled."
Supply lines stretching, operating in enemy territory— she methodically countered my idea.
"Do you think our army is all Bluecoats? Or since it worked once, try again?"
"Very cavalry-like thinking. But not for the whole army's strategy."
The veterans, who'd been watching, piled on.
"Agreed. The generals are right. So I believe we should intensify our current all-around pressure."
As I yielded a step, smug looks crossed the veterans' faces.
"Deep rear penetrations to hit Astoria estates are unrealistic. No need to risk it that much."
But my step back was to leap two forward.
"Just pretend."
The veterans' eyes widened.
"A guy like me... Er, sorry. I misspoke."
Caught up in the moment, I'd forgotten the king was here. I quickly apologized and continued.
"If Astoria doesn't know, it's over. Make them think their estates are under attack without confirming."
In short, implant fear of their lands being hit—that alone succeeds.
"Who knows? Some might even leave forts to check their own domains."
Then loosen the encirclement slightly and gobble them up somewhere convenient. With luck, a chance to take a fort might open.
"That's all."
I snapped my heels together and stood straight.
"......"
"......"
No one spoke even after I finished.
General Langrid pondered deeply; the others wracked their brains for flaws in my plan's feasibility.
"...C-can I say something?"
Breaking the silence first wasn't Igor or Langrid.
Surprisingly, cowering Captain Graf shakily requested to speak.
"I-I think it's a good idea: maintain our strategy of all-around pressure to wear them down while shaking the enemy."
As eyes turned to him, his face paled again.
"Plus, spread rumors against Astoria... S-sorry!"
Crushed by the mood, he bowed his head.
Repeating apologies without lifting it, he looked pitiful enough to evoke sympathy.
Not easy for a grown man. If left, he'd really cry this time.
"Rumors, huh. Definitely worth trying."
Then the savior appeared.
"Regardless of truth, rear anxiety breeds impatience. Impatience is the deadliest poison in battle—pure gain for us."
At General Langrid's words, wide-eyed Captain Graf, mid-apology, relaxed.
Soon, other generals chimed in; Graf's point of no major strategy change suited them perfectly.
"..."
Suddenly, I felt eyes.
Igor was looking at me.
But that gaze differed from when we first met, or yesterday's drinking.
It felt oddly familiar.
A face I'd seen before. A known look.
Ah.
I realized the déjà vu too late.
Shiver.
Goosebumps rose.
It was exactly how the 8th Legion folks looked at me.