Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: I'm Still Hungry (1)
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We headed straight for where the 8th Legion was stationed.
It was partly because they were relatively close among the friendly forces deployed nearby, but more than that, since we had to fight anyway, it seemed easier to team up with people whose movements we could somewhat sync with.
Marek Drpov, the 8th Legion commander, was the type to mull over even my most ridiculous demands two or three times.
Boom, boom!
A faint rumble reached our ears, and soon a fortress shrouded in black smoke came into view in the distance.
As we drew closer, we could see the 8th Legion surrounding the fortress.
The ground was pockmarked with craters and blast scars everywhere, suggesting the enemy's resistance was fiercer than expected.
"Major Yannick!"
The 8th Legion commander, who had been notified in advance, came rushing over out of breath.
Whoosh.
He threw his arms around my shoulders.
"...?"
I froze mid-salute.
Even reuniting with family after ten years apart wouldn't warrant this level of enthusiasm.
For something just over two months since we'd last parted, the reaction felt excessively warm, flooding me with intense awkwardness.
"If you're joining the front lines, you should've come straight to me first! Where the hell have you been gallivanting off to that you're only showing up now?!"
Regardless of my reaction, the 8th Legion commander kept hugging me and expressing his joy.
It took quite a while before he finally let go.
"For Thracia. 6th Legion Vanguard Division, Division Commander Semin Basilies, Brigadier General. It's an honor to meet the 8th Legion commander who turned the tide of last year's war."
"Zendaya Kalishnikov, Colonel."
"Ryupin Sergen, Colonel."
Having missed the timing, the 6th Legion's commanders, who had been standing there awkwardly, hurried to greet him one after another.
"Right. The 6th Legion already captured the fortress, didn't they? Taking it first is quite the feat. I'd love to hear what trick you used, but... no sense standing around out here. Let's head inside."
The atmosphere grew awkward for a moment, but the 8th Legion commander quickly shifted the topic with a cough.
He shot me a glance.
What happened?
Explanation later.
He nodded at me with a meaningful look.
"For now, have the 6th Legion set up camp over there. See that flag? Everything beyond it is within the Astoria forces' bombardment range, so be careful."
"Then I'll stay behind and oversee the camp preparations."
Colonel Sergen stayed, while the rest of us followed the 8th Legion commander into the encampment.
"Come on in."
A large command tent big enough for dozens of people.
Step.
I stepped inside without much thought and froze.
The 8th Legion's top brass, including the vanguard and rearguard division commanders, were all gathered.
They stood in a circle around a table with a map spread out in the center.
"I assembled them in advance."
The 8th Legion commander said it casually.
"Felt like you'd come in handy somehow."
Their faces looking at me flickered with anticipation.
They seemed to already know why I'd come to the 8th Legion.
Now that's our commander—precise and on point.
Swipe.
The 8th Legion commander gave a nod to one of the staff officers.
"Over the past 76 days, our forces have unleashed magical bombardments every other day and launched sixteen assaults on the fortress. But we've seen no significant gains so far."
A staff officer stood and gave a brief rundown of the situation.
"Enemy deserters so far number just over 600—barely more than battalion strength. We've lured them into open terrain and wiped out most of them."
It didn't add up.
A battalion's worth wasn't a small force.
If that many had deserted, the fortress's defenses should've weakened noticeably.
Yet no gains at all?
"For reference, among the Astoria troops our ambush units took out was the fortress commander himself."
Even the man in charge of the fortress had been among the deserters.
"If anything, the defenses have gotten tighter since the desertions. Whoever took over command is no pushover."
It looked like our grand strategy had accidentally given wings to some capable underling stifled under an incompetent commander.
"Troops are down, but is that purely good for us? It's ambiguous."
"Fewer mouths to feed means they can hold out longer."
This threw a major wrench into the 8th Legion's strategy of encircling and starving them out.
"So we were debating whether to ramp up from probing attacks to a full siege just as you arrived."
Even so, the 8th Legion commander's voice was bright.
Not just his voice—his expression and complexion were all upbeat.
"Alright, that should give you the full picture. Time to show us your stuff."
Show what?
"Open that bag of tricks of yours."
He spoke like I'd been entrusted with some pouch, utterly shameless.
Of course, I'd come intending exactly that from the start.
"Let's start by restoring the status quo."
The 8th Legion commander's eyes lit up at my words.
"The 6th Legion currently holds a significant number of prisoners. Most are severely wounded, barely able to move."
Among the Astoria prisoners captured in the open fields, many had died from friendly magical barrages, but around a hundred had survived by sheer luck.
On top of that, about 500 more from that day's battle had surrendered or been captured—nearly all wounded, half of them gravely so.
"Perfect! Those burdens on our logistics are useless to us anyway. Dump them all on the Astorians to strain them!"
"That many wounded flooding in at once would burden not just their supplies but their manpower too. Brilliant move!"
No sooner had I spoken than the 8th Legion commanders burst into exclamations.
"The problem is, from their perspective, there's no reason to accept wounded who're nothing but dead weight."
Damien Barnich, the vanguard division commander who'd only recently joined the 8th Legion, cautiously voiced dissent.
"Even if they take the wounded, if this standoff drags on, those recovered troops rejoin the fortress garrison intact. Why take on that risk?"
His eyes and demeanor made it clear he wasn't thrilled with me.
"Siege is our only real option right now anyway. We can control their recovery and reinforcement by timing and intensity of our assaults. It's worth trying—more than worth it."
Lavan Padrip, the rearguard division commander, subtly backed my idea.
Not out of fondness for me, but probably just dislike for Barnich.
Things hadn't felt great when we first joined the 8th Legion, and now the rift between them seemed even wider.
Clap.
Then came the sound of applause.
"Let's at least hear Major Yannick out fully."
The 8th Legion commander's timely intervention eased the tension between the two division commanders.
Yeah. The guy's hopeless at some things, but damn good at handling people.
"Exactly as you say. Any competent commander has no reason to accept useless prisoners right now."
Barnich snorted derisively.
"Then make them accept."
It came out casually, but it might've sounded provocative.
Sure enough, Barnich's face flushed red.
"We'll hand over the prisoners officially and publicly. Right in front of every Astoria soldier in that fortress."
Realizing my slip, I hurriedly elaborated.
"They'll have to take them. Otherwise, their troops' morale will tank."
In a siege like this, soldier morale was paramount.
High morale let them fight on clutching empty stomachs; low morale meant even mountains of supplies wouldn't last.
"Fine, say they accept the wounded. What's in it for us? Lightening our load? Draining their supplies? It hardly outweighs the risk of them rearming later."
Barnich pressed again, his voice laced with subtle anger.
"You're right. Just handing over wounded won't yield immediate big results."
I agreed readily, making his expression sour further.
But that lasted only a moment.
"So here's what we'll do."
His eyes widened at my follow-up, all displeasure and irritation gone.
"...That's it."
I finished explaining and looked at the commanders.
"......"
The division commanders were lost in thought.
Glance, glance.
The 6th Legion commanders kept stealing looks around.
The 8th Legion commander grinned knowingly, his sly face somehow irritating me into smirking back.
I felt like some performing bear.
Five days later, an envoy under a white flag left the encampment.
The fortress defenders of Renkamp, bracing for the next bombardment, were visibly baffled by the sudden turn.
But the enemy's agitation wasn't major.
Thinking it a surrender demand, some loosed arrows to threaten the envoy.
Undeterred, he approached right up to the fortress gates.
There, in Astorian, he conveyed our proposal to hand over prisoners, wrapped in humanitarian rhetoric and profound humanity.
-......!
Without giving the Astorians time to respond, the envoy returned.
"Send out the wagons."
6th Legion soldiers, also under white flags and disarmed, pulled the wagons forward.
Inside were the prisoners we'd carefully brought from Fahrenheit Fortress, who had just arrived that morning.
"That's done."
The soldiers unloaded the prisoners 100 meters from the fortress and withdrew with the wagons.
Now their fate rested with the Astorians.
I was curious.
What would the fortress commander decide?
Like the one who'd abandoned Fahrenheit, he might ruthlessly discard these burdens—or choose otherwise.
No harm in nudging their choice while we were at it.
Nod.
At my signal, the 8th Legion commander and Basilies, who had been watching me, gave the order.
"Fall back 400 paces!"
Our forces uniformly widened the distance to the fortress.
Not content with that, they inverted their spears and sheathed swords, signaling no intent to fight.
Now it was a waiting game.
We waited for the fortress commander's choice; the prisoners waited for rescue by their comrades.
"Astorians coming out!"
Three hours later, the fortress gates creaked open.
Astoria troops emerged, cautiously towing the wagons toward the wounded.
Meanwhile, archers on the walls nocked arrows, watching us warily; inside, waves of mana pulsed and faded repeatedly.
We had no fight in us, yet they were deeply uneasy.
Retrieving the prisoners dragged on tediously, taking two hours of utmost caution.
Dozens of those left on the cold ground likely died in the interim.
The dead were left outside the fortress.
What a tragic sight.
Moreover, among our handed-over prisoners were not only those who'd watched comrades die in friendly barrages, but also the very casters responsible.
Forcing blood enemies into the same fortress.
Seeds of discord, a massive tragedy brewing.
"As expected, the enemy took the bait—poison and all."
But no matter what tragedies it wrought...
"Tomorrow night, we'll rip open the enemy's gut."
...it paled against the calamity about to befall that fortress.