Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Coming In Was Up to You, But Leaving Isn't (3)
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Swish, swish, swish.
As if by prior agreement, the soldiers all turned to look my way.
"Oh! There you are!"
The Astoria herald, who had been gazing up at the ramparts, spotted me and brightened.
"First, allow me to express my utmost respect for your valiant efforts!"
With that, he pulled a letter from his bosom and began reading it aloud in the most presumptuous manner.
It went something like this, more or less.
—Even in the Thracia army, full of nothing but incompetents, a talent like you exists. You must have it rough. We caught you off guard this time, but it won't happen again next time. Keep your head on your shoulders until then.
...All dressed up in lofty diplomatic flourishes, of course.
My head spun.
I could understand if the Thracia command had screwed up at the war's outset, but spelling it out like this in front of so many people was another matter entirely.
Wasn't this openly sowing discord between the Thracia command and me?
But the real problem came after.
"The inept Thracia command lacks the capacity to embrace talents like you!"
I could already guess what came next just from that.
"Fire! Kill that bastard! Shut him up!"
I yelled at the defenders, my face drained of color.
"...Huh?"
"He's an unarmed envoy, though?"
Unfortunately, there wasn't a single soldier on the ramparts willing to loose arrows at a white-flag-waving, non-resistant envoy on my behalf.
"Thus, by the authority of Astoria's Supreme Commander, Oscar von Nightheart, I propose to you!"
And so.
"Defect to the Astoria army! If you do, we shall grant you the rank of general and command of ten thousand men, allowing you to unleash your abilities to your heart's content!"
The herald finally finished his spiel.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
We're screwed. Really, truly screwed.
I cursed inwardly.
"Then, soldiers of Thracia! Until we meet again, stay safe!"
With that parting remark that somehow sounded like an insult, the herald vanished.
Of course, he didn't leave gracefully.
He folded his master's letter neatly, placed it on the ground, and withdrew—clinging to me until the bitter end.
"...Uh, um."
I wanted nothing more than to tear that letter to shreds, burn it to ash, and erase every trace, but now I couldn't.
It wasn't just any letter; it was penned by Thracia's arch-nemesis, the Astoria army's Supreme Commander.
Our command would be intensely interested in it.
They'd dissect it, chew it over, gnaw at it to uncover any hidden motives.
And in that process, the sender's biting words—treating our command like fools while praising me, plus the outrageous defection offer—would be pored over endlessly.
"They've got us good. Really."
It was a blatant, childish ploy.
The problem was, even knowing that, we were powerless to counter it.
Put nicely, our conservative command revered tradition and honor; bluntly, they had zero flexibility and narrow minds.
I could already picture how they'd react to that letter's contents.
"...Don't look at me like that. Too many eyes witnessed today's events to cover it up."
I shot the commander a desperate glance, but it fell on deaf ears.
He outright avoided my gaze.
You owe me. I did exactly what you wanted.
I wanted to argue, but I swallowed it down.
No need to make an enemy of the commander too.
Besides, he wasn't wrong.
Too many eyes and ears had seen and heard.
A clumsy cover-up could spell real disaster.
"Surely nothing will come of it. Look at the merits you've earned on the front lines."
As I hung my head in resignation, the commander tried to console me.
Even he sounded unconvinced, his voice lacking strength.
"...If anything does arise, I'll back you to the fullest extent possible."
At least that promise of support rang true.
"Thank you, sir."
For once, I had to express my gratitude.
"No need for thanks. This isn't for you—it's for Thracia."
The front lines need young, capable officers like you.
His words genuinely moved me.
I'd thought he was just an idiot at first.
But here was a true soldier: incorruptible, uninterested in stealing subordinates' merits, loyal to the kingdom.
Sure, his own abilities might be lacking.
But uplifting those beneath him was a commander's virtue.
"...Your face makes me want to ask what you thought of me before."
The commander frowned at my expression.
This time, I averted my eyes.
Our forces shifted to catching their breath.
We gathered prisoners and spoils, repaired the fortress's damaged outer walls and facilities.
With consecutive defeats and losses from the last battle, we reorganized hollowed-out units and filled shortages with arriving recruits and reinforcements.
As the sole officer in the Schrelgrad Cavalry Brigade, I was run off my feet.
"Lieutenant, have you eaten?"
"Lieutenant, I hear reinforcements are coming to our cavalry from the rear soon. Any word?"
"Lieutenant, when the unit reorganizes, please take me with you."
Lieutenant, lieutenant, lieutenant...
The Bluecoats trailed me like ducklings all day; it was so relentless I was starting to twitch at the sound.
To varying degrees, most of the fortress's rank-and-file were the same.
Schrelgrad's hero, the mages' nightmare, the reaper who led the Winged Hussars to hell.
The soldiers showered me with childish nicknames.
I feigned nonchalance, thickening my skin in the process.
While our 8th Legion in Schrelgrad focused on regrouping, the front lines shifted rapidly.
Astoria's guerrillas were fully expelled from Thracia territory, freeing us from supply and manpower shortages that had plagued us.
With the front stabilized, Thracia switched to the offensive to reclaim lost ground.
The Thracia command was rigid, but not stupid enough to repeat past mistakes.
They dispatched mage battalions en masse to the front and hired mercenary mages to counter enemy magic.
Heralds came and went daily.
Some victories, some defeats.
Overall, we were steadily pushing Astoria back, if slowly.
In traditional cavalry clashes without mages, Thracia held the edge.
Superior infantry and the continent's strongest heavy cavalry led the methodical reclamation.
...Or so the commander and Schrelgrad staff believed.
I saw it differently.
"Our mobilized forces: 11 legions, 22,000 men. Command estimates Astoria at 13 legions, 26,000. With these numbers clashing daily, the casualty ratio is anomalously low."
8th Legion Chief of Staff, Major Evgen Sanov, snorted at my words.
"Unless one side's formation collapses, that's normal for skirmishes. Most casualties in such engagements happen post-collapse. That's why commanders prioritize holding formation above all."
He was a rare Thracia noble who'd inherited his house legitimately, no succession squabbles—an only child. Yet he was unusually hostile toward me.
"As a non-academy grad, Lieutenant, you'd lack such basic military knowledge."
His constant academy jabs were grating.
Instead of arguing with the major, I looked to his superior: the commander.
"Continue."
The commander's permission twisted Major Sanov's face.
I ignored it.
"See here: we're dominating most battlefields. Yet Astoria preserves most of its forces; numbers haven't dropped much."
"That's because command ordered no overzealous pursuits—push them out methodically. What an ignorant fool!"
Major Sanov interrupted; I ignored him again, eyes only on the commander.
"This is happening across the front."
I simply continued my report to the commander.
"I suspect the enemy never intended to hold the occupied zones from the start."
"Meaning..."
"Personally, I think Astoria's top priority now is a perfect withdrawal with minimal losses."
No sooner had I finished than the major burst out laughing.
"Abandoning hard-won ground? Absurd fantasy. Commander, he's just a lucky grunt with a few skirmish merits."
"I don't mean to belittle Lieutenant Yannick's feats, but Major Sanov is right: no strategic experience."
"He started as a common soldier; can't be helped."
What the hell. Idiots.
If you're so brilliant, why'd you just watch Schrelgrad get pummeled?
I scowled at the major and staff.
Lately, more officers seemed hostile.
Jealousy over my merits? Or fallout from the Astoria commander's stunt? I couldn't tell.
"Ignore opinions from the inexperienced. Including him in this meeting was a mistake to begin with."
Thankfully, the commander didn't play along with the fool major.
"I included Lieutenant Yannick. Are you saying I erred, Major?"
"Not at all..."
"Shut it. One more word, and you'll be the one ejected, not the lieutenant."
The commander gave no room for excuses.
His iron tone—who knew he had it in him?—left the major sputtering incoherently: "Ack, urk, guh."
Strong against the strong, harsh on the weak: the true soldier's posture I should emulate.
As I admired inwardly, the commander asked.
"So, where do you think they'll fall back to?"
I drew a long line across the central map: the pre-war Thracia-Astoria border.
"Insane! Why start a war then? You think war's a game, Lieutenant?!"
Bam. The commander slammed the table.
Stone-faced, he pointed to the door.
"Out."
"..."
The tactless Major Evgen Sanov was thus expelled.
"If their goal is indeed a full withdrawal..."
At the commander's nod, I resumed.
"Now's our chance to strike Astoria fatally."
In other words, time for what Thracia did best: a dogfight.
The meeting wrapped with the commander relaying my view to Thracia HQ and proposing a major offensive.
"Lieutenant Yannick."
Outside, Major Evgen Sanov and the staff awaited.
"Don't get cocky over a few merits. We haven't forgotten you sold out your superior to the enemy for that spot. A traitor without camaraderie or loyalty—you're Thracia's shame."
Humiliated in the meeting, the major was seething.
"Consider this a warning. Watch your step."
With that, the staff dispersed.
Hearing their murmurs drained me instantly.
"Haa. Military life is such shit; I can't take it anymore."
Days like this made retirement tempting.
Of course, not feasible now.
Wartime; they might reject it, and even if approved, I'd be dragged back soon.
Then I'd add "coward who fled the war" to "opportunist who sold out his CO."
The Astoria stunt loomed too.
Better to stay in the army for now, with the commander and troops to shield me.
"To cut to the chase: HQ's stance remains unchanged."
"Meaning..."
"No major offensive."
Three days later, HQ replied.
"Understood."
"That's how it is."
No disappointment.
A junior officer's word alone wouldn't move tens of thousands.
Thracia would reclaim territory sooner or later; armistice would follow.
A longer war was regrettable, but I'd done my part; time to step back.
The commander thought otherwise.
"You seem disappointed?"
"A bit, but not devastated..."
"Knew it. Must sting."
"...?"
"Of course."
He wore a knowing grin.
"That's why I got this."
Whatever it was, it sounded impressive.
"Independent operational authority for our 8th Legion."
Damn, prying that from rigid Thracia HQ?
Impressive, sure.
But with the war ending soon, what use?
"...?"
No way.
I stared wide-eyed.
He nodded firmly.
"Coming in was your call, but leaving? Not so easy. If others won't teach them, our 8th Legion will deliver the lesson."
His smug well done? face drew a deep sigh from me.
This guy's a hopeless idiot.