Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: But He Did Not Permit It (1)
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Battles were breaking out all over the place.
What they called battles were little more than hunts for stragglers.
The Northern Army, arriving late to the party, wasn't about to let a golden opportunity to rack up kills slip by. They scoured the area, mopping up defeated soldiers left and right.
Requests for support poured in from the legion commanders.
But I turned them all down and quietly focused on postwar cleanup.
The suicide squad had no fight left in them.
"Three of the critically wounded died overnight."
"...And the rest?"
"We'll have to wait and see, but I doubt half of them will pull through."
I squeezed my eyes shut at Ramir's report.
Sixty-seven Bluecoats had fallen in battle, and twenty-one had fallen behind. One hundred sixty-five light cavalrymen were dead, with thirty-three stragglers.
Even among the survivors, just the ones teetering on the brink numbered one hundred twenty-one.
And half of those were Bluecoats.
That was how fiercely the Bluecoats had fought.
In breaking through the spear line, more than a few Bluecoats had been dragged from their horses. Those who hit the ground were hacked to pieces beyond recognition.
Even the lucky ones who stayed mounted had arrows buried in their flesh.
By the time we reached camp after the battle, most were slumped unconscious over their saddles.
"How's Jamal?"
Of the Bluecoats who held the front line, only me, Jamal, and Ramir had made it off the field alive.
"...He's one of the three who haven't woken up."
No, now it was just two.
"By the time we breached command, Jamal had already taken a spear through the lung. Holding the line to the end in that state was a miracle."
What an idiot.
"...Did he at least go peacefully?"
"Lady Natasha eased his passing. He looked at peace, like he was just sleeping."
Natasha's elixirs were highly addictive, but unmatched for dulling pain.
So he hadn't suffered much.
"......"
A sigh finally escaped me.
But Jamal and the Bluecoats' sacrifice at the front hadn't been in vain.
By taking the brunt of the Astoria Army's fury, they'd cleared a path and spared the light cavalry heavy losses.
A fitting end for Bluecoats, as always.
"Keep searching for stragglers."
"...Not a single one left behind."
Ramir and I both knew what "straggler" meant in this situation.
Still, I had no intention of calling off the search.
If they were dead, I'd bring their bodies back with us.
"What about the cooperation requests from the other legions?"
Even after my refusals, a messenger had shown up today.
Persistent, but not unwelcome.
The legion commanders just wanted to share the glory of wiping out stragglers with me.
"Tell them this."
But I wouldn't accept their kindness.
"Our war is over."
Mine and the suicide squad's war had ended long ago.
**
The last Bluecoat was found in a remote plain, eyes closed as he clutched his beloved warhorse. By then, autumn was nearly over.
Far north of the border, the cold was brutal.
But none of us complained.
Thanks to the chill, we preserved the fallen's bodies intact.
"All loaded onto the wagons."
We filled the wagons sent by each legion with corpses and personal effects.
"Suicide squad."
After staring at the dozens of wagons for a while, I spoke softly.
"We're heading home."
At my word, the seven hundred surviving cavalry quietly broke camp.
We rode south and reached Kilirgrad after a fortnight on the move.
"You rascal, turning the fortress into a manure pile again..."
Major Evgen Sanov, waiting after advance word, approached with a broad grin—then froze.
His gaze shifted from the bandaged Bluecoats in battered armor to the wagons draped in white cloth at the formation's center.
"...Inside, now."
The major led us in.
"......."
"......."
Soldiers lined up along the walls and gates stared at us in stunned silence.
With the brass band and dressed ranks, it looked like they'd planned a victory parade.
"What are you standing around for? Help them!"
The soldiers jolted at Major Sanov's command and sprang into action.
As I passed, a familiar face caught my eye: my brother Yuri Evinoch, who'd recently inherited the family title, standing with his retainers.
"You..."
"Give it a rest this time? I'm beat."
"......"
I brushed past my brother and headed into the fortress.
Once at the barracks, I shed my armor.
The weight lifting from my shoulders unleashed a flood of exhaustion.
I collapsed into bed and slept a full day straight.
The next morning, I sought out Major Sanov.
"Sorry about yesterday."
"No, no. My fault. I should've prioritized caring for the wounded over a parade, considering what the suicide squad went through."
"Thank you for understanding."
After a quick exchange of apologies, I asked about the broader situation.
We'd returned straight to the fortress after the straggler search, avoiding other legions, so I was out of the loop.
"Astoria's still scrambling to regroup. Kazan's scraping together every border guard to siege the fortress. We're cherry-picking merits in between."
"Not much change since I left."
"Pretty much. But word is, our forces will pull back soon all at once. Direct order from His Majesty."
With our army's mere presence checking Astoria, a sudden withdrawal would burden Kazan heavily.
I could guess why Igor issued such an order.
He wouldn't let Kazan gobble up western Astoria unchecked.
Astoria would need at least a decade to recover from this war's damage.
Kazan growing too strong in the meantime was a problem.
Best to end the war with balanced blows between Kazan and Astoria.
Sparing Nightheart had been a similar call.
When the suicide squad feinted at the capital, Astoria yanked their commander-in-chief back immediately.
Anyone thinking straight would've known we lacked the strength for a siege.
Seeing that, it hit me.
Leave those idiots in charge, and they might not just fail to recover—they could lose everything to Kazan first.
With heads like theirs, they might irrationally prioritize southern borders over retaking the west.
Someone needed to force them to face reality.
Nightheart seemed perfect for the job.
Sure, he'd likely lose his post over this defeat, but I trusted he'd pull it off.
It wasn't blind faith.
I was convinced, in my own way.
Just couldn't share the reasoning with Major Sanov.
He'd never suspect I'd deliberately let Nightheart go.
"We'll probably withdraw fully before winter. Kazan can handle the cold like Astoria, so they'll skirmish a bit longer. But it'll wrap by end of November."
The war looked set to end before winter, as usual.
After this, I could rest easy for a while.
The inevitable rematch between Kazan and Astoria was none of our concern.
"Speaking of, when are you heading to the capital? Rumors say His Majesty's waiting on your audience day and night."
As always, impossibly well-informed Major Sanov shared the capital's mood.
The suicide squad had turned the court upside down, apparently.
"Focusing on regrouping for now."
Whatever.
"Some nerve, keeping His Majesty waiting."
The major chuckled heartily.
Even as he said it, he didn't seem worried about Igor's wrath.
"Do what you need. Ten days, a fortnight. Rest up. After that feat, you're entitled."
He clapped my shoulder repeatedly, insisting I take my time.
"How long are you gonna hole up here? Not going to the capital? No audience?"
But even he hadn't expected me to squat in Kilirgrad indefinitely.
"Injuries aren't healed yet."
"I can see you're fine!"
"The royal gift horse and the others need rest too..."
"Keeping His Majesty waiting over horses?"
"Then let's say I'm still recovering."
"You rascal! Winter's at the door! Border legions are back, and their commanders all headed straight to the capital!"
Major Sanov pushed relentlessly, but I held firm.
"What's the deal? Give me a reason."
When he practically begged, I answered carefully.
"...I don't know. No motivation. Just want to lie around all day."
The honest truth.
"......."
Major Sanov let out a long sigh.
"Got it. I'll report to the palace that your wounds haven't fully healed. Still, you should send the other suicide squad members ahead soon."
I'd tried convincing them to go first anyway—technically, with the mission over, they weren't bound to my orders anymore.
But they made excuses.
Officially, time to mourn or recover.
Pure lies, of course.
The squad would disband the moment they reached the capital.
They were dragging their feet to avoid it.
After tasting what cavalry banded together could do, none wanted to return to the old routine.
They'd go eventually.
Their numbers were down, but still enough to stir noble drama.
Dragging it out further risked trouble.
Hell, it was borderline now.
"We have to go. Yeah, we do."
As we reluctantly prepared to depart Kilirgrad...
"I came to check on my cavalry commander's grave injuries myself."
Igor showed up out of the blue.
"And yet..."
I sweated bullets as he eyed me up and down.
Caught red-handed malingering by my direct superior.