The Feigned Retreat
Leona decided to use a tactic she had employed once before.
"Send word to Peter on the left wing. Tell him to feign a retreat—make it look as though he's being driven back, without letting the enemy catch on."
"Yes, my lord."
Leona's messenger rode at once toward the general commanding the left. Before long, Leona's left wing began to give ground, little by little—as though the enemy's assault had finally proven too much to bear. The performance was thoroughly convincing.
"Th-the enemy is falling back!"
Meanwhile, the head of House Giesel—locked in combat against the enemy left—and the lord of House Plea trailing behind him looked ready to leap for joy. And why wouldn't they? The enemy that had held so stubbornly until now was at last beginning to buckle.
"How stands the center? And the opposite wing?"
"Still evenly matched, my lord! No clear advantage either way!"
"Then our left wing will be the first to break them! All forces—charge!"
The soldiers of Houses Giesel and Plea began driving the retreating enemy with abandon, intent on crushing them outright. But then a messenger arrived from the rear.
"A courier from the main force, my lord. The enemy left's retreat is a feint—there's a trap ahead. You are ordered not to pursue."
"Who issued that order? Our lord?"
"No, sir. Sir Franz Meyer."
"Ha! The Four Great Houses are about to outshine him, so he's trying to hold us back! Look at their formation! They're collapsing without mercy—what feigned retreat? What trap? We of the allied forces do not take orders from some cowardly house of pen-pushers! Keep pushing! Drive them all the way!"
"Waaaaaah!!!"
Morale soaring, Houses Giesel and Plea pressed on. The enemy kept falling back—some even turning their backs—stumbling in disarray, unable to mount a proper defense against the onslaught.
"Pursue them! Kill them all, then go aid our allies! House Giesel will be the hero of this war and surpass House Meyer!"
If they claimed great merit in this war, House Giesel would become a greater contributor than House Meyer. Then it would not be a dream for the Four Great Houses to once again overpower the royalist faction.
But Giesel and Plea failed to realize something: by driving too far ahead, they had lost contact with the rest of their allies and isolated themselves. And then—
"Heavy cavalry—charge!"
At Leona's command, as though they had been waiting for this very moment, the enemy's heavy cavalry appeared. Their target was none other than the flanks of the two houses.
—Crash!
A ferocious heavy cavalry charge slammed into the flanks of the two houses as they chased the enemy. The cavalrymen couched their long lances under their arms and charged; when the tremendous impact shattered those couched lances, they drew their swords and began cutting down the soldiers of the two houses without restraint.
"D-don't panic! Even if they're cavalry, there aren't that many of them! We have eight thousand men! If we just stay calm and respond—"
But at that very moment—
"Charge!"
The enemy left wing that had been fleeing reformed its ranks and came surging back in an orderly assault.
Infantry to the front. Cavalry on the flanks.
The two houses, at a loss, fought the enemy in front, then the enemy on the side, back and forth—until their numbers had dwindled beyond any hope of resistance.
"My lord Count! You must retreat!"
One of Giesel's retainers shouted.
"Silence! If I retreat here, what becomes of my honor—of House Giesel's standing? We will not yield! Never—"
"Get him out of here!"
The knights of House Giesel forcibly hauled the thrashing Louis de Giesel onto a horse and dragged him away. House Plea had already fled long before. Seeing their commanders being hauled off, the soldiers naturally chose flight as well.
"How dull. Is that all?"
Leona smiled. No matter how exceptional Franz Meyer might be, he was still only a vassal, not a sovereign. Keeping every subordinate in line was apparently beyond him.
"Franz Meyer is a prodigy, but House Setia is full of small fry. That gap created this opening. Heavy cavalry! Pursue the fleeing enemy and annihilate them!"
But that order was never carried out.
A formation of soldiers appeared shortly after and blocked the heavy cavalry's path.
The owl banner… House Meyer.
Seeing the troops of that renowned house—lately risen to real power—Albert, commander of the heavy cavalry, hesitated for a moment.
If I simply steamroll this infantry formation, would it help secure victory?
He considered it, but looking ahead, it didn't seem particularly useful. There was only one heavy cavalry unit, while infantry was plentiful. Moreover, competent heavy cavalrymen were hard to train. Trading them for infantry would be a net loss for their side. So Albert chose to withdraw.
So Albert has chosen to fall back.
Leona sighed. Had the heavy cavalry commander been Clemens de Balboa rather than Albert, he would have simply crushed them without fretting over exchange ratios.
And simply crushing them would have been the more strategically advantageous path. Sweeping away the suddenly appeared Meyer infantry would have let them also wipe out the demoralized, fleeing infantry of Houses Giesel and Plea. Then, circling back to strike the enemy from behind with the heavy cavalry would have brought victory within reach.
But not all of Leona's subordinates were as capable as she was, and she valued organic field command over rigid top-down obedience, leaving most decisions to her on-site commanders. That meant not everyone could make judgments as precise as hers.
Albert has a head on his shoulders, but he lacks that flash of instinct. That's his limit. When a better heavy cavalry commander appears, I'll replace him.
Delegate completely—and if they fail, dismiss them. Intuitive and simple: that was Leona's way.
Before long, Albert returned to Leona at the head of his heavy cavalry. Reading her expression, he instinctively sensed that his judgment had been wrong. He asked:
"My lord, do you have further orders?"
"Support our forces. If an opening presents itself, take it."
"When you say an opening…"
"I have no intention of spelling that out for you. Figure it out yourself."
"Yes, my lord!"
Albert rested his cavalry briefly, then set out again before long. But until the battle ended, he never found a new opportunity—because Franz Meyer had blocked every single one.
Before the battle began, Meyer had said:
I have eliminated every factor that could lead to our defeat. We will win.
And those words had not been empty bluster meant to raise morale. Meyer was systematically shutting down every variable that might arise, and that was steadily guiding their side toward victory.
"Franz Meyer… a formidable man."
Leona murmured. She could no longer see any path to victory. Muskets were unusable, and the heavy cavalry faced prepared countermeasures. Even the fleeing soldiers of Houses Giesel and Plea had recovered some of their morale and partially returned.
"Of all people, for a man like that to be a vassal of House Setia…"
Had he been her vassal, they would have conquered the world together. Leona felt a frustrating sense of waste that someone as exceptional as Meyer served a mediocrity like Adel.
At last, Leona gave the order to retreat. Even in withdrawal, the Kruzenstein army maintained perfect order, never breaking formation. They could have pressed the pursuit further, but she chose not to. Her own forces had taken heavy losses as well, and given Leona's habit of always thinking ahead, the enemy had almost certainly split off troops and hidden ambushes along the retreat path.
"We won! We actually won!"
Adel dismounted, looking as though he might cry. Leona von Kruzenstein—he had known from the rumors just how formidable that woman was.
"Sir Meyer! You are the foremost hero of this battle!"
"You honor me too highly, my lord."
"Not at all! I know well enough how war works! Without you, how could we have won this fight? The way you positioned troops exactly where the enemy would appear—your foresight was truly the eye of a hawk!"
That's… from my experience with the game. Leona was the protagonist faction, and I knew the tendencies of every one of her subordinates inside and out. That's why I could predict how Leona's officers would move.
"My lord, do not grow too complacent. We held them off this time, but there will be another war—and next time they will return stronger."
"And is that any reason to be afraid? We have Sir Meyer on our side! As long as Sir Meyer is with us, no matter how many times the enemy comes, we will not fall!"
My lord's words were not empty praise—they were one hundred percent sincere. And that felt good. It felt good… but honestly, it was also a little troubling. These were chaotic times. An age when vassals murdered their lords and sons murdered their fathers. In a world like that, to live trusting someone other than yourself—how precarious a life was that?
"My lord."
"What is it?"
What should I say? Don't trust me? That would only tighten the noose around my own neck. Hone your own abilities? If he were the sort to listen to that, he wouldn't have neglected his studies since Henrik's generation. What should I say? What…
"It's nothing."
In the end, I said nothing at all.