Chapter 124
Chapter 124
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 124
Chapter Title: This is Peace Negotiation (1)
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And a month later, in the commander’s tent of the Franco Eastern Expeditionary Force.
Back when the war was in full swing, I didn’t have any personal ties with Commander General Patton, so we never had occasions for private meetings like this.
But after our victory over the Franco Republic Army, I started getting summoned to his tent every now and then.
The other generals and officers around might be gossiping behind my back, saying something like, “That guy’s got another high-ranking ally in his pocket.”
Not that I cared much. If anything, I’d usually savor the irony—back in my academy cadet days, I’d agonize over whether to spend five coppers, and now here I was, rubbing shoulders with a four-star general, the envy of all.
But honestly, none of that mattered. I just wished they’d cut me loose. Because...
“Haha, Brigadier General! See, following the plan you proposed was how we scored that big win this time. Reminds me of a charge I led using similar tactics back in the day—right before I got promoted to lieutenant general.”
“Is that so? Who were you up against?”
“The fifty thousand troops under General Soviepski of the Warsaw Grand Duchy. That damn coward had hidden his cavalry in the woods right next to the plains...”
Sure, it was useful knowledge and experience, but I was swamped with postwar admin work.
“To the honorable General Soviepski who fought valiantly back then!”
General Patton knew my tastes—he never pushed whores on me or urged me to drink beyond my limit.
He’d ramble on about his exploits for hours, then devolve into drunken nagging...
“You’re undoubtedly a once-in-a-generation genius commander for the Empire’s history books. But you could stand to use more cavalry charges like I do! That’s real men’s warfare.”
His stories carried weight you couldn’t dismiss outright, but they weren’t exactly game-changers either.
About thirty minutes in, with me nursing my drink moderately, General Patton grinned at me.
“Oh, by the way, do you know who’s handling the peace talks this time?”
“You, sir?”
He burst out laughing, face turning beet red.
“I’m the general, the expedition commander, sure—but everyone knows I’m hopeless at politics. Peace negotiations? Might as well say lions eat grass; sounds more believable.”
(For the record, I remember a documentary from my childhood showing lions eating grass when their stomachs hurt.)
Frankly, I couldn’t picture the charge-obsessed General Patton negotiating peace.
He was famous for excelling only in combat and troop command, ignoring politics entirely.
And it wasn’t some savvy survival tactic—he was genuinely clueless about it.
Yet he’d climbed to general. The man was a legend.
“So who’s coming as the lead negotiator? Someone high up from the Foreign Ministry, or maybe the Foreign Minister himself...”
“Nah. Got word last night—you know him well.”
“I do?”
Patton topped off my glass with a “drink up if you want to know” look. Then a familiar voice came from the tent flap.
“Senior, any injuries or ailments I should know about?”
“Nah, thanks to my son-in-law here, I charged in fine form. Haha, this is Steel Patton we’re talking about!”
“Makes sense—I heard plenty on the way over, but nothing about you getting hurt or killed. You must be in good health.”
My father-in-law, Marquis von Venner, knowing Patton? Well, generals would have some rapport, nothing strange.
But this level of chumminess? That I hadn’t imagined.
I sat there stunned for a moment as the marquis eyed Patton.
“Heard about it on the way here. You improvised on my son-in-law’s carefully laid plan, stretching the march distance by 1.3 times.”
“What’s the issue? Field commanders have leeway for that, and in the end, my tweak led to a huge strategic win.”
“I’ll grant you that, but innocent soldiers suffered hell for it. Lucky it succeeded—if it failed, the expedition itself might’ve been jeopardized, my son-in-law included.”
No one else in the expedition matched his rank to argue logically—that’s how it passed.
With another commander of equal rank, Patton’s plan might’ve been toned down...
Or straight to the trash bin; it was a high-mobility gamble.
We’d planned infantry marches with buffer time, ordering looting en route.
But he’d commanded near-manic marching and looting, ignoring worst-case scenarios.
And while clueless on politics, his strategic insight matched any general’s...
“Ahem, yeah, I got a bit carried away. Fair enough, I admit it.”
“How are you the same since commissioning as a lieutenant all those years ago?”
“If I’d changed, I’d be like the others—retired as a colonel or brigadier. But Deus gave me the Empire’s top talent for charges.”
The marquis shook his head with a sigh.
“I could spend all night explaining how absurd that was, but duty first. You know I’ve been granted full authority for these talks?”
“Of course. Here’s the Eastern Expedition commander’s seal—symbol of authority. I’ve done my part; it’s all yours now.”
“Very well, Senior. As of this moment, Lucas von Venner assumes negotiation plenipotentiary.”
With that, both switched to stone-cold seriousness.
I figured I should slip out, but...
“You stay too.”
One line, and I was stuck, sinking back into my seat.
Patton stepped out on my behalf.
That’s when it hit me.
“Ah, so this is His Highness the Crown Prince and His Imperial Majesty the Emperor’s will—have me observe closely, since I’ll be doing similar talks as a general or marshal someday.”
I nodded, catching the marquis’s drift. He beamed like, “That’s my son-in-law!”
“His Majesty wants you as a key figure in His Highness’s reign. Obvious from that rank on your shoulder, unless someone’s blind.”
Without the Crown Prince’s full backing, even my Rhineland heroics would’ve left me a major eyeing lieutenant colonel.
“His Majesty and Highness approved recognizing your planning merits, assigning you as my aide for the talks.”
“Really? Such consideration for a mere brigadier like me...”
“Mere brigadier? At your age, I was prepping for major. A brigadier calling himself ‘mere’? Tsk.”
His tone held more bemusement than anger.
“And you know, barring oddballs like Senior Patton, majors general or lieutenant generals up handle peace talks regardless of scale. So, tell me—how would you negotiate this war?”
“You want my real opinion?”
“If it’s nonsense, I’ll ignore it. Your Staff College lectures suggest you’re a wizard at this anyway. Speak.”
I read the emperor’s goals document the marquis showed me, took a breath, and said,
“His Majesty wants land about 1.5 times the Bisocia region we took on the Chekobia front. Minimum equivalent area if needed.”
“Right.”
“So why not open with four times that? They’re the ones over a barrel.”
Back in my old life in Korea, people bought ten-copper items marked up to forty online, lured by “75% off sales.” Human nature.
They had excommunication and defeat on their plates—two firebombs. To survive, they’d swallow anything we offered.
Slap on the overask, pretend to bargain down—they’d eat it up meekly.
Of course, we’d haggle like Yongsan PC sellers: big show, tiny cuts.
That’s how we maximize the haul.