Chapter 230
Chapter 230
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 230
Chapter Title: 99% Truth, 1% Lie (1)
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Back in elementary and middle school, there was this unspoken agreement that whoever got a bloody nose first or started crying first was the loser.
So when I got into a beef with a friend and it turned into one of those so-called "one-on-one" showdowns, hitting the other guy even one more time was important, sure.
But what mattered more was gritting my teeth and letting out a fierce yell no matter how many hits I took, just to keep from crying.
After going through all that and growing up, I got into the Army Officer Academy and figured I'd never have to fight or negotiate like that again.
But after some time in the military, I realized that wars between nations followed the same rule in a more refined form: the one who cries first loses.
"Vice Commander, His Excellency Oxenburg, the Minister of Military Affairs from the Stockholm Kingdom, has arrived. Shall I send him in?"
"Show him in."
With those words, a tall man who looked to be in his mid-sixties entered the inner part of my tent.
His hair was completely white, but he'd clearly kept up with his physical training religiously—there wasn't even a hint of a middle-aged gut, and through his blue uniform, you could see the angry swell of muscles asserting themselves.
Even though he'd come to sue for peace, he carried himself with a confidence bordering on arrogance, and I personally liked that about him.
A soldier—especially a commander bearing the lives of tens of thousands of subordinates—couldn't afford to show fear or servility to the enemy, no matter the situation on the battlefield.
"I'm Anders von Oxenburg, Minister of Military Affairs. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, the hero of the Reich Empire."
"I'm Peter Jaeger, bearing the rank of lieutenant general from the Reich Empire, humble as it is. I've heard Your Excellency's renowned name many times over, and I've been eager to meet you myself."
"Even if it's just polite words, I'm grateful. Please, sit and let's talk comfortably."
At his words, I gestured to the tea laid out before the minister, and we each took a sip before diving into the real conversation.
The tea Charlotte brews is always fragrant, but after the massive humiliation we'd just dealt the Stockholm Kingdom, maybe my mood was heightened, because...
The aroma felt about 1.5 times richer and sweeter.
After that, the minister extended his hand toward me with a friendly smile.
"Congratulations on your victory, Lieutenant General. I didn't witness your command firsthand, but to defeat over 200,000 Stockholm Kingdom troops with just 110,000 men... truly impressive."
If you just listened to the words, you'd mistake him for some fair-play sportsman graciously acknowledging a hard-fought loss.
But looking at the minister's face, he was smiling, yet if you peered closely at the corners of his mouth, you could see his teeth clenched in suppressed rage.
His voice trembled slightly too, like someone desperately trying to mask boiling anger.
If that's the case, he didn't have to bother smiling and congratulating me—still putting on a show even now, so naturally, it felt right to feed him a little something in return.
"I'm not that impressive. I was just lucky. If my luck had been even a bit worse that day, the Reich Empire's forces might have taken a real beating."
What I'd just said was the equivalent of top students who ace every exam muttering afterward, "Man, I totally bombed that one."
I'd wrapped a sweet treat in a layer of goodwill, and sure enough, the minister's face flushed red as a ripe apple, clearly pleased—or rather, furious.
If I weren't the Reich Empire's vice commander, he might've slapped me across the face right then.
"Let's save the formalities for the victory banquet after the armistice talks. How about we discuss the actual terms? We're both busy men."
"Yes, agreed. So, what terms is the Stockholm Kingdom proposing?"
"We'll cede all territory south of the Osbu Plains by 350 kilometers. This has already been approved by His Majesty the King of Stockholm."
With that, the Stockholm Kingdom's minister of military affairs slid a contract across to me.
Obviously wanting my signature, but what authority did he think I had to sign it?
Then again, on second thought, since I'd been the one actually commanding at the Battle of the Osbu Plains—the fight that decided the war's outcome...
He probably figured if I backed the proposal, we could wrap up the armistice right there.
"Isn't 350 kilometers south of the Osbu Plains a bit too small?"
"It's prime Stockholm land, equivalent in size to the Morenzia Duchy. And you call that insufficient? Isn't that a bit too greedy?"
"We have the royal capital under siege. If you'd like, we could open the gates right now. As proof, just a few days ago we had a little fun with their armory and the temporary shelters for the civilians. Was that not enough?"
At my words, Minister Oxenburg's face didn't just redden—it ignited into a deep crimson.
He slammed his fist on the table and shot up from his seat.
"Are you mocking me? If we wanted, we could muster the forces stationed to the west and crush you."
I saw no reason or need to respond, so I opted for complete silence.
Instead, I reviewed once more the fallout from our little arson stunt.
I had no idea how many soldiers and civilians garrisoned in Oslo had been hit by the fire.
But the soldiers, citizens, and nobles inside Oslo Castle had always trusted those walls to keep them safe. Realizing even those walls couldn't protect them must have broken their spirits.
Morale would be in the dirt—no, through the floor—and by now, the King of Stockholm was probably fretting over the risk of internal rebellion and civil war.
"Fine, that fire caught us off guard. But it won't work twice. To let you know specially, those 30 turncoats who lacked the guts to die as prisoners and defected to you? We executed every last one."
"We sent in exactly 30 prisoners, and you found them all. Impressive."
"Men in full armor acting suspiciously, unable to properly name their units? Traitors or spies, every one. And we've tightened security now, so opening the gates is impossible."
Just as Napoleon Bonaparte said, "Impossible" has no place in my dictionary—declaring something impossible in military tactics and strategy is utter foolishness.
Why? Because Hannibal of the Punic Wars crossed the Alps with elephants in ancient times, showing what's "impossible" will inevitably be shattered by someone someday.
"You're right—opening the gates the same way as before is impossible."
I had no intention of opening the gates anyway.
But after we lit that fire, even mid- and high-ranking officers like lieutenant colonels and colonels had started slipping over to pass us intel before heading back.
My mouth itched to mock him about it, but from time immemorial, it's only right to protect traitors who benefit us.
So I forced a nonchalant expression and replied.
"But once is tricky—twice? Not so much."
Someone who's passed a tough exam finds studying for and passing the next one relatively easy.
But punching through defenses that have already collapsed once and been rebuilt? That's genuinely hard.
Still, I couldn't just nod along like a yes-man.
That would hand over our tactical edge against them for free.
"And I don't know why you assume we'd bother opening the gates at all."
"Assume? No, if I were in your shoes, I'd open the gates now, threaten His Majesty the King, the nobles in Oslo Castle, and the people to squeeze out better terms..."
He'd read my intended tactic perfectly, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of respect.
If this were some mind-game sport like poker, I'd applaud and say, "Teacher's right."
But war isn't a sport—it's a bloodbath where only the victor calls the shots.
So I decided to show him the textbook example of "arm them and make them misjudge through intimidation."
It was a plan I'd whipped up on the spot, but it ought to work just fine.
"We surrounded the Stockholm Kingdom's capital with a mere 85,000 men. That's a tiny fraction compared to your total forces. So why haven't you driven out the Reich Empire's army—and why are you here instead?"