Chapter 259
Chapter 259
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 259
Chapter Title: Afterparty
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Reich Empire Army, command tent.
Outside the command tent, soldiers and junior officers were boisterously guzzling booze and devouring meat sold by camp merchants, as if it were available only today.
Because of that, the distinctive coquettish whines of the prostitutes, the drunken soldiers' high-pitched yet slurred shouts, and the occasional bursts of cheers and applause filtered into the tent.
"Every time Sergeant Falcon here swung his halberd downward with a whoosh, one Warsaw soldier's noggin cracked open. We smashed countless skulls, yet they kept swarming like cockroaches. Before we knew it, the war was over."
"Y-yeah, that's right. I was slashing away mindlessly when, huh? I spotted this head in ridiculously flashy armor, so I charged with my sword. Killed him quick, and wouldn't you know—two horse-shit emblems pinned to his epaulet..."
"Aww, big brothers. The night's still young; you can't get started yet."
However, the officers inside the tent hadn't touched so much as a drop of alcohol.
Someone seeing this might think—as the saying goes, "the seat makes the man"—that I'd turned strict, solemn, and serious before the officers, just like General Keitel.
But after a great victory where we'd killed or crippled more than half the enemy army, I had no intention of playing the villain by ordering the officers to work instead of rest.
So, no long-winded principal-style speech. I planned to wrap up the pep talk short and sweet.
"This victory let us perfectly punish the bastards who secretly allied with the Stockholm Kingdom, came out to support them, and stabbed us in the back. Thanks to you, those who shamed our great Emperor paid the proper price. Right?"
I phrased it that way, but the Warsaw Archduke would probably say:
'Fuck, that's the proper price? I just threw one punch, and you beat me senseless with a baseball bat—are you insane?'
Even I, as the Reich Empire's commander, had to admit the damage they'd suffered was catastrophic.
Forty percent of their forces killed in action, nearly fifteen percent so gravely wounded they were half-dead already.
This massive loss would naturally cast the Archduke's leadership under suspicion from every noble in the Warsaw Archduchy.
To dodge that, our Archduke would likely play the national traitor card I'd secretly slipped him, pinning all blame on those corrupt officials.
The high-ranking losers from this battle would face military tribunals, saddled with defeat penalties and even fabricated corruption charges.
Shift blame to the defeated generals, and he'd seize their lands and fortunes clean.
In exchange, despite the Archduchy's huge losses, the Archduke could claw back from his own nobles.
Problem is, after that, the surviving nobles would harbor grudges, putting his head on the chopping block. But none of my business.
The officers responded to my words with applause and cheers.
"Yes, sir! This is the least to make the Warsaw Archduke reflect on his stupidity!"
"The General will go down in history as the ultimate disciplinarian."
"I'm inspired by the General's resolve and guidance: repay one Imperial soldier's wound with a hundred enemies."
Basking in the applause, I raised my glass—no more long talks.
"As Reich Empire commander, it was my honor to lead this war alongside you. More battles or peace talks might await! But today, eat and drink your fill! I'll foot all tabs for drinks and food here—no wife-nagging worries! Cheers to the Empire's victory!"
With that, I tilted my glass, and every officer followed suit.
Alcohol loosened everyone up, and true to Empire folk who prized battle honors above all, tales of exploits flew back and forth.
"At the initial clash with those Warsaw bastards, weren't we holding even in numbers? My company and platoon leaders were begging for reserves..."
"If not for Major General Anastasia this time, rear reserves would've lost at least a thousand more. Charging from the forest was fine, but no cover had us nervous. Then boom—arrow storm on the enemy the second we emerged..."
"Ha, Colonel Laura under Major General Stelpfeld was incredible too. Charging in heavy plate like no woman should, and she cut down four enemy knights in a blink."
"No, when our forces pinched their front and flank. Enemy grunts started bolting, but this cloaked bastard appeared, so I hurled my spear right..."
Listening in, the stories seemed half bravado, half truth, trading endlessly.
The silver-tongued officers spun battle scenes like bardic epics, as if they were lute-strumming heroes themselves.
Most were early forties to mid-fifties, some sixties—grown men channeling middle-school edginess with fervent cheers. It made my head spin a little.
As the revelry wore on, the same stories looped infinitely.
Laura and Anya approached, wineglasses in hand, cheeks faintly flushed.
"General Jaeger, I did great, right? Led the knights and pinned those Warsaw knights, just as ordered."
"Laura did great too, but I commanded the cavalry brigade, smashed their rear, scattered them perfectly. And, and... covered our infantry sneaking through the forest with fire."
"Holding fifteen thousand-plus enemy knights with just ten thousand of ours was exhausting."
"Sure, but crashing a small cavalry force into their horde ain't easy either."
They weren't outright hostile, but like kids clamoring for praise, they kept touting their feats.
Like kittens mewling over an extra treat.
Seeing them, I got it—if I had someone to spoil with, I'd beg for praise too after doing well.
They bickered without nasty words or open dislike, so I just watched.
Other officers were too sloshed to notice anyway.
"So, General—who has the bigger merit? Who helped you more?"
"Less than nabbing Ishtaven last time, but still me, right, Anya?"
"No, me this time. Without pinning their knights, cavalry couldn't have flanked the rear. So tonight, it's me..."
Started playful, but experience said booze turned squabbles ugly.
Sigh, best to praise and soothe both.
Per my chat with the chief of staff, their merits matched this battle anyway.
No lie there—perfect fix.
I placed hands on their heads, stroking gently.
"Both did equally great. After this wraps, I'll buy each a gift you want. Or cash in saved leave post-war for a lake trip?"
I figured that nailed it, but not for Anya and Laura.
"The General's always so oblivious."
"...Explains the society nickname. Fewer women cling on—not entirely bad..."
Both sighed, eyeing me.
Soon Laura clutched my left arm, Anya the right, glaring daggers like sparks flew.
I shot Charlotte an eye-signal for backup. She, anticipating it, smoothly pried them loose.
"General said rest till morning after next. No point bickering here. Why not both escort him to his tent for drinks?"
...Ominous feeling hit, but they seemed pleased, following her lead to my tent.
Next day, backache forced a sick day off.
Apologized to deputy commander and ops chief for dumping work; next day they eyed me enviously, smirking.
"Ahem, enjoy hard while you can—smart."
"Life brings sick days now and then. Tough break."
Unlimited soldier R&R ended; I promptly summoned all commanders again.