Chapter 276
Chapter 276
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 276
Chapter Title: Don't Bluff, Grand Duke! (2)
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First, to keep the Grand Duke of Warsaw from passing out and smashing his head on the floor, I asked his escort knights to help him back into his chair.
The Grand Duke still looked a bit dazed, as if he hadn't quite regained his senses. That's when I turned back to the messenger.
"Fort Kosalin is a pretty big fortress, isn't it? Is this report really accurate?"
"This is the report sent by Brigadier General Anastasia von Kerzhit, along with the surrender document signed by the mayor when he handed over the fortress."
"You're dismissed. If there's nothing urgent, take the rest of the day to rest before heading back."
The messenger left promptly, and I started by carefully reading through the surrender document.
It bore both Anya's seal and the mayor of Fort Kosalin's seal, clear proof that this was genuine.
Truth be told, there was almost no chance the messenger would bring me fakes, so I didn't really need to check.
But I did it anyway, because now I had a weapon to impose even harsher terms on His Grace, the Grand Duke of Warsaw.
"Your Grace, Your Grace. Are you feeling unwell anywhere?"
Only when I finished reading and looked at his face did the Grand Duke seem to snap out of it. He waved his hand dismissively, his voice tinged with a hint of hysteria.
"I get dizzy spells sometimes. It's nothing serious, don't worry about it. It passes quickly. I'm fine now. Sorry you had to see that."
"Not at all. By the way, we've just received word that Brigadier General Anastasia von Kerzhit, commander of the Lancer Brigade under my command, has besieged and captured Fort Kosalin. Would you like to take a look?"
"Hand it over! There's no way Fort Kosalin fell that easily. This has to be a fake."
The Grand Duke snatched the surrender document from Fort Kosalin's mayor like an eagle snatching a rabbit.
By normal diplomatic etiquette, he should have accepted it leisurely with one hand after I offered it with both of mine.
But he'd lost even the composure to observe basic courtesy, a sign of how cornered he was. To me, the one who had to extract the surrender, it was a beautiful sight.
As some Korean TV show once said, "Someone else's misfortune is my happiness." Watching a high-ranking enemy lose it was a huge boon for our side.
Meanwhile, the Grand Duke gripped the document so tightly in both hands that it crumpled, grinding his teeth.
"How could Count Komintz do this? He's served the Grand Duchy of Warsaw for over two hundred years, and he opens the gates just because one lancer brigade—one division at most—besieges the place? This is insane! He could've just locked the gates and held out a little longer. We could've finished peace talks by then, or I would've arrived with reinforcements."
Part of me wanted to torment him more for the time he'd sent 50,000 surprise reinforcements during our war with the Kingdom of Stockholm, making our lives hell.
But if he tore that document, it'd be harder to prove Anya's achievement, so I couldn't let him manhandle it.
I gave a slight bow to the Grand Duke by way of apology, then took the surrender document—with Anya and the mayor's seals—back from his hands.
Once it was gone, His Grace looked like a man who'd reached enlightenment, and for a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.
But a general's duty in war is to squeeze every scrap of flesh and drop of blood from a cornered foe. Sympathy had no place; pressure was the tool I chose.
"Right after the Battle of Griffino ended, Reich Empire forces—including this one—have now captured thirteen mid-sized or larger fortresses. And not a single drop of our blood or the enemy's has been spilled in the process."
"Are you bragging about your victories in front of the loser? Fine, congratulations. But won't His Imperial Majesty the Emperor take issue with this arrogant behavior of yours?"
"You're too harsh, Your Grace. Do you really think I'd have ulterior motives like that? I was simply trying to give Your Grace, Stefan von Batory, Grand Duke of Warsaw, a detailed update on the war situation. We're still at war, and who knows when we'll clash again. Wouldn't it benefit you to know as much as possible about your opponent? Instead of cursing me, shouldn't you be thanking me?"
The Grand Duke's face, which had been trying to project dignified composure when he arrived, flushed bright red.
What I'd said was basically, "Your army's so pathetic, you don't even know how badly you're getting crushed. Let me spell it out for you. Not that you could beat me anyway." Pure mockery.
A man born to be Grand Duke—practically a king of the Grand Duchy—had likely never endured such humiliation. It was hitting right where it hurt.
Funny how the trash-talk skills I'd picked up from Korea's online games, full of top players, often proved the ultimate conversation tool on the Europan continent.
Exhilarating, fresh, and devastatingly effective in situations like this—the best technique around. I'd keep using it.
"Alright then, let's revise the terms."
His Grace's expression screamed utter disbelief.
Who could imagine someone casually announcing a change in terms during peace talks, like they were haggling at a market?
I was magnanimous enough to let it slide.
"The Reich Empire demands all of the Warsaw coastline, the cession of the Duchy of Königsberg, 500,000 gold in reparations, and an official letter of apology for sending those unauthorized reinforcements during the war with the Kingdom of Stockholm."
"The initial terms were already absurd; I was about to walk out. If you're going to pull this, I'm leaving! No—let's just keep fighting the war."
With that, he kicked over an innocent chair to vent his frustration and started to storm off.
Our forces had won so decisively that most fortresses surrendered after a mere siege. Even if the war dragged on with the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, it wouldn't hurt us.
I had no intention of grabbing his trouser leg to drag him back to the table.
Though I did plan to make him crawl back on his own, clutching mine.
"Sure you want to go, Your Grace?"
"I'll muster more troops from other parts of the Grand Duchy. We'll settle this with you again. So wash that neck of yours and wait."
"Listen well before you leave, Your Grace. The Grand Duchy of Warsaw has already lost."
His footsteps halted.
"No matter what tricks you pull, you can't resist the Reich Empire army anymore. Why? Because even giving my major generals and lieutenant generals just one division each, we've already taken over thirteen fortresses."
I paused, approached the Grand Duke, and whispered firmly into his ear, pressing the point home.
"If talks break down today, I'll personally take up my sword and besiege not just the coast, but your major cities too. Cities with walls that 8,000 men could easily hold are surrendering without a fight out of fear of the Reich Empire army. Imagine what happens when I step in."
Once you make major general, you wield enough influence to unleash catastrophe on soldiers and officers alike.
Become a lieutenant general, and that power skyrockets. A field marshal? You command major generals with a nod or flick of the finger.
So for a fortress commander, the difference between facing a "major general" or a "field marshal" is night and day.
"Don't you think every city gate outside the capital will swing wide open?"
"......"
"When that happens, you won't get terms this generous, even if you beat your chest in regret. So choose: regret later, or accept now?"
The Grand Duke glared at me with eyes full of fear—like he'd seen the devil himself—mingled with contempt.
"The Emperor of the Reich Empire raises demons. You wicked devil—you think it's right, as a human, to let Warsaw's people—who worship the same God as you—keep dying in this war? No! As a general, do you think it's proper to drive Reich Empire soldiers to their deaths?"
In pure results, this bastard, the Grand Duke of Warsaw, was the one who'd tried to starve two million of his own people.
As an Empire general, ordering soldiers to die for victory was my duty—and to make those deaths meaningful and noble, I'd always given my all.
I wanted to counter every point, but there was no time or leisure for that now.
Instead, I'd instill such terror that the Grand Duchy of Warsaw would never even glance toward the Reich Empire again.
"Even if they call me worse than a beast, a vile cur not fit for dog or pig, bringing victory to the Empire is my duty. Your praise for doing my job so well flatters me. Shall I ask again? Accept my terms? Or stake the Grand Duchy's survival on ten years of desperate fighting?"
With that, the Grand Duke returned to his seat.
I handed him the contract listing all my demands. He signed it with his signet ring and seal.
Afterward, His Grace slumped like every ounce of strength had drained from his body.
"Escort knights, take His Grace to the VIP reception room in Griffino Castle."
And with that, the long, grueling war with Warsaw was finally over.