Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: True Colors Before the War (3)
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Meanwhile, in the blink of an eye, our prisoners realized they were about to meet their end. The one who seemed to be the senior-most among them—a corporal—trembled in terror and pleaded with us and the detachment members, his eyes filled with desperate hope for mercy.
"Please spare us, sirs. We don't know who you are, but we're just lowly foot soldiers. We didn't come here to fight the Reich Empire. We're nothing but powerless serfs who were dragged into this. Have pity on us and let us live."
Whether in Korea or here, unless you're a volunteer non-com or officer, no sane person joins the army because they want to.
Well, Korea's technically in a ceasefire with North Korea, but barring some extraordinary case, that's the rule.
Even if frontline combat doesn't involve risking your life directly, the soldiers in this world get treated far worse and have to face real battles.
These guys prioritize staying alive and intact over proving loyalty to the nation, so what he said wasn't wrong.
"That's not my concern. But if you answer my questions properly, I'll make sure all three of you get to go home safely."
At the lifeline of survival dangled before them, they perked up, their voices louder with anticipation.
"Is that true? You'll really let us live?"
"It depends on how honestly you answer. But if even one of you spouts nonsense, you'll all die."
With that, the three soldiers seemed convinced I'd spare them. Tears streaming down their faces in gratitude, they bowed deeply.
But if they were misunderstanding one thing, it was that we were the detachment from the advance reconnaissance battalion—a unit that absolutely could not let our identity or existence be known.
Even for enemy soldiers, there's a custom of releasing them if they spill intel before full-scale combat. But given our detachment's nature, we had no intention of letting them go.
"First, where is the Chekobia army, and what's the size of their forces?"
"We were camped near Iris Plains by Paris Village two days ago, so they should be passing through Chariot Hill by now. I'm not sure of the exact expeditionary force size, but it's around 50,000 men."
"Do you know the closest castles to Paris Village or Chariot Hill?"
"Lisop Castle and Biche Castle."
From where I was, riding back to the border near our detachment's launch point in the Visochia region would take a week to nine days on horseback.
And armies move much slower the larger they get.
Factoring that in, it'd take them about a month to a month and a half to reach Visochia near the border. There's only one viable route for marching, excluding a single exception.
There might be side paths or trails suitable for a caravan of around 100, but...
From our scouting, there's only one route where an army of over 50,000 could forage enough food and secure clean drinking water from a river.
Even in games like StarCraft, knowing the enemy's approach path lets you harass them endlessly with a small force.
How much more in real combat, with far greater freedom than any strategy game?
I could probably cure the enemy commander's low blood pressure with sheer rage.
Satisfied with the info so far, I issued an order to loosen their tongues for the rest.
"Good intel. Second Lieutenant Laura, as promised, cut their ropes."
"Major, even so, these scouts might run. And you're ordering us to untie them?"
"They can't escape unless we let them. How's three surrounded by over twenty soldiers going to slip away?"
Laura nodded in agreement, then sliced their ropes.
The Chekobia scouts, now convinced they were saved, dropped to their knees, tears flowing as they spoke.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for sparing us!"
"We won't breathe a word about meeting you, sirs."
"We'll forget we ever saw you. No—we've already forgotten."
I hadn't even said I'd release them yet, but untying the ropes had them this grateful. Pathetic.
Still, whether they had some conscience or not...
Scouts caught by the enemy and spilling secrets would face the executioner's axe in a military tribunal. So their promise to keep quiet about us was believable.
"Alright, a few more questions, then you're free."
"Yes, sir! Ask anything."
"How's the troops' morale? How's the food situation? Any idea of their strategy? Do they linger near villages often? Tell me everything you know, in detail."
In the modern Korean military, even squad leaders (sergeants) get briefed on detailed tactics for combat.
'When the enemy approaches, pour everything into shooting them down, seize Point A. If it's too much, fall back to Point B.'
They specify engagement methods, objectives, and fallback points.
Capturing regular soldiers yields useful info there. But in this era, soldiers are barely educated.
They're not dumb, but they don't know how to use their brains, so their "strategy" is just 'the enemy is X, go attack'—useless.
I asked anyway. Most importantly, morale and food supply.
"Morale's the usual—everyone just wants the war over so they can go home. Strategy's above our pay grade; us grunts only know the Reich Empire's the enemy. But the brass takes care of us—food's decent. Not just salted pork, but proper stew with real meat, fresh cheese sometimes."
That gave me the perfect way to torment them with just our 20-man detachment.
But this oblivious scout, driven by survival instinct, kept pleading.
"And with over 50,000 men, they won't camp near villages, so they keep us away too."
He'd given me everything except strategy—tempting to spare him.
But if our existence leaked, the detachment was done for.
"And also..."
I raised a hand to silence him.
"That's enough intel. As promised, you're free—take your men and go without looking back."
The one who'd answered obediently lit up with joy, bowing frantically as he tried to lead his subordinates away.
That's when I signaled: kill them the moment they turn.
Sorry for tricking you into spilling, scouts, but one of my men's lives is worth more than thousands of yours.
As the Chekobia soldiers let their guard down in relief, turning their backs...
Laura and the detachment drew blades, striking throats and spines for instant kills.
They didn't suffer—merciful enough, I suppose.
"Now, grab any maps or gear they left. We're off to confirm the enemy's position and size. Move out!"
The next day, I led the 20-man detachment to a hill overlooking the enemy camp the dead scouts had described.
There they were: Chekobia's 50,000 infantry and knights, plus wagons of all sizes milling about.
Most striking was...
Even as the army marched in formation, wagons loaded with food kept joining and peeling off from one side.
Looks like the scouts were right—they're foraging maximally from nearby villages.
Why else have wagons constantly coming and going?
With the enemy numbers, position, and march speed confirmed visually, I gave the order.
"Detachment, return the way we came as fast as possible to the staging village. Time to unleash our new plan to harass them! Double-time!"