Levon Plateau Gambit
Truly, I could only trust the experts here.
The comments were all lamenting the difficulty, contrary to my expectations.
'As expected... it's hard even for them...'
Grit— the sound of me grinding my teeth leaked out.
If even the gallery folks saw it as no easy feat, then what? If not even the War Commanders Gallery could come up with a solution for this mess, what the hell was I supposed to do? Separate from any countermeasures, wasn't it already too late? Even if we surrendered, there was no way we'd survive—
...Damn it.
Once the gloomy thoughts started, they snowballed out of control.
I had to snap out of it. If I'd decided to trust them, I had to see it through to the end. How long had it even been since I posted? Don't pussy out now, you idiot.
Thud—thud— I slammed my forehead against the desk a few times, and the chaotic mess in my head finally settled.
Guess appliances that won't listen need a good smack to behave? The human brain runs on electrical signals anyway, so it's basically an electronic device. Damn straight.
I was whining like some bipolar nutjob, but I couldn't help it. If I stopped thinking even for a second, it felt like the anxiety would overwhelm me and I'd collapse right then and there.
"...Sigh, fuck."
Of course, reality hit a little. After that whole pathetic sideshow passed, a hollow chuckle brought one truth crashing home: No matter how much I racked my brain digging holes in the ground, it'd just give me a headache and mean jack shit.
So, rubbing my throbbing forehead, I waited and waited a bit more. Hiding my impatience, I checked the gallery again.
Ding—
Finally, another comment popped up.
His words—"looks doable"—had me firing off a question without missing a beat.
'Oh?'
Terrain's good. Weapons you can still use. It sounded pretty legit, so I started prying for details.
The wait wasn't long. A few refreshes later, I spotted a title calling my name.
That plateau right next to your unit? Levon Plateau or whatever.
Move your whole force up there.
Why? There are only three entry routes the enemy can use.
Front of the high ground, side canyon path, retreat route.
But that plateau sits at the perfect intersection overlooking all three.
So what's good about that?
The frontal high ground is tough as hell to breach if defenders use the slope advantage.
Side canyon doesn't allow wide deployment.
Retreat route requires a long detour along the ridgeline, hard to reach quickly.
Even with encirclement, hitting all three sides simultaneously in practice is a nightmare.
Plus, the plateau summit is relatively flat.
So what you do is defeat them in detail.
Plug the feints with minimal troops, then devour the main attack that charges in boldly.
Easy, right? Timing's everything, so max out your scouts to pinpoint each assault wave.
Slowly reading through the post, the rough principle started clicking.
'So, basically, pick off the enemy units that have to come in waves one by one. Using the defender's advantages.'
Play to our strengths, hit their weaknesses. Even to a layman like me—or through Cassel's eyes—this made total sense.
"Hah."
A chill ran down my spine. Piecing together a solution this fast from scraps of info? The War Commanders title wasn't just hot air.
As I went back for a closer read in awe, one comment that was hard to gloss over caught my eye.
Damn, it's hard. This was a big deal. Under same conditions, simpler is better. That's a universal truth. The more complex and tricky, the more unpredictable variables crop up. So high execution difficulty? Bad news.
"Tsk."
No way I wanted extra variables when lives were on the line, so I casually floated a probe.
Got it. This is the best shot.
They'd spoon-fed it this far—no backing out just 'cause it's hard. Hell, we weren't in a position to nitpick difficulty anyway.
As I nodded along, more advice started rolling in.
Unlike the blank slate of before, concrete action plans were filling my head now. Glancing outside, even the drizzling rain had stopped.
"...Let's go."
What needed doing was set. Time to move.
The 36th Infantry Regiment of the Empire showed no signs of halting their advance. They'd crushed the kingdom's reckless offensive and were on the verge of completing their encirclement.
"Their status?"
"Latest report: They've moved to Levon Plateau."
"Hahaha! Walking right into isolated terrain on their own—what pathetic fools."
Regiment Commander Walter von Nerd Colonel laughed openly at the report, making no effort to hide his glee.
Truth be told, he'd stayed on edge until now. Despite their previous victory, he hadn't rushed in recklessly, waiting to bolster forces and seal the net. Lions remained fearsome even wounded. No room for complacency against the unit that had inflicted so many defeats on the Empire.
But it was needless worry. They couldn't even judge terrain properly.
Clear now: They'd lost all steam. And hadn't their old nemesis Philippe—who'd tormented Nerd himself—fallen in that last clash? A gift from the heavens. No more hesitation.
"1st and 2nd Battalions, block the frontal high ground and retreat route to prevent breakout. Then expand the full assault timed with 3rd Battalion's flank maneuver."
"Understood."
"Commence offensive at noon tomorrow."
Snap— The commanders saluted and dispersed after the orders.
In his mind, what followed was straightforward: A victory so inevitable it was like snapping a child's wrist. Imagining it filled his belly without food, intoxicated him without drink. Not the ideal way to win, but they were self-destructing—what could he do? As an Empire knight, he could only pity their plight.
"Heh heh heh."
Regrettable, but this would do. A win was a win.
Nerd's lips curved in satisfaction.
While Colonel Walter von Nerd dreamed of his golden future in bliss, the battalion commanders mulled over their orders.
A perfect encirclement against routed remnants. To them, this was as good as won. Just execute faithfully.
Thus, a commander's role here was minimizing friendly losses or plugging potential wild cards.
"Frontal high ground, huh."
But the 1st Battalion commander thought differently. Victory was destiny, so why not worry about merits instead?
Tap-tap— Drumming his thigh, the battlefield formed in his mind. 1st and 2nd holding resistance and retreat while 3rd delivered the knockout. Anyone could see 3rd scooping all the glory as the main attack.
"Sneaky bastards."
That decisive role should've gone to his elite 1st Battalion, not 3rd. Unacceptable. Their sudden entry into this sure-win fight already irked him—must've been some backroom deal. Remnants anyway; they'd crumple like scarecrows no matter who hit them. First to strike wins.
So the idea of "jump the gun before others arrive and snag the merits" came naturally, unprompted.
"Assemble the battalion."
"Sir? Offensive doesn't start for a while."
His adjutant looked baffled. Fool. An aspiring Empire knight needed flexibility for improvisation.
He swallowed a sigh, explaining simply enough for the dimwit.
"Sigh, who said attack?"
"Then..."
"We're just going on recon."
"Recon, sir?"
Skeptical tone, but he pressed on.
"Yes. Encircled or not, exact positions and numbers are unclear. Can't have stragglers slipping through any gaps."
"......"
"So we're scouting ahead. That's all."
Recon. Pure recon. Battlefields change fast, so minor clashes might happen—natural, right?
"Clear?"
Doubt lingered in the adjutant's eyes, but no more questions.
"...Yes, sir. Assembling the men."
The die was cast. No worries, though. How could they punish offering a big win? In his eyes, only the promotion insignia from this battle gleamed.