The Proper Deal
The second battle turned into a complete bloodbath, unlike the first.
The ambush had landed perfectly, and the follow-up artillery barrage and charge had melted the enemy lines before they could even hold formation. When things unfolded the same way as before, I'd figured we could wrap this up nice and easy. But against all expectations, the fight didn't end there.
"Uwaaaah!"
"Die! Diiiiie!!"
All that existed now was a tangled mess of friendlies and foes locked in a chaotic brawl. The acrid smell of gunpowder gave way to the metallic tang of blood, and as the gunfire and cannon blasts faded, all that remained were the screams of the dying.
We'd started the same way, cut from the same cloth—so why the hell was it turning out different? I wanted to puzzle it out, but in the heat of battle, entertaining those kinds of thoughts wasn't easy. Pointless anyway.
To fix this shit, it wasn't about why—it was about how.
That realization hit me, and I started scanning the battlefield, brainstorming countermeasures. And here's how it went down.
Should I open the Gallery?
Yeah, let's do it!
Of course, with bullets and blades flying everywhere, taking a leisurely peek at the Gallery wasn't exactly feasible. Plus, knowing it'd take time for replies made me think this wasn't the smartest call. But people were dying in real time—no luxury for hemming and hawing.
Fuck it, I dunno.
Whatever—make it or break it, I had to roll the dice. With practiced efficiency, I snapped a shot of the chaos in front of me and hammered out a post.
Post sent. I gnawed my nails to calm my nerves while waiting. Rude as hell, but I didn't have the bandwidth to care.
One. Two. Counting seconds, spam-refreshing like a madman—then the notification popped. Heart racing, I yanked open the comments.
And there it was, the reliable advice I knew wouldn't let me down.
Yeah... that's it.
Countermeasure confirmed—no hesitation now. I whipped around and bolted forward.
The officers around me made sounds like "What the fuck?" but it was unavoidable. Shouting till my lungs burst wouldn't carry orders here anyway.
Not like our sweet officers would say that crap, right?
"Lieutenant! No!!!"
"Stop!!!"
"Don't block their retreat!"
"Hey!!!"
...Yeah, no way.
Anyway, saber from my belt in hand, I charged around barking orders. Wouldn't actually swing it, but damn if it didn't give me a surge of courage.
...Wait, why don't I get a gun? Kinda hurts my feelings, tbh.
Moving on—with the battlefield in total disarray, a kingdom soldier waving a lone saber around still stood out. Orders were getting through.
Guys ignoring yells from afar perked right up when a blade flashed in their face. Handy as hell.
Seeing that, I could shrug off the grim faces of the officers chasing me down to stop my ass.
Slowly, the tide turned. A rhythm emerged, and the chaos started to sort itself out.
"Fall back! Fall back!"
"Push 'em!!!"
Guns and blades and blood faded, replaced by the thunder of retreating feet.
Eventually, the shattered enemy unit vanished from the field.
...A cool wave of relief washed over me, like heartburn finally easing.
"Haa..."
I raised my sword to the sky and bellowed with everything I had.
"This is our victory!!!"
That was it. My second—no, our second battle.
Ended in victory.
...Might jinx it, but unlike my big "Our victory!" speech, truth was, enemy rearguards were still out there. Didn't say it aloud to avoid tanking morale, but facts are facts.
Honestly, my head was spinning. We'd rolled double sixes gambling with lives, and the game's still not over? What kinda shady casino is this?
War ain't some game or bet to take lightly, but anyway...
Shit just keeps coming.
Worrying about the future, lost in grim fantasies—then,
"Let go! I'll walk on my own!"
Some dramatic line straight out of a historical drama. Curiosity piqued, I asked Rene nearby.
"What's going on?"
"I'll check."
Rene came back with a bombshell.
"Seems frontline troops captured the enemy colonel."
Huh? Colonels get nabbed that easy?
My face must've shown it, 'cause Rene added,
"He was commanding the rearguard to the bitter end."
"Ah..."
Couldn't hold back—I sprinted toward the commotion.
There stood a man caked in blood and dirt from fighting to the last, but still holding dignified posture. He locked eyes with me, glaring fiercely.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Kuhahaha—!"
"...What's so funny?!"
Jean, gripping his arm, shot back.
"That a force on its last legs dragged our Empire's soldiers to hell. And it was... just... just."
"......"
"...some snot-nosed kid not even dry behind the ears."
His barbed words left me speechless. He promptly declared his fate.
"Kill me. An Imperial knight doesn't beg his enemies for life."
...Dude, why you gotta be like this? Sounds like he's ready to die... some Romance of the Three Kingdoms shit? Chop the enemy commander's head for the win?
I'm not farming pre-modern trophies here—what's killing for? Especially when he's got better uses.
No plans to off him.
"Release him."
"!"
Everyone but me jumped. Stunned stares all around.
If I had to guess their vibe... "Have you lost your mind, human?"
Stings a bit.
"......!"
Silence stretched as no one could string words together.
Finally, the colonel broke it, voice trembling with rage.
"You... insulting me?!"
"No intent to insult."
"How is this not an insult!!"
Win-win for both sides—how's that insulting? But my sincerity wasn't landing.
"Lieutenant."
Jean stepped up, fed up.
"Yes?"
I turned; he was head down, teeth gritted, face like he might cry. Then, word by word, heavy with force:
"If I may... this man's the blood enemy of Colonel Philippe."
"......"
Cautious tone, but seething hatred underneath. The other subordinates looked the same.
Their fury was beyond measuring.
"Hoo..."
I get it. Not just Philippe's grudge. The 36th Imperial Infantry swapped blood with us tit-for-tat—plenty of comrades lost in the process. Enough hate to fuel it all, and demanding payback for the fallen? Natural as breathing.
Revenge is righteous, after all.
From that angle, as an outsider, it wasn't my call.
"...I know. And I'm someone's blood enemy too."
"It's different!"
"No difference."
But I'd waded into this fight. No more outsider status.
This battle alone, hundreds died by my choices. Survival demanded blood on my hands—no escaping responsibility.
No regrets. Saved more than I killed.
Just feeling the weight.
And from someone bearing that weight—one thing:
Killing him now? Justified, but not the answer.
Not some preachy "hate chains bad" crap or "they don't deserve payback."
Nothing clichéd.
Pursuing something practical, rational.
Battle's not over. Kill this guy now? The one who stuck to the rearguard, commanding to cover his men's retreat?
We're fucked.
Half our edge came from troops grinding their teeth for revenge on the old CO. Now we'd be on the flip side.
Guy who held the rear to the end? Probably has real pull with his men.
......
Life's precious. No selling it cheap.
"Imperials must tremble seeing us too."
I opened with my plan. No reply, so to the colonel:
"Right?"
No answer there either. Fine, monologue it is.
"Bet you're wondering what bullshit this is."
"...Shut up."
Response at last. Good.
"No need to get it. Just one deal."
"Shut up!"
"Still got units blocking the retreat path, right? Get 'em to pull back—"
"Ha...haha. You dare bargain?!"
He perked up; I leaned in hard.
"Shut up and listen."
"What the—"
"Think your life's just yours? Honestly, wiping that rearguard? Piece of cake for me. Just don't wanna."
Half truth, half bluff. Threat: we could snap their waist easy.
Doable. Terrain and numbers on our side—odds favored us. Long as I didn't do something stupid.
Plus Gallery insurance.
Yeah, but...
Assumed unit in good shape. But back-to-back fights left us wrecked. Ammo depleted. Gear trashed. Starving troops.
Dragging a broken unit this far caught up.
If we fought now... mutual annihilation likely.
No way I'd accept that end.
Fuck that—after dragging us here?
So trade revenge for lives? Gladly.
...Nobody wants a last-episode wipeout.
"Two hours. Pull your forces or deal's off—we resume the push."
I stared him down. Declared it.
Tension mounted as I waited. Finally, eyes locked, he answered.
"I despise you."
"Understood."
"But mutual, I suppose."
Snort—talks sense after all. Honest emotion: green light.
"...Deal accepted. On my honor as Imperial knight, I swear—no breaking it."
"Good."
Agreement sealed. I offered my hand.
"...Haven't introduced. Lieutenant Cassel Bertrand."
"...Lieutenant. Lieutenant."
He rolled it around, sighed, replied.
"Colonel, 36th Imperial Infantry Regiment. Walter von Nerd."
His stiff intro carried weight. Our grip sealed it.