Chapter 100
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: Decapitation Operation (5)
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Martin Meyer had just raided his own headquarters, but Count Beluga still hadn't noticed a thing.
"Push forward! Capture that bastard Estel! We must win this war no matter what it takes!"
The surrounding barons and knights echoed his command in agreement.
"This war is as good as won for us already."
"It's as easy as picking apples from a low branch."
"The enemy is retreating, and all we have to do is press the attack. We just need to move swiftly and meticulously, like catching a cornered rat!"
No one present could imagine that the 20,000-strong army of the Montmartre Defense Force's left wing, led by Count Beluga, would suffer defeat.
And that judgment was quite reasonable—no, perfectly rational based on all the information they had at hand right now.
Count Estel's army numbered only about 15,000 at best, and it looked even smaller now thanks to the decapitation squad. They were getting thoroughly trounced without putting up any real fight.
Barring some extraordinary turn of events, the goddess of victory seemed to be smiling down on Count Beluga, no matter who you asked.
Count Beluga and everyone around him wore bright, sunny smiles on their faces.
Just then, a messenger came sprinting up, his face lit with ecstatic joy.
The count was convinced it was good news, but he pinched his thigh with his left hand to hold back his urge to cheer.
'Can't go celebrating before the news even arrives. Got to keep some dignity.'
"Report."
The messenger dropped to one knee in haste and spoke up.
"Reporting, my lord! Roughly 13,000 troops under Count Estel have begun their retreat, unable to withstand our fierce assault."
Count Beluga slapped his armored thigh with a smack and leaned toward the messenger.
"Give me more details."
"Yes, my lord. Count Estel must have realized he couldn't hold out any longer—he's turned tail and run, abandoning even his formation!"
Cheers erupted from those around him.
"Deus be praised! Estel's done for! If we keep pushing now, victory is ours for sure!"
"Give those Rheinpfalz bastards a thrashing, then reclaim Marseille and Seik Fortress while the momentum's on our side!"
"Deus himself must be aiding you, my lord!"
Beluga cleared his throat a few times.
It was partly to calm them down, but mostly to project a bit more caution and bolster his image.
"Ahem, ahem. The battle isn't fully won yet, is it? Everyone, calm yourselves."
He said that, but his lips were already stretched from ear to ear.
His face was flushed red, his shoulders heaving—he looked more excited than anyone there.
Yet none of these nobles, with decades of aristocratic experience, pointed out the count's slightly undignified display.
'He's on the verge of a great victory in battle. It's only natural.'
And like someone already guzzling victory soup before the feast had even begun, Beluga continued.
"Messenger, take this."
Following custom, he handed the man who brought tidings of triumph—or in this case, retreat—a pouch heavy with gold coins, displaying his generosity and joy.
"Thank you!"
"You're dismissed."
The messenger snatched up the pouch and dashed off.
"Everything's going perfectly. Good. Once we claim victory in this war, I'll throw a grand feast for the mercenaries too, out of the goodness of my heart..."
But another messenger interrupted him.
"Reporting!!!"
The count had been expecting more good news, but the messenger's armor was caked in dirt and marked with signs of weapon strikes.
Anyone could see he looked like a routed soldier, putting everyone on edge.
Beluga's expression crumpled—not just twisted, but like paper soaked and squashed.
"Our rear has been ambushed by a detached force led by Baron Ainz under Count Estel! Our troops are helpless against them right now, my lord. Please send reinforcements!"
It had been just ten minutes since the report confirming their victory, and now this bombshell.
He could barely keep his wits about him.
Beluga felt the world spin, tempted to just collapse and call it quits...
'It's not over yet. A detached force is just a handful of men. Estel's army is already as good as dead.'
His vast experience from countless wars and studies told him exactly what to do now.
"Halt the pursuit of Count Estel for the moment! Send elite units immediately, and have our forces hold them off somehow!"
It felt like losing a finger—agonizing and regrettable—but it was the best Count Beluga could manage right now.
Five minutes after he thought that would do it, a low-ranking knight arrived as messenger.
The fact that a 'knight' had come in such circumstances was no good omen, and his words...
"Reporting! Count Estel's army has suddenly turned around and is attacking us ferociously! We're under sudden assault from both front and rear, taking heavy losses without being able to respond!"
The count, who had been dreaming of a bright future just moments ago...
Now felt a chill crawl up the back of his neck as things spiraled into disaster.
"E-Estelle! That fucking Estel!!"
Count Beluga was convinced Count Estel Margrave had orchestrated the whole thing, though in truth, Martin Meyer had planned it all...
But he had no time to learn or realize that now. The sudden mental shock overwhelmed him, and he fainted.
**
In stark contrast to Count Beluga, who stayed safely at the rear commanding because he was hopeless with a sword, Count Estel was commanding near the vanguard and stared in shock.
"I thought there was merit to what Hundred-Man Commander Martin Meyer said, but I never imagined it would be this effective."
A nearby baron nodded.
"Indeed, Margrave. What a remarkable man."
"The kind of talent we desperately need in these chaotic times. Look over there—see how our troops are fighting now."
The baron gazed at the soldiers under Count Estel Margrave fighting across the field.
Just moments ago, though it was a feint, their army had been crumbling in a one-sided retreat...
Now, they'd regained their momentum in an instant, while the enemy army—caught in attacks from both flanks—was flailing like a worm with all its limbs severed, unable to mount any proper resistance.
"Support! Someone send support!"
But most reserves were tied up at the rear with the 'exhausted reserves,' so no one answered the mercenaries' desperate cries for aid.
In despair, a few mercenary units under Count Beluga raised white flags signaling 'unable to fight' and fled in dishonor.
"With attacks hammering the rear and us getting pounded right here, there's no way out! We're done fighting! Regroup the unit!"
The massive army under Count Beluga, which had seemed impregnable with its 20,000 men just moments ago, had devolved into a disorganized rabble.
The mercenaries under Count Estel Margrave began pressing the attack aggressively.
"Whether it's Beluga or whatever, let's go lop off that damned count's head!"
What had been an uphill battle with frontal assaults alone had flipped entirely the moment Martin Meyer's stratagem kicked in.
The tide of war had shifted in the blink of an eye.
Count Estel watched the scene, his palms sweating.
"A mere hundred-man commander from a mercenary company devises a plan this devastating, proves its success to me beyond doubt, and delivers results surpassing my expectations. You've outdone yourself, Baron."
"Yes, Margrave."
"And now that His Majesty the Emperor has passed, no one at court dares utter the word 'civil war' outright. But it will erupt within a few years. Countless nobles will perish, and those who survive will claim glories beyond imagination."
The baron nodded in agreement.
"Yes."
Estel removed his helmet for a moment and gazed toward the rear where Martin Meyer was rampaging.
His eyes burned with longing, like a man thirstily admiring a beauty's nude form.
Strangers might mistake him for a madman...
But those who knew Estel would recognize it as an insatiable hunger for talent—and hold great expectations.
This baron, too—like Baron Ainz, who served him despite reaching swordmaster despite being just a baron—thought:
'As expected, that man will one day seize the hegemony of this empire.'
With such conviction, he watched him.
Estel didn't hide his desire at all, his face flushed like a twenty-something youth eyeing a beauty, as he spoke to the baron.
"I want Martin Meyer. To get him, I need to prove I'm a lord worth risking his life for. Issue the order for a full charge. I'll lead the vanguard with my regular troops."