Chapter 89
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Battle of the Senne Plains (1)
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Once everyone was seated, the margrave had a massive bulletin board brought inside.
The board featured a fairly detailed map of the surrounding terrain, including Marseille Castle where we were, with blue wooden horses and red wooden horses affixed to it.
Surely they don't stick on like magnets?
"The original plan was for the expeditionary force under my command to link up with Marquis Hohenzoellern, the supreme commander of our allied forces, at Metz, smash the enemy's main army, and then accept the surrenders of the surrounding castles as we occupied them."
People who don't know much about war often imagine that conquering cities or castles means besieging and breaching each one individually.
But the lords of each castle decide whether to abandon it and flee or hold out until reinforcements arrive based on the number of troops defending it, our army's morale, and the overall situation of the war.
'Honestly, that Baron Seyk would have retreated immediately if Pappenheim had shown up with 2,000 men.'
From that perspective, it's only natural to expect that once we crush the enemy's main force, the lords who judge they can't hold their castles will fling open the gates and welcome us.
Margrave Estelle let out a sigh.
"However, unexpected heavy rains caused the Marais River to flood, making it impossible to link up at Metz. Therefore, the operation has been changed, and from now on, we will proceed as follows."
At those words, I and everyone else perked up and focused intently.
The margrave immediately placed a blue wooden horse near Marseille, and it stuck fast, just like a magnet on a fridge.
'Is this the power of magic? Or are they actually using real magnets?'
I stared at it in fascination for a moment, and Estelle continued her explanation.
"According to reports from our spies embedded in the Kingdom of Montmartre, the kingdom has dispatched 20,000 troops from their defensive left wing, which will move from Senne to Sedan in about a month. Our forces intend to catch up to them before they can join the main army and attack."
At that, one baron cautiously asked,
"Margrave, but our original orders were to link up at Metz. Even if it's impossible to carry them out independently, is it acceptable for us to act on our own accord?"
The margrave pulled a sealed letter from his breast pocket and showed it.
"I sent a messenger pigeon to inform Marquis Hohenzoellern of the rough outline of this operation, and I've received his approval, so no need to worry. Moreover, there's a sound reason why I've decided to fight over 20,000 enemy soldiers with just 15,000 men."
If Pappenheim had said that, I and the other retainers would have been terrified.
Even Dalton, who never prays at all otherwise, would have beseeched Deus like this.
'Please shut that disaster's mouth.'
Because our baron is so incompetent that even with 30,000 troops, he could get completely wiped out by just 5,000 enemies.
But Margrave Estelle's words carried ample persuasiveness and confidence.
"First of all, the enemy expects us to link up at Metz. It's meaningless now, but suppose everything went according to the original plan, and we occupied and plundered all the castles around Metz? Put yourself in their shoes—what consequences would that bring?"
The surrounding nobles thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.
"Metz and its surroundings are a prosperous region producing vast amounts of food and materials, with countless workshops. If it's plundered, our army's morale and supplies would be bolstered, boosting our strength as well..."
"If we successfully isolate Metz Castle, they might even open the gates."
"On top of that, the King of Montmartre's inability to respond to such a situation would come under scrutiny, narrowing his position."
As the allied forces' supreme commander, the margrave could simply order us to follow since he was right, but he was explaining in such detail.
'Worlds apart from a baron who just steals others' merits.'
"So those 20,000 troops are likely rushing right now to prevent us from plundering and occupying the golden goose that is Metz and its surrounding lands in advance. And if we predict their route..."
Margrave Estelle affixed a red wooden horse to the board and slid it steadily to the left.
"They'll take roughly this path. The closest point to us in Marseille along this route is Senne Castle. Our army will meet and fight the enemy there. That's the plan. Any suggestions?"
At those words, Pappenheim stepped forward brazenly.
"Margrave Estelle, I, Pappenheim, have a fine stratagem!"
Does Estelle really know this guy's abilities that well?
I caught a glimpse of his brow furrowing momentarily.
"It's simply this: how about launching another surprise attack? You've roughly predicted their route, so send scouts to confirm their line of march and ambush them—wouldn't that be ideal?"
The margrave gave a hollow laugh and sighed.
"Baron Pappenheim, your suggestion is most welcome. However, in my judgment as margrave, it seems a bit premature. For one, you've already nearly annihilated 5,000 troops at Pastèque, so the enemy will be even more wary of ambushes now, don't you think?"
The baron was at a loss for words.
'Is this bastard planning to charge ahead without thinking, steal the plan if it passes, and claim someone else's merit again?'
He's truly like a dwarf from some movie, obsessed with freeloading.
"That's true."
"Then we'd have a high chance of being detected during the ambush attempt. What do you think happens after that? In my view, we'd suffer heavy losses from their counterattack."
"But if it succeeds..."
The margrave sighed deeply.
"The odds of success are far too slim—far too slim. Besides, this is enemy territory, not ours. We'd have to advance while watching out for the local citizens and serfs as well. Do you think that's feasible?"
Pappenheim was forced to shut his mouth like a man with a mouthful of honey.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but in my opinion, it's better to face them when they're exhausted from forced marching."
Having been pummeled by sound logic, sustaining over ten weeks' worth of damage to his pride, Pappenheim squeezed out,
"Then, entrust the vanguard to my Pappenheim unit. We'll perform even better than at Pastèque."
Margrave Estelle clutched his forehead and sighed.
"I truly appreciate the offer, but I can't allow it. Your regular troops under Pappenheim suffered nearly 35% losses in the last ambush and are still reorganizing. Moreover, many other mercenary units have lost around 20% of their men on average."
In war, if a unit loses over 30% to wounds or death, it's effectively combat-ineffective.
Sending a unit that's lost nearly 20% into battle is, with a bit of exaggeration, like telling them to run a marathon on crutches.
"That's true, but if I, Baron Hilde von Pappenheim, rally the troops, they'll surely repay you with more than expected! Martin Meyer of the White Beard Mercenary Corps shone not just because of his superior tactics, but largely because I supported him to bring out his abilities."
If you're going mad, go mad cleanly and sincerely—why spout such utter nonsense?
As he spoke, the margrave's brow narrowed, and his eyes sharpened.
"Baron, get a grip! A 20% loss in your command—claiming you can fight in that state isn't bravery, it's folly. Thus, I firmly reject your proposal."
"Ha... but..."
"I respect your zeal. However, apart from that, you've already claimed great merits, and insisting on fighting when you can't is nothing but arrogance! Be too greedy, and you'll ruin yourself. Stand down!"
When the margrave, who held greater authority and prestige than an ordinary count, raised his voice, Pappenheim had no choice but to tuck tail and retreat to his seat.
"......This was my chance to make my name known across the entire Rhinepalatinate Empire..."
No, shut your mouth—you've done nothing but freeload off merits I earned.
And how the hell do you command that others lose at most 20%, but your unit pulls off the miracle of total annihilation?
Then the margrave turned his gaze toward Dalton.
"I've heard the White Beard Mercenary Corps suffered minimal losses. From what I hear, you lost only about 5% of your forces?"
Caught off guard by the sudden call, Dalton looked a bit flustered.
"Yes, that's correct."
No matter how fierce or disadvantageous the battle, the extent of losses and victory or defeat hinge on the commander's capabilities.
Take Admiral Yi Sun-sin: in his first naval battle at Okpo, he slew over a hundred Japanese troops without losing a single man of his own—that says it all.
"Good. Then, effective immediately, you will be reassigned from under Baron Pappenheim to my direct mercenary corps."
With that, the margrave glanced briefly my way and said,
"I expect great things."
The meeting dragged on for several hours like that, and from the reactions so far, I was convinced.
'If the margrave doesn't trust Pappenheim, once this battle ends, if the mercenaries pool their strength, we could kill that bastard.'