A Prince with No War Experience
Barely minutes had passed since Adelheid drew her sword, yet roughly a tenth of her ten-thousand-strong force had already surged past the fortress gates, charging straight into the vulnerable gaps of the loosened siege perimeter. Watching the offensive unfold from afar was enough to make anyone understand why the Fron Empire ranked among the top three superpowers across the entire continent.
"Our country really is insane," I muttered.
Seeing that terrifying display made me feel a tiny swell of pride for the Kingdom of Remus—a nation hopelessly outmatched in raw weight class, yet audacious enough to throw the first punch and hold out against these imperial monsters for an entire year without breaking.
It was a magnificent spectacle, especially the sight of several hundred cavalrymen surging past the infantry with lances leveled to seize the momentum, flanked by Adelheid's personal knights who sprinted on foot at the exact same speed as galloping warhorses.
"Her royal guard is one thing, but it looks like every single cavalryman is an aura user too. Utter madness."
Aura was the transformation of mana tailored purely for physical reinforcement and kinetic impact. Leaving our freakish homeland of Remus aside, any ordinary minor kingdom scraping together a few dozen aura wielders of varying skill would already consider itself a formidable military power. Yet here, the empire deployed them by the hundreds like common shock troops.
"At this rate, they might break through all on their own! Move it, everyone—if we want a slice of the credit, we'd better hurry! You lot came all this way, didn't you? Rack up some merits if you want a promotion!"
"Your Highness, please stop stoking competitive fervor in soldiers who aren't even yours," Bell chided. "If things go south, you're the one who'll have to take responsibility."
"After all the responsibilities already piled on my head, you think I'm worried about one more?"
"...Damn it."
Grimacing in frustration at having no snappy comeback, Bell spurred her mount. Behind us rode thirty cavalrymen, their eyes gleaming with restless energy.
What was I, the very instigator who egged Adelheid into launching a coup, doing at the critical opening moment of her first battle?
Securing the single most vital element—the glimmer of hope that gave this suicidal endeavor a fighting chance.
While she flung the gates wide open with a deafening preemptive strike that stunned the enemy witless, our detachment skirted around the blind spots of the imperial perimeter, heading deep into the forest to secure our hidden supply train. If conditions permitted, we would then link up with our Remus troops to hit the enemy's rear, plunging them into chaos.
Granted, combining the soldiers Adelheid lent me with our own men yielded a tiny force under a hundred strong. Against an enemy still numbering close to ten thousand, a force that size would normally be swatted away without posing the slightest threat. But with the imperial forces already thrown into disarray by Adelheid's sudden assault, a surprise attack struck into their rear—no matter how small—would send ripples of panic cascading through their entire line.
Well, honestly, even if we didn't hit them from behind, she'd probably win comfortably anyway...
Still, I had to look like I was pulling my weight if I wanted to earn points with her. To win over a dyed-in-the-wool soldier like Adelheid, nothing worked better than getting your hands dirty in the trenches.
Having slipped out of the fortress several hours before the fighting began, we managed to circle around and reach the dense forest where our caravan lay hidden not long after the main clash erupted.
"General Lucius!"
Leaping from my saddle the moment we plunged into the trees, I sprinted forward, shouting his name. Before long, a towering silhouette came bounding through the foliage.
"Your Highness! I saw the clash erupting in the distance!"
"It was a success! Where are the supplies?!"
"Packed and ready to move at a moment's notice, just as you ordered! The moment we confirmed the engagement, we hitched the horses to the wagons!"
"Magnificent! Have them head straight for Hannover! Hey, bring the map over here!"
One of Adelheid's officers stepped forward with a map, pointing out the quickest route to bypass the battle and transport the cargo safely. Lucius committed the path to memory in seconds and barked instructions to the wagon drivers.
When it came to pure operational swiftness, our Remus soldiers had the imperial troops beat. In less than ten minutes, the caravan of three hundred was ready to roll. With fifty of our Remus soldiers held back and twenty of Adelheid's troops assigned as escorts, the wagon train set off under the supervision of my personal attendant, Bell.
That left sixty-two of us: myself, General Lucius, fifty Remus soldiers, and ten of Adelheid's subjugation troops.
"What's the situation out there?" I asked.
"The besieging army broke formation a few times at first, but they rallied into tight lines and are holding their ground around a consolidated front. We hold the upper hand in quality and combat experience, but at this rate, grinding them down will take time."
Fortunately, the enemy was far too preoccupied with warding off Adelheid's onslaught to notice our convoy or spare troops in our direction.
"Sixty men, huh... General, have you ever charged a ten-thousand-man army with sixty troops?"
"Had I ever attempted such idiocy, my bones would have turned to dust years ago," Lucius replied dryly. "And they would have stripped my rank post-mortem for throwing my men away."
"Oh? So in your eyes, the ambush we're about to pull is sheer madness?"
"Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but absolutely. Striking an entrenched enemy camp—even in a pincer maneuver—is far too dangerous with numbers this thin."
Proving he hadn't won his general's stars in a gambling den, Lucius offered a measured, rational assessment even with glory dangling right before him.
"Are you afraid?"
Yet possessing a sound tactical mind didn't mean the man was sane.
"I'm thrilled...!" he rumbled, grinning savagely. "Just give the word, Your Highness! My blood is itching to plunge in right this second!"
Restrained only by the solemn duty of accompanying a peace delegation, Lucius was, at his core, a true general of the battle-crazed Kingdom of Remus. The mere din of war was enough to make him giddy.
"Gwahahaha! After losing an eye, I thought I'd be stuck rotting in an office chair waiting for discharge the moment this war wrapped up! But to think you'd serve up a feast like this—I see you in a whole new light, Your Highness! You truly are a proud son of Remus!"
"Watch your insolent mouth," I snapped, though honestly, the man had shown incredible restraint just lasting this long.
"Just to be sure, what about the rest of you—ah, never mind."
Why bother asking? Unlike their general, who at least waited for an order, the Remus soldiers had already drawn their blades, practically frothing at the mouth.
"So this is the Iron Kingdom of Remus..."
"The rumors were true... It really is full of fanatics who treat war like a festival..."
"...Thank the gods I wasn't deployed to the southern front."
Adelheid's soldiers were seasoned veterans forged in brutal imperial campaigns, yet even to them, our boys looked completely unhinged.
"General, I have zero command experience, so I'll set the objective and leave the field tactics to you."
"Understood, sir!"
"Alright, imperial friends, line up beside our boys. Let's make this briefing quick before we move out."
With Lucius standing at my right and sixty pairs of eyes locked onto me, I laid out the plan.
"Need I state the obvious? Charging an open plain with these numbers means we won't last an hour. Therefore, combat is to be kept to an absolute minimum. Clear? Especially you Remus men—don't you dare stop to shoot just because you have a clean angle, and if one of those besiegers calls out a challenge, don't even think about accepting a duel."
While no one openly booed, I heard several men clicking their tongues in disappointment.
What kind of indoctrination were they pumping into recruits at boot camp and the military academy? Narcotics were strictly forbidden in Remus, yet our troops behaved like battle-addicted junkies.
"Listen closely. Our goal is strictly to smack those imperial bastards—err, those besiegers—in the back of the head and pull right back out. We are not punching a hole through their rear to link up with the main vanguard."
Carving our way into their center would undoubtedly cause greater havoc, but our survival rate would plummet to zero. The entire point of this stunt was to keep ourselves alive; I had no intention of marching into hell by choice.
"That said, if sixty men merely scratch at their rearguard, the impact will be negligible. So what we're targeting isn't their lives—it's their supplies."
Unlike before, the soldiers couldn't stomach this quietly.
"Your Highness! Plundering? That goes against the honor of war!"
If there was one thing that distinguished the battle-crazed soldiers of Remus from common mercenaries, it was their ironclad code: combat was only honorable on the battlefield, while needless destruction like looting or slaughter was a revolting disgrace.
"That applies when you rob helpless civilians or routed stragglers," I countered smoothly. "Because there's no battlefield there, and no fight to be had. But are those troops out there civilians? Are they routed remnants?"
"Well, no, but...!"
"Don't let the word 'plunder' mislead you. They are a force vastly stronger than us. We are picking a fight with a colossal enemy, raiding their supplies to sow chaos, and handing our allies on the opposite side the opening they need to win! Aiding our comrades while crushing our foes—is there anything dishonorable about that?"
"..."
"...Come to think of it, that actually sounds pretty badass."
Seeing that my silver-tongued pitch had swayed them, I drove the wedge in deep.
"Burn every supply depot you lay eyes on! Don't waste a second looking for gold or silver! Torch the grain too! What we're targeting is iron—weapons, armor, arrows, anything! Heap whatever won't burn onto the carts, and we run!"
Sixty men picking a straight fight would barely register as a threat. But sixty men dedicated purely to setting supply depots ablaze? If a single arsonist tossing a torch into a mill could wipe out enough grain to feed an entire village, imagine what sixty could do to a siege army's lifeline.
"General, take command."
"Tsk... How on earth did I miss this man's talents until now? I should've dragged him into the army years ago... The moment we get back, I'm taking this straight to His Majesty..."
"General?"
"Ah! Finished with the briefing, Your Highness? Right, you heard him! Soldiers of Remus, form a wedge! Imperial lads, our troops might mistake you in the melee, so stay inside our formation, pull the carts, and back us up!"
Three hours had passed since the battle began.
Just as Romul had predicted, the onslaught unleashed by Adelheid's subjugation forces was utterly overwhelming. Caught off guard, the besieging Central Army suffered repeated collapses across its lines, already bleeding nearly a thousand casualties as its ranks buckled under pressure.
And that number had only stayed so low because Adelheid held back; after all, circumstances had forced their blades against former comrades in arms.
"Lady Adelheid... you truly mean to see this through...!"
General Rudolf, supreme commander of the siege force and a senior officer of the Central Army, wore a grim expression as he barely managed to re-establish a defensive line at the cost of staggering losses.
Knowing her deep loyalty to the empire, Rudolf found the entire situation—spawned by the Crown Prince's rampant paranoia and plunging them toward civil war—thoroughly distasteful. Yet beneath that lingering sympathy lay pure shock: he had never anticipated that Adelheid would go beyond holding the line to launch an all-out counteroffensive.
Has she lost her composure and turned desperate? Hannover doesn't have sufficient supplies... She might win the day here, but without logistics, she could never reach the capital. Is she planning to flee into exile abroad?
Even while directing his troops to contain the assault, Rudolf racked his brain trying to divine her motives, when a supply officer came sprinting toward him, his face completely drained of color.
"G-General! Enemy attack! F-From the rear...!"
"What...?! Pull yourself together and report properly! What unit? What are their numbers?!"
"Around sixty men, sir! And their banner... it's the bastards from Remus!"
"...Remus?"
Even in a crisis where every second counted, Rudolf froze, his mind blanking out for nearly ten seconds.
"Are you out of your mind? Report accurately—"
"It's really them, sir! The Kingdom of Remus!"
"Why in the world are those madmen popping up here?!"
The Kingdom of Remus lay far beyond the vassal states to the empire's southeast. Why on earth were their troops surfacing here in the western reaches of Fron?
Unable to make heads or tails of it, Rudolf felt a cold stab of dread creeping down his spine.
"W-We can figure out why they're here later! Are they attacking us? Then muster the rearguard and crush them! It's only sixty men! No matter how fierce Remus soldiers are, we have more than enough to overwhelm a force that size!"
"That's... that's the problem, sir! They aren't engaging—they're shooting up the storehouses with firearms while staying on the run! Several granaries are already in flames! And whenever our men try to intercept them, a monstrous aura master at their vanguard cuts down our troops before we can even form up! The rear garrison can't handle him!"
"G-General! Princess Adelheid has appeared in person at the front lines!"
To make matters worse, as if synchronized like clockwork, the greatest threat and wildcard on the entire battlefield began to move.
Gasping for air as the full nightmare of the situation crashed down upon him, General Rudolf choked.
"Ghh—urk?!"
"General?!"
The supreme commander committed the catastrophic blunder of keeling over, his body succumbing to a sudden, violent spike in blood pressure.