Chapter 12: Forget the Saintess, Secure the Base
Chapter 12: Not the Saintess, but the Main Camp
"It seems the impossible has happened."
I stared at the tip of the rod.
Black threads squirmed like living worms. They were no thicker than strands of hair, yet every twitch of them made my stomach churn unpleasantly.
Magi?
No, something like magi?
If Ulrich was making that disgusted face, it couldn't be just an ordinary trace.
"As His Highness said, it wasn't real magi."
I looked at Ulrich with an expression that demanded an explanation.
"Do you also believe that monsters follow the orders of demons?"
No.
I don't know about that kind of thing.
Ulrich took my silence as agreement and launched into the explanation he'd been itching to give.
"Lesser monsters are mindless creatures with no intelligence to understand commands.
So high-ranking demons leave traces along paths. The monsters move by following those."
Ulrich's lecture, concise and easy to grasp, had me nodding along.
"And now, the problem is that this wasn't left by a demon."
Ulrich pulled two glass vials from his coat.
One held a faint blue powder.
The other, a clump of blackened dust.
"The left one is standard fluorescent marking powder taken from a supply crate. The right is scraped from the markings at Gray Shoals."
Ulrich tapped the crystal rod.
The black light scattered, then coiled back together like thin threads.
"Skip the theatrics and get to the point."
"Both share the same base components. They're standard Northern Army supplies."
Ulrich shook the vial with the blackened powder.
"But the Gray Shoals sample had things mixed in that shouldn't be there—secretions from a demonic beast's scent glands, tainted blood, powdered black magestone."
As if on cue, the black thread writhed at the tip of the rod.
Perfect timing.
"Whoever did this was clever. They coated normal material with this, making it read like a high-ranking demon's mark to the monsters."
Those damn bastards had tampered with the evacuation route markers.
They turned guideposts meant to save lives into signposts to the underworld and probably laughed about it.
The monsters would've followed those markers like a convenient minimap, hunting humans along the way.
This couldn't be ignored.
The culprit knew the evacuation routes for Gray Shoals in an emergency.
They knew the detour changed by the landslide.
They hadn't missed the timing of when the rear of the refugee column would pass through.
They betrayed the people who trusted them and followed their guidance.
This wasn't some half-baked scheme concocted from a desk in the distant capital.
The rats were either here on the ground or embedded in the Northern intelligence network.
The direction was clear.
Now it was time to set the traps.
"Nicholas. Summon Dietrich and Caspar immediately. Quietly."
Before long, Dietrich and Caspar entered.
Dietrich wore a fur-lined cloak. Mud clung to the edges of his gloves, as if he'd just returned from inspecting the defense lines. His face was weary, but his eyes were sharp.
Caspar was partially armored. His expression was one of restraint, trying not to grip his sword hilt—but his fingers were already hovering near it.
Ulrich curled the corner of his mouth ever so slightly when the two entered.
Ah.
That expression.
The Tower Master's face right before he starts needling someone.
Was it already time for his periodic tantrums?
Yeah, I get it—you're rivals in love.
But now's not the time.
"What's said in this tent stays here."
First, seal their lips.
"Today's monster movements were artificially manipulated."
Ulrich timed his words perfectly, levitating the crystal rod. The black thread-like traces unfurled in the air.
"There's evidence that someone used the Northern Army's marking materials to lure the monsters."
Dietrich's gaze turned icy.
"Are you implicating the North?"
"Save the arguments for later. Listen first."
Ulrich cut in right on cue.
"The one who created this trace was likely a mage. This isn't something an ordinary Northern soldier could make."
Ulrich mimed a scale with his palm tilting upward.
Dietrich's expression loosened slightly.
"However."
Ulrich spun the crystal rod lightly.
"The one who planted it on the evacuation markers knew the North's routes. The Gray Shoals detour only opened earlier today."
The palm that had tilted up now lowered.
Dietrich's face hardened again.
Ulrich observed the shift with visible delight.
"So the creator and the planter might be different people?"
Caspar, who had been watching the two, finally interjected.
"Ah, the Sword Saint understands. I must've explained it well."
At Ulrich's words, Caspar's hand twitched toward his sword again.
Great, now even the Sword Saint's getting dragged in.
"The Tower Master has a talent for making people uncomfortable."
"And you're quite composed—until you draw your sword."
"Both of you, enough."
I rapped the map.
"This is a command tent. Not a playground for petty squabbles."
Three pairs of eyes fixed on me.
Even in moments like this, when trust was crucial, they couldn't stop their blades from turning on each other. Weapons like these hurt allies, not enemies.
I looked at Ulrich.
"You said the one who made this was likely a mage or someone with equivalent knowledge."
"Yes."
"Then we'll need the Tower Master for tracking."
Next, Dietrich.
"Who could've planted it?"
"...Someone who knows the North's routes."
Dietrich answered through clenched teeth, his jaw tight.
Finally, Caspar.
"Who should handle stopping this?"
"If it's a task for the sword, I'll take it."
All three fell silent.
"Which means I need all of you. If you've got time to bite each other, go plug your own leaks first."
Only then did Dietrich's stiffly raised head lower.
"This is the North's responsibility."
"No. It's not the North's responsibility."
This wasn't the time for his self-flagellation.
"A human who knew the North's routes moved the monsters."
I met his gaze squarely.
"Suspicion is natural. We should crack down."
"......"
"The price for leaving the main camp unguarded to protect the Saintess is this. It's not the North's responsibility. It's yours, Grand Duke."
A flash of anger crossed Dietrich's face.
Whether it was directed at me or himself, I couldn't tell.
I knew.
He wasn't the only one who'd created this breach.
The ones who'd plotted this were separate, and the North was a victim too.
Hell, maybe the real problem was the sister who'd written this damn novel.
But if the main camp had been breached, the commander had to take the hit.
That's what responsibility meant.
I'd been multitasking in the capital while the main camp crumbled.
The only reason I hadn't said it aloud was that I was still the Crown Prince.
"The enemy doesn't know we've noticed their presence. We should use that."
Ulrich's eyes gleamed.
"You mean to leak false information."
I unfolded the map on the desk.
Ludwig's memories and the day's reports overlapped in my mind.
This body had received too much useless education.
All those lessons on statecraft and military strategy, only to end up holding the Saintess's hand and playing around.
Then again, that's why we'd fallen.
No—the Empire wouldn't have been so easy to destroy otherwise.
"We'll plant three pieces of intel."
I pointed to three spots on the map.
"First, the Northwest Valley Road. This goes only to the Northern Army's field communications network."
Dietrich understood immediately.
"I'll ensure only my adjutants and defense line commanders receive it."
"Second, the Eastern Transport Route. This goes to the logistics chain—through Bruno."
Nicholas nodded.
"Third, the Southern Temporary Assembly Point. This goes only to refugee management—through Konrad."
"Do you suspect Prince Konrad?"
Nicholas's question.
"I suspect everyone."
Caspar frowned.
"Then where will the actual refugees go?"
"Nowhere. All three are decoys."
Ulrich smirked.
"Not throwing out bait, just spreading the scent."
"Depending on where the monsters react, we'll find the leak."
Now, back to business.
"If rumors spread within the Northern Army, we fail. Move quietly."
"Understood."
The meeting was over.
Time to scatter cheese crumbs and follow the rats.
"And Dietrich."
He looked at me.
"This time, guard your own main camp."
Dietrich clenched his teeth and shut his mouth.
Then, quietly, he answered.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Everyone moved swiftly.
And I remained in the tent.
Nicholas had placed a chair by my cot and sat there. Surveillance. Blatant surveillance.
"Are you really my adjutant? You look more like a jailer."
"Today, I'm multitasking."
My adjutant and his sharp tongue.
Since I couldn't win, I might as well work.
I studied the map.
Ulrich's observation crystal rested on the desk. Inside the small orb, a shrunken shadow of the northern mountain range floated. The monsters' movements appeared as black dots.
Time passed.
The black dots in the orb didn't move.
The Southern Temporary Assembly Point was quiet.
No reaction from the Eastern Transport Route either.
Nothing was happening.
Either the trap had failed.
Or the enemy was smarter.
Or something else was unfolding where we couldn't see.
Just as the wait grew unbearable, one black dot broke from the swarm.
I leaned toward the orb.
The dot hesitated, lingering in place.
Then, slowly, it turned.
Northwest.
The route leaked only to Dietrich.
Or rather, only to the Northern Army's field network.
Somehow alerted, Dietrich burst into the tent. He watched as the black dots in the orb steadily moved northwest.
Monsters heading where no refugees were.
Following a path with no human scent or traces.
Trusting the markers someone had waved before them.
The color drained from Dietrich's face.
"It's inside the Northern Army."
Bingo.
We'd stepped on the tail.
I folded the map.
"Time for cleanup, Grand Duke."