Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: The Darkest Hour is Just Before the Dawn (1)
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The silence beneath the chillingly cooled night sky was shattered by the clamor of clashing metal.
However, the noise didn't last long. At most, perhaps two hours.
In the end, the moment the last breath of the one who had held out until the very end was snuffed out, the metallic din transformed into triumphant cheers.
"Your Highness, congratulations on your victory."
The old knight, his face etched with deep wrinkles, bowed his steel-like back and lowered his head.
Even under the moonlight, the golden hair retained its brilliance—in fact, it shone even more intensely. Through the strands, scarlet eyes gleamed coldly.
Princess Morgana von Rubelion Ragna. She issued a stern rebuke in a frosty voice.
"This is not a complete victory yet. I will allow no complacency until we lead the soldiers to occupy the earl's territory."
"My apologies, Your Highness. Please forgive this old man's blunder."
"It's fine. The soldiers must be exhausted from the forced march, so let's set up camp near the earl's territory for now and send a herald the next day."
Of course, the princess knew full well that the earl's forces had been utterly crushed.
But wars are full of variables. She didn't even need to look far—the reason she hadn't personally led the army was a variable of her own.
Yet the variable she'd faced head-on had been eliminated far more trivially than expected.
"It was wise not to be swayed by rumors and to discern the soldiers' fatigue... but you were too hasty, Lord Blackguard."
According to the report from the detachment that had encamped not far from the earl's territory as ordered, the territory's forces numbered scarcely a thousand.
Combining the intelligence gathered by dispatching spies over nearly a fortnight with the prior reports from the intelligence bureau, the numbers aligned roughly.
A frontal clash was no solution. And that was a fact the enemy knew especially well.
'Even if defense is generally more advantageous than siege, with a gap this extreme, it's meaningless—and the enemy surely knows that too.'
In other words, the enemy had no choice but to strike first somehow.
In such situations, the standard tactic is to lead highly mobile cavalry in hit-and-run strikes on key points.
After all, sustaining an army of fifty thousand demands enormous supplies.
But Princess Morgana would never overlook such an obvious truth.
In the war's early stages, she had divided her fifty thousand troops into a main force of thirty thousand and a detachment of twenty thousand.
Her orders to the twenty thousand detachment: completely occupy the eastern region and secure the supply lines.
Direct resupply from the homeland, however, was inefficient. In the end, they needed to seize provisions and equipment on-site.
And yet, Sandwy Earl's territory—the linchpin of the plan—had been recaptured.
By a single man, no less. An absurd turn of events, but what could be done?
Denying what had already happened or shifting blame was pointless. Better to spend that time correcting the error.
'That's why I'd blocked the east with ten thousand troops in advance for encirclement... Who could have guessed they'd opt for an ambush in a situation like this?'
Seal the east—where their base lay—with the remaining detachment forces, excluding the ten thousand securing supply lines.
Then drive in from the west with the main twenty thousand, leaving aside troops at the passes to block any reinforcements from the capital.
A flawless application of hammer-and-anvil tactics. Though they'd fallen for the ambush, of course.
Thanks to anticipating an ambush and preparing accordingly, the losses weren't severe.
Still, it had been a solid move.
Most would attribute bizarre events to devilish sorcery and cower in fear, but a competent commander doesn't let rumors sway them.
Traversing a month's journey in a mere fortnight meant the troops were badly fatigued—a bold commander would spot that and prepare an ambush.
"You fought admirably to the end. It was simply a matter of the opponent."
Against anyone but the princess herself, that audacity would have secured victory.
Yet her moniker was Heavenly Net and Earthly Web. True to its name—a net cast over heaven and earth—she could foresee and dismantle every enemy ploy.
Even so, honoring her foe's valiant last stand, Morgana promptly led the main force toward Sandwy Earl's territory.
With their linchpin, Cain Blackguard, lost, the resistance's morale must have crumbled.
Join the detachment as planned, fully seize the east, shore up supply lines, then strike the capital—and the war would end in imperial victory.
Of course, this had dashed hopes of wrapping it up within a year... but at least they could conclude it before the alliance intervened.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ ...I wish I had just died.
Spitting out the deep despair churning within alongside ragged breaths, I opened my eyes once more.
This time, too, I had returned to the past without fail. But there was no margin for error. Only a single day remained before the main force arrived.
Inducing a siege was impossible. The encirclement complete, we'd simply starve.
Of course, compared to the start, our stockpiles in the earl's territory were now several times greater.
But encircled, with their endless supplies against our finite ones, we'd collapse first.
Holed up like this spelled certain defeat, leaving no choice but to sally forth.
At first, I'd planned to sortie with the cavalry, lie in ambush in the forest, and hit the encircling main force from behind.
Frontal battle was hopeless. Irregular variables were the only path.
"Found him! He's there!"
"Cain Blackguard is there!"
"...Fuck. The detachment that retreated earlier had set up camp in the east?!"
The imperial detachment that had withdrawn initially had stealthily encamped in the east.
Oblivious to it, I'd only guarded the Rock Iron direction.
Thus, I learned the hard way the value of scouting and intelligence. Too late now, of course...
"Aaaargh!!"
"S-Save me!"
"..."
Lions led by a sheep can never defeat sheep led by a lion.
True to the adage, I paid dearly for my failure—the heavy toll of those who trusted and followed me, now dead.
Screams thick with terror, the gruesome sounds of metal rending flesh.
I had no choice but to witness it all until the bitter end with these very eyes.
Time rewound once more. Yet that scene was seared into my mind, unerasable no matter how much time passed.
Ah, so this is the weight a commander bears.
One blunder, and countless lives lost. The full burden on one's shoulders—an unbearable truth.
Yet failure repeated. I deployed every tactic I knew.
Deceptions and lures, even that famed self-mutilation stratagem.
"So, feign internal strife to fool the enemy?"
"Forgive me, Lord Belguard. You're the only one who can pull it off now."
"Worry not, Viscount. I'll ensure the plan succeeds."
That night, Lord Belguard's severed head was catapulted into the castle.
His final smile—urging me to trust only him—haunted my vision.
Countless failures piled up. The difference? The corpses weren't just mine anymore.
At first, only my own stacked high. Now, others' joined them.
[You said we could win!!]
[P-Please, spare me! Viscount!!!]
[Shouldn't have trusted you! You bastard... Aaaargh!!]
"..."
Each defeat drove their resentment and hatred into my heart like arrows.
I was the villain. A novice with no command experience couldn't best veteran imperial troops.
But each loss triggered regression, hurling me back to the start by force.
Pushing me onward. Amid blood and despair, my legs moved against my will.
Defeat forbidden, victory withheld.
So I wracked my shallow mind once more. Desperate for a win.
Yet even those feeble ideas were perfectly countered. Like a fish ensnared in a net.
'The ambush last time held out longest, felt almost winnable... Hold on.'
How many blood-soaked miles had I trudged? My frayed spirit at last snagged a thread of insight.
The hint was unease. Facing the imperials, I'd never once felt it manageable.
Why, then, had that thought crept in unbidden? Chasing the discomfort yielded a plausible answer.
"The imperial main force is worn out from the forced march...?"
I'd first assumed magic. Or potions.
But such spells or elixirs without cost would have toppled the capital ages ago.
Barring that, marching a month's distance in a fortnight? Exhaustion was inevitable.
Why had it taken so long to see it?
Endless deaths had warped my view, painting the Empire as flawless, invincible.
Frontal battle remained hopeless, regardless.
We needed a variable. And a viable one...
"...Capture their commanding head alive and negotiate with the Empire."
Slim odds, naturally. But worth attempting.
Countless failures already. Countless trusted souls lost.
Shoving aside my crumbling resolve, I trudged the bloodied path anew.
For me now, even despair was a luxury.