Chapter 27
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: If You Flee, You Die
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Run, and you're dead.
"His Grace the Duke has left the ducal territory."
Hold on.
While I was away from the main estate, my father left too?
"Where to?"
"The south. There was a request for reinforcements from His Imperial Majesty..."
The south.
Another rebellion, huh.
A few years ago, back when I was still toddling around without any memories of my past life.
The great Duke Walter von Krushtein himself marched down there and wiped out one ducal house and five baronial houses to pacify the south—or so the family chronicle says.
Of course, that chronicle isn't 100% factual, but it had been cross-verified, so there were some certainties.
First, the south rebelled.
Second, it was quelled by Duke Krushtein.
Third, pro-emperor forces now overwhelmingly dominate the south.
Fourth, their troop numbers are nearly double ours.
So when I heard about the rebellion flaring up again recently, I figured it'd blow over without much fuss.
"So... what's the situation like?"
"Well... the imperial army deemed the circumstances unfavorable and made a slight retreat."
A slight retreat. A common phrase in the histories.
'Our forces reorganized their positions based on strategic judgment.'
'They moved to the rear in good order.'
'They flexibly responded by avoiding the enemy's sharp thrust.'
All the same thing.
"So they lost?"
"It was merely a strategic judgment based on..."
"Did they lose?"
"It wasn't a defeat... the situation was just unfavorable..."
"So they lost?"
"...Yes."
The knight finally confessed straight out.
Well, honestly, whether the rebellion flared up or not wasn't a big deal.
Even when their forces were stronger back then, it ended with Krushtein troops exterminating one ducal house, five baronies, and countless lesser families below them.
That was five years ago.
No way they'd recovered from that damage in just five years.
And yet, the imperial central army couldn't even suppress a rebellion of that scale properly and pulled off a 'slight retreat due to unfavorable circumstances.' I wondered if they'd be okay.
But that wasn't the important part.
The key was that my father was away.
Which meant the family affairs, great and small, would be handled by the acting head.
And that acting head was obviously the eldest son.
Mid-twenties.
Even in my past life, mid-twenties might get treated like a rookie, but they were legally adults who could be slotted into high positions based on bloodline.
In this world, the weight of being mid-twenties was equivalent to mid-thirties back home.
Plenty old enough to serve as acting head.
And that acting head was the very same firstborn who'd tried to assassinate me recently—and whose wet nurse's family I'd massacred not long ago.
"Ernst must've refused the reinforcements, no doubt."
"...Astute as ever."
The knight's face showed genuine admiration.
Come on, this was just 1+1=2 level reasoning.
"What about the other legions? There are three nearby."
The 5th, 8th, and 11th Legions.
All deployed to the northern front, just like our 7th Legion, tasked with checking the Kuman Tribe.
It was common for them to send reinforcements to each other.
No, it should've been common.
"Well..."
The knight hesitated.
He averted his eyes.
"I stopped by all three legions on the way here."
"And?"
"The 5th Legion... said they lacked the capacity due to ongoing troop reorganization."
Troop reorganization.
Finished a month ago.
I'd read the report myself.
"The 8th Legion... said they're in quarantine due to an outbreak."
An outbreak?
First I'd heard of it.
Something that scale would've triggered alerts across the entire duchy.
"The 11th Legion... said their supply situation is unfavorable."
Supply issues.
What a joke.
Our 7th Legion had the worst supplies thanks to that bastard Valerius.
And we'd still managed.
The 11th's supplies were far better than ours.
All excuses.
Lame ones at that.
Normally, they wouldn't even bother with excuses like these.
The legion commanders weren't fearless enough to outright refuse a request from me, a bastard son of House Krushtein.
But things were different now.
The duke was in the south, the acting head at the main estate.
And if that acting head—no, the acting head's backers from his maternal family—had pulled strings directly...
"Ernst pulled strings."
The words slipped out of my mouth.
Brother.
I didn't use the honorific.
The meeting room fell silent.
"So, what do you think we should do?"
I looked around at the staff officers.
All five faces stiffened at once.
The eldest staff officer spoke first.
The one with the second-highest embezzlement rate.
"You must evacuate immediately."
His voice trembled.
"The legion commander's safety comes first. If House Krushtein's bloodline is endangered here, that would be a loss for the entire duchy."
Fine words.
But his true intentions were obvious.
He wasn't worried about my neck—he was worried about his own.
The second staff officer nodded.
"I agree. Our legion, infantry-heavy as it is, can't face the cavalry-focused Kuman Tribe. The mobility gap is too wide. Even in a defensive battle..."
The third joined in.
"It's a strategic retreat, sir."
Same phrase the knight had used.
"We link up with the main estate's forces and counterattack then. Better than stubbornly holding out here..."
Main estate forces.
Whose acting head was trying to kill me.
The remaining two spouted similar lines.
Evacuate. Retreat. Reorganize. Counterattack.
All meant the same.
Let's run.
Honestly, their opinions didn't matter much.
Whatever I decided, they'd follow.
As long as they wanted to keep their heads.
The problem was...
My gaze shifted to Jobe.
The one staff officer who hadn't embezzled.
The only one I'd acknowledged as a true 'staff officer.'
He hadn't spoken.
"Jobe."
"...Yes."
"What's your take?"
Jobe let out a heavy sigh.
Torment creased his wrinkled face.
He hesitated long, then finally spoke.
"Legion commander. I... also think evacuation is the right call."
I'd expected as much.
Well, none of their opinions mattered from the start.
Jobe was barely tolerable—no embezzlement, so I'd treat him like a person—but I didn't fully trust him either.
The real issue was elsewhere.
My escort knights. They were nodding too.
Directly under House Krushtein, outside Ernst's influence.
This was pure military judgment, not politics.
One knight spoke up.
"Legion commander. If it's really 2,000 cavalry... especially with multiple Experts... no single legion can hold them."
Troop numbers alone were comparable.
Our legion was nearly 2,000 strong too.
But cavalry was the problem.
In pre-modern times, cavalry outmatched infantry.
Not just mobility.
Raw combat power differed.
A horse's charge was a weapon in itself.
The impact of lancers thundering in was beyond what infantry could handle.
Sure, there were mounted infantry who used horses just for transport.
Ride fast to the objective, dismount, fight.
But the enemy was the Kuman Tribe.
Born and bred on the plains, raised in the saddle.
Folk more comfortable mounted than on foot.
No way they'd be mounted infantry.
Hell, they might even have Parthian-shot archers, freely infusing mana into arrows.
Even if just regular cavalry, 2,000 was enough to swallow a small nation whole.
Of course, this world had superhumans.
Sword aura emitters, sword beam swingers.
In a world with such monsters, plain cavalry wouldn't dominate like in past-life history.
But the Kuman Tribe had those monsters too.
More Experts than the entire Krushtein Duchy, by some accounts. Not the whole tribe coming, sure, but we had to prepare for the worst.
2,000 cavalry.
Dozens, maybe hundreds of Experts among them.
"What do you think, Sir Heinrich?"
Everyone's gaze followed mine to Sir Heinrich.
Half a step from Swordmaster, the strongest here.
And the one with the most battlefield experience.
Sir Heinrich was silent for a moment.
Then he spoke.
"By common sense... they'd be right."
I heard the staff officers sigh in relief.
I nodded, keeping a straight face.
Yeah.
Common sense.
2,000 vs. 2,000, but cavalry against infantry.
Plus outnumbered in Experts.
Winning would be the weird outcome.
Retreat made sense.
Fall back for now, wait for Father to return, counterattack then...
"You can't run awayyy."
The voice cut through the meeting room.
All eyes snapped to one spot.
Lize.
The silver-haired girl stood there.
Her single red eye stared straight at me.
"...What?"
"I said you can't run awayyy."
One staff officer exploded.
"What the hell is this? How dare a wench interrupt a war council?!"
I raised a hand to silence him.
But he didn't stop.
"Legion commander! Even if she's your escort maid, there's a limit! A mere ten-year-old girl barging into military talks—this is beyond the pale..."
"Then how old am I?"
The staff officer froze.
"...Pardon?"
"My age. How old?"
"Y-You're... ten, but..."
"So you've always treated me like some ten-year-old brat?"
The staff officer's face went sheet-white.
His mouth opened and closed. Speechless.
"I-I didn't mean it like..."
"Shut up for now."
He shrank back.
The meeting room went quiet again.
I stared hard at Lize.
No flicker in her eyes.
Eyes full of conviction.
"Tell me why."
"If you run, they might live."
Lize glanced at the staff officers.
Then back at me.
"But you die."