Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Snare Operation (3)
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Sun Tzu's Art of War states that the best strategy is to win without fighting.
However, if battle is unavoidable, the next best is to subdue the enemy through diplomacy without mobilizing troops, followed by engaging in pitched battle to annihilate the foe, with attacking fortified cities being the worst option of all.
This is because avoiding conflict altogether allows peaceful living without wasting money, while diplomatic maneuvers demand massive bribes as "costs."
Moreover, direct combat with the enemy sacrifices vast amounts of supplies, funds, and soldiers' lives, and even in sieges, unless the general commits a grave error, you might still suffer enormous losses and defeat despite deploying three times the enemy's forces...
Right now, I'm feeling that truth in my bones.
Though Count Helsman's castle was far shorter than a modern skyscraper or apartment building, even the lowest wall at the gate was two or three times my height.
And getting close to those walls was an ordeal in itself.
Approach within 500 meters, and boulders from catapults would smash your skull. Enter within 100 meters, and arrows rained down like a storm.
Break through that, stagger to the walls, dodge arrows while crossing the deep moat, and by the time you're climbing ladders, volleys from front and flanks would pummel you.
Sending soldiers into such hell, you'd be lucky if one in two even reached the base.
Factor in the attrition to get men atop the walls, and even with twice their numbers...
The effective fighting force inside the castle would outnumber ours.
In other words, a siege meant certain defeat for us.
To prevent that, the moment we neared the walls, I ordered Baldt and the commanders.
"Baldt, Helmut, Weiss—each take your men, gather wood from the surroundings, and build simple forts to encircle the walls. The knights will guard the main camp, and their squires will join under Baldt's direction."
One knight, unhappy about involving squires—who usually avoided such manual labor—raised his hand.
"Knight Obel speaking. We accept standing guard, but some squires are nobles. Even on Your Excellency's orders, we can't have them wielding shovels, picks, and axes like common soldiers. Please reconsider."
Was this guy another fool like Schwein, lost in knightly romances and blind to reality?
This was enemy territory, right by their capital, where we were brazenly executing an encirclement...
And he wanted squires exempted because "some are nobles"?
I'd join the log-hauling myself if I could...
So, hiding my irritation, I replied.
"Sir Obel, Sir Baldt may not ride well, but he's an advanced knight granted several villages, with 'knights' like you as retainers. Helmut and Weiss are knights too, and the officers are nobles just like your squires. What was that? In this emergency, exempt the squires from labor? Are you in your right mind?"
Obel, hearing that knights "higher in status" were laboring, could only tremble silently under my rebuke.
"Count Helsman has taken his full army to fight Lord Count Nant, but reinforcements could arrive anytime. It'll take them one or two months, but without forts, we'll be caught defenseless, sandwiched between them and the walls! Hurry!"
With that, Baldt, Helmut, and Weiss bowed and exited the command tent.
As they left, Frost asked me.
"Your Excellency, pulling every soldier to build forts leaves our camp exposed. What if they attack? Knights are mighty, but only fifty. If 1,500 city guards charge..."
"Won't happen. In fact, I'd welcome it. They're 1,500 strong, but if they sortie, you and the fifty knights just hold a bit, and we win. From the woods to here? One or two hours—they can't last that long against us?"
"..."
I wagged my right index finger at the speechless Frost and continued.
"I guarantee they won't have the mind for it. Because..."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Soon, word spread that Baron Kroitel's army from County Nant was advancing, plunging all of Helsman City into extreme tension.
Guards stood rigidly at attention, unlike their usual slouch, and the gates—normally wide open—were firmly shut.
Before the locked gates stretched a long line of serfs from villages stripped of food by Baron Kroitel.
"I'm Heinz, village head of Sand Village, and these behind me are my villagers. Guardsman, please open the gates. We'll die out here."
The guard responded firmly to the desperate plea.
"Then prove you're Sand Village's head. A village head must have some token of office."
"Just a moment."
The head pulled a thin iron plate from his inner pocket and showed it to the guard.
The guard signaled the watchman above, and soon the gates creaked open.
Stepping aside, the guard addressed the head.
"Confirmed: Heinz of Sand Village. He and his people, enter immediately. Obey Sir Lance, the garrison commander, afterward—disobey at risk of martial law."
The head bowed deeply, like a book folding shut.
"Thank you, sir."
Soon, villagers hustled carts inside.
Midway in line, per orders, I clung under a high cart bed, slipping in with them.
Inside for ten-odd minutes, dangling precariously, heart pounding at discovery—but the cramped castle overflowed with 1,500 soldiers, cityfolk, and refugee serfs in chaos.
Luckily, I infiltrated undetected.
Now, gather intel fast, record it, and exfiltrate.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ A day after entry, the drawbridge over the moat rose.
As it did, a shout echoed from the outer watchtower.
"Eagle with lily emblem sighted!! Damn it, Baron Kroitel's army! Roughly 3,000!! Looks like 3,000!!"
Lowly soldiers inside stirred.
"Shit, we're done for."
"Shut it—want decapitation for disorder? Forget Hans last week?"
"Fuck..."
As soldiers panicked, it spread to refugee serfs and citizens.
"...Surrender might be best now? Kroitel didn't loot. He'll spare us if we yield."
"Survival first..."
"Yeah, gotta live to marry Aria... That girl next village, huge tits... Won't die till I grope 'em..."
"Dream on, Hans. Wrong time for that? We could die trapped here."
I noted in my intel log: Rank-and-file morale and civilian morale declining.
If I return alive, His Excellency will reward based on this—detail everything...
Maybe proper completion gets me promoted to sergeant?
Soon, garrison commander Lance and a few knights drew swords, bellowing.
"Instigate civilians, and I'll cleave you! Quiet if you value your lives! Don't worry—Lord Count Helsman will crush that Nant pig and return!"
The words rippled; citizens hushed, stifling fears to save their necks.
"Now, rations. Soldiers first, then you—wait."
Two hours later, my disguised villagers got meager twice-daily gruel: half-bowl barley-wheat mush. Siege barely days old, already this stingy...
This'll spark revolt.
I tested Matt beside me.
"Hey, Matt. Survive on this? We don't fight, but walls need work too."
"Dunno, Short. Shut up and eat. Starving..."
"Just saying... Ha, wish the siege lifted soon."
Matt sighed deeply, whispering.
"Better than corpses piling up. Rations might hold—who knows."
"True."
Similar vibes approaching others this morning: tiny castle packed with 9,000+ sans food.
Dominant thought: starvation means defeat.
Now, gauge the officers' minds.
"Hey, Matt."
"What?"
"Eat my gruel too. Stomachache—can't."
Matt's eyes lit; he slurped mine like water.
Seizing the moment, I stabbed his heart with my hidden dagger.
"Guh... Bastard..."
To silence him, I slit his throat, then slipped away.
Next, I spotted a gleaming-armored squire patrolling alone—idiot. Killed him, stole the armor.
Striding casually to enemy HQ, I approached garrison chief Lance.
"Sir Lance, just back from patrol."