Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Snare Operation (7)
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In movies or dramatic tales of war, there are cases where the castle's commander, driven to desperate straits, calls for a "parley" and deliberately buys time to reinforce the defenses, ultimately leading to victory.
However, such occurrences are extremely rare, and even when they happen, it's only possible if there's a reasonable stockpile of food and morale is somewhat maintained.
Therefore, this conversation must clearly be about negotiating the terms for surrendering the castle.
"Bring Sergeant Major Short."
"Yes, sir."
With those words, the herald quickly left to fetch Sergeant Major Short.
A short while later, Sergeant Major Short entered my tent.
He should have been beaming with joy after his recent promotion, but his expression looked somewhat dark.
Did something happen during reconnaissance?
"Sergeant Major Short reporting as summoned."
"Thank you for coming so quickly."
"Not at all!"
"Well, the reason I called you is that I have some questions. You're the most reliable scout on the front lines, after all..."
Sergeant Major Short swallowed hard at my words and replied in a tense voice.
"Please ask away, Your Excellency."
"How's the enemy's food situation? From what you've reported, they should be starving by now... No need to organize the info—just tell me exactly what you've heard."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Sergeant Major Short finished his response and immediately began reading from the bundle of papers in his left hand.
"Compiling the reconnaissance up to yesterday by Sergeant Patt and the nine scouts under him: Due to severe food shortages a week ago, the enemy army cut off rations to civilians and serfs. As a result, major protests erupted inside the castle, leading to clashes between soldiers and civilians."
It seemed harsh, but if I were defending the castle, I might have done the same in that situation.
Even if every civilian except those guarding the gates and walls starved, the commander's duty is to hold the castle.
But that was a shortsighted move.
It would have been better to arm the civilians and peasants simply, open the gates, and fight to reduce their numbers...
"Continue."
"Sir Lance and the knights and soldiers under him chopped off the arms and legs of thirty ringleaders among the protesters, then beheaded them for execution. They also beheaded some of the participants. After that..."
Sergeant Major Short, who had been speaking matter-of-factly, suddenly started stammering and then fell silent.
I'd told him to report everything, so if he was hesitating, it must be something too horrific to even speak of.
But I had to hear it to minimize our soldiers' sacrifices—and theirs, holed up in the castle.
So, to press him, I fixed him with a stern gaze and rebuked him gravely.
"Sergeant Major Short."
Understanding my intent, he squeezed his eyes shut and spoke.
"Some soldiers, civilians, and serfs plotted to dig up graves of the dead and eat the corpses—acts no human should commit... However, Sir Lance had guarded the burial pits properly, so no cannibalism occurred... Given these circumstances, the enemy's food situation must be at its worst."
"I see... Anything else?"
"If Your Excellency offers amnesty, rebels would surely rise up and open the gates. Yesterday, Private Hans was spotted by a serf during recon, and the serf openly said, 'Spare me, and I'll cooperate.'"
A castle where starving soldiers and civilians were willing to resort to cannibalism, and even contemplating mutiny...
If I play this right, today's parley could open the gates.
Reaching that conclusion, I smiled, waved him off, and said,
"Dismissed. I'm granting you—and all scouts—four days' leave in rotation. Pass the word to the reconnaissance captain."
Even hearing about the leave didn't brighten Sergeant Major Short's face.
No wonder—witnessing the enemy trying to eat their dead must have been traumatic, foe or not.
For him to show this even before me, he must have taken a massive psychological hit...
Post-traumatic stress disorder... PTSD could set in.
So, I decided to use the best method available to ease their minds.
"Four days' leave, with unlimited meat and alcohol supplied as logistics allow. Eat, drink, and rest to your heart's content."
"Thank you, sir."
With that, Sergeant Major Short quietly bowed and left my tent.
Some soldiers might be like him—struggling to adapt as soldiers due to psychological shock.
How can I restore their mental vigor?
Eh, whatever.
"Duty soldier! Contact Baldt and Helmut immediately and have them bring the meanest, scariest-looking mercenary officer!"
"Yes, sir!"
**
Time passed, and the day arrived for my parley with Sir Lance, the overall commander of the castle's defense.
Though his pride made it "unofficial"...
Even so, by requesting the talk, they'd basically admitted they were dying and begging for mercy.
Now, if we properly take the castle, whatever happens between Count Nant and Helsman—fight, fry, or die—I'll face no repercussions, no matter what.
No, even if they tried, I'd surely receive massive rewards.
Lately, that Schwein pig has been openly seething with jealousy: "Detcha!!! Detcha!!! Talented guys better than me gotta die, desu!!!"
Imagining him gritting his teeth and forcing huge rewards on me...
That alone is worth a kilo of bread, no sides needed.
Lost in this rosy fantasy, I was startled by a soldier's voice outside my tent.
"Your Excellency, Sir Lance has arrived."
"Let him in. Oh, and bring in beef, bread, and beer for us."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Soon after, as Sir Lance entered, our table was laden with beef, bread, and beer.
"Eat your fill. You haven't had a feast like this stuck in the castle."
"Thank you."
With that, Sir Lance and I began eating in silence.
I ate slowly and with dignity, observing him, but Sir Lance—despite being the defense commander—devoured it ravenously, starved from the shortages.
Looking closely, his face wasn't just skin and bones, but even for a commander, there was no fat, and his cheeks were gaunt...
This persuasion should succeed handily.
As our meal ended, an officer shoved past the soldiers into the tent and bellowed.
A bearishly rugged face, massive thick beard, voice like whale sinew, and a hulking build...
Like a bearded berserker from the movies.
Baldt and Helmut picked a good one.
"Lieutenant Lancelot!! I have urgent business to report to Your Excellency!!!"
It was scripted, but to add realism, I berated him at full volume.
"You fool!!!! Do you know where you are?! Get out!!!"
"No, I can't! Even if it's Your Excellency, talking with those scum trying to eat their own dead out of starvation?! Cut that bastard's head off right now!!!"
Tough acting.
But Sir Lance, with no mental leeway left, paled in fear.
"You!! Guards!! Drag this insolent dog away!! What are the soldiers doing?!"
Several soldiers pinned Lancelot down, grabbed his limbs, and dragged him out.
Watching this, Sir Lance feigned composure and said calmly,
"Heh, Your Excellency Baron Kroitel's army has quite a few... frightening men."
"Not really. Just glory-hungry types. Our scouts already reported your army has no leeway. So they hope to snag a knight's head or capture one. Plus, during the war, a soldier named Short beheaded one of your knights on recon and got promoted to decurion with a fat gold payout..."
Sir Lance's face drained of color.
"Is that so...?"
I placed my index and middle fingers under his terrified chin and whispered in his ear.
"Let me be frank. I could sow rebels in your castle to spark a revolt or worse sabotage right now. But I'm ignoring hotheads like Lancelot because I don't want my men dying in the process."
"I see..."
"However, if this parley fails and you keep fighting... I have no choice."
Then I deliberately dropped the "forged count's letter" before him.
"Read it."
Moments later, he turned to me in shock, stammering,
"...If you fail to take the castle, His Excellency will personally... reprimand you?"
"Exactly. My limit. Starting tomorrow, we'll build siege engines. In two days, I'll lead the men in. See you on the battlefield."
Sir Lance, envisioning the worst from a siege on his breaking castle, just gaped at me, mumbling incoherently.
"Worst case, your soldiers might behead you and open the gates. Congrats—no dishonor. Choose: Remain the commander who held out, then opened the gates to save his men and civilians? Or be remembered as the fool killed by his own troops?"
Hearing this, Sir Lance stood dazed for a long while.
Then, with a defeated expression, he said,
"I surrender. Take my life if you must, but spare my family, the knights, soldiers, and civilians inside."
"Done."
**
Afterward, Defense Commander Sir Lance went with me to the gates and ordered his men,
"We can't keep defending just to lose you soldiers, civilians, and serfs. Open the gates."
We did it. I'd captured the enemy capital without losing a single man.
It cost a fortune in timber and supplies...
But that money was going to be spent anyway, and using it to save my soldiers was far more meaningful.
And so, Lance and I entered the count's castle unopposed, right to the heart.
As I wrote to report the capture, a message arrived from the viscount.
The envelope bore his seal and this line:
[Combat Report: Armies of His Excellency Count Nant vs. Count Helsman's Army] I wonder how it went. Did that idiot pig fall into the snare?