Chapter 22
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: 5. Plateau. (4)
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Aindolf sat on a flat rock, glaring coldly at the grassland for a long while.
The unexpected defeat tore at his chest, shredding it to pieces.
...To think they hired a high-class mercenary corps.
Groups like that didn't just gather from a simple recruitment notice. They must have begged and pleaded with every ounce of effort to barely pull them in.
But the effect was undeniable. It wasn't for nothing that elite mercenary corps could turn the tide of battle. He'd seen it with his own eyes this time and confirmed it.
His pride lay in shattered fragments. What galled him most about this defeat was the notion that Wirgang House was inferior to Herrera House... How desperately his father longed for victory!
- You must win this one. No matter what. Our house's fifty years of resentment rests on you.
He couldn't back down. He had to do something. For victory.
Aindolf, craving victory, summoned the surviving mercenary leaders.
He swept a chilling gaze over the gathered leaders and asked, his voice bubbling like it was boiling from the depths.
"What should we do now?"
The leaders averted their eyes slyly. They had no ideas to soothe his anger either.
"I'm asking what we should do!"
Aindolf raised his voice, but all that returned was cold silence. He pointed toward the Herrera side, veins bulging in his neck.
"We were stopped by just one group. Our entire force! We could have won that battle! If you had pushed just a little harder! No matter how tough they were, if we'd kept pressing, we would have broken through!"
His words were right, of course. But no mercenary leader in the world would sacrifice their corps like kindling. And Aindolf hadn't sacrificed his own either.
"...It was an unexpected foe. We never imagined they'd counter with such tactics... We were too ignorant."
"Can't any of you handle something like that? ...I'm not accusing you—I'm asking seriously. Is there no leader here who can? Anyone with knowledge?"
But every leader present was a mercenary at heart, and lowlifes like them wouldn't possess such advanced knowledge. Most hadn't even cracked open a single book...
"Really, no one? ...Then what do we do? Just keep taking hits like this? Is there truly no way to break through?!"
At that moment, a man with graying hair and beard stepped forward cautiously. He was the wisest among them.
"Rallrof... Yes, I figured you'd have a solution."
"I'm sorry to say, but I know nothing of those tactics either. I've only glimpsed something similar from afar once or twice."
...Ah...
If even the experienced Rallrof didn't know, then there really was no way. They'd just have to sacrifice until they broke through.
But the enemy wasn't stupid enough to sit idly by. And with their morale boosted from the recent victory, clashing head-on now would make victory uncertain.
"...However, there is another way."
"Another way?"
All the leaders turned to Rallrof. Did he have some clever stratagem?
"We raid them tonight."
"...Tonight?"
The mercenaries were already exhausted, barely able to move. Fighting again so soon after a battle was risky.
"We're too worn out. We're in no shape to fight right now."
"The enemy is the same. That's precisely why they'll sleep even deeper and struggle to respond to a raid. They surely won't expect us to attempt a night attack."
The leaders nodded. It made sense upon hearing it. Emboldened, Rallrof continued.
"I once learned of a tactic northern nobles often use—pretend to lose to lower the enemy's guard, then strike with a surprise raid to shatter them."
"If it's a northern noble tactic, it has to work!"
"This could do it, Young Master!"
The leaders agreed enthusiastically. But Aindolf couldn't join in so easily.
He sensed the raid would be effective. However, he was the epitome of a prideful eastern noble. Sneaking in while others slept felt like something thieves or bandits would do!
Besides, Elena Horgan Herrera—the count's third daughter he so ardently admired—was with the enemy. He didn't want to resort to such cowardly tactics against her.
"...It would certainly be effective, but..."
As Aindolf hesitated, the leaders guessed his reluctance and urged him on.
"There's no other option, Young Master."
"This way, we'll surely have our revenge!"
Yet this was a moment when he desperately needed victory.
- Our house's fifty years of resentment rests on you.
His father's cry echoed in his chest once more.
"...Fine. Let's do it."
He made his decision.
After finishing cleanup, Elena returned to her personal tent and collapsed onto the fluffy rug. She was drained not just physically, but mentally as well.
Though accustomed to corpses from her mercenary life since coming of age, she'd seen far too many today—brutally slain ones at that. No wonder her mind was exhausted.
Victory had come at a heavy cost to their side. Nearly sixty dead, and even more wounded. The enemy's losses were undoubtedly far greater, of course.
...I expected this. Knew it wouldn't be easy.
Still, Elena had steeled herself for this much. Wirgang House was a prestigious family with deep history like Herrera House. She'd anticipated their forces wouldn't go down easily even before the fight.
What surprised her was twofold: the enemy's greater-than-expected numbers, and the Allen Mercenary Corps that repelled them.
Hard to believe, but the Allen Mercenary Corps suffered zero fatalities. That wasn't easy even for cowards skulking in the rear, scheming escapes.
Yet they'd held the battlefield's center and achieved it. She'd even witnessed part of it firsthand.
Unversed in tactics though she was, she'd recognized their exquisite skill at a glance.
The Allen Mercenary Corps had stood firm, utterly demolishing every attacker. ...Honestly, this victory was largely their doing.
Watching them had planted doubts in Elena about her own contributions. Was she truly a capable leader for the corps...?
She judged herself coolly, as a mage should. ...The verdict: undeniable lack of ability.
She was unqualified to lead her father's vast mercenary force. Her command, tactics, even magic—all still immature.
She'd hoped to prove herself in this battle, but it only exposed her shallow depths.
It was mortifying. She hid it for appearances, but she was ashamed to face her subordinates.
How much they must mock her inwardly. A talentless girl barking orders from above...
"Aaaah..."
Elena writhed on the rug, her ample breasts jiggling side to side.
Then someone came calling. Ah—. She hastily sat up and straightened her clothes.
The visitor announced himself from outside the tent.
- It's Allen, the leader. I have urgent business. I've come to see you.
Allen, the leader? ...Urgent business?
"Come in."
The tent flap opened, and the Allen leader stepped inside with a light bow. She asked if it was fine to speak seated, as she felt weak. Anyone else, maybe, but Allen was nobility like her. Especially southern nobles—they were known for nitpicking such details...
"It's fine."
"Speak."
His eyes, soft yet sharp, pierced the Mahbana mage as if reading her soul.
"I have a suggestion."
"A suggestion? Go ahead."
"The enemy may raid tonight. We should prepare thoroughly."
Elena's brows furrowed.
"...What? Say that again... What?"
"A raid. The enemy has a high chance of a night attack. We need to prepare immediately."
It sounded less like a suggestion and more like an order.
The count's daughter panicked momentarily. A raid? She hadn't expected that.
"No way. The battle just ended. Both sides are exhausted. Who raids in this state?"
"That's exactly why they will. They suffered an unexpected defeat. Desperate to turn it around... They'll try an unforeseen raid to reverse the tide."
Allen spoke with near certainty.
From his [Guild Master] days, he'd been ambushed by night raids after victories countless times. Just posting sentries wasn't enough. Sudden raids crushed soldiers' morale and reason, making orders ineffective—a debuff of sorts.
Well-trained troops could adapt, but he couldn't expect that from this rabble. The count's direct Roakin Mercenary Corps might manage, but the rest would surely scatter in flight.
"Aindolf... He's a man of honor."
Ridiculous. Allen nearly laughed.
"Raids aren't cowardly. Just one of many tactics..."
Allen paused for breath, then continued.
"And in war, nothing is more foolish than trusting the enemy."
"I don't trust them. I just meant they wouldn't stoop to raiding."
"As I said, obvious methods won't work for them anymore. So they'll try the unobvious. ...If not, great—but preparing costs nothing."
Elena had no retort. ...Deep down, she already agreed. She'd just clung to her last shred of pride.
"Fine. We'll do as you say. Prepare for a raid."
"Wise choice. ...Then."
Allen bowed lightly again and turned to leave.
...Elena felt oddly like their roles—commander and subordinate—had reversed.