Three Predictions
The weather was growing colder by the day.
It had been quite some time now since I first arrived in this world. And for reasons I couldn't quite name, an instinctive unease had begun to settle over me — a sense that something was about to break.
It's too peaceful.
According to our intelligence, the fighting between the Serpina Army and the Brans Army had more or less concluded with a defensive victory for Brans. The southern and eastern fronts were quiet as well. That should have meant our western holdings would be next — that someone would come for our castle. And yet, for reasons unknown, time simply kept ticking by without incident.
Of course, I had no intention of sitting idle while it did.
We were doing everything our army could do. We had conscripted as many men as the people's goodwill would allow. The force currently defending our castle, mercenaries included, numbered roughly thirty-one thousand. Even if we had stripped every last man from the city without regard for public sentiment, we would have gained only about two thousand more — so we stopped there.
What we did instead was train. I ordered the recovered Tifa to drill the troops, and I ordered Kane to keep reinforcing the walls under the assumption that no sudden crisis would erupt. Kane, myself, and even our lord Luna all gathered to continue the repair work together. The result was a defensive fortification stronger than anything we had possessed during our previous sieges.
Every one of those orders required Luna's formal approval — but she trusted me completely. She would have backed me even if I told her beans made soy paste. It was no exaggeration to say that the person truly governing and leading this nation was not her, but me.
And there was one more thing.
We had dispatched envoys and concluded six-month non-aggression treaties with the minor states along our borders. That included the Garamill Army, which had once aided Brans in invading us. In this world, there were no permanent allies and no permanent enemies. Besides, Garamill had never held any particular grudge against us — they had been half-coerced into the previous campaign by Brans. We had simply taken precautions before the same trick could be used against us again. Fortunately, the minor states were too preoccupied with their own internal affairs to raise any difficulties, and the treaties were signed without complication.
The greatest problem facing our army now was, as always, a shortage of talent. I had been putting my Intelligence of 100 to work on the problem, but nothing useful had come of it. Searching for talent would yield no one. It was a relief not to waste time on fruitless scouting — but even in the actual game, I had never found recruitment this difficult.
Gustav and Aaron, the captains of the mercenary groups, were working for us, but they remained independent entities. Outside of battle, I could not issue them orders. That left only four people handling domestic administration: Kane, Tifa, myself, and Luna. We desperately needed someone to help with internal affairs — and yet time kept racing by without so much as a single ordinary C-rank officer falling into our hands.
Still. We've done everything we can.
In the game, playing as a minor power often meant that even after doing everything possible, the system would throw absurd misfortune at you and end the run before you could respond. I wasn't worried about total collapse — Lunarien was destined to become the unifier of the continent — and yet I couldn't shake this strange, lingering anxiety.
Forget it. I'll deal with whatever comes when it comes. My predictions will be right anyway.
Letting my mind ease a little made everything feel lighter. Without much thought, I headed toward the walls for another day of repairs.
I hadn't been walking long when Kane appeared ahead of me, hurrying in my direction. I was near the royal castle, so he must have been heading there himself.
"What's going on?"
"Ah! Swen. Perfect — I was looking for you." Kane arrived in front of me and caught his breath. "Come to the castle at once. Our lord has summoned us. It's urgent."
"Urgent?"
"I heard a messenger has arrived."
"...!!"
A messenger. That could mean only one thing.
Here it comes.
"Am I the last to hear?"
"You are. I've already informed Miss Tifa — she's at training."
"Understood."
Kane and I made quickly for the royal castle of Zeiland.
Myself, Kane, and Tifa — along with Aaron, captain of the Chilein Mercenary Group, and Gustav, captain of the Raven Mercenary Group. Five of us in total stood gathered around the table before Luna.
"...Thank you all for coming." Her expression was grave.
"What is it? The Brans bastards? Did they make a move?"
"Yes. That's right." Luna nodded at Tifa's question.
With non-aggression treaties binding every neighboring state, there was no one left who would touch us except the Brans Army.
"Good. Is that red-haired knight-lady coming again? I've been dying for a real rematch." Tifa drove her axe into the floor with enthusiasm.
Her injuries had healed faster than expected after the last engagement — but it had still been a moment that could have cost her life. Tifa was a classic late-blooming powerhouse. We could not afford to lose her in a place like this.
"We've prepared as thoroughly as Swen directed, have we not?" Kane asked, studying Luna's troubled face. "The walls are stronger than ever, and our numbers are hardly insignificant..."
He was right. We had done everything we could. We had known the Brans Army would invade again eventually. It wasn't as though we had never considered an alliance with them — but every prediction I ran before sending an envoy had returned impossible. Brans would never form an alliance with us, no matter what. All I could do was predict. I could not change the results. So we had prepared for a siege to the absolute limit of our capacity.
And yet — why was Luna wearing that look of despair?
"...You are right, Kane. We have done everything within our power."
"Meaning...?"
I asked the question slowly. By now, I was beginning to understand. And the answer she gave confirmed every suspicion.
"...The Brans Army is advancing on Zeiland Castle. Their numbers are..." She let out a short breath, then spoke with a look of grim resolve. "Eighty-one thousand."
"...!!!"
"Wh-what...!"
"Eighty-one thousand...?"
Everyone except me — who had already half-guessed that her expression came from an overwhelming disparity in force — let the number fall from their lips in disbelief.
Yes. Even after pouring everything into preparation, if the enemy came with numbers that made resistance seem impossible, the strength would drain from anyone's limbs.
Over eighty-one thousand troops. An overwhelming host — as though Brans had stripped every front of soldiers except the north. My head was already spinning.
The walls of Zeiland Castle were stronger than they had ever been. Our troop count was higher than it had ever been, and their morale soared after two consecutive victories. But so what? Eighty-one thousand men could not be stopped.
It wasn't that no method existed. A handful of SS-rank officers could carve through armies like a reaper through wheat — the game had never been particularly realistic about strategy and tactics. But we had no such officers. Tifa was strong, but still only A-rank for now. And no matter how superior the mercenaries' specialized units were to ordinary soldiers, numbers were still numbers.
The Brans Army was coming to crush us.
But why?
There had to be a reason. Zeiland Castle and this small territory were not a military stronghold. They were just one of the many low-priority castles scattered across the central region. Leading a force of that size required enormous preparation — and this land simply wasn't worth that kind of investment.
Then Kane turned to me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"...Swen. What should we do?"
No one objected. They simply looked at my face, waiting for an answer. Luna closed her eyes for a moment in thought, then opened them slowly and asked:
"Swen. Light my path. Can we win this battle?"
"..."
Can we win this battle?
As always, the conclusion arrived almost instantly.
You cannot win.
...!
Cannot win. Period.
Once a result of you cannot win had been predicted, even a meteor falling from the sky would somehow land on our army and ensure our defeat. Overturning a prediction made by an Intelligence of 100 was impossible in this world.
"Victory in this battle is all but impossible."
"Th-that can't be...!"
Beside the despairing Kane, Tifa forced a grin and pressed me.
"But — 'all but impossible' means you've got some clever trick up your sleeve, right?! You've always pulled something off!"
"...Allow me to correct myself. Not 'all but impossible.' It is categorically impossible."
"Wh-what the hell! We've always managed somehow! Can't we just make another treaty this time?"
"No."
If that had been possible, the prediction would have told me to form one, just as it had before.
"That can't be right! Think of something! I know it's unfair to always dump this on you, but... you're the smartest one here!"
The smartest one, was I.
If intelligence was measured by the Intelligence stat, that might be true. But in this world, Intelligence only improved the accuracy of predictions — it did not conjure brilliant ideas out of thin air. Being able to predict everything correctly was a broken ability in its own right... but even so, I could not make the impossible possible.
"Then... is this the end for our army...? Is there truly no path left but to accept our fate and perish here?"
Luna looked at me with an expression on the verge of collapse.
This was only the beginning. The Lunarien Army had barely begun to stretch its wings. And yet — was it destined to be swept from the stage of history so quickly by a major lord?
Could that fate not be defied?
Every surrounding castle belonged to other rulers. There was no escape route for us.
...Wait.
On a hunch, I fed her final question — the one she had asked in resignation — into my mind: Is there no path left for our army but to perish here?
And just as quickly, the conclusion arrived.
That is not so. Leave the Lunarien Army.
...???
What?
Leave the Lunarien Army? Me?
Leave — as in resign?
...Hold on.
I re-entered a question that had returned the same result only days ago.
Can Lunarien Iniang become the sovereign who unifies the continent?
Yes.
That hadn't changed. She still carried the destiny of a unifier — and yet we could not win this battle. And for the Lunarien Army to avoid destruction... I had to leave...?
"Swen...?"
Luna noticed the shift in my expression and asked with concern. I looked at her and answered as evenly as I could.
"My lord. Forgive me, but please grant me just a little time. I need to think."
"...Very well."
Luna nodded and watched me carefully. Turning from her gaze, I rapidly fed several critical questions back into my mind.
Can Lunarien Iniang become the sovereign who unifies the continent?
Yes.
Next.
Is there a way to win this battle?
You cannot win.
The same. No matter what happened, we could not win this fight.
And finally.
Is this the end of the Lunarien Army's fate? Must it be destroyed?
That is not so. Leave the Lunarien Army.
Three predictions.
What I had to do now was take these three one-hundred-percent accurate predictions and wring from them the most plausible picture of what they were describing.
Looking at a fixed result and determining the exact process that would lead to it was difficult. But identifying the steps that must occur for a given result was easier.
The Lunarien Army would not vanish completely in this moment. Why? Because she was still destined to become the unifier. As long as that destiny remained unchanged, working for the Lunarien Army was working for myself — I needed to serve the unified nation to return to my original world.
But with no escape route, the immediate future in which this nation disappeared from the map could not be avoided. Why? Because we could not win this battle. Losing the battle meant losing Zeiland Castle was all but certain, and our army held no other territory. A force with no land could not be called a lordship even as a courtesy.
Combine those two facts, and a single conclusion lit up in my mind.
The Lunarien Army will only disappear for a time. It will reappear on the stage of history later.
Sovereign Lunarien Iniang would not die. She would survive somehow. Whatever the catalyst, she would raise her banner again.
The problem was everyone else.
Tifa and Kane, whose potential had not yet fully bloomed, could die if they were taken prisoner in this battle.
Lin Brans.
I thought back to the ten thousand hours I had poured into the game — to how the AI-controlled Lin Brans treated captives. Useful prisoners were recruited; those who refused to serve were killed. If she couldn't have them, no one would. That was her type. On the other hand, mediocre prisoners of little value were often spared out of magnanimity. There were occasional exceptions — useful captives released for one reason or another — but there was one case where she killed without exception: when the prisoner was a leader. In those cases, the head almost always rolled. She seemed to regard them as potential rivals.
When playing as a minor power, I had lost count of how many times Lin Brans had forced me to restart. Even when a captive's abilities were excellent, she refused to employ them as subordinates — perhaps because she believed that anyone who had once ruled would never truly serve another.
Setting Luna aside, then — if Kane and Tifa were captured?
Both of them would die.
Kane's Politics was quite high. Our special circumstances had kept him on wall repairs instead of administration, but he was an old man who more than earned his keep whether you put him on commerce or agriculture. Tifa fell short of S-rank, but she was still an A-rank general. And neither of them seemed likely to surrender to any lord other than Lunarien. Kane was concealing his identity and would not want to serve under a powerful lord; Tifa's personality spoke for itself. Kane might possibly submit and live quietly — but Tifa would lose her head for certain.
I can't lose even one of them.
Even with the future of Lunarien's unification set in stone, the difficulty of that path would change dramatically if a single companion disappeared. So neither Tifa nor Kane could be allowed to die. For the sake of the late-blooming powerhouses of the future, both had to be protected.
Which left only one conclusion.
Get everyone out of this castle — Luna included. Having them follow Luna, whose survival was at least half-guaranteed, would be best.
A natural question arose: if a sovereign fled with a small force, wouldn't the enemy form a pursuit party? But they wouldn't. The basis for that belief was the third prediction.
That is not so. Leave the Lunarien Army.
If I left the Lunarien Army, the Lunarien Army could avoid destruction. So I only needed to ask myself: why would my departure become the path that avoided ruin?
The answer came more simply than expected.
Lin Brans's objective isn't Zeiland Castle, or the complete annihilation of the Lunarien Army.
Her objective... is me.