Chapter 130
Chapter 130
The moment explosions began erupting and soldiers started collapsing, Kairan Ulvus's expression crumbled as well.
"What—what is this? Magic?!"
But the magic he knew couldn't strike enemies sporadically from such a distance.
There was a reason why 4th-Circle mages and archmages—those who had reached transcendent levels—were revered even more than knights of equivalent rank.
Unless they were such rare resources, a mage's role in war was merely supplementary.
Just like the few mages in his own territory casting enhancement spells for the knight order before retreating to the rear.
"Scrolls! They must be scrolls...!"
"Nonsense!"
Even he, one of the kingdom's top three wealthiest men, couldn't afford to dump scrolls into battle like this.
And above all, the range of spells cast from scrolls was shorter than those cast directly by mages.
The chaos caused by an attack whose nature he couldn't comprehend.
Kairan Ulvus's twisted expression reached its peak the moment Nick Marsel's head flew off and his knight order began collapsing.
"Th-this is insane! How is this possible?!"
Blood trickled from his bitten lips, but he didn't even notice.
The losses suffered in this brief engagement were comparable to those accumulated over six months of civil war.
No—if only counting the knight order, his most crucial force, the damage was far worse.
Above all, Nick Marsel, a top-tier knight, was dead.
"Re—retreat! Fall back!"
A scream-like order burst from his lips as he was surrounded by six escort knights, and his adjutant frantically waved the flag in response.
Sacrificing his own forces to delay the enemy's advance?
If such sacrifices could earn him recognition and greater rewards, the civil war would have ended long ago.
High-ranking nobles from all factions prioritized self-preservation, pushing only their subordinate minor nobles' troops forward, dragging the war into a stalemate.
For Kairan Ulvus, preserving his own forces mattered more than his faction's victory.
"Fire the crossbows! Stop their knights!!"
The weapon he had been so confident would crush the enemy and earn him merit was now only useful for slowing their advance.
And even then—
"Fire!"
The rapid-fire crossbows unleashed by the enemy outmatched his own in range, power, and every other aspect.
In the end, all he saw was his forces collapsing helplessly on all sides.
'Better than the original? How? Those bastards just...'
His teeth ground together, but he hastily turned his horse around.
He needed to preserve what remained of his forces—and above all, his own life was the most precious.
"Don't pursue them! Reform the ranks!"
At the center of the battlefield, his father's crimson Force Blade blazed upward.
Logan smirked as he watched the enemy knights retreating at full speed.
Count Ulvus's decision to retreat swiftly after the vanguard collapsed was both laughable and impressive.
Though most of the Ulvus knights survived, the harvest was still bountiful.
'Still, we took down a top-tier knight.'
And it seemed his father had eliminated two or three high knights as well.
The Ulvus Knight Order would never dare stand in MacLaine's way again.
The rapid-fire crossbows he had worried about were also noticeably weaker than the originals.
'Did they underestimate us?'
It was baffling what they had been so confident about.
"A great victory, my lord!"
Heinkel's beaming grin wasn't excessive—it had been a crushing triumph.
"Our casualties?"
"Five severely wounded and two dead among the knights. Among the soldiers, only about a hundred minor to moderate injuries."
"...Good."
It wasn't just "good"—it was a phenomenal result.
These weren't numbers you saw in battles between evenly matched forces.
But Logan forcibly suppressed his rising excitement and glanced back.
The hesitation in both armies as they clashed wasn't just his imagination.
'Let me show you more. Estimate how you should treat us from now on, Duke Jordan Waltermein.'
With Logan's smirk, MacLaine, having shattered Ulvus, advanced without pause.
"Insane..."
The curse slipped out unconsciously, making Second Prince Romain von Grandia flinch and shut his mouth—but there was no need.
Duke Jordan and the rest of the Second Prince faction's leadership wore nearly identical expressions.
Most were focused not on the battle before them but on the distant battlefield where he was.
The skirmish had been staged to confirm whether those who had come to surrender would betray them.
What appeared to be a fierce battle was, in truth, only grinding down powerless minor nobles.
Neither side had committed their main forces—the First Prince faction was no different.
Unless one side showed a fatal weakness, unless their subordinate nobles were completely wiped out, this "obvious" standoff would drag on indefinitely.
Factions united not for grand ideals but for immediate gains.
A war where the strongest hid while forcing the weak to sacrifice themselves.
And where allies of any significant strength couldn't be recklessly expended—such was the essence of this civil war.
"How is this possible? Has it even been an hour since they clashed?"
"The border lord's forces have been reduced by thirty percent in moments. At this rate..."
The chattering adjutant fell silent under someone's glare.
Comparing a baron's army to a duchy or marquisate—especially one with a transcendent—was absurd.
But.
"Judging solely by the results, they're at least on par with Marquis Kyle's forces."
"Your Grace!"
Jordan's blunt declaration startled those around him.
"What's the problem? That power will soon be ours."
"The Duke is right. If they had truly betrayed us, we'd have suffered greatly."
The prince's words nearly made Jordan laugh.
'Not "greatly"—it would have been a fatal blow.'
MacLaine's strength was one thing, but they, too, had underestimated it.
At the very least, this initial battle had washed away most suspicions toward MacLaine.
'Recognition of Bifrost's territory, half of Marquis Calria's lands, and a count's title... They had the confidence to make such arrogant demands.'
A laughable outcome.
And yet.
'Their insolence will be repaid in due time.'
The icy glint deep in Jordan Waltermein's eyes didn't fade entirely.
The crime of ignoring his warning. And the crime of harming his subordinates.
He was not a man who tolerated losses without retribution.
Of course, his outward orders remained flawless.
"MacLaine will soon attack the enemy's rear. Send the signal. The real full-scale battle begins now."
Unlike the Second Prince faction's lively reaction, the opposing faction's leadership was enveloped in a chilling silence.
"What did I just witness? Are they playing some trick on me? Or was Ulvus just more incompetent than I thought?"
"...It seems the bats carried a far deadlier poison than expected."
Duke Juan Douglas muttered in response to First Prince Rohiter's incredulous soliloquy.
BANG!
"So we're just going to sit here and watch this absurdity?!"
"Your Highness, now is the time to fortify our defenses."
Juan Douglas pointed not to the flanks or rear—but straight ahead.
The elite forces, who had been idly observing their subordinates' struggle, were now shifting.
"The moment those who retreated to the rear launch their attack, the front will charge as well. Stay by my side and do not move."
"Damn it all... What kind of..."
Prince Rohiter's curses mirrored Duke Juan Douglas's sentiments exactly.
'How the hell did those tightrope-walking bats...?'
The mystery remained, but surviving this crisis took priority.
"It seems we must brace for losses today."
As Juan Douglas spoke, the First Prince faction's formation tightened around its leadership.
The passive defensive stance quickly disrupted the frontlines, creating a temporary retreat—but most eyes among both factions remained fixed not on the shifting battle but on MacLaine's movements.
Yet, much later—
"They're... moving farther away?"
As someone murmured.
Instead of circling to the rear as expected, MacLaine's army continued distancing itself from the battlefield.
"What the hell are they doing?"
The same question erupted from both sides.
But no answer came.
"They likely never truly expected us to fulfill that role. We were probably just meant to cause chaos and die. Had we attacked the rear directly, we'd have suffered heavy losses."
"Still, we need something to show for our return."
"That's exactly why we're doing this. Though, honestly, our reception would've improved regardless."
Patrick chuckled dryly at his son's relaxed smile.
"But will this even matter in a civil war? This seems like a tactic for prolonged conflicts, which is why the factions aren't concerned."
"It's already a prolonged conflict. And it'll grow even longer—far beyond anyone's expectations. So this is necessary to end the war quickly."
"I'm not so sure. Even if we destroy the First Prince's supply depots, they can just requisition from Alun Fortress. The civilians will suffer, but..."
"Harvest season is still months away. Requisitions won't sustain them for long."
"Still..."
"At the very least, it'll force the First Prince's forces to retreat to their rear fortresses. If we push them back to Harun Fortress, they won't be able to harvest the Grandia Plains' grain. If they fail, the Second Prince faction will struggle even more post-harvest."
Logan's words were textbook strategy.
But they hinged on the assumption that the war, which began in winter, would drag past planting season and into harvest—and beyond.
The First Prince faction, gaining momentum, wouldn't plan for such a drawn-out war, and the pressured Second Prince faction wouldn't think that far ahead either.
'Which makes now the perfect time.'
Both sides were running low on stockpiled provisions.
Yet the nobles likely believed they could simply requisition from nearby villages or fortress towns if desperate.
To strike them from behind—
MacLaine's army left the battlefield and reached Turen Fortress, a day's march from the Twin Fortresses.
It was currently serving as the First Prince faction's supply depot.
"Open the gates!"
Logan's roar instantly stirred chaos atop the walls.
"Wh-who are they?!"
"Prepare for battle!"
Turen Fortress stood along the straight path from Duke Douglas's territory—Harun Fortress—to the Second Prince's Twin Fortresses.
After seizing Turen, the First Prince faction had entrusted its supply duties to Viscount Bred Peacock, a vassal of Duke Douglas.
Fifty knights and nearly a thousand soldiers—a force not to be dismissed, yet insignificant within the faction.
Viscount Peacock's army, lacking even a single high knight, was even less formidable.
The fact that such a force guarded Turen, the linchpin of their supply lines, spoke volumes about the First Prince faction's priorities.
'And that's our opportunity.'
The moment the enemy began preparing for battle, Logan ordered the attack.
Turen Fortress fell in just two hours.
MacLaine's losses? A mere two dead knights and a hundred injured soldiers.
An effortless, flawless victory.
And the spoils were far sweeter than the effort expended.
"...How much?"
"Over 200 tons of wheat alone. Including other grains, triple that. Enough to feed fifty thousand troops for a month."
"Hah... That much? In such an obvious supply route?"
"Isn't that precisely as you said, my lord? If an enemy force strong enough to seize the depot breaks through, they'd just launch a full-scale attack and crush us. The frontlines are that evenly matched."
"True, but... Hah."
Was it a problem that it was too easy?
Logan laughed hollowly but didn't hesitate with his orders.
"Take everything we can carry. Burn the rest. Then we move to the next target."
"But if Turen was obvious, what about the other depots...?"
"I know. Just follow."
Since when did he—?
Heinkel nearly laughed but didn't press further.
'One of Grandia's top three merchant guilds—and the largest grain supplier. The Kairos warehouses. If they're with the First Prince faction, they'd have no reason not to use them.'
The trade routes extracted from Beron Kairos. At least a few would hold supplies.
Over the next week, MacLaine's army captured three more fortresses in succession.
Two held stockpiles rivaling Turen's, all set ablaze.
Their own casualties remained negligible.
And just as the First Prince faction reeled from losing three months' worth of provisions—
MacLaine circled far around the battlefield and returned to Alun Fortress.
All of this had happened within just three weeks of declaring allegiance to the Second Prince faction.