Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: 32 - The Impact of a Battle-Capable Mage in the North (2)
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"Alright. Before we get to the final reason, let's address one thing first. Everyone, doesn't something feel off to you? As I mentioned earlier, the people of the North aren't idiots. In their long history, do you really think they've never once deployed a single mage to a field unit?"
The students shook their heads.
"Right. That's not the case. They have deployed them. So why deploy such precious assets? The reason is simple: war."
The professor gave the students a moment to think before continuing his explanation.
"As you've all studied, war is a history of blood and tears. No one knows who will shed that blood and those tears. Not even nobles or mages are exceptions. Were there really no mages who lost family or loved ones to the Highland Tribes, wept rivers of blood and tears, and vowed revenge?"
The students shook their heads.
"Exactly. Historical records show there were quite a few cases where such mages joined field units. The field commanders would have welcomed them with open arms. Mages filled with rage and hatred would surely unleash their full power on the enemy. But what were the results? Let's take a look."
The assistant professor projected the data screen onto the blackboard.
Two sets of documents appeared before the students' eyes.
"As you can see, the left is the battle report from a field unit without a mage, and the right is from one with a mage. Compare them."
The students murmured among themselves.
The reports looked nearly identical, despite being from different units.
"Strange, right? Whether a mage was present or not, the outcomes show no significant difference. And here comes the final reason: the presence or absence of tactical insight."
The professor fiddled with his magic wand.
This time, a single oil painting was projected onto the blackboard.
It was a war scene.
A carriage engulfed in a sea of flames,
Barbarians wailing and screaming at the sight,
Barbarians collapsed nearby, bleeding out,
And mounted soldiers turning their backs to flee.
One of the riders wore a cloak instead of armor, with small demons fluttering above his head.
"You've probably all seen it at least once. It's the masterpiece Battle of Karhu in Viscount Karon's family castle. This single painting contains all the evidence needed to explain the final reason."
At the professor's cue, the assistant manipulated the image.
The cloaked rider enlarged.
"Sir Daniel knew from the start. With just over 300 cavalry, fighting thousands of barbarians would lead to collapse in no time. So he set two strategic objectives and focused on them: the 'Starvation Operation' and the 'Decapitation Operation.' Ignoring everything else, he targeted supplies and command structures instead of enemy troops."
This time, the burning carriage, the screaming barbarians, and the fallen ones enlarged.
"First, supplies. You know this without me saying. Armies can't move or fight without food. It doesn't matter if they're lowly foot soldiers or mana-using warriors—they're all the same."
The students held their breath, riveted to the lecture.
"Second, command structure. An army is only an army if hundreds or thousands move as one. That's when collective power emerges, and that's what makes militaries so terrifying. But for that to happen, officers are needed at every level to direct the soldiers. What happens if those officers disappear?"
Various answers came from the students.
"They become a rabble."
"Just a bunch of bandits with superior numbers, right?"
The professor nodded at the enthusiastic responses.
"Precisely as you say. A disorganized mob, a herd of bandits. Of course, that doesn't make them harmless—numbers still carry weight. But they have a weakness. What is it?"
"They can't harness collective power?"
"More precisely, they can't conduct sieges."
"Ah!"
The students' eyes widened.
"Sieging a city requires command and coordination. But with no command structure left and supplies gone, they're worrying about tomorrow's meals. What happens then?"
At the professor's gesture, the Battle of Karhu masterpiece returned to its original view.
"This painting captures the result perfectly. The barbarians who attacked the Karhu region failed their original goal of plunder and retreated. Later, Viscount Karon commissioned this with his personal funds to eternally honor Sir Daniel's great achievement. These days, it's become an excellent tourist attraction for Karon territory."
The professor continued.
"Cross-checking various records, Sir Daniel personally killed fewer than 60 barbarians. Yet the result, as you know, was thousands retreating. That's an achievement incomparable to other mages. So where does this difference come from? Tactical insight."
"……."
"A mage who only focused on defense until blinded by revenge, versus one who joined the Foreign Legion before coming north and gained countless real combat experiences. Which do you think possesses superior tactical insight? You don't need me to say it."
One student cautiously raised a hand.
"But Professor, I have one question."
"Go ahead."
"Mages aside, the field unit commanders and officers were trained in tactics. Why couldn't they achieve even similar results?"
"Oh, excellent question, student. The answer is this: tactical insight isn't completed by books alone."
The professor stated firmly.
"As you say, field commanders know tactics and strategy. Strike the command, cut supplies, shake morale—they've studied it all. They memorized books and passed exams to become commanders. But."
The professor paused briefly.
"Applying and executing book knowledge in the field is a different matter entirely."
The professor looked at the students and asked.
"You've probably all experienced it. You follow a cookbook exactly, but why does your dish taste so off?"
The students answered with laughter.
"Tactics are the same. Knowing and executing are completely different. Tactical insight isn't forged by knowledge or intellect alone. It requires blood, tears, and hundreds of successes and failures based on that knowledge. And it can only be honed through real combat experience. That's the decisive difference between those commanders and Sir Daniel."
"……."
"Sir Daniel was a mage, a soldier, and a commander in the Foreign Legion for 10 years. Those experiences gave him advanced tactical insight. Do you think commanders who only defended fortresses and rarely ventured into field battles had the same? I doubt it."
-Ding dong daeng dong-
The class bell rang as the professor concluded.
"That's all for today. Next class, we'll cover the latter half of the Northern Wyvern War."
The professor tapped the lectern with his magic wand.
"I say it again: history must be viewed through the lens of reason, not emotion. There will be exciting parts, but prepare to study with objectivity, setting aside feelings as much as possible. Understood?"
"Yes!!!"
The professor nodded at the students' vigorous response.
"Something's off?"
Daniel was genuinely baffled.
The bewilderment and doubt he felt now were immense enough to make him forget the fatigue accumulated from five weeks of constant battles.
"What the hell? These guys. Why aren't they responding?"
Night raids, neutralizing command structures, removing supplies, forcing retreats.
The strategic framework hadn't changed.
Yet over eight repetitions, there hadn't been a single failure.
Too perfect a streak of victories.
The Iron Cavalry was busy praising Daniel's greatness, but he couldn't accept the results at face value.
It's a rule: when everything seems to be going perfectly like a sailboat with the wind, double-check once to ensure it's really going well.
'I've seen too many projects sailing smoothly only to hit rocks and wreck because they skipped that check.'
Irina, listening beside him, gave him a look of disbelief.
"Now I see how shameless you are, Daniel."
"Why again?"
"Have you forgotten what you did?"
Having witnessed everything at Daniel's side over the past five weeks, Irina found his words utterly disingenuous.
Were the barbarians just sitting ducks because they were idiots? Absolutely not.
To put it bluntly, they'd tried every trick to take him out.
Assassination attempts, ambushes, traps, pitfalls—you name it, they'd thrown everything at him.
But it was all for naught.
"The Imp aerial reconnaissance network was too perfect."
Observe from the sky.
That was it, but the effect was tremendous.
David said it was more reliable than an entire platoon of scouts.
One or two might slip by unnoticed, but places where hundreds hide or move are limited.
Focus surveillance from the air, and barbarian movements were as clear as day.
In such conditions, ambushes or traps stood no chance.
On the contrary, counterattacks often led to their annihilation.
There had been a few head-on clashes, but Daniel shone in those too.
"If they clump up, Dark Flame Rain rains down. If they scatter, they can't muster collective power and stand no chance against the Iron Cavalry. And the Imps' volley from the sky is just icing."
As she spoke, Irina's face paled in dismay.
If she were the enemy, she'd only have curses to spit.
The pinnacle of infuriating bullshit that makes you yell, 'Fight like men, damn it!'
Such a man shook his head.
"That's not what I mean."
"Then what?"
"Why haven't the Steel Scale Tribe shown up after we've pushed them this hard?"
"……!!!"
Irina's expression hardened at the words from the man who'd given the barbarians no breathing room, relentlessly pressing them.
"That's…"
"I admit I've dealt them heavy blows. So shouldn't they respond? The surest way is deploying wyverns to take me out. Right?"
"…No. You're right."
She fell silent at Daniel's piercing point.
"Hate to say it, but there's no better spot to hit me than here."
This wasn't Kazan, with its walls guarded by countless knights and soldiers, or its urban sprawl full of hiding spots.
It was an open snowy plain, vast wilderness.
Even fleeing to nearby forests posed no issue for fire-breathing wyverns.
"So that's why you deploy Imps every night for watch?"
"Night vigilance is my specialty. Better than sleeping and entering eternal rest by 100 billion percent, right?"
Daniel scratched his head vigorously.
"The problem is, no wyverns—not even a single owl—in all this time."
"…Maybe Sir Daniel, who bagged 12 wyverns, scares them off?"
"If they're scared, they should strike when they have the chance to kill."
"That's… true."
A paradox: the enemy who shouldn't be quiet is too quiet.
Irina pondered too.
The sweet taste of victory faded from her mind, replaced by suspicion and unease.
But desired answers didn't come easily.
"Damn. This feels ominous."
Daniel's brow furrowed deeply.
This silence felt like the calm before the storm.
An unsettling hush.
What on earth were the Highland Tribes aiming for?