The Empire's Desperate Retreat and the Knights' Despair

The Imperial Army returned to a camp that was little more than a ruin. Most of their food, ammunition, and remaining stores had been reduced to ash, and scarcely a tent still stood intact. In that desolate place, Grand General Burgoyne and his subordinate commanders began a grim deliberation over what was to come.

"There's no other way," Richel said. "Our best course is to withdraw north to the Maple Region for now and plan for another day."

"Retreat?! That's out of the question! I'd rather die than run from the enemy as a proud general of the Empire!"

William immediately pushed back against Richel's words. But Richel answered with a voice edged in steel.

"We can throw our own lives away if we must — but we cannot force our soldiers into a meaningless sacrifice! We must not throw away precious lives for the sake of honor!"

"What could possibly matter more to an Imperial soldier than honor? Can you even call yourself a glorious warrior of the Empire after saying that?"

"Insisting we keep fighting here isn't honor, General William — it's reckless pride!"

"Reckless pride?! How dare you belittle an honorable battle like that!"

"That's enough, both of you. I welcome your opinions, but I will not tolerate bickering."

"Tch..."

"Hrm..."

At Grand General Burgoyne's words, the two of them fell silent.

Once the atmosphere had settled somewhat, Richard — who had been watching quietly — spoke in a calm, measured voice.

"I believe we need to assess the situation here with a clear head."

"The situation... Meaning you also think we should retreat?"

"For the moment, yes. But there's something we must understand first. To put it bluntly, in our current state, not only fighting but even withdrawing will be extremely difficult."

"Hrm..."

"W-wait. Not just fighting — even retreating will be hard? What is that supposed to mean?"

Confusion clouded William's face. Richard answered him — and everyone else present — in a voice heavy with gravity.

"The food we have left will last two days at most. Grand General, do you believe we can make it back to the Maple Region on that?"

"That's..."

Reaching the Maple Region — the Empire's northern colony — from here would take a full five days at the very least. And that estimate didn't even account for variables like enemy raids or weather. Depending on circumstances, the march could be delayed even further.

With neither option looking viable, Grand General Burgoyne turned to Richard with a grave question.

"...Then what do you suggest we do?"

"It won't be easy, but as things stand, there's only one path left to us."

"And that is...?"

"Negotiation."

William slammed his hand down.

"Richard! How can you even suggest—"

"William! Hold your tongue!"

After coldly silencing William's outburst, Grand General Burgoyne looked at Richard and asked in a serious voice.

"Negotiation... You mean we tuck our tails and bow our heads to the Rebel Army. Is that it?"

"There's no other way. The enemy outnumbers us more than two to one. Their morale is soaring, and their supplies are abundant. We, on the other hand, have already lost a battle, our morale is shattered, and we've lost most of our military stores. If we attempt a withdrawal and they ambush us, we ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠risk being annihilated."

"Tch..."

"Annihilated..."

Richard's cold analysis laid out the worst-case scenario with unsparing clarity. William and the other commanders could no longer argue. They could only feel, with terrible certainty, how swiftly their situation had collapsed.

Among those officers, Grand General Burgoyne spoke to Richard in a quiet voice.

"...I understand. Thank you for the accurate assessment."

"I'm sorry I could offer you nothing better, Grand General Burgoyne..."

"Don't be. At times like these, an unvarnished account of reality is far more useful..."

A heavier silence settled over the Imperial high command. It was Grand General Burgoyne — the man who held every decision in his hands — who broke it.

"G-Grand General!"

"Don't make such a fuss. This isn't an outright surrender. We simply give what we must and take what we can."

"Hrm..."

"Haa..."

Grand General Burgoyne spoke with as much consolation as he could muster. But everyone present knew the truth, regardless of how he framed it. In a situation this unfavorable — and with the other side fully aware of their circumstances — negotiation was, in practice, no different from surrender.

Even so, Grand General Burgoyne had no choice but to endure this humiliation. To save the lives of his men and keep the damage to a minimum. Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if it meant sacrificing himself in the process.

"You want to negotiate?"

"...Yes. I have a letter from Grand General Burgoyne."

Imperial General Richel had brought the proposal himself. General Gates jerked his chin toward Benellita with an arrogant look, and she slowly began to unroll the letter.

Gates wore an expression of complete disinterest, as if the contents were of no concern to him whatsoever. Behind that rigid facade, however, he was inwardly bursting with excitement.

Heh. This feels incredible. Who would have thought the day would come when Grand General Burgoyne himself would bow his head and ask me to negotiate!

At this stage, negotiation was as good as surrender — a declaration that the war was over. Eager to see what the letter contained, Gates slowly began to read the contents Benellita handed him.

"...So. If we let the Imperial Army withdraw unmolested, they'll hand over all their weapons. Is that it?"

"Yes, that's correct. The moment we leave the Saratoga region, we will lay down our arms at the designated point and withdraw to the Maple Region. And as a guarantee..."

As he spoke, General Richel carefully drew a sword from his coat. The moment Gates saw it, a flicker of surprise crossed his face.

"Th-that's...?"

"Laevateinn, Grand General Burgoyne's cherished blade. He said this should serve as sufficient guarantee that we will keep our word."

"Hoh... So you're offering one of the Empire's finest legendary swords as collateral? If that's the case, I suppose I have no choice but to take you at your word."

"Does that mean... you'll accept the terms we've proposed?"

General Richel asked the question in a cautious voice. Gates smiled as he answered.

"Well... from my perspective, it's not a bad offer. Honestly, when all's said and done, we were all Imperial subjects once. There's no need to throw away precious lives. That said, a matter this important ought to be decided after I've heard from my subordinates, don't you think?"

"That's... certainly true."

"I'm glad you understand. In that case, rest in the annex for a while. I'll have an answer for you by the end of the day."

"Yes. Then I'll take my leave."

General Richel bowed slightly at Gates's words and stepped outside. The moment he was gone, Vice-Commander Benellita looked at the seated General Gates and spoke in a cautious voice.

"General. Do you truly intend to accept those terms? Handing over their weapons would certainly ease our concerns about another invasion for a while, but letting them go like this is bound to come back to haunt us somehow."

"Of course it would. Letting them walk away from here is something only a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fool would do."

"Pardon?"

Gates answered Benellita in a cold voice, his attitude so completely different from moments before that shock registered on her face. He turned a cunning smile on her.

"As you said, letting them go would be foolish. But if we break off negotiations here, they'll fight us to the death. So the right answer is to deceive them, don't you think?"

"G-General, you don't mean..."

"We'll pretend to accept the terms, then stab them in the back. I am the commander-in-chief, after all. I ought to swing a sword on the battlefield at least once, don't you think?"

Gates spoke with complete confidence about breaking his word. Benellita answered her superior in a voice laced with ice.

"...You mean to break a sworn pact made on mutual trust?"

"What's so important about that? This is a battlefield of deception. The one who kills more of the enemy wins, regardless of the methods."

"But General... even if they are the enemy, breaking a promise like that could damage the Rebel Army's credibility..."

"Enough. You talk far too much. If a young officer like you intends to keep talking back to her superiors, you can take off that uniform right now! One paltry achievement and you've gotten far too full of yourself..."

"..."

"Go do your job. And we'll need to hold a meeting for form's sake, so go fetch the other commanders."

"...Yes. Understood, General."

Gates issued the order with open irritation. Benellita Arnold ground her teeth inwardly and left the command room.

The sudden summons from General Gates left me slightly puzzled as I made my way to the command room. The moment I arrived, Gates launched into a loud explanation of his "plan."

In short: stab the enemy in the back and wipe them out. Get ready.

It was less a request for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠our opinions than a one-sided decree, so I sat quietly and listened until he was finished.

And then...

"Huh?"

The next moment, a notification window appeared before my eyes. The timing felt a little off, but I opened it anyway.

And then I saw it.

"!..."