The Commander and the Strategist -3
"Isn't it boring?"
"Hmm? If war is boring, that's a good thing."
At the very least, the absence of any real sense of crisis was a blessing.
Of course, the attacks from this so-called Orc master general were far weaker than anyone had anticipated. It looked like they were simply trying to grind down their supplies through attrition—nothing more. Not a terrible strategy when you had the numbers to back it up, at least.
But did they even realize that the traps were built primarily of wood and stone? Those materials weren't infinite, but they certainly outnumbered the enemy's forces. If this turned into a war of attrition, victory would come easily enough.
…
'That's exactly what they want me to think, isn't it?'
A smile of amusement crept into the peacock's narrow eyes.
"Well, they're not idiots, then."
****
The patterns of the traps weren't drastically different from one another. They'd brought in large numbers of craftsmen and beastkin to analyze and catalog every trap type in advance.
If you expected a simple hook to fly out and instead got hit with a full-powered punch, you'd end up hurt—badly.
"Preparation for trap dismantling is complete."
To guard against attacks targeting legs and backs, they'd even fitted the vanguard with heavier armor. The entire operation wasn't just a loud, flashy display for show.
That noisy movement was deliberate—designed to make the enemy sluggish and predictable.
The enemy was counting on attrition. No matter how many soldiers they had, they couldn't outnumber the stones and wood. That was the angle they'd take.
Which meant there was only one answer.
Demons and beastkin would handle trap detection while Orcs pushed through the center, driving the advance. That was the plan. And they'd throw in far more numbers than usual.
Could the flimsy traps they'd seen so far really hold back an assault backed by magic-wielding demons and forest-strong beastkin?
—Advance! This time, we'll tear down this natural fortress!
—UOOOOOOO!!!
The battlefield was swallowed by the Orcs' war cry, but the true protagonists of this advance weren't the Orcs themselves. It was the superior detection abilities of the demons and beastkin—creatures whose size didn't match the Orcs' bulk, but whose senses far exceeded them.
'They won't see this coming.'
And the plan was going smoothly.
They'd already broken through the points that had only been used to draw them in and retreat so far.
—Aaaargh!! It's a trap!!
—If it's a new trap, bypass that area!
The Orcs weren't the stars of this battlefield, but they still played a crucial role. As living shields, Orcs were superior to any other race. Not just in words—their fearless charges meant that even when trap conditions changed, their advance speed barely slowed.
—Identify the new traps immediately! They're just wood and stone—nothing special!
These were traps built purely for cost-effectiveness. There were no large, intricate ones among them.
With the demons' keen perception and the beastkin's forest-honed reflexes, using the Orcs as test subjects, they could dismantle traps one after another in quick succession.
'We're almost there.'
Just a little further… and that peacock would be—
—This one won't disarm!
—Huh…? This one either.
But something was wrong. They realized it now.
Progress was slowing.
It wasn't just a problem with the Orcs—the beastkin and demons handling the traps were struggling too.
'The sun is setting fast.'
"What the hell is the problem?"
"These traps are different from any we've seen before."
They'd been caught.
They'd already suffered significant casualties. But the sun was going down.
Time was running out.
"Commander, please give us just a little more time!"
"No. Fall back."
"Commander?"
"Every single force that's come here so far has retreated the same way."
Gornakh knew that pushing further would only cost more lives, and the next assault would be pushed too far away. They had to pull out now.
"Damn it. I thought we could lay that peacock low by tomorrow."
****
"I should be hearing news of victory soon."
Lumina was confident.
"Lady Lumina, the enemy is retreating. It's our victory."
"How many did we kill or capture?"
"Not zero, but not many compared to what we've seen before."
At those words, Lumina calmly set down the chess piece she'd been holding.
"Oh?"
If anything, that was the more surprising outcome.
"Did you predict everything?"
"Everything except how quickly they retreated."
It was a disappointing result, in a way.
"Usually, those newly assigned to a mission are so desperate for immediate results that they fail even more spectacularly."
"Still, he's living up to his name, it seems."
Lumina's plan had succeeded.
The Orcs, who had seemed content to drag out the war of attrition indefinitely, had instead launched a massive operation mobilizing every race at their disposal. They'd assumed the traps would be the same type as the outer defenses—or at least of comparable quality. That made sense for a war of attrition.
But Lumina had already installed traps made not of wood, but of steel and intricate magic—traps designed to counter repeated assaults of the same scale.
"Now, I think we've had a chance to face each other. Shall we negotiate?"
"Hm?"
"Would a master general like him really want to keep staying on a battlefield like this? He'd be better off building his reputation on an easier front."
Honestly, it was a forest inhabited by beastkin, but it wasn't strategically critical—not by much, anyway. It was annoying, but that was the extent of it.
"If it's that Orc, he'll definitely come to the negotiating table."
****
The carefully prepared advance had failed. It was bitter.
Of course, they'd preserved their forces, so there would be another chance. But this assault had clearly ended in failure.
"Lord Gornakh, an envoy has arrived."
An envoy from the victorious beastkin, apparently.
They weren't here just to mock him, were they?
The beastkin had brought a large mirror. And reflected in it—not a mere image of light, but a beastkin woman seated in a chair.
She'd come this way because she anticipated being captured.
'If I'd won, I'd have kept her under my command.'
It felt like a plum he couldn't reach—making it all the more frustrating.
"My, what an honor to meet such a famous general of the Demon Realm."
That was the peacock. Lumina—the strategist of the forest fortress.
"I suppose I can't compare to a great strategist who's managed to hold back even a famous general's army."
"You flatter me."
Their greetings were complete.
"So, what brings the victorious beastkin here? To mock us?"
"How could that be. I'm here to suggest you move to another battlefield, rather than continuing like this."
So that was it.
Defense was advantageous by position, but the cost of failure was enormous. An attack could simply be launched again, but a failed defense meant total collapse. The best course was to show your strength adequately and then drive the enemy away.
"Honestly, there are battlefields better suited for a brave Orc like you than this tedious one."
"Is that so? I'm enjoying it here."
Lumina looked puzzled.
Wouldn't the achievements he built elsewhere mean more than anything here?
"This location isn't particularly important, to be honest."
"Because someone important is here?"
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"You are."
From the beginning, the Orc's goal hadn't been to seize this position or achieve a decisive victory. He was looking for a beautiful woman to add to his Flower Garden.
She thought he was referring to a strategist like herself, but her expression hardened immediately.
She'd forgotten that before he was a master general, he was an Orc.
"I hope you don't mean what I think you mean."
"No, I do."
Gornakh was certain now, looking at her projected image through the mirror. He was going to take this female.
She possessed the peacock's unique combination of splendor and restraint—a woman he absolutely wanted in his Flower Garden. The desire rose within him to shatter that characteristic air of ease and lay her beneath his cock.
"Is that so?"
Lumina's hardened expression softened again. She smiled with that same leisurely amusement.
"You'd better not get your hopes up about something that will never happen."
"Well, who knows how things will turn out."
In the end, the first round belonged to Lumina. But the victory hadn't yielded as much benefit as expected.
A second round was unavoidable.
But if he won that second round alone…
'That Orc's ambition will end here.'
'I can lay that arrogant strategist beneath me.'
Both wanted the same battle, but desired opposite outcomes.
With negotiations broken, the second battle was slowly approaching.
"Hmm. Alright. Anything else you want to say?"
"Ah, there's one thing I should ask."
Gornakh asked with a wicked smile.
"Is it okay if I grab that tail of yours?"
Immediately, the mirror became an ordinary mirror. The connection had been cut from their side.
"Ah, I guess not."
He didn't need to know right away. If she got captured later, she'd have to tell him herself.
"I was being considerate by asking first. That's a bit harsh, isn't it?"
"Hmm… ah…"
Naturally, the envoys who had come representing the beastkin found it difficult to answer the Orc's question.
'Wait, peacock.'
The Orc made his decision.
He would absolutely break that arrogant pride and see the look of panic on her face. And then he would absolutely put her in his Flower Garden.