The Vester Army, numbering one hundred thousand and led by General Randle, made camp before Rutchinia Fortress.
“Hmm. She intends for us to deal with the rebels for her,” Randle muttered.
By creating a situation where the enemy could not approach carelessly, Asteria aimed to prolong the conflict. Randle, having received reports from his spies, saw through the intentions of Asteria, King of Hordia. At least, that’s what he thought. For Vester, a prolonged war was not ideal. The reason for sending troops was for the nation’s benefit, and if the burden of maintaining supply lines increased due to a protracted campaign, it would lead to losses. In such a scenario, Randle would have to take responsibility. In pushing the burden of balancing the books onto the field, Vester was no different from Misra or Barshark.
“What should we do?” Randle asked, clicking his tongue at his aide who had sought his opinion.
“Isn’t that what staff officers are for? Are you just stealing your salary?” He then offered his own idea, not to have them do the work, but to prevent them from shirking it.
“Deploy the Wyvern Corps to attack from the air. From a location where enemy fire cannot reach. Is there any other way?” While it felt wasteful to deploy the Wyvern Corps, their primary combat force, so early, Randle judged that clinging to such concerns and falling into the enemy’s trap would be foolish.
“However, attacking from a position beyond their reach will take too long,” the aide countered, voicing a perfectly reasonable concern. Even the Wyvern Corps, to achieve significant results, could not exempt themselves from taking risks. The strength of the Wyvern Corps lay in the offensive power and charging ability of their Wyverns, not the combat prowess of the riders. An attack solely by humans mounted on Wyverns from high in the sky, far beyond the enemy’s reach, would likely take a considerable amount of time to be effective.
“To some extent, that is unavoidable,” Randle said calmly. He had discussed this very situation with his lord, Johnson, intending to let other nations bear the brunt of the hardship. Even if the war became protracted, if the losses were minimal, it would be easier to recoup the expenses, and he was even prepared to retreat if things became too difficult. The problem, as previously mentioned, was that if it dragged on too long, it would result in losses rather than profits. It was difficult to say that Randle’s role, to conclude the conflict before losses occurred, was a favorable one.
“What if the enemy offers to surrender?”
“If there are fatalities, will you take full responsibility?” The example of Balderra Fortress was brought up here as well. Accepting slaves into the camp, who might be wearing those collars, carried the risk of friendly casualties. The aide’s face turned bright red, but he remained silent, unable to argue. It was precisely because he caused such embarrassment that Randle was unpopular among his soldiers. However, on the other hand, it also spurred them to work harder and try to outdo him, perhaps more so than when any other general was in command, which showed the complexity of human nature.
“The road ahead is long. We must capture Rutchinia Fortress with as few casualties as possible.” On this point alone, he was in complete agreement with the others. However, the others did not realize at the time that Randle had no intention of marching in lockstep with them. They simply felt that a protracted war was undesirable.
Chandler was desperately trying to calm Remill, who had returned in a furious rage. It was unbearable to have someone with the authority of a general issue rash orders.
“Chandler, I have been insulted! I, a member of the Royal Family! I, a general of the Barshark Army!” He didn’t voice the thought that he was looked down upon because he had nothing else to boast about. Anyone who had ever said such things in the past had either been beheaded or reduced to slavery.
“You can teach them the folly of their actions with results. That is the proper way for someone who inherits the blood of the Barshark Royal Family, is it not?”
“I know that!” Remill yelled loudly at Chandler’s words. Chandler thought to himself that he was the one who wanted to yell. If he had been entrusted with the entire army, he could have achieved at least enough results to save face with other countries. He wondered what possessed them to attach such a troublemaker to him.
(She probably isn’t thinking at all.) Jessica was ignorant of military matters and didn’t understand the danger of a selfish amateur serving as a general. She likely believed that with an experienced commander like Chandler assisting Remill, even Remill could manage. He wished she had at least instructed him to listen to the opinions of those around him. …He didn’t want to consider the possibility that he would behave this way even after being instructed.
“Order the entire army to charge. We’ll capture it before the other armies and laugh at them.” The word “despair” flashed in Chandler’s mind at Remill’s statement, but he tried to dissuade him. He had heard that Sharhee Fortress was not a stronghold, but he couldn’t be sure without seeing it. Moreover, even if it wasn’t a stronghold, an excellent general could make it nearly impregnable.
“That cannot be done.”
“What did you say!” Though he intended to persuade gently, Remill snapped at him, as if he disliked anyone who opposed him. Chandler explained to Remill what Gareth and Randle had thought. Remill grunted, not in admiration, but in anger at being opposed.
“Are you going to be so passive for such uncertain possibilities! Where has the renowned reputation of the ‘Slaughter General’ gone!? Are you faltering because the enemy is Hordia!?” Remill intended it as a reprimand, but to Chandler, it was nothing but slander. Avoiding unnecessary casualties was a basic principle for any general, and he wondered if she couldn’t even grasp that. His expression twisted for a moment in humiliation, but he quickly regained his composure with his inherent mental fortitude.
“Lord Remill.”
“Wh-what is it?” Chandler’s usual imposing demeanor, rumored to be so intimidating that it required no torture, was unbearable for the weak-willed Remill. It was commendable that he didn’t faint.
“Though it may be presumptuous, do you know the origin of my epithet?” The Chandler before him was no longer merely a middle-aged adjutant to Remill.
“Of-of course. It’s likely due to your relentless killing of enemy soldiers, isn’t it?” Chandler was regarded as the only human who could contend with King August III of Boltner for more than a hundred days, and the strongest warrior in the west. He was said to have piled up countless enemy corpses and amassed wealth equivalent to the tears of their bereaved families. Before the appearance of the Mad King Asteria, he was likely the most hated man in the west. When confronted with such a man exuding raw intimidation, the cowardly and frail Remill, who had never known hardship, was overwhelmed by fear.
“You don’t trust me?” If Remill were in his right mind, he would have protested such insolence, but at that moment, all Remill could think of was placating Chandler.
“I-I do. I just thought you were being a bit too passive. I-I apologize.” Remill’s true desire was for him to calm down, no matter the cost. His body trembled uncontrollably, and he felt as if he couldn’t live. Seeing his pathetic general, Chandler let out a silent, profound sigh inwardly and retracted his pressure. It was fortunate that he was surprisingly easy to handle, but he couldn’t suppress the feeling of “Is this really how it should be?” Upon arriving before Sharhee Fortress and hearing the spy’s report, that feeling only intensified. The Barshark Army was by no means strong. Chandler had inspired morale and achieved victory by leading the charge and scattering the enemy soldiers, but he couldn’t do that this time. He couldn’t risk the lives of himself or his subordinates with indiscriminate attacks. Whether intentionally or by chance, the Barshark’s preferred tactics were effectively neutralized.
(Is this the ‘Mad King’s’ plan…?) The Barshark Army, without Chandler leading the charge, was nothing to fear. They possessed a level of skill that could be described as adequate for the Hordia regular army, but what about the Slave Soldiers? Of course, in this stratagem, dealing with the rebels was the priority, and preparations against them might have been secondary. It’s possible that this was the true intention, to make them think so. To Chandler, Asteria was a most troublesome opponent.
(It’s precisely this type of person that should be dealt with politically.) He believed that troublesome opponents should not be fought head-on but resolved politically. Since both the army and politics were elements of national strategy, he wondered if only he expected that much. The view that because such an opponent cannot be understood, political means are ineffective and they must be crushed by force, was also valid, but Chandler didn’t have the luxury of thinking that far at that moment.
The morale of the Hordia army facing them was not low. They were former slaves, people who had been enslaved when Asteria had overthrown the nobles. The reason their morale was not low was because Asteria had promised, “Those who distinguish themselves in battle will be freed from slavery.” Normally, they would never have believed such a promise, but Asteria, as part of her reforms, had freed and appointed those who achieved merit and possessed ability. Witnessing over a thousand freed slaves swear loyalty to Asteria and diligently perform their assigned duties, they had no choice but to believe. Originally, they had simply served nobles or profited from them. If they could achieve enough merit to atone for their sins, they could return to their former status. Asteria, who had massacred all the nobles, had not killed them. This meant they were valued for their abilities. …It would be too harsh to simply call it foolish that they genuinely believed such self-serving thoughts. Asteria had lamented, “I need talented people, even if they are criminals.” She then began freeing slaves and assigning them duties. Inevitably, this information reached their ears through intermediaries. Although they might have doubted it if told directly, the information they obtained through those around them was accepted at face value. When they were at a point where they were ready to believe, Asteria issued her order.
When praised by a civil official for her clever stratagem, Asteria shrugged her shoulders and said, “This is hardly a stratagem,” before returning to her duties. The battle between Hordia and the three-nation alliance became one of the most unforgettable in the history of the Taliant Continent. The common name for it was more famous than its official designation, and it was called “The Rhapsody of Fools.” Hearing that name alone, anyone beyond the age of a toddler could instantly identify which battle it referred to. However, the originator of that common name remains unknown.
