Chapter 63. Berenburg (1)

Deciding the timing for a pitched battle is difficult.

Because it is an all-or-nothing fight.

It is the moment when the armies of both sides, having gathered all their forces, clash to determine victory or defeat.

It would be easier to understand if you recall a modern pistol duel, which is also decided by a single shot.

In a misty forest.

An opponent dozens of feet away.

The obstacles between you and your opponent, whether the opponent walked in a straight line or deviated slightly when increasing the distance, what about yourself, can you hear footsteps or breathing.

In the breathless silence, a fierce battle of wits unfolds over who will pull the trigger first.

You might say that the one who shoots first wins if they hit, but if they miss, the flash and gunshot reveal their exact location to the opponent.

A pitched battle between two armies is similar.

Even if all the variables considered and the assumed conditions are different, the fierce psychological warfare is similar to the tense situation just before a pitched battle.

“Experience is important.”

In the conference tent with a long table.

Archduke Gabir spoke while stirring his teacup with a teaspoon.

As he said, experience is paramount in such psychological warfare.

In that sense, both the Archduke and the Emperor were excellent field commanders.

The Emperor had the [Lord’s Unyielding Mind] like me, so in terms of psychological warfare, he could be considered almost invincible.

Archduke Gabir also had a very strong mentality, and he had experienced such field situations several times.

Both of them had expected Marquis Ricardo to use the Jilber River as a defensive line to gain an advantage in a pitched battle.

Ricardo shattered that expectation.

Sugar was poured generously into three teacups.

The Archduke pushed one of them in front of me.

“Have some.”

“……”

“Sugar helps in recovering energy.”

I listened to the Archduke’s story while forcing myself to sip the tongue-numbingly sweet sugared water.

The confrontation between the two armies, which had lasted for nearly two months, had flowed as follows.

After all the troops from both sides were assembled, they initially engaged in a fierce struggle for position, just like in any other pitched battle.

They tried to force movements with long-range mortars.

They sent light cavalry on a wide detour to harass the opponent's rear.

While the Emperor and the Archduke were masters of psychological warfare, the rebel leader, Marquis Ricardo, was also a commander hardened by war.

A legendary hero of the Empire, he had participated in a holy war in his youth, fighting against Indika, and in his middle age, he had honed his command skills through numerous territorial wars.

As such, it was a foregone conclusion that a pitched battle across a single river would become an intense battle of wits.

The change occurred about a month ago.

It was right after Count Maenenwood was freed from the clutches of Chincharina.

“I released the information you sent by carrier pigeon. The information that Count Maenenwood had been brainwashed by an Indika curse-caster, and that Indika had intended to backstab the rebel army.”

“Ricardo reacted, I see.”

Melburn Maenenwood’s eyes gleamed.

As the Captain of the Guard and Count Maenenwood’s nephew, he was one of the people deeply involved in the incident.

“Did he really not think he would be betrayed?”

“It seems so. Only he and Luark know the truth. Anyway, from that point on, the rebel army’s movements started to become more aggressive.”

Surprise attacks followed.

Of course, there had been surprise attacks before, but they were literally at the level of inducing a war of nerves.

Not anymore.

Large-scale cavalry and artillery were mobilized to carry out active surprise attacks, as if to openly wear down our forces.

“The problem is that we never once managed to block those surprise attacks.”

Despite being fully prepared, their defenses were breached.

The reasons were varied.

They either slipped through the blind spots of the scouts.

Or the weather just happened to be uncooperative.

We didn't know what happened upstream, but the rebels even launched a surprise attack by crossing the suddenly shallowed river.

There was even an incident where a stray cannonball hit the kitchen where they were cooking, and the fire spread, burning down one side of the camp.

“He could have gotten a bit greedy at that point, but he didn't. He always retreated at strange moments.”

“Strange moments, you say?”

“The moment just before we attempted a counterattack.”

The Archduke moistened his throat with tea.

“It was as if he was looking down on us from above.”

That could be possible.

Marquis Ricardo had a mage who was skilled in reconnaissance magic.

But reconnaissance is just reconnaissance.

It can give you a certain advantage, but it can't determine the success or failure of the raid itself.

And creating a 100 percent success rate with just that is even more impossible.

“No one expected it. That the Marquis, having seized the momentum, would leave so suddenly.”

The anomaly occurred yesterday morning.

It was a windy day.

The water level of the Jilber River had been low for several days.

The Imperial army under the Emperor and the Archduke was more prepared for a surprise attack than ever before.

Allowing any more attacks could lead to morale problems.

They had to successfully block at least one, so that when reinforcements arrived in a few days, they could completely turn the tide of the war.

But the rebel camp was quiet that day.

They sent out a scout.

The scout’s report was completely unexpected.

“He ran away. Without looking back. Without even clashing swords.”

Marquis Ricardo’s army had suddenly fled.

At full force, no less.

“The light cavalry sent for reconnaissance said they barely caught a glimpse of their backs.”

“…It’s as if he knew we were coming and avoided a pitched battle.”

“Well, that’s unlikely, but. I had this thought.”

The Archduke stroked his beard.

I put down my teacup, waiting for him to continue.

There was an unpleasant residue of sugar at the bottom of the cup.

“Perhaps he knew the outcome of every battle in advance.”

I was probably not the only one left with an unpleasant feeling, not just from the teacup.

***

Jilber River.

True to its etymology of ‘silver,’ this river often had silver waves.

This was because the river was wide and moderately deep, so on windy days, the surface of the river would ripple easily.

The wind was moderate today.

Waves capped with silver foam washed over the riverbank like ocean waves.

The setting sun cast a long orange afterimage on the river.

It was a scenery enjoyable while listening to old man Brol getting scolded by Karen in the tent.

“Mister! Did you put the spoon you were eating with into the pot again instead of using a clean ladle? I told you not to…”

I recalled the contents of the meeting from around noon.

The Marquis retreated at an impeccable timing, as if he knew the Count's army was coming.

It was the right decision.

My actual plan was to encircle and annihilate the rebel army together with the Imperial army.

The question was how he knew.

The marching speed of the Count’s army was incredibly fast.

Even when capturing the fortresses on our route, we managed it so that there were no escapees by dispatching a dedicated pursuit unit.

We intentionally maintained communication silence, except for sending a carrier pigeon once or twice.

This was to prevent our information from leaking, just in case Indika's reinforcements remained within the rebel army and attempted to eavesdrop.

Despite that, the Marquis pinpointed the timing of the surprise attack perfectly.

I had a guess.

Two of them.

The first was the statue the Marquis possessed.

That is, the ability of the Theocracy’s sacred relic.

Surprisingly, the ability of precognition, though rare, actually existed in this world.

It meant that the sacred relic the Marquis possessed could provide such an ability.

‘If that's the case, it would also explain why Viscount Pewin didn’t die, unlike before.’

The Anti-Imperial Faction's plot to assassinate Viscount Pewin was originally led by Marquis Ricardo.

Of course, this was literally just a hunch.

Whenever I asked about the abilities of the other sacred relics, Kkumteuli’s answer was always ‘I cannot tell you.’

The more certain one was the second.

‘Chincharina must have passed the information to the Marquis. Warning him to be careful since Count Maenenwood had escaped her grasp.’

Chincharina Bahadur ul Jahangir.

The Indika curse-caster who had possessed Count Maenenwood.

She had been in an alliance with Marquis Ricardo for a long time.

Although she tried to backstab him at the last minute, and I exposed that fact.

Anyway, she had the ability to send soul fragments across the continent to manifest.

Perhaps she had relayed the story of her fight with me to Marquis Ricardo.

“……”

No, she must have.

Considering her personality, absolutely.

Let’s assume the worst-case scenario for a moment.

The worst-case scenario was that my description was known to the Marquis.

If he found out that Tribus died at my hands.

If he found out that the mercenary commander Ash was a necromancer with a sacred relic of the Theocracy.

Furthermore, if he found out that I had been acting as Tribus while recently making contact with the Princess of Blood.

That snake-like fellow would definitely try to use the information advantage.

Perhaps as a last resort, the Marquis might try to expose my identity to the Imperial army.

It was even possible that my identity had already reached the ears of the Princess of Blood.

‘Hmm.’

“…?”

‘You worry too much. That probably won’t happen.’

That Kkumteuli fellow.

Can he read thoughts too?

‘I have seen many perverts like you who enjoy stewing in their own worries. Well, you are unique among them.’

“…So?”

‘I just thought you might be thinking about the conversation between Chincharina and the Marquis. Don’t worry. The guardian of the candlestick will not remember you properly.’

“What do you mean by that?”

I opened the subspace and checked on Kkumteuli.

It was stroking a pouch filled with sugar cubes, a gift from the Archduke, with its tentacle.

It was a pouch I had tied tightly with a leather strap so he wouldn't take them out and eat them carelessly.

I nodded.

The bundle of tentacles promptly untied the leather strap.

‘Mmm. This sweet and crunchy texture. Mmm.’

“……”

‘It’s a simple story. She broke the contract. All sacred relics have restrictions on their abilities. One of the candlestick’s restrictions is that it cannot possess another guardian.’

In other words, the candlestick’s ability was possession.

I updated the lore in my mental notepad and gave it another sugar cube.

‘Although Chincharina didn’t seem to know you were my guardian, rules are rules. As a penalty, she lost one of the sacred relic’s abilities, and her soul fragment was shattered. It means she will hardly remember anything about you. She probably thinks you are that gloomy necromancer.’

“Is it okay to tell me this? Isn’t it against the rules?”

‘Didn’t it already happen right in front of your eyes? Explaining this much is fine. The one who really broke the rules was her.’

Kkumteuli said, flicking its tentacle cheerfully.

I didn't know who set those rules.

When I asked about it, he wouldn't tell me the details.

Anyway, I was relieved.

The veil of my second identity had not yet been lifted.

And it would not be lifted in the future.

Because I had the ability of the newly acquired sacred relic.

“Commander! Commander!”

That evening.

Old man Brol, his face half-red as if he had secretly tilted a bottle of liquor somewhere, burst into the tent.

“We’re moving out! They say we’re going to chase the rebels first thing tomorrow morning!”

“……”

“Ah, was my voice too loud?”

I felt this every time.

How on earth did this old man find out about such things before I did?

The next day.

The Imperial army, bolstered by the joining of the Count’s army, began its advance into the rebel territory.

***

It is often said that the size of a territory represents the power of its lord.

It is not a one hundred percent correct logic, but that tendency certainly exists.

For example, the largest territory in the Empire was the Emperor’s direct domain, centered around the Imperial Capital.

Two of the most powerful among the prince-electors occupied the second and third largest territories respectively.

Marquis Ricardo’s domain was the fourth largest in the Empire.

The domain, adjacent to the great western sea, raked in considerable wealth through various special products and international trade via sea routes.

The Imperial roads that spread throughout the Empire were also exceptionally well-maintained and even expanded on both sides compared to other territories.

The Emperor’s Imperial army marched along those wide roads.

There was no particular resistance, even though they had entered the heartland of the Anti-Imperial Faction.

This was because the Marquis had withdrawn all but the minimum number of troops for maintaining public order to the capital of his domain.

And a short while later, the walls of a huge city began to appear in the distance.

“Berenburg.”

The capital of the Marquisate.

Ppuuuuuu-

A trumpet sounded the call to battle stations.

The civil war was racing towards its end.