Chapter 3: The Battle of Grebeauvoir
July 25th, half past one—
The sun was just beginning its slow descent back toward the horizon. Lunch had been tidied away, and afternoon training was due to start.
Thirteen staff officers were gathered in the First Army’s headquarters—the heads of all three knight brigades, as well as the commanders of the artillery and infantry units. Alongside them were the administrative officers in charge of supply and relief.
The men were all sitting so perfectly upright as they focused on Marshal General Latrielle that one might have assumed they were posing for a picture. Germain was to the second prince’s right, while Regis was standing to his left.
They’re all anxious, Regis observed. He felt completely out of place, as though he were the only one isolated from the stately atmosphere.
Latrielle gazed across his men before finally opening his mouth to speak. “We will now execute the operation to rescue Grebeauvoir’s prisoners of war.”
“What?!” came a joint cry from the officers, most of whom were completely taken aback by the announcement. Batteren of the White Hare Brigade in particular raised his head.
“We’re doing it now, sir?!”
“Indeed,” Latrielle replied. “Do you object?”
“No, but...I was told it wouldn’t be happening until tomorrow.”
“There were some suspicious points about the enemy’s countermeasures during the first battle. I do not doubt any of your loyalty, but I cannot say we have a firm grasp of every soldier in the army.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
“We are on the battlefield. I trust that you’ll prove your mettle, even if our plans have changed slightly.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to meet your expectations!”
Batteren withdrew, but not before shooting Regis a momentary glare. It had of course been the tactician’s idea to hide the real schedule from the officers until the very last moment; there was a very serious chance that a conspirator lurked among the First Army’s ranks, and it was crucial that the upcoming battle began with a surprise attack.
Another reason for Regis’s decision was that he did not want to give the soldiers time to unknowingly reveal the First Army’s next move. The troops would no doubt start behaving differently if given time to themselves before such a decisive battle—some would grow more quiet and contemplative, while others would act noticeably cheerful. Perhaps the meals would even be a bit more extravagant. It was evident that the High Britannian commander had an eye for detail, so maybe he would pick up on these minute changes.
We need to take the initiative this time.
Once Germain had spread out a map of the area, Latrielle spoke again, this time with an audible degree of restlessness. “I will now tell you the details. The crux of this operation is that we must precisely follow the schedule. Any unit that moves out of turn risks annihilation.”
Those gathered were immediately astir. The unrivaled strength of the Empire’s First Army meant its troops were used to more straightforward battle strategies; never before had they experienced a plan where one wrong step would result in catastrophic failure. As they listened to the details for the very first time, their faces became colored with anxiety and disbelief.
Olbath, an elderly knight, started stroking his beard. “Hm, I see... This certainly is a bold plan. Was it Sir Aurick’s idea, by chance?”
In an instant, Regis found himself on the receiving end of countless gazes. “Yes, that’s right,” he admitted with a nod. Keeping silent here simply wasn’t an option.
Olbath spoke gently, but he did not hesitate to press further, even in the presence of the second prince. “I’ve never heard of such a plan before,” he said. “Will it work?”
The nervous expressions of the other gathered officers made it clear that Olbath was not the only one eager for an answer. Not even Latrielle could weigh in here, since sticking up for Regis too much would only invite antipathy from the other soldiers. The second prince’s men would think he was favoring the new tactician over those who had served the First Army for years.
No matter how popular Latrielle is, this is the battlefield. These officers are putting not just their own lives on the line, but the lives of their men as well.
In the Fourth Army, Regis could simply rely on his previous accomplishments and ask that his comrades trust him. Here, however, he needed to think more carefully. “If you are unable to place your trust in me, we can remove your unit from the operation and rethink our formations,” he replied. “I will admit, though, the plan will need to be delayed if too many units drop out, and we will most likely lose our chance to save the captives.”
“I see. Is that not an unreasonable ultimatum, Sir Aurick? I would assume that saving the captives and our willingness to trust you are separate issues.”
As expected of an officer serving the First Army, Olbath put forward a reasonable argument. Regis was sure he could debate the knight easily enough, but merely talking him down wouldn’t do much for troop morale; he needed these men to wholeheartedly believe in his plan.
It was in that instant that Regis remembered something—not a passage from a book he had read, but words that had quite recently been spoken by a certain princess.
“I am asking you to risk your life for me, so it’s only natural that I put my own on the line as well.”
“I’m asking you to risk your lives,” Regis muttered, doing his best to echo Altina’s past declaration, “so it makes sense for me to risk my own as well.”
“Oh? Are you saying that you’ll forfeit your life if your plan fails? You’re resolved to be beheaded in the case of our loss?”
“If that is what it takes, then yes.”
Regis had agreed so readily that he surprised even himself. Failure now meant certain death, so it would not have been unusual for him to break into a sweat, for his heart to race, or for his voice to have quavered as he made the announcement...but he was perfectly calm. He could not say why, but he had accepted the situation with neither hesitation nor resistance.
“Do you honestly mean that?” Olbath asked, his eyes widened in shock. The other officers looked just as taken aback.
“Err... Time and time again, I’ve bet the lives of good men on reckless strategies. There have even been battles where our defeat risked putting innumerable civilians in danger. This plan is no different. The stakes are so high that my life is not worth even the slightest hesitation in comparison.”
Regis was only now realizing it, but he had at some point developed the resolve to bet his own life on the outcome of a battle. I suppose that should come as no surprise—every single engagement in this war has been at least somewhat of a gamble.
Olbath swallowed his breath; then he dropped to one knee and respectfully lowered his head. “I apologize for having doubted you. Your dedication is as expected of a tactician who has triumphed over so many harsh battlefields. It is only natural you would wager your life on your plans.”
“Oh, no. It’s not like I want to die or anything... I’m just certain we’ll succeed.”
“Then, if you will overlook my discourtesy, please include my unit in your plan!”
“Of course. I’m counting on you.”
None of the others voiced any objections. Regis let out a relieved sigh, knowing he had earned at least some degree of trust.
An amused smile played on Latrielle’s lips. “Just as I thought...” he commented. “You’re not meant to be a third-grade officer, Regis.”
“Am I getting a demotion, sir?”
“Hah. Quite the contrary—you have the makings of a general.”
“Huh...?”
“But that is a discussion for when our mission is over. There are captives awaiting rescue in the city of Grebeauvoir, so enough chitchat.” Latrielle drew his sword, the Armée Victoire Volonté. Its glimmering silver blade reflected the faces of all those assembled. “Onward, to victory!”
The officers raised their fists and cheered.
It was when the sun had started its descent toward the horizon that the bugles sounded, signaling for the First Army to begin its advance. Reinforcements had arrived from the capital, and now its core comprised twelve thousand foot soldiers at the vanguard, two thousand artillery soldiers, and thirty cannons. Covering their flanks were the cavalry units of Olbath and Batteren, each a thousand riders strong.
The main camp was protected by the thousand riders of the White Wolf Brigade, with three thousand foot soldiers stationed in the rear as reserve forces. Fifty thousand sappers were already proceeding with the operation as planned.
Grebeauvoir lay in what was essentially a basin among the mountains, and the Empire had the high ground, which allowed Regis a full view of the battlefield. Latrielle, Germain, and the other officers rode horses, but as the tactician could not, he simply stood beside them.
Regis checked his pocket watch. It was five past two. “It’s about time to launch an attack on the fortress. We need to take their eyes off the rescue operation.”
“The enemy has come out to meet us!” Germain exclaimed, pointing at the fortress.
“Oh. They’re already deviating from expectations...” Latrielle muttered. He had expected the enemy army to once again fight from within the fortress, considering that it had worked for them during their previous battle.
Even so, Regis was calm. “This should not be an issue,” he said. “This opening is within the realm of developments I am prepared for, and the on-site commanders have already been informed.”
“Hm.”
Germain cocked his head to one side. “Isn’t there something strange about the enemy vanguard...?”
It seemed that Germain had good eyesight. Regis wasn’t quite so fortunate—he couldn’t make out the enemy in much detail from their current location—but he was more focused on the time. He glanced at his pocket watch again and again, until eventually...
“It’s time.”
Smoke erupted from the cannons being dragged along by the artillery soldiers. There was a brief moment of quiet, and then came the shockwave, powerful enough that Regis felt as though he had crashed into a wall of air. The boom reverberated not just through his eardrums, but through his entire body. It was a simultaneous barrage that caused the very earth to tremble beneath him.
At almost that very same instant, a great noise came from behind them as well. It was the sound of their preparations coming together.
We’re going to be in quite some trouble if this doesn’t work properly... Regis thought.
It was at this moment that the First Army broke into a charge. They needed to draw the enemy’s attention.
“Looks like we’re up against an even mix of High Britannians and Langobarts. Around twenty thousand soldiers in total.”
Latrielle nodded. “They have rifles and a numerical advantage; they must think they can seize a quick and easy victory on the open plains. Quite the aggressive tactic.”
Is that enough of a reason for them to leave a sturdy fortress though? Or do they have another plan?
The distance closed between the two armies. Since their guns had superior range, High Britannia were the first to open fire. There wasn’t much that could be done about this; Belgaria had prototypes of the Fusil 851, but it had yet to enter mass production. Perhaps it would become more readily available in a year’s time, but it was impossible to assemble enough for this battle.
The two armies grew even closer.
“Mn...” Germain groaned. “Why haven’t we started returning fire?”
“Indeed,” Latrielle noted. “I don’t hear any gunshots from our side.”
“They should already be within range...”
The Belgarian Army was being one-sidedly fired upon. It was a sight that sparked unrest in all those who watched.
“Message! We have a message!”
A horseman raced in, dismounted in front of the second prince, and then dropped to one knee. “The enemy’s front line consists of bound captives!” he shouted. “They’re using our civilians as shields!”
“What?!”
Latrielle’s crimson eyes took on a darker shade. Regis, meanwhile, could feel an uncomfortable heat rise up from the pit of his stomach.
What sort of strategy is that...?!
“Those scoundrels!” Germain spat. “Is that what the leader of a nation should do?!”
Accompanying the enemy army was High Britannia’s new queen. Blowing up her own subordinates was bad enough, but using captured civilians as shields would earn her the ire of all the surrounding nations, regardless of whether she was acting in the midst of a war.
“Our front line is in disarray!” Germain cried out. “Your Highness, we need to pull back and—”
“No! We’ve already started the device!” Latrielle interrupted. “We need to maintain the line, no matter what!” But as things were, the Belgarian Army might as well have been standing before a firing squad.
This battle was already reckless enough. They were attempting to best an opponent who had superior equipment, a numerical advantage, and a captured stronghold. Regis wished that he’d had a night—no, even just an hour—to consider the situation. Perhaps then he would think up some wonderful countermeasure. But a single late response could prove fatal; unless he made a decision this very instant, the entire battle would be lost.
I don’t know if we can save the civilians, but we can at least circumvent them. The enemy army isn’t as well trained as ours, and if they’re dragging along hostages who have no will to fight, it should be impossible for them to quickly change formation. If we take a detour to mess with their ranks and send in the cavalry...
Regis was partway through formulating a countermeasure when Latrielle gave a sudden order.
“Return fire! There’s no way for us to save the civilians!”
Regis promptly shut his half-open mouth. Avoiding a head-on engagement would cause the Belgarian Army to lose more soldiers than anticipated, so Latrielle’s decision would ultimately reduce their number of casualties.
And we’ll only cause confusion if we try to retract the order now.
A number of messengers had already raced off to relay the prince’s message, and the soldiers had already begun their charge after seeing the smoke signal. With the direction of the wind in mind, the smoke tower had been erected just slightly east of their headquarters, and the fire burned continuously. By throwing in gunpowder, it was possible to give the smoke color.
Soon enough, the First Army began its counteroffensive. Foot soldiers charged forward into the seemingly endless barrage of gunfire, but they were no fools; their frontmost lines consisted of men with sturdy shields, protecting them at least partially from the onslaught.
These defenses were by no means perfect, however—the soldiers soon came close enough that the bullets could pierce through the metal. It was impossible to arm the men with shields thick enough to withstand the blast, as a shield that was too large would be impossible to hold.
The First Army eventually managed to close the distance and achieve some results with their spears, but their situation wasn’t looking much better than when the Seventh Army had lost at La Frenge. The war was harsher than anticipated.
“Send out Batteren’s White Hares from the left flank!” Latrielle barked. “Attack the enemy’s right flank and collapse their rank of guns!”
“But sire, that would mean putting them in range of the city’s cannons!” Germain warned, but the second prince refused to rescind the order.
“That is precisely why the enemy is keeping watch of our right flank instead. We will not be able to stir them up unless we take them by surprise. It won’t be so easy to take horsemen out with cannons!”
“Understood, sir!”
The messengers raced out, and a new smoke signal colored the sky. This method of communication was faster, but the imperial army still relied on messengers to convey the actual intent of each action. These measures proactively worked together within the unit.
So this is how the First Army does things... Regis mused. Latrielle took full command. His adjutant Germain would weigh in whenever he had any doubts, but never did their opinions seem to fully clash.
In one corner of the camp, Regis muttered to himself. “Perhaps it was a little too upfront to take them by surprise...”
✧ ✧ ✧
The White Hares advanced from the left flank, yet the nimble cavalry soon collapsed, tripping over what appeared to be nothing at all.
Did they set a trap...?
“Curses!” Latrielle snarled. “Stop the Hares’ advance!” It was an urgent command, but it would take some time to change the smoke signal. They would then need to wait for those on the chaotic front lines to notice the order.
Germain groaned. “It seems they anticipated our move. That man is as terrifying as ever...”
The enemy had completely dominated the scene by using captured civilians as shields, and then set traps where the First Army were most likely to go on the offensive, presumably having used the cover of night to dig holes. Casualties and losses were thankfully being contained to a minimum, but their current circumstances meant another cavalry charge wouldn’t be easy.
The soldiers of the two armies had already made contact and were now engaged in close-quarters combat. High Britannia had already proven that its formation of shields and rifles was incredibly effective, and this time was no different; at this rate, the battle would end the same as with the Seventh Army.
Regis looked up at Latrielle, who was sitting atop his horse. “Marshal General, sir. Please bring the left flank even farther back.”
“What?”
“What are you planning here, Regis?”
Both Latrielle and Germain expressed their confusion in turn, but it took only a brief moment of thought for the second prince to shift to action.
“Very well. Let us see your tactics. Send a messenger to Batteren.”
Latrielle had the courage to trust his men. He knew that wasting time on an explanation would only lower their chance of success.
The messenger hurried over, awaiting the order that he was to deliver.
“Have the White Hares pass behind our main unit, even farther than our right flank; then have them climb the slopes and circle behind our opponent,” Regis said. “We need to take the enemy’s rear, but if the enemy has countermeasures in place, tell the Hares to pull back.”
“Understood!”
The messengers of the First Army were skilled at what they did, and so the message got through at an alarming rate. The knights immediately moved as told.
It was only twenty-eight past two, so the battlefield was perfectly visible. Once night fell, however, it would not only become harder for combatants to see one another, it would also become difficult for messengers to reach their destinations. Smoke signals would similarly lose their effectiveness.
Of course, this all depended on the amount of moonlight, but it would prove essentially impossible to conduct any large-scale combat maneuvers with any sense of coordination. Night raids with smaller units would most likely be their only potent means of attack.
In any case, this was a battle that needed to reach its conclusion before sunset.
A strong wind raced down from the summit as the White Hares carried out their orders, darting behind the other units and circling around farther than the right flank in an attempt to reach the enemy’s rear. The High Britannian Army shifted its left flank in response.
Regis nodded. “They’re falling apart, leaving themselves open to our right flank.”
The Empire’s right flank was captained by Olbath’s White Tiger Brigade, who instantly broke into a charge, unwilling to let this opportunity pass them by. There were traps laid out in their path, as expected, but the imperial army now knew to expect them, so they did not fall into chaos this time.
“We’ve bitten into the enemy’s left flank!” Germain cried. “Those seem to be knights from Langobarti. They fight well, but they won’t hold against a joint attack from the Tigers and the Hares!”
“Splendid,” Latrielle replied.
“Oh... The enemy retreats!”
“Pursue them! But do not rush. We don’t know what traps they have waiting for us.”
“Understood! I’ll order them to proceed with caution.”
For a moment, Belgaria’s main force had started to crumble, but the main camp received a surge of energy once they managed to push back the enemy. The stifling mood took a complete turn, and spirited voices rang out all around.
Latrielle dismounted his horse to stand beside Regis. “This success comes as no surprise. You did well in realizing the enemy’s weak point was their left flank.”
Regis shook his head. “No, I’d say it was their right flank that failed to take action.”
“How do you figure?”
“Perhaps they simply weren’t as nimble as the White Hares, but when our formation changed, they kept pushing forward instead of assisting their left flank.”
“True, but had their right flank managed to push far enough, they could have flanked our main infantry unit.”
“Indeed. I’m sure that’s what they were going for,” Regis replied. He had naturally thought up countermeasures for such a situation, but it seemed they were no longer necessary.
Latrielle gazed over the battlefield. “I see now... Not only are High Britannia’s soldiers poorly trained, but they’ve also formed an alliance with the foreign Langobart Army. Attacking their left flank proved so effective because they were unable to coordinate with the rest of their forces. You realized that, I assume?”
“Yes. New recruits and mixed armies are surprisingly competent when it comes to combat, but they often fall apart when required to suddenly change formation or direction.”
Regis had experienced this firsthand with the Fourth Army, whose lack of coordination training had allowed Mercenary King Gilbert to charge all the way into the troop headquarters. They had only been saved back then because Altina had managed to defeat him one-on-one, and while it might not have been the best experience, it was certainly a useful one.
“The men of the First Army are well-trained, and it is for precisely this reason that we rarely consider the weaknesses of a poorly trained army,” Latrielle said with a sigh. He had assumed it was only natural for an army to move and change formation as commanded, so such an idea had never even occurred to him.
“I’m glad everything went smoothly,” Regis said.
“Indeed. A splendid plan from an experienced tactician.”
“Me? Oh, I, err... Thank you for the compliment, sir.”
Regis was surprised to hear someone describe him as “experienced,” but it was during that moment that he realized—this plan wasn’t one he had taken from a book, but rather one based entirely on his own personal experiences. That wasn’t to say it was a completely novel scheme, of course; there were countless other stories that involved a similar tactic, more than he could count on both hands.
Even so, the point remained that Regis had put together his own plan. Without that experience to draw from, he might have proposed something less practical, or perhaps even nothing at all.
Am I getting used to this?
Germain jumped down from his horse as well, unable to stay mounted while his lord was standing. “The enemy has regrouped,” he said. “Their front line is once again secured.”
“They outnumber us, but if a drawn-out battle is what they’re hoping for, that works nicely in our favor.”
“Yes! That was a splendid play from Regis!” Germain exclaimed. His unexpected compliment was enough to make the tactician feel ever so slightly warm and fuzzy.
Regis glanced down at the river below. “The water level has gone down quite a bit...” he noted.
“Indeed,” Latrielle replied. “Has the enemy noticed yet?”
Germain stared at the fort, squinting in an attempt to see better. “Hm... They have yet to react, so I presume they haven’t.”
Regis took out his pocket watch. It had not yet struck three. “We’d need about another hour...” he murmured.
“The front lines have reached a stalemate. If we allow the situation to remain calm for much longer, we will have failed to keep High Britannia’s attention. We’ll need one more distraction—something they won’t be able to ignore.”
That something came from an unforeseen direction.
✧ ✧ ✧
Four trails of smoke rose into the sky from the mountain to the east—one white, one black, one purple, and one red. Latrielle scrutinized them carefully.
“An enemy smoke signal so deep in the mountains...?”
“I’ll send scouts at once,” Germain said, conveying the order at once.
Regis looked on curiously. Smoke signals were normally only sent by a strategic headquarters to convey information to the troops on the front lines, or by scouts to send messages back to headquarters. What purpose could raising one in the eastern mountains serve? He knew with all certainty that the imperial army wasn’t stationed there, and there was no obvious value to the enemy stationing themselves there. Perhaps it was to signal the start of an ambush, but there was no good reason for them to announce it so brazenly.
“A third party...?”
“What?!” Latrielle cried in response to Regis’s muttering.
“Ah. Yes, well... If you eliminate all the impossible explanations, the only conclusion I can come to is that these are orders from someone else’s headquarters.”
There was a chance that these weren’t signals at all, but it was hard to believe that four different-colored plumes of smoke would rise into the air by mere coincidence, especially now of all times.
“Regis, are you saying there’s another army stationed among the mountains? They’re sending orders of some sort, but...where are the soldiers these orders are meant for? That’s the issue. They can’t be behind us, can they?”
“If they were indeed stationed at our rear, they wouldn’t risk giving away that information like this.”
“True.”
“Not to mention we have a reasonably wide search perimeter. I’m sure we’d spot an ambush in time to manage.”
“Hm... But what of our sappers?”
“They would send us a report if they were attacked. We are still receiving regular updates from them without delay, so I am led to believe they are fine.”
“Then what is the point of these new signals, and who are they addressed to...?” Latrielle mused aloud. It truly was an uncanny development.
It was then that Germain suddenly pointed toward the battlefield. “A portion of the enemy army is retreating!” he cried.
Regis and Latrielle followed Germain’s finger to a unit slipping out from the center of the enemy’s formation. An army that lost soldiers in the midst of a battle was naturally put at a disadvantage, but this group making its way out seemed to be a gathering of elites, so the effects were especially palpable. The High Britannian Army collapsed like a building that had suddenly lost its foundations, allowing the imperial troops to breach its core.
Latrielle folded his arms. “I see. So this was what the smoke signal was for.”
“Is this a rebellion?” Regis wondered. “Judging by their equipment, it seems these deserters are a band of mercenaries.”
“Mercenaries. It’s not rare for mercenaries to flee a losing battle, but...”
“Something isn’t quite right.”
“Indeed. Something is very off. Our foe is not at a decisive disadvantage; on the contrary, the simple fact they have the fortress makes them more likely to claim victory. Mercenaries have all the incentive to remain in a winning battle, since triumph will earn them riches, and desertion will completely tarnish their reputation. They would only leave formation if they thought the battle was as good as over.”
“Or perhaps,” Regis muttered to himself, “someone is onto our plan?”
“What?!”
“I can’t say whether they really have figured it out, but...perhaps they realized that our victory is inevitable, and that they would only be annihilated if they stayed any longer. Otherwise, it would be unnatural for a mercenary brigade to drop out now.”
As the second prince had said, abandoning a battle would do irrecoverable damage to a mercenary’s reputation, such that they might even be forced to close up shop.
Latrielle cocked his head. “Regis, I take it you think the commander of the mercenary brigade is the one who raised that signal.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Thankfully, our scouts are headed there either way,” Germain said, but he was being much too optimistic.
“If that was indeed an order to desert, the mercenaries aren’t going to be gathering where the smoke was raised,” Regis explained. “Both armies know that location.”
“Nhh...”
Regis looked over the situation once more before making a proposal. “Marshal General, please give the troops an order not to push too far.”
“They were already given that order before the battle started, but it appears some are now struggling to obey. High Britannia’s vile tactics are getting to them.”
Since the beginning of the war, the First Army had fallen victim to a surprise attack and a suicide bombing. Now they were losing a great many allies to the enemy’s inhumane strategy of using captives as shields, so it was only natural that they would start behaving more belligerently than usual. This wouldn’t have been much of an issue if victory was guaranteed, but...
“I think the enemy has reinforcements,” Regis said. “Please pull the troops back.”
“What...?” Latrielle stared out into the distance, but he could see no sign of any reinforcements.
Germain looked at Regis quizzically. “Where will they come from? The fortress?”
“There’s something strange about the direction in which the enemy are retreating. They’re not headed for the fortress; they’re simply pulling back,” Regis said.
“Is that not a sign their chain of command has fallen apart?”
“When soldiers take flight on their own, Sir Germain, it is to the closest point of safety. Under any other circumstances, they would run for the fortress.”
“But falling back before the reinforcements have even appeared is grounds to be branded a coward,” Germain rebutted.
Regis could already tell where this was going—his proposal was about to be rejected. In the past, he would have backed down at such a juncture, but now...
I can’t give up! Otherwise, I’m just going to repeat the same mistake as before!
“Please rethink this,” Regis said. “It will be too late for us to act once the reinforcements are here.”
“But Regis—”
Latrielle, who had been listening to their exchange, abruptly summoned a messenger. “We have reason to believe there are enemy reinforcements! Stop the pursuit, and prepare to face them at once!”
“My lord...?!”
Germain was considerably shocked to see Latrielle take Regis’s proposal over his own. If this prediction proved incorrect and no enemy reinforcements arrived, Regis’s standing being damaged would be the least of their worries. However, the tactician had (somewhat unfortunately) hit the mark: the enemy appeared from the north, heading downstream from the Kingdom of Langobarti. A dust cloud was kicked up as their horsemen charged.
Latrielle clicked his tongue. “Langobart reinforcements. This must be why they left the fortress to fight on the plains.”
Defense was no longer an option.
“General, please order our units to circle clockwise.”
“What are you...?” Germain was partway through a question when he decided to fall silent, not wanting to get in the way of their tactician’s plans.
“Very well,” Latrielle said with a nod. “I leave the remaining time to you, Regis.”
Thirty minutes had passed since Regis had said he would need another hour. Latrielle had passed the baton to him for the remaining thirty minutes.
Regis clenched his hands, which were drenched with sweat. “Yes, sir.”
Does this mean I’m commanding the First Army now? That’s a heavy responsibility, to say the least...
Nevertheless, it was too late for him to drop out due to a lack of confidence. He issued one order after the next:
“Tell the White Hares to circle clockwise. Then, to fill the gap this is going to leave in our left flank, have the rest of our forces circle counterclockwise.”
“Our maneuver has stirred the enemy’s right flank. Send the twelfth infantry there at once. Do not enter their formation, and retreat when possible.”
“Send the Hares on another charge. Have them aid the infantry in their escape. Elite horsemen will come to reinforce their crumbling right flank. Have both units quickly retreat.”
“Tell the White Tigers to charge the enemy’s left flank, now that their horsemen have left. Have the first through third infantry units attack as well.”
“The enemy general will abandon his flanks and launch an attack with his central forces. Have the fourth through tenth infantry units circle clockwise and the eleventh through eighteenth circle counterclockwise to avoid an engagement. Once the High Britannian Army is caught between our troops, we can attack from both sides. Do not push too hard, though; we can allow ourselves to be breached. We are merely buying time, after all.”
Sending such complex orders via smoke signals simply wasn’t possible, so the First Army were relying on messengers. On this vast battlefield, however, it took over five minutes for each command to reach its destination.
Not just Latrielle and Germain, but even the messengers looked at Regis with confusion as he sent them out. The tactician’s orders never seemed to match up with the situation before their eyes. Germain was sure that his lord would at some point intervene, but...he instead watched the developments in silence.
✧ ✧ ✧
The man taking on-site command of the mixed High Britannian and Langobart forces was Paul Langschultz, the new king of the Langobarts. Despite the intrepid expression on his face, he was only in his mid-twenties—notably young for someone in his position.
Paul was completely enamored with Margaret Stillart, the new queen of the High Britannians, and it was precisely because she had expressed her boredom at being holed up in the fortress that he had taken the battle out into the open. This decision had absolutely nothing to do with the way she had pulled up her dress as she spoke, bringing the hem up just enough to reveal her thigh. At the very least, Paul himself considered it irrelevant.
“Ah! I’ve been waiting for you, Ricks! Glad you could make it!”
Paul raised a hand to the leader of the horsemen who had just joined his ranks. The soldiers around the man cheered. Somehow or another, they were recovering the morale they had lost when they were unable to keep up with their enemy’s movements and when the mercenaries had fled.
“Okay, this is our chance!” Paul declared. “We’ll wipe out those damn Galians! Send the riflemen out front!”
Paul was a stubborn man who stuck to regulations, but he was broad-minded enough to incorporate new technologies into his tactics. It was for this reason that he was already making use of the new High Britannian rifles—the Belgarian Army did not possess such capable firearms, meaning they had no choice but to attack like savage beasts. In this time, Paul could whittle down the enemy advance force with gunfire and send the reinforcement horsemen out to flank them.
Paul always made the right decision, and in his eyes, today was no different—he had taken an accurate measure to keep losses to a minimum while maximizing military gains. But the developments that followed caused his face to cloud over.
“What...?!”
The enemy unit didn’t attempt to charge as he had anticipated, but rather circled around to the left, completely circumventing the battlefield.
“Hm. So they plan to take our flank, do they? How petty!”
Belgaria had used the same tactic mere moments ago to stab into his army’s left flank, which had subsequently fallen apart due to a lack of coordination with the main unit.
Paul gave an order. “Send a messenger to Ricks! Tell him to support the left flank!”
These reinforcements were different from High Britannia’s poorly trained soldiers, since they could fight on equal footing with the knights of the Empire. On top of this, Paul repositioned the riflemen to an area they could match the enemy. His troops moved slower, but this was a simple change in formation. The imperial army was making a far more dramatic move, racing up the side of a mountain, no less.
We can take them.
“Hm?!”
“Sire! The Empire’s knights have reversed direction!”
“I can see that!”
It was the White Hare Brigade, judging by the flag they were flying. This unit had originally been at the enemy’s left flank, but now...
Damn it. They keep dodging all over the place!
“Call the riflemen back! Have our right flank deal with them!”
The king’s orders were swiftly conveyed, but the riflemen, armed with their heavy guns and massive shields, were weighed down more than normal infantry. To make matters more complicated, right after receiving an order to change formation to face left, they were immediately being ordered to return right.
The act of returning carried a harsh psychological burden on the troops; they were already physically fatigued, and these orders only made their movements even more sluggish. These were not war horses trained to endure long sprints—they were men who had grown up learning to complain.
“The enemy infantry is charging!” Paul’s adjutant shrieked.
“What?! Now?!”
A portion of the Belgarian Army’s foot soldiers were suddenly closing the distance. It was as though they knew the right flank was going to be in disarray.
They read me like a book. They knew I would respond to the White Hares by having the riflemen come back, and they knew that my formation would be vulnerable as a result.
“Hmph! Talk about naive! That won’t be enough to break through our ranks! Send Ricks’s men to the right flank!”
I was right to call my elites from the motherland...
Belgaria’s horsemen were strong and moved at a blinding speed, and when those beasts were running laps around the battlefield, it was too much of a hassle to have High Britannia’s ill-trained riflemen attempt to deal with them. Paul was sure there wouldn’t be any major issues, however, since he had Ricks’s knights supporting him. When their infantries clashed, the rifles gave his own army the advantage.
We can win this!
Paul envisioned himself presenting this victory to Queen Margaret herself, but he was cruelly dragged from his fantasy by the cries of an attack—cries that came from where he least expected. The enemy had charged not toward the right flank where he had sent the knights, but toward the left flank he had taken them from.
He knew I would send reinforcements to the right?!
The enemy couldn’t possibly have reacted so swiftly if they were simply reacting to the king’s orders as they were carried out. Even if a commander on horseback was watching closely for his army’s weakness, it would take a considerable amount of time for the order to reach the troops. In other words, the enemy commander must have set his countermeasures in motion before Paul was even able to give a command.
“No, that’s ridiculous...” Paul murmured. For his assumption to be true, not only would the enemy need to have anticipated his next move, but they would also need to have accurately predicted when he would make them. “Impossible... This has to be a coincidence.”
Regardless, the imperial army was attacking the left flank—this much was undeniably real. And now that Paul had moved the knights, his forces were at risk of completely falling apart.
“Ghh... I am Paul Langschultz! The enemy is focusing on our flanks; their center has grown thin! We will tear them apart from the inside out! Charge!”
Paul drew his longsword and thrust it straight out as he gave the order. The soldiers around him, who had started to falter, raised fierce cries in response. The messengers spread the order, the bugles sounded, and then the charge commenced.
“Vorstoβ! Hraaah!”
But no sooner had the order been given than the enemy parted to either side, as though they had expected such a move from the very beginning. Paul could only watch as his flanks were taken by a practically unscathed foe, and once again, he questioned how such a development was even possible. There was no way the Belgarian commander could have known to execute such a maneuver the very moment the king ordered the charge.
“Urk...” Paul sputtered, his expression growing stiff. “I-Inconceivable... This can’t be happening!”
“Your Majesty!” his adjutant called. “We are being pincered from both sides!”
“I know that!”
Paul was taking the perfect measures for the situation, but at the same time, the enemy was issuing the perfect measures to counter him. This was a nightmare—his central unit was being eaten away from both sides, and his soldiers were falling one after another. To make matters worse, he had sent his troops to an area of the battlefield that the enemy no longer occupied. Those in crowded formations could not see their surroundings as well as a commander on horseback, so they could only act on their orders in earnest.
“Ghh...” Paul groaned. “How did they know I was going to order a charge...?!”
There had not been a single opportunity for the king’s riflemen to take aim and fire; all their attention was focused on the empty space where the enemy was supposed to be. They were being toyed with by the speed and mobility of the Empire’s horsemen. It was as though he was presenting every opportunity for them, thinning out his forces wherever the imperial army was set to attack, and subsequently exposing his flanks.
What’s going on? It’s like he’s reading my mind.
“Grr... The enemy commander... I’ve heard rumors that he’s to become the next emperor. To think he’s this good...” Paul growled.
“What shall we do, Your Majesty?!” the king’s staff officer asked. “Our losses are great, and there is little merit in continuing this battle!”
“You fool! Are you saying we should retreat?! When we outnumber our foe—when we have the finest rifles from High Britannia—you’re telling me to pathetically order a retreat without achieving a thing?!”
“B-But sire...”
“The eyes of all nations are on this battle, and you’re asking me to drag Langobarti’s name through the dirt?! To chicken out now?!”
“No, sir! My apologies, sir!”
Paul had taken in young generals who shared his disposition. They shared a strong sense of unity, but there were no seasoned old men to teach him when it was time to quit.
✧ ✧ ✧
“Wh-What exactly...happened here...? How can you predict the enemy like this? Is it more than just a name...? Are you really a wizard...?” Germain asked, seeming even more shocked than the enemy. Latrielle was looking on with equally wide-eyed disbelief.
Regis scratched his head. “No, not at all. Um... Given the flag his troops have raised, the enemy commander seems to be the king of Langobarti, correct?”
“So it seems.”
They had spotted the king’s flag in the center of the army, but his skills as a commander were as of yet unknown. There were very few records of the imperial army having engaged with them, and perhaps he had a tactician as well.
“Yes, well... Whether it is the king or his advisors, it does not matter who is making the plans. I discerned that their commander is faithful to the fundamentals of combat, that they learn quickly, and that their messengers are excellent. After that, it was easy to predict their movements.”
“Wh—? You know that much about the nature of their commander? How?”
“Before the enemy reinforcements arrived—when we had the Hares circle from the left flank around our entire army to attack their left flank...”
“What about it?”
“After seeing their response and the formation they built as they reorganized, I could tell that Langobarti’s king—or perhaps his tactician—adhered to the basics and deeply regretted his failures. I was also able to learn how quickly his orders were carried.”
“Now that you mention it, I can see how you were able to figure those things out...but I don’t think any of those traits are necessarily bad things.”
“Being predictable is not a good trait. The damage the White Hares caused made a strong impression on their commander, enough so that he would attempt to counter them with his most reliable unit. I had no doubt they would send the pristine knights who had just come as reinforcements.”
Latrielle nodded. “That much I can understand.”
“Because of that, their left flank—where they originally stationed those horsemen—would need to reorganize,” Regis continued.
“How did you know when exactly they would move?”
“It was simply a repeat of our first command. I had already seen how quickly the White Hares could respond to a circling order and how long it would take the enemy to react.”
“How could you have known it would happen exactly the same way again though?”
“There’s quite a discrepancy if one or two people are acting alone. But with armies this large, it usually turns out surprisingly consistent.”
Latrielle wore an unconvinced expression, but he could not think of any concrete examples to the contrary. Instead, he changed his question. “I know why their left flank was arbitrarily thrown into disarray, but why did the enemy charge with their center rather than supporting their flank?”
“Because of the regret their commander was feeling. He was late to respond to our first attack, which resulted in his left flank being taken apart. In an attempt to counter our next move, he sent his fastest horsemen to the right, which ultimately resulted in his left crumbling again. After two such failures, he would not repeat the same mistake; he would not choose to send any other unit besides his own.”
Latrielle thought for a moment. “That makes a certain kind of sense, but you mentioned a discrepancy in one or two people acting alone. Does this not apply to their commander? How can you be so sure he would not act on a whim?”
“In such a case, our preparations for their charge would have indeed been wasted. In essence, we were playing Rochambeau while our opponent was only able to choose rock or paper. We naturally went with paper, meaning the worst-case scenario was match nul.”
An enemy commander who understood all of this and wanted to use it against the imperial army would have chosen a different approach a long time ago.
Regis shrugged. “Well, to be blunt...the enemy commander is simply far too honest.”
Latrielle and Germain looked at Regis dubiously, causing the tactician to panic for a moment. Altina and Jerome would normally look at least a little impressed when he gave an explanation after a plan had succeeded, but this was something else.
Are they looking at me with surprise? No, that doesn’t seem to be the case...
In truth, the emotion they held was awe, but Regis had such low self-assessment that he was unable to realize this. A thought suddenly struck him, prompting him to glance down at his watch.
“We’re a little off schedule, but...it’s time.”
Just as planned, stopping the current upstream had caused the river to take on a completely new face; almost no water remained in the channels that surrounded Grebeauvoir. Now, even those who did not share Third-Grade Combat Officer Varèse’s impressive lung capacity could access the city, for there were holes in the iron district walls wide enough for several people to pass through at once.
