II
The Royal Army Command Room at Galia Fortress
After making his way to Galia Fortress, Colonel Neinhardt was taken to Paul to convey the plan for the First and Seventh Legions to cooperate in retaking Fort Caspar. Colonel Otto scanned the battle plan documents, frowning occasionally.
“...I see. Well, this has Lambert written all over it,” Otto said. “If we did take Fort Caspar, it would alleviate a lot of our present worries. And it allows us to mobilize a good-sized force when the time comes to retake Fort Kier... And yet...” He trailed off. Paul sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The smoke from his cigarette hung in the air in a thick cloud.
“Something troubles you, my lord?” said Neinhardt slowly.
“Hmm. Many things trouble me, but right now what I don’t understand is why we’re pushing to take back Kier Fortress at a time like this. Well. It must be hard, getting old.” Otto smirked slightly at the hidden insult in Paul’s words. Watching them, Neinhardt’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles.
So General Paul and Colonel Otto intend to oppose the plan, he thought.
The plan to recapture Kier Fortress had come from King Alfonse himself. Although Paul had been indirect, he could still have easily been called up for insubordination. But Neinhardt was content not to comment on it. The truth was that personally, he felt the same. And while neither Cornelius nor Lambert would ever say it, he suspected they did too.
Alfonse’s order was just too dangerous.
The king was no fool, but he had ascended the throne at a bad time. He had only ruled for two years when Ramza the Good announced his war of unification. If they were at peace, he could have taken his time learning how to rule wisely, but instead the kingdom became embroiled in a war that had them on the brink of total annihilation. Not afforded the time to learn, he was just incapable of responding to the rapid developments of wartime.
So, out of desperation, Alfonse had come up with this plan for the First Legion to retake Kier Fortress. Fernest’s slide towards defeat had begun when the fortress had been captured, and he probably thought that if only they took it back, they could get the upper hand.
It was with this train of speculation and reasoning in mind that Neinhardt admonished Paul.
“I understand your feeling, General Paul, but such are His Majesty’s orders. And the fact is that we can’t turn the tide of the war by just pouring everything into defense.”
“...Can’t argue with that. Forgive me, I’ve gotten us off track. In this plan where we march on Fort Caspar, where do you expect the imperials to meet us?”
Neinhardt pointed to a location on the map spread out on the table in front of them. Otto gave a large nod of agreement.
“The imperial army will set up formation on the Plains of Ilys. Its geography is ideal for moving a large force. We’ll have to send our troops through here as well.”
Crossing the Plains of Ilys was the shortest route to Fort Caspar. The only other roads went either through a vast forest or along a winding, narrow canyon. Neither option was remotely direct, nor good terrain for moving large numbers of troops. The plains were the only realistic option.
“Agreed. Which means we’ll have to cut through the imperials right at the start and get to Fort Caspar quick. You really don’t send us easy missions,” Paul said heavily. Neinhardt nodded without replying. With the First and Seventh Legions combined, they would have fifty-five thousand soldiers against the estimated fifty thousand imperials at Fort Caspar. They had the greater numbers, and on the battlefield that could make even a good strategy fall apart at the seams. The royal army should theoretically have had the advantage.
Things would change quickly, though, if reinforcements arrived from Kier Fortress. He knew as surely as he knew anything that the royal army would be forced to retreat. That was what Paul had been talking about, and Neinhardt didn’t have a good answer for that. Otto frowned, his mouth drawn tight in a thin line.
The three of them sat there in leaden silence when suddenly, there was a knock at the door. “Enter!” Otto barked, and a single soldier let himself in.
“Is there an emergency?”
“I’m very sorry for the interruption, ser. A messenger from Warrant Officer Olivia’s platoon has just arrived back with the report that they secured Fort Lamburke.”
“Well, well! That is good news.”
“The bandits were all dispatched and they have moved on to their next objective.”
“Very good. I’ll send new instructions for them later today. Tell the messenger to wait.”
“Yes, ser!” said the soldier, and marched out again. These unexpected, glad tidings lightened the mood in the room considerably, mostly thanks to Paul, whose expression relaxed.
“Oho ho. Warrant Officer Olivia has done a fine job, it seems. I mustn’t forget to get that extra-large cake ready for when she returns, or she’ll be cross,” said Paul. Otto sighed.
“Again with that nonsense... If you’re not careful, she’ll become full of herself.”
“Oh, don’t be so crabby,” said Paul with a hearty laugh. Otto let out another deep sigh, shaking his head in indignation. As a fellow aide, Neinhardt felt a rush of sympathy for Otto—but right now he had something more important to think about.
“Excuse me, but were you just discussing Warrant Officer Olivia?” he asked Otto urgently.
“Eh? Yes, that’s right. I mentioned her in my report, I believe.”
It’s her. But by the sounds of it, she’s not here now...
He knew he was letting his personal feelings get mixed up in his work, but meeting Olivia, thanking her, had been his one reason for coming to Galia Fortress.
“Is there something wrong, Colonel? You look ill at ease.”
“Oh, um, sorry. It’s just that General Florenz was a dear friend of mine, before Samuel killed him. Seeing as the warrant officer has avenged him, after a fashion, I wanted to offer her my thanks.”
“General Florenz? You don’t say... He was a good man,” murmured Paul, rubbing his balding forehead. He spoke few words, but Neinhardt felt the depth and sincerity of his condolences.
“Thank you, my lord. I am sure General Florenz is happy to hear you say that too.”
“I wonder,” Paul said, stubbing out his cigarette. The leaden atmosphere from earlier seemed ready to return, but then Otto clapped his hands with a sudden realization.
“What?” said Paul. “You’ve thought of something?”
“I have indeed. There’s something I’d like to try that, if we pull it off, could have us set up in Fort Caspar before reinforcements can arrive.”
“Well, as much as I’m pleased to hear that...” said Paul, sounding apprehensive, “is this going to involve Warrant Officer Olivia again?” Otto gave a crooked smile.
“My lord, Olivia is currently the strongest piece the Seventh Legion has on the board. We have to use her as much as we can—especially if it could improve our chances of succeeding in taking back Kier Fortress.”
“Oh, very well, very well. Let’s hear this plan of yours, then,” said Paul, resigned. Otto gave an exaggerated cough, then paused before going to the map and beginning to explain his idea.
Neinhardt was, if he were honest, taken aback. Otto was a dyed-in-the-wool realist. He never inflated or played down his assessment of a military asset, whether they be ally or enemy. But now he was calling this Olivia the Seventh Legion’s “strongest piece.” Neinhardt was more eager than ever to find out who she was.
This is the girl who brought down Samuel, crazy though that still sounds. She must be a fearsome sight, he concluded, and settled in to hear Otto’s plan.
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