Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 25 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Two-Headed Snake Scowls

Countless tents surrounded the fortress city of Jermuk and all the soldiers had formed ranks and marched. The tips of all their spears gleamed as bright as icicles shining in the sunlight.

The campsite, which blocked the entrance to the castle, also stretched along the roads, acting as a wall to ensure no messengers or escapees could get out.

While they were sixty thousand men strong, it wasn’t realistic to surround a city. That was especially true when their target was the key to the Kingdom of Myest’s defense, Jermuk. Even if they successfully blockaded all the important locations, they couldn’t claim their siege was so secure that not even an ant could crawl out of Jermuk.

Regardless, the generals who led the allied armies were all too aware of that. They had even put together a contingency plan. If they knew there was a hole somewhere, they could guard it and set up a net to catch any escapees.

About two months had passed since they began their siege of Jermuk. The messengers from Jermuk sent to spread the word and seek aid, and the spies sent to get an idea of the situation had all ended up as corpses.

The allied armies had also been occupied with gathering information on the Kingdom of Myest while maintaining control of the siege. These groups had a good grasp on information about the Kingdom of Myest due to the continuous questioning of prisoners of war and the spies they had sent to other countries.

Furthermore, the spies learned of the current discord over the nobles’ financial differences and the reason reinforcements for Jermuk had been delayed. They also knew that an army of reinforcements, led by the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, was also headed their way.

Both outcomes were among the several that the generals of the allied forces had already anticipated. The fortress city of Jermuk was simply bait laid out to lure bigger prey.

Defeating the reinforcements out in the field was one of their objectives during the siege of Jermuk. The fortress’s role as bait was about to come to an end amid various intersecting schemes.

The fateful day had almost arrived.

It had been two days since Ryoma met with Ecclesia Marinelle and left the royal capital, Endesia, with his forty-thousand-strong army.

The light rain from the morning progressed into heavy rainfall. All this made it appear the gods were purifying the land before the vicious war that was to come.

A group of soldiers in full suits of armor occupied a forest several kilometers from Jermuk that day. The area was once a communal space where nearby residents would collect firewood.

Ryoma Mikoshiba stood among the soldiers and observed his surroundings. He wore black armor, with the sword Kikoku hanging from his belt.

This armor is awesome. It’s lightweight and lets me keep my stamina. Without the endowed thaumaturgy, I would be exhausted trying to move in it. But I’m ready to go into battle even now... When I asked Nelcius and the others to make it, they requested a lot of tobacco and tea, but this made it totally worth it.

Usually, it would take around five days to reach the fortress city of Jermuk from the southernmost part of the royal capital, Endesia. Since this march would be followed by battle, six days was a more likely guess.

And yet Ryoma Mikoshiba and his army had completed the journey in just two days, having marched at an incredible speed.

If they had taken extreme measures to shorten their travel time, the soldiers would have been exhausted. By the time they arrived at the battlefield, the soldiers would have been unable to fight and would need time to recuperate. That was why most generals had to keep their soldiers’ fatigue in mind as they marched; this was common knowledge when leading an army.

But the dark elves’ endowed magic armor had destroyed all common sense and made the impossible possible.

We’ll have definitely caught them off guard with this...

The news of Ryoma Mikoshiba arriving at the Kingdom of Myest with reinforcements would have no doubt reached the Brittantia and Tarja alliance by now. But they would have not been expecting his forces to be heading to Jermuk without him having an audience with the king.

Had Ryoma started off wrong, it could have caused issues with the friendly relations between the Kingdom of Myest and the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. It would be nothing short of a disaster to go such a long distance to help an allied country only to complicate their friendly relationship.

But that was why it made sense to do it tactically.

Plus, we managed to get here in two days, when it would usually take six. The enemy wouldn’t have seen us coming at all, thought Ryoma, looking at the southern sky where a large cloud covered his vision. Looks like there’ll be more showers... Just as I thought...

The weather was an essential factor when waging a war. Depending on the circumstances, it could influence whether they would win or lose. It could affect the strength of the soldiers or the usefulness of their armor.

Koichiro Mikoshiba had documented the weather’s effect on combat in his treatise on Mikoshiba war tactics.

There was a time when armies worldwide, both east and west, employed shamans or wizards to hold rituals controlling the weather, hoping to make an ally of nature.

Of course, shamans and wizards could not even bring the rain or wind. But they at least knew enough about the coming weather to make it seem like they did affect it.

It was like the old saying, “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

The ability to read the weather... I used to think I’d have zero use for it in modern Japan, but I never once thought I’d be summoned to a place where it would come in handy.

In modern society, one could check the weather forecast at the click of a button. Few people worried about the weather unless they wanted to become a meteorologist or a fisherman.

For those who worried about the weather, the most they would do was check the sky to see if they should take an umbrella with them. If they were wrong, it wasn’t the end of the world. At most, they’d find somewhere to shelter from the rain or have to buy an umbrella at the convenience store.

With that in mind, how much value was there to learning how to read the clouds and the wind? The same could be said about learning other things.

The modern age had a plethora of knowledge that most people were unsure how to use or benefit from. But that didn’t make any of it useless. It was a matter of not having the chance to put it to use.

Ryoma could finally put that once-useless knowledge into practice. Having realized that, he noted how life was quite funny in its own way.

I’ll have to apologize next time I see him, mused Ryoma as a smirk crept across his lips.

Ryoma needed more time to experience the curiosities of life. Depending on how the battle went, he would have to change his strategy.

As he mused, Laura Malfist approached from behind him on horseback with a report from the Igasaki clan.

“Master Ryoma... We’ve received news that Chris, Leonard, and the others are in position. They will follow our lead.”

Ryoma nodded in response.

“I see, good... Tell them to go ahead as planned,” he said, feeling a twinge of unease. So those two will be the ones to begin the battle. I have heard that both of them are skilled.

Nevertheless, Ryoma did not doubt Chris Morgan and Leonard Orglen’s abilities. He first met Chris during the civil war in Rhoadseria. Chris’s father, serving as an adjutant under the then-retired Helena, asked him to join the war. Ryoma knew that Chris had honed his skills working under Helena.

Last month they had a duel for show, so Ryoma was well aware of Chris’s skill with his spear. Unlike Chris, Ryoma didn’t have enough evidence to determine Leonard’s skills.

Leonard Orglen was famous for being as talented in combat as the prime minister, Diggle McMaster.

That said, one’s ability on the battlefield was starkly different to that of a duel. Ryoma knew Leonard was talented at strategizing, as evidenced last month when they cornered Viscount Romaine together. But he wasn’t aware of his ability as a fighter or the extent of his ability as a general.

Still, he does have Helena’s testimony supporting him. I’m sure there’ll be no problem. 

If Ryoma were unsure about their abilities, he wouldn’t even consider them for such an important position. Better yet, when comparing them to the leaders of the Mikoshiba army, Signus Galveria and Robert Bertrand, he didn’t feel particularly uneasy about Chris and Leonard.

They had experience, after all. Signus and Robert had stood alongside Lione on some of the harshest battlefields. As such, Ryoma could not complain as he knew their strength and that the time for worrying had long passed.

I need to focus on what is before me, thought Ryoma as he squinted his eyes and looked toward the sky.

Ryoma was practicing a form of meditation before the battle. He took a deep breath before slowly sighing as if refreshing all the air inside of himself. With it, the Muldahara chakra in his perineum began to rotate. It was a type of thaumaturgy, known as martial thaumaturgy on Earth, that made the user stronger than the average person.

Suddenly, Ryoma’s calm expression changed, showing that he had switched from peace to war.

This’ll do for now...

In more modern terms, it was as if Ryoma had put a car in low gear. Once he confirmed his body was filled with prana, Ryoma gently clasped his hands together to see how much power he had.

He then turned his gaze to Sara, who stood beside him.

“Did you put the gag bits on the horses?”

“Yes... I’ve finished checking them.”

Gagging horses so their neighing wouldn’t make a sound was standard procedure when launching an attack at night. Although the sky was already making way for dawn, Ryoma planned to use the rain as cover and launch a surprise attack.

“The rain will probably block out the horses’ neighs, but we should take these precautions just in case.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the fate of the three kingdoms in the east all relied on this risky gamble Ryoma was about to take.

His feelings resembled Nobunaga Oda’s as he readied himself for the Battle of Okehazama. Ryoma didn’t know if it was true, but theories stated that the surprise attack at Okehazama was successful due to heavy rain.

Or do I feel more like Mori Motonari before the Battle of Itsukushima? Or rather like Hojo Ujiyasu, who destroyed Uegi’s forces at the Battle of Kawagoe-jyou?

All were battles that anyone interested in the Warring States period would have heard of at least once or twice. Of course, Ryoma had no idea of how accurate the tales were.

Even if the stories were exaggerated, there were records of successful surprise attacks in Japanese history, where the attackers turned the situation in their favor with their strength and wisdom. Either way, Ryoma didn’t view the heroes of Japanese history as being similar to him, nor was he conceited enough to rank himself on the same level as them. That would have made him simply arrogant.

But it was true that the stories Ryoma had heard from his grandfather, Koichiro Mikoshiba, had played a vital part in shaping him into a man. Not to mention, he was no longer a simple high schooler living in Japan.

Honestly, I want to follow the footsteps of the Japanese heroes in history.

Should praying to them bring any benefit, Ryoma would gladly worship them. Doing so was an easy price to pay. Putting ability aside, Ryoma was so prepared for the coming battle that his confidence matched that of historic heroes.

Effectively, the lives of more than ten thousand soldiers—and many more civilians—rested on his shoulders. Ryoma quietly unsheathed Kikoku, which was affixed to his hip. The cry from the blade sounded like a woman’s wail, blending in with the sound of the rain.

Like its owner, the sword was excited.

Ryoma gave a slight nod in response to Kikoku, then turned to the twins who accompanied him everywhere and smiled.

“Sara, Laura... Watch my back for me. I’m gonna be going all out. It’s been a while,” said Ryoma, with a devilish, bloodthirsty expression. Rather, it was the face of a great serpent that swallowed its prey whole—a smile befitting the owner of this fearsome sword.

Even before such evil, the Malfist twins hardly moved an inch. They were calm, dainty demons because they served the head demon, Ryoma.

“Leave it to us!” exclaimed the twins.

Ryoma nodded, then raised Kikoku toward the sky. A silent command.

The soldiers, mounted on their horses, awaited their orders, their fighting spirit blazing like a raging fire.

“March!” shouted Ryoma as he swung down Kikoku with a motion that looked like he was cutting his way through the enemy lines.

With that, the golden and silver two-headed snake quietly began its march toward the fortress city of Jermuk. They were on their way to remind the hunter, who had fallen into his own trap, who the real prey was.

The sixty thousand men who formed the Brittantia-Tarja alliance had set up camp, surrounding Jermuk in all directions and covering the four gates within the city. They endured the roaring rain that covered the horizon. Black clouds had covered the sky for a few days and were finally releasing all they had accumulated.

It was around eight o’clock in the morning. But the commanding officers had already ordered everyone to remain on standby in their tents. Nobody wanted to go to battle in the ferocious rain. Apart from a few unlucky sentries, most of the soldiers were passing the time inside their tents.

Yet they were still on a battlefield.

There were no recreational facilities, and many soldiers were illiterate, so reading books wasn’t an option either. Most of the time, they had only three ways they could kill time. They could repair their weapons or drink alcohol. Otherwise, they’d cover themselves in a shabby blanket and nap.

Even if they tried to nap, it would soon be dawn, making it difficult for them to sleep. Seeing to their weapons didn’t kill much time either. It would only take them an hour or two unless the weapon had been through a particularly harsh battle or the owner was too lazy to keep on top of its maintenance.

As a result, most soldiers had already finished tending their weapons, meaning they had around ten hours with nothing to do. This, in turn, led to them to drink to stave off the boredom.

Since the commanders knew their soldiers’ mentality, allowing them to drink within the camp was customary. It was possible to say that it was a necessary evil to maintain morale. Despite their permission to consume alcohol, certain restrictions were in place. The rain prevented them from fighting, but they stayed in their tents on military duty. It went without saying they couldn’t get too drunk.

They couldn’t be drunk in case the enemy launched a surprise attack on them, as it would render them unable to fight. The generals of the army knew how to handle themselves, though.

Thus, the soldiers had no other options than to pass the time by taking sips from a small bottle of alcohol dispensed to them by the army’s quartermaster.

Naturally, it wasn’t enough to satisfy the soldiers who had endured brutal battles day after day. But if they drank more than allowed, the soldiers could face the death penalty in a worst-case scenario.

It became a common sight to see the majority of soldiers, besides the heavy drinkers and reckless fools, grumble as they made do with the liquor they received. Compared to the unfortunate sentries who had to do their rounds in the pouring rain, the soldiers were rather happy.

However, some soldiers were even more fortunate than the others. They had four options to choose from when it came to killing time. The camps around Jermuk faced every direction: north, east, south and west. In one of the camps to the north, there were around twenty soldiers gathered together in one exceptionally large tent, filling it to the brim. They were there to play a game, and the smell of their sweat filled the area.

“Make your move!”

“What’re you waitin’ for? Pull a card already and play it!”

“All right, who’s up next? Any takers? We’ll finish here if not!”

The soldiers were gambling for prizes. It was a popular card game played using a deck of fifty playing cards, which were said to have been brought from Rearth in the distant past. As long as you had a pack of cards, you could play games like solitaire alone, and a gathering for a few people could be enjoyable. The cards were an exceptional item. Although one had to exercise caution to avoid misplacing them, they were lightweight and could be used for a variety of games. This made them perfect for entertainment.

As everyone was stuck inside due to the rain and awaiting orders, one of the soldiers found a deck of cards among their spoils. That started it all, and after two hours, a sizable crowd had gathered.

These soldiers engaged in a poker game called “Texas hold ’em.” The dealer dealt five cards to each player, and they competed against another five community cards. It was a game of wits and often got quite heated. Even spectators would place bets on who would win and lose, creating quite the lively atmosphere. They were betting using jewelry and currency looted from the nearby towns and villages.

In other words, they were betting on people’s stolen belongings. The soldiers had nothing to lose if they didn’t win, and when they did win, they made a killing. They had everything they needed to raise the stakes.

For a while, they had been making rather large bets, such as ten gold coins. One soldier bet a necklace inlaid with large rubies, which would cost around ten to twenty gold coins in a store. Many people were winning big, making it quite the wild gathering.

After all, just a few gold coins were enough for a person on Earth to live on for a year. They could live a rather comfortable life even if they went on a spending spree and had at least five coins. Considering that, it was easy to understand why they were having so much fun placing such wild bets. Despite their gambling, the soldiers knew that they were being idiotic. Given they were soldiers, one misstep could lead to their demise on the battlefield. Because of this, their spoils of war had value.

They wanted to enjoy their lives somewhat—least until the day they won the war or retired from the army. The fact that they didn’t bet on alcohol, which could be considered the most commonly available commodity for this type of gambling, was a good indication of their mental state. Soldiers living on the battlefield held the drops of alcohol before their eyes as more important than the mere possibility of an affluent life in the future.

“All right, no more bets! Show me your hands!” The soldier acting as dealer prompted the three other soldiers, who were continuing to bet, to stop and show their cards.

Unexpectedly, a soldier shouted in a strange voice as he spread his hand on the table.

“Oooohhh! Look at that, a straight flush!” The man raised his voice as he pointed to the cards on the table. He had a jack of hearts, a ten of hearts, and a seven of hearts. He was delighted and had a bright red face.

But everyone around him wasn’t as excited. In fact, they were rather cold.

“What the hell are you sayin’?”

“Jeez, you’ve got that entirely wrong. Take a better look,” said voices around him.

Once the soldier who was the dealer confirmed that the man also had an eight and nine of hearts in his hand, it caused a commotion among the onlookers. But they didn’t react with words of congratulations or surprise at his high-point hand.

“Whoa, wait a minute...?”

“You gotta be kidding me...”

“A straight flush? You cheatin’ or somethin’?”

Various voices rang out across the tent.

Their comments were past the level of criticism and were closer to booing, but it was an expected reaction. A straight flush in poker was the second-best hand to get. A five-card hand with a joker included was the third strongest hand to get. Still, the hand as a whole was one of the strongest in the game.

Other desirable hands included the five of a kind—which consisted of four cards of the same rank and a wild card—or a royal flush, which had a number ten card, a jack, queen, king, and ace all in the same suit. There was also a straight flush that only required five sequential cards of the same suit.

In that sense, a straight flush was a perfectly realistic hand.

But in a game like Texas Hold’em, the chances of making such a strong hand were meager. One reason was that, unlike poker, a person couldn’t exchange any of their cards. After also checking the first two cards dealt in the preflop round, players decided whether to continue betting. Ultimately, the game involved using the five community cards and two initial hole cards to determine the winner.

The honest opinion among actual players was that a flush was the best and most realistic hand to get, especially when all cards are in the same suit.

In poker, players had to imagine their opponent’s hand to decide whether to continue betting. Still, it was rare for a player to assume their opponent might have a straight flush when making their decision.

Most hands consisted of high cards or a single pair. If a player was lucky, a straight might occasionally occur. So it was only natural that when someone managed a straight flush, people would react with surprise and doubt. Not to mention, the stakes were high. Of course, it wasn’t like they could use their money on the battlefield. A drop of alcohol still held some worth.

Once the war was over, the value of alcohol would change dramatically. It wouldn’t be surprising if a person without any ethics was to cheat in order to win big. The problem was that everyone around the soldier thought of that possibility. This possibility was the same as saying that they were guilty as charged, and the alleged cheater couldn’t simply remain silent.

The man would lose the trust of his fellow soldiers if they accused him of cheating. Such would be even more important than winning or losing in poker since they were on a battlefield. In order to survive, one had to work with their comrades on the field. But what would happen if those around a man labeled him as a cheater? At the very least, they could end their bonds of friendship.

Not many people would go out of their way to help someone branded a cheater, especially in an environment where one had to do everything they could to survive. In a worst-case scenario, a cheater may wake up cold and lifeless in their assigned bed the following morning.

Normally it wouldn’t go that far. But every time they went out to fight, one would be on edge, worried about receiving an arrow from behind. Should the situation escalate, it was obvious that the man would soon end up as a corpse buried in Jermuk. That was why the man began to plead his innocence desperately. However, his pleading only made those around him even more doubtful.

“Like hell! Who’re you calling a cheater?! Got any proof to back that up?!” Anyone else facing accusations of actions they don’t remember would react similarly.

The same went for those around him after having been asked if they had any proof.

“Proof? Whaddya mean, proof? Why you asking us for it?”

“You’re the cheater. You show us the proof!”

“Take your clothes off. Then we’ll be able to make sure!”

The onlookers were offended by the man’s pleas of innocence, and their gazes grew even more severe. Unlike the enthusiastic atmosphere before, the tent had become quite cold and tense. The situation, which could have been resolved with a simple understanding or not allowing the hand to win, got out of control.

All that was left was to decide if the man was innocent or guilty, which he found unbearable.

“Fine! I’ll strip down, and you can search me!” the man desperately called out.

It would be embarrassing for a man to strip naked in this situation, but accepting his shame was the best thing to do since his life hung in the balance. When he reached for his belt, he suddenly stopped.

“What’s up? Thought you wanted us to search ya!”

“I knew it, you’re a cheater!”

But then soldiers around them stopped them from jeering.

“Hey, wait a minute... Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? It’s just the rain...” They strained their ears, focusing on their surroundings. Another sound had mixed in with the sound of the rain. One of the soldiers noticed the ground was shaking. The vibrations grew stronger and stronger.

“Earthquake maybe?” The man’s voice reverberated throughout the tent. The ringing of a bell, followed by the cries of a surprise attack by the sentries, soon canceled out his voice.

“We’re under attack! We’re under attack!”

The soldiers jumped and ran out of their tents, weapons in hand. However, it was a decision that was leading the men to their death.

“Go, go! Run through them!”

Through the shouts and cries, a unit of cavalrymen appeared like a sudden gust of wind.

The enemy unit’s leader was mounted on a black horse, swinging a Japanese sword from left to right. Even though the soldiers couldn’t look at him clearly because of the rain, they could at least see his figure.

“It’s the enemy general! Surround him and kill him!”

The soldiers prepared their weapons in response to the order.

As the enemy leader abruptly appeared before them, all the soldiers’ swords and spears were slashed in two. It was an impossible sight. Although their weapons hadn’t been custom-made, blacksmiths from the Kingdom of Brittantia had crafted them. There was no way they would break in two from a single hit. But they didn’t have time to even question it.

All of a sudden, their bodies went limp as their eyesight faded, consumed by the endless darkness.

Ryoma Mikoshiba forcefully wiped the blood from his cheeks after cutting his way through the enemy camp. In his left hand, he held Kikoku, which was red with blood. He wondered just how many people his sword had cut down. A deep, dark crimson soaked his right hand, reaching up to his shoulder. Drops of blood fell from his fingertips, making it clear that he had killed more than ten or twenty people. Though he probably didn’t make it to a thousand, it was safe to say he had slain at least two hundred people.

Even though only ten minutes had passed since they launched their attack, Kikoku had already claimed many lives and prana. From the minute Ryoma had made contact with the soldiers, he had cut them all down. He didn’t pause once, not even to catch his breath. All he did was slaughter, embodying the strength and power of a storm in human form. Regardless, his blade continued to glow.

The raindrops began to trickle down his sword, combining with the blood and rinsing it off, leaving behind a sharp blade. The cold, unblemished blade hungrily devoured the sacrifices made by Ryoma’s hand. Then, Kikoku’s absorbed prana flowed through his body, enabling him to achieve power greater than the average human.

His spirit was heightened as an almighty power ruled Ryoma’s body. He felt a sense of glee, resembling the ecstasy an overwhelmingly strong person might feel when toying with someone weaker.

It’s like I’m drunk on blood.

Ryoma finally reached the stage where he could open his sixth chakra, known as the ajna chakra, between his brow. That was something even the best fighter on the western continent had never done. Yet he was now clearly moving beyond that, beginning to activate the Sahasrara, also known as the crown chakra, at the zenith. It indicated that he was approaching the domain of the Attainers, those who had surpassed human capability.

There was only one reason Ryoma had already made his first step into a domain that should have been impossible to attain in such a short time.

Kikoku... Is this a mere fraction of your power?

Ryoma had repeatedly unsheathed Kikoku and cut down countless enemies. It seemed that it was merely child’s play to the sword. Kikoku may have been starved of prana this whole time.

Well, it is a bewitched sword that went many years without someone to wield it.

Ever since Kikoku came into Ryoma’s possession, it had taken many lives and finally revealed its true power. However, he wasn’t entirely satisfied because he could not control the sword’s power.

Kikoku... You’re a wondrous sword that makes me incredibly powerful. But this isn’t a martial art. This is just pure violence. 

The sword suddenly stopped channeling power into Ryoma, almost as if understanding his thoughts. He felt the joy and absolute power drain from his body. It appeared that Kikoku, which was supplying Ryoma with power, found him ungrateful and began to sulk.

Either way, Ryoma was still in the middle of a battlefield. He was elated that his sword had understood how he felt, though. Besides, he couldn’t be overcome with such feelings and power when commanding an army.

Though, it makes me think I should just cut them all and be done with it.

The fact that something like that would be possible when holding Kikoku was what made it so terrifying.

Seeing they were at war, Ryoma knew that annihilating the enemy would be a bad move. It was obvious that it would be an unneeded act detrimental to his cause. Not even Kikoku could slay over a thousand people with a single swing, unlike a missile. If an allied soldier died while Ryoma was off chasing the enemy, it would lead to a net zero outcome in each side’s combat strength.

If Ryoma killed one person and lost two soldiers, then his army would be in the red in terms of combat strength. War boiled down to efficiently taking out the enemy’s soldiers. As such, Ryoma had run far past the enemy’s front line, cutting them down. It confused their ranks, leaving them a disoriented rabble. So, it was time for Ryoma to take control and lead his own forces.

Jermuk and the position of the enemy around the city entered Ryoma’s thoughts.

The enemy has set up camp in each direction to ensure they’ve blocked all the city gates. I’m currently in the northern camp, thought Ryoma. If he continued to attack the northern camp, the enemy forces would likely send reinforcements from the eastern and western camps. It’s the shortest route, after all.

Fortunately, Ryoma had laid a deadly trap for them. He planned to use the rain as a cover to attack the northern camp, then launch a surprise attack on the reinforcements coming from the east and west. It was a dangerous plan, as one wrong move could spell destruction. But his gamble had gone according to plan.

“What about the rest of the units? Have they moved out already?” Ryoma shouted at Laura, who had been following him closely.

“Everything is fine. Chris is leading the second unit, while Leonard is heading to the northern gate with the third to launch a surprise attack!” responded Laura, giving her report through Wezalié’s Whisper, which Ryoma had in his ear.

Sara, who had scouted ahead a little, rushed back toward Ryoma.

“Master Ryoma! I saw movement in the Jermuk garrison. They caught wind of our surprise attack, and it seems they’re responding!”

“All right, we’ve made a hole in the enemy lines! Have the Igasaki clan contact the soldiers in the garrison and instruct them to provide support in coordination with our attack! Regardless of how the battle goes, they are forbidden from opening the castle gates to chase the enemy! Got that?!” added Ryoma as the battlefield conditions changed at a dizzying speed.

The ferocious rain showed signs of letting up, making way for conditions favorable to the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy army. The other units, led by Leonard Orglen and Chris Morgan, successfully flanked the enemy reinforcements and broke through their formations. Hence, the chain of command on the enemy side collapsed. Upon hearing the report, Ryoma punched his fist into the air as he looked up toward the sky.

This settles it.

No matter how good the enemy general was, they couldn’t turn this situation in their favor. Shortly after, Ryoma rendezvoused with Chris and Leonard’s units, and the army of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy entered Jermuk. The Mikoshiba Grand Duchy forces then halted to regroup and further examine the situation, and the allied armies of Brittantia and Tarja did the same.

A few hours later, the allied forces south of Jermuk started their march toward the border, swiftly ending the situation. Ryoma watched as the allied troops disappeared into the overgrown forests that lined the southern border. Using a pair of binoculars, he stood atop a watchtower at the south gate and sighed in relief.

“Hm... Looks like they’re retreating.” The enemy generals had given up on the siege of Jermuk, ending the battle that had gone on for close to two months.

The soldiers around Ryoma started to celebrate in response to his words, their faces filled with joy. Yet he paid no attention to the soldiers of Jermuk, instead glaring at the retreating enemy forces with a frown.

Our successful surprise attack already determined the outcome of the battle. If it were me, I would have retreated as soon as I realized we’d suffered losses, especially with the possibility of a follow-up attack. So why didn’t the enemy general do that? Even if he prioritized collecting his wounded, doing it further away from Jermuk would have been safer. I could just put it down to them not thinking that far ahead, but their response felt half-hearted. Were they just seeing how strong we were, or have they possibly set a trap?

That was purely guesswork on Ryoma’s part, but his instincts told him that he was indeed correct.

Ah, well... Let’s first celebrate this victory.

Ryoma then turned to the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy soldiers lined up below and thrust his fist high into the sky as a sign of victory.

He had declared the end of the battle for Jermuk. The victory roar of forty thousand men echoed, shaking the heavens, almost as if chasing off the clouds and the rain. Everyone was aware that today’s victory was the prelude to a new war.

Around half a day had passed since the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s surprise attack raised the Brittantia-Tarja alliance’s siege of Jermuk. The allied forces had crossed the border and retreated to the Kingdom of Brittantia, but that was a mere temporary step.

At the foot of a hill, a few kilometers from Jermuk, the allied forces had set up a camp in order to house their defeated troops and reorganize. They wouldn’t have chosen to set up camp so close to the border if they had acknowledged that they had lost. In reality, the camp’s atmosphere had no sense of defeat or pathos. Usually, the soldiers would be wearing solemn expressions. But those in the camp were not completely without any shock that they had lost. Instead, they were somewhat disappointed and distrustful of their generals, which was an unusual spectacle for an army defeated in battle.

The men who served as the emotional pillars for the allied soldiers were inside a large tent set up in the center of the camp. A large, burly man was wiping the dirt and rain off his body with a cloth handed to him by a servant. After carefully wiping down his log-like, thick body, he double-checked that he was completely free of sweat and dirt before sitting in a slightly muddied chair and facing his partner.

“Raul... Wipe yourself down. This war has taken an interesting turn. I don’t want you catchin’ a cold or nothing,” said the man as he passed Raul a clean cloth provided by his servant.

A general wouldn’t usually be so attentive to others, but this man likely didn’t care for fake formalities.

The man was Bruno Accord, captain of the Kingdom of Brittantia’s proud Griffin Knights. He served as the experienced general of the Myest invasion. His closely shaven black hair and beard made it difficult to assume his age, but he seemed to be around his midforties. These features made him look more like a ferocious bear than a human. He was huge, standing almost 190 centimeters tall and weighing around 150 kilograms.

He wasn’t known as the “Man-Eating Bear” for show or exaggeration. Regardless of his appearance, Bruno was not only a knight, but also a multitalented general and one of the best tacticians in the Kingdom of Brittantia. It was safe to say that he stood out among the generals serving his nation.

Bruno had devised a plan to use the attack on Jermuk as bait to lure the enemy out and settle the battle on the open plains. Though it seemed even a general as great as he was astonished by the battle earlier in the day.

Raul accepted the cloth and slightly nodded at Bruno, then carefully wiped himself down as he spoke.

“They really made a joke of us... So that’s the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s army, huh? They’re as strong as the rumors say. Our soldiers are no less capable than any other army’s, but I could feel the refined, practiced strength of the Grand Mikoshiba Army. I’d guess they’re employing the use of martial thaumaturgy to strengthen themselves. What a ferocious enemy!” exclaimed Raul, shrugging his shoulders. Although he was a commander of the Kingdom of Tarja’s army, he was acting as a vice captain for Bruno in this war. He was also in his midforties but had a neat beard, long golden hair, a medium build, and was lean with effeminate features.

His partner, Bruno, looked more bear than human, while Raul had feminine features that made him popular. Seeing many ladies lining up to dance with Raul at dinner parties in the Kingdom of Tarja was common. Despite his appearance, Raul Giordano was a natural-born warrior. In addition, he wasn’t the type of general who focused on tactics or strategies. He was a brave one, cutting his way through the enemy’s front line while swinging his spear. Rumors circulated that he bore scars from countless battles beneath his armor. Knowing his history on the field, it wasn’t such an unbelievable rumor.

Even Raul, known as the Fiery Tempest for his fierce attacks, felt that the army led by Ryoma Mikoshiba was surprisingly strong. His description of what happened held the reverence of a battle-hardened warrior.

Bruno nodded in delight and smiled.

“They certainly were somethin’. I’ve heard the rumors about that guy, and I’m gonna be honest, I thought it was all exaggerated... But seein’ him in action like that, now I’m wonderin’ if the rumors were downplayed...”

Raul returned a wry smile. “They call him the Devil of Heraklion... That’s quite accurate. Calling him a devil is no mere exaggeration. After all, he cut down our battalion commanders with a single stroke of his blade.”

“Exactly... I wouldn’t wanna fight against ’im. At the very least, I’d sure as hell say no to a one-on-one with ’im. Going against someone as skilled as him wouldn’t be easy. I might forget my role as a general and get lost in just going toe to toe with him.” That was both a compliment toward Ryoma and a joke about himself.

Getting too engrossed in head-to-head combat was a bad habit for Bruno. Whenever he saw a skilled opponent on the field, he strongly desired to bash them in with his beloved hammer.

Raul had only watched Ryoma Mikoshiba fighting from afar, but he still sensed something about him as a warrior. His instincts told him that he found a worthy contender to fight. If Raul had the opportunity, he would love to request a duel with Ryoma. However, Raul and Bruno knew that would be difficult.

Sadly, Laura and Sara Malfist always surrounded Ryoma and followed him like his shadow. Trying to break through the twins’ defenses and going straight for Ryoma to fight him was impossible. That would only be possible if the other accepted a duel, but Raul kept his expectations low. Ryoma Mikoshiba was a battle-hardened warrior and a ferocious fighter, and Raul could sense he was not the kind of person who valued martial arts as he and Bruno did.

If necessary, Ryoma would accept a duel. Otherwise, he might decide there was no point in accepting it and refuse.

“Well, I don’t know if he would ever take me up on the offer. Many skilled individuals surround him. He has the silver and gold-haired twins following him. They seem like they could put up a good fight. Besides, he’s an exceptional warrior and a ferocious general.”

Bruno nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, he seems to have a skilled eye for tactics... Reports indicated his arrival in Endesia only two days ago, so I thought he’d reach us in about four days. But he completely outsmarted us. He read us like books and didn’t want to pass up even a small win. That’s only somethin’ someone who started off as a mercenary and climbed his way up to grand duke can do... What the hell did he do to get here from Endesia in only two days?”

“You’re quite right. Judging by how long it took him, it seems he skipped out on an audience with the king... That or he had already met with the king ahead of time. Either way, it was a bold move from him. Even if their countries are on good terms, going to battle without having an audience with the king isn’t something the nobles of Myest will look on lightly,” replied Raul. In simple terms, it was a diplomatic faux pas.

Although Bruno found it a trifling matter, even he knew well enough that one couldn’t ignore a country’s honor like that. Depending on the time and place, it could trigger a war. While Bruno found it effective, he didn’t have the courage to do something like that. It was part of the reason they never suspected that Ryoma Mikoshiba would march so quickly.

“Well, it certainly worked. As a result, our expeditionary forces suffered some major damage... The camp in the north has been all but annihilated. But we should be happy that the other three units got off relatively lightly,” said Bruno, sighing and looking at the sky.

His sigh was filled with regret and anger because the allied forces he commanded had been single-handedly wiped out. Even though he tried to remain calm, it was only due to logic suppressing his overflowing emotion.

Any general would feel something when losing subordinates and men. The mental anguish was significantly worse when they had become sacrifices as a result of one’s own negligence and miscalculations.

But he could not show his suffering to his other men as they might begin to doubt his capacity to lead if they saw him in that state. That doubt would then change into anger and despair, causing the whole unit to fall apart. Bruno understood that all too well, so he wore a mask covering his true thoughts.

“If the opposing side chased after us, then we could have responded in kind... But unfortunately, they prioritized helping Jermuk and chose to go inside the city.”

It wasn’t that Bruno was a sore loser. He had prepared a plan to attack the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy if they had chosen to pursue his forces when they retreated. It was a plan that could have given Bruno a chance to kill Ryoma Mikoshiba if it had gone well.

Even if it hadn’t gone well, it would have given him enough of an upper hand to turn the tide of battle and get them out of their unfortunate situation.

Bruno felt as if he’d lost his chance at winning. Unless Ryoma pushed further, he had to keep his trump card hidden.

Nevertheless, Bruno’s words were merely wishful thinking that ignored all the core components of wartime strategy. Strategically, the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s goal was always to rescue the fortress city of Jermuk. Ryoma had made the right decision not to pursue the enemy.

“Well, we held Jermuk under siege for two months. They were slowly running out of food... The others likely suspected as much and began their march with that in mind. Confronting the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy could have been a real bother for us,” related Raul, referring to a rather realistic development.

Bruno felt ashamed of his thoughtlessness.

Winning a battle was always important, but it seemed he had remembered the most important part was first confirming if one could win.

“You’re right... I’m just talkin’ stupid. It’s a shame we couldn’t eliminate the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy. At least our plans are goin’ without a hitch... I’m sure we’ll get a chance at redemption soon,” said Bruno.

“After the Kingdom of Myest mobilizes all its armies,” added Raul.

Bruno nodded in response.

“We’ll have the others who are awaiting their turn make their move too. Until then, we’ll let our enemies enjoy the sweet taste of victory,” said Bruno, taking a large gulp of his drink.

It was a vow of retribution for the impending decisive battle and a tribute to the fallen soldiers.