Chapter 140 - Death and Honor Are Not the Same (4)
The 13th Regiment raced across the plain at full speed.
The road wasn't as straight or smooth as those in the Empire, so the soldiers riding in the transport vehicles felt like they were dying, but the situation was urgent and there was no time to slow down.
Dudududu!
Even in this chaos, the Cavalry Battalion spread out wide, faithfully protecting the 13th Regiment.
If anything were to happen, the cavalry would buy time while the 13th Regiment formed ranks using the transport vehicles.
The Artillery Battalion was positioned at the center of the 13th Regiment.
The transport vehicles carrying the cannons—essentially the artillerymen's lifeblood—were vulnerable to enemy attack and needed protection.
Horses that would haul the cannons after unloading also galloped behind the vehicles.
"Oh no! What's going to happen to our horses?"
A captain stuck his head out from the artillery's transport vehicle and sighed with concern as he watched the horses running hard.
Artillery horses were chosen for their size and strength, since they had to move the heavy cannons and shells.
But pushing them to run like this for extended periods quickly wore them out and greatly increased the risk of injury.
"Is that really important right now? This is our chance to capture a royal with the Royal Flag!"
"Even if we do, it's not like we'll get anything out of it. Get a grip."
"What do you mean, nothing? When it comes to attacking a city, we artillerymen are the main players!"
"You idiot. Don't fool yourself. All we do is break a section of the castle wall to lower the enemy's morale and make it easier for the infantry to break in. Actually capturing the city is the infantry's job. In the end, they get all the credit."
The artillery officer let out a deep sigh at the clueless soldier's words. It had already been proven through various drills that they could break through castle walls. Each Artillery Battalion had eighteen cannons. With just two volleys aimed at the wall, they could collapse a weak section.
However, the current cannon caliber was still a bit too small to break through the lower part of the castle wall. In siege warfare, the artillery's role was to destroy the upper part of the wall to demoralize the enemy and make it easier for the infantry to advance.
Of course, even that was no small feat.
In the old days, it would have taken vast resources just to move a single trebuchet, days to assemble it, and if any parts broke, they would have had to fabricate replacements on site, sometimes taking months.
"Whoa... Is that Lanosel...?"
The 13th Regiment could only groan at the sight of Lanosel's castle wall in the distance.
For a city situated relatively deep in the rear, Lanosel was guarded by an impressively sturdy wall.
The village outside the wall was well-built, too, but it was completely silent, as if the evacuation had already finished.
Lanosel was a city located near a forest connected to the Bertebras Mountains.
Nowadays, Belliang and Konchanya had joined forces as the Alliance Army to face the Empire, but in the past, they had been enemy nations. That's why Lanosel was built with sturdy castle walls, to defend against Konchanya's raids across the Bertebras Mountains, and why the city was well-accustomed to scorched earth tactics.
Instead of charging straight at Lanosel and opening fire, the 13th Regiment kept their distance and took some rest.
Colonel Levin Ort, who was in charge of commanding the battle, gathered his staff officers and unit commanders to begin a meeting.
Since ordinary company commanders didn't need to attend, Ernest took the chance to rest.
"What do you think?"
Ferdinand, standing next to Ernest as he surveyed Lanosel's castle wall and its surroundings, asked in a heavy voice.
"If this Count Lafayette is really the commander of the unit that blocked the 5th Division's advance, there's no way he'd end up in this situation by accident."
"So?"
"The forest bothers me."
"Hmm."
Ferdinand nodded at Ernest's words.
"I think the Regimental Commander made the right call. We don't have enough troops. We'd need at least twice as many men to completely surround Lanosel and leave no room for surprises."
Ferdinand stroked his rough stubble as he spoke.
Just south of Lanosel stretched a dense forest that ran down from the Bertebras Mountains.
A river from the forest cut through Lanosel, running north.
The 13th Regiment was by no means a small force.
Honestly, if the only goal was to storm and capture Lanosel, they'd probably be up to the task.
But for just the 13th Regiment to perfectly encircle such a large, fortified city and cut off all escape routes for their target—Count Bertrand Belliang Lafayette—and capture him would be a tall order.
If the 13th Regiment tried to encircle Lanosel on its own, the enemy could come bursting out of that damned forest and launch a surprise attack on our rear.
"It would be best to detach part of our troops to block the edge of the forest, while the rest just put pressure on the castle walls and wait for reinforcements."
"I agree. That's exactly what the Regimental Commander would do."
"And the unit most likely to actually see combat with the enemy would be our 1st Battalion, which is considered the Elite Battalion of the 13th Regiment, right?"
"I agree with that too. Unfortunately."
Ferdinand genuinely agreed with Ernest's assessment.
Any careful and wise commander would do exactly the same.
That's the standard approach.
There's a reason it's called the standard approach—just by sticking to it, you can easily overcome anyone who can't even follow the basics.
"With young officers showing such prudence, I feel relieved about the future of the Imperial Army," Andersen cut in with a sly remark.
"Is that a compliment?"
"Of course it is. Brash commanders are only needed when things get really tough, aren't they?"
Quick wit and bold, daring actions are only necessary when the situation turns dire and you need to turn the tide of battle.
If you have superior strength over the enemy, you should steadily and methodically follow established tactics and avoid mistakes to win with ease.
When commanding a large army, tactics become almost unnecessary.
By saying that what the Imperial Army needed was prudent, young commanders with real battlefield experience like Ernest and Ferdinand—especially given its overwhelming superiority—Andersen was also sharply criticizing how the Imperial Army had run wild for over two months in the Bertagne Forest.
"The Regimental Commander isn't the type to make mistakes at times like this, so we should be fine."
When Ernest mumbled this, Ferdinand and Andersen just sighed instead of replying.
"As for our Battalion Commander, who knows."
"Exactly."
"It's improper to speak that way about your superior."
"But you're not denying it."
"Exactly."
"..."
The real problem was that no one knew whether Lieutenant Colonel Bailey Hoffman, commander of the elite 1st Battalion of the 13th Regiment, would actually follow the orders of his junior, Colonel Levin Ort.
Even Ferdinand, usually supportive, fell silent—unable to defend Bailey out of mistrust.
It was clear just how rapidly confidence in Bailey was dropping within the 1st Battalion.
At this rate, it was less of a decline and more of a total crash.
Ultimately, as the frontline commanders had hoped, Colonel Levin Ort, commander of the 13th Regiment, decided to handle things with absolute textbook caution.
The 1st Battalion would stand guard at the southern edge of the Lanosel woods to prepare for a surprise attack, while the 2nd and 3rd Battalions would pound the castle walls with cannons, holding position in front of Lanosel until reinforcements arrived.
If Bertrand really was inside Lanosel and chose to escape by abandoning some of his forces and betraying his people's trust, there was just no way to catch him.
Levin chose to eliminate variables and keep his troops safe until reinforcements arrived, rather than risk everything just to capture Bertrand.
"Damn it! That cowardly bastard!"
This was a bolt from the blue for the officers of the 13th Regiment, whose hearts had been swelling at the thought of making a name for themselves.
In particular, Lieutenant Colonel Bailey Hoffman, the 1st Battalion Commander who now had to block the forest instead of joining the main attack on Lanosel, was so furious that he began cursing his superior, Levin.
There was no way the Belliang Army, cowering inside Lanosel, would open the gates and march out in formation to thrust their heads straight into the maw of the attacking Imperial Army.
The troops bombarding the front of Lanosel with artillery would not have to engage the enemy directly.
Therefore, if actual combat broke out, it would only happen between enemy forces sneaking out of the forest to launch a surprise attack and the troops stationed to block them.
And that was precisely when the Elite 1st Battalion of the 13th Regiment would be needed.
If the 1st Battalion held the forest tightly and held their ground, even Lanosel itself might lose hope and surrender.
Levin, making a cold, rational judgment without personal feelings, had entrusted the forest to Bailey.
Should the enemy attack, it was Bailey's 1st Battalion that stood to achieve the greatest merit in this battle.
In fact, Levin was showing trust in Bailey by giving him such a vital task—and by affording him the opportunity to make a name for himself.
Unfortunately, Bailey, whose mood had already soured beyond repair, could only believe Levin was scheming to exclude him from the Battle for Lanosel.
To make matters worse, the staff officers of the 1st Battalion and the officers of the cavalry and artillery companies attached to the 1st Battalion all thought exactly the same way as Bailey.
Honestly, who could blame them?
Nobody could easily accept being placed under someone who he used to lord over as their senior; this much resentment was to be expected.
Everyone was thinking, "I'd feel the same way."
In doing so, they completely misinterpreted Levin's genuine intentions—fighting solely for the sake of ultimate victory—as something far more sinister and personal.
***
"He's not getting any younger, and with all that anger, I honestly worry he'll die before his time."
"I didn't say anything."
"Come on, the 2nd Company Commander ought to back me up here. You're not the 1st Company Commander, after all."
"Still, I answered you, didn't I? Ferdinand's already ran away."
"Oh dear"
Seeing how things were unfolding, Andersen made an inappropriate comment. Ernest, at least, gave some kind of reply, but Ferdinand pretended not to hear and simply ran off.
He couldn't deny it, nor could he agree—so he just acted like he hadn't heard anything at all.
Despite how he might appear, Ferdinand is actually a very wise man.
In any case, the 1st Battalion boarded the command vehicle and, following Bailey's orders—while Bailey himself tried to calm his anger by pounding the roof with his fist—headed south, finally taking up a position in front of the forest.
"Deploy!"
"Deploy!"
The artillery company attached to the 1st Battalion began unloading cannons from the transport vehicles and lining them up.
"Aaaargh!"
"Raaaagh!"
"Yiiiieeee!"
"Damn it. The things people yell…"
Getting the cannons off the transport vehicles was a grueling task, so the artillerymen could be heard letting out a whole range of shouts and battle cries.
Unloading the cannons from the vehicles was the hardest part of setting up.
That's also where most of the injuries happened.
But once the cannons were down, the rest wasn't too difficult.
Large, powerful horses would be hitched to the limber holding the cannon, pull it into the right spot, then the horses were unhitched, and the artillerymen would nudge the cannon into its final position and adjust the angle for firing.
"A little more to the left!"
"Ugh—!"
"You've gone too far! A bit to the right!"
"Urgh!"
"No, I said just a little! Just a little!"
"You bastard!"
The artillerymen bickered over minor things, but really, it wasn't all that difficult.
The artillery company set up six cannons in a line, and as soon as the guns were in place, the infantry companies moved forward and formed up.
"Damn, this is terrifying. What if they fire those things at the backs of our heads?"
"That's why they set them up off to the side."
The infantry kept glancing nervously back at the cannons behind them, even though the guns had deliberately been positioned so the line of fire would avoid the infantry.
"...."
"Relax, Robert. No matter what, they're not about to shoot us in the back."
"…With a face like that, it's hard to believe you."
Those who had been hit by Belliang artillery in the Bertagne Forest were especially anxious, and Ernest and Robert were no exception.
Both of them couldn't help but keep looking over their shoulders at the cannons, faces pale as they remembered the gruesome sight of Jonas with both legs torn off.
While the artillery and infantry were being positioned, the cavalry scouted the surrounding area.
Once the deployment was complete, they focused on protecting their own flanks and rear, especially the artillerymen.
Still, some cavalry continued to patrol cautiously around the vicinity.
After that, the 1st Battalion basically did nothing but stand by.
Boom! Bang!
Even after the 2nd and 3rd Battalions began bombarding the walls of Lanosel, the 1st Battalion really did nothing.
They were on standby in case the enemy launched a surprise attack from the forest, so unless the enemy moved first, there was nothing for them to do.
Bang! Bang! Boom!
"Wow, they're firing off those shots with style."
Even the distant thunder of the cannons grew familiar over time, and the 1st Battalion started to settle into a rather relaxed mood.
Still, no one sat down on the ground or lay back.
Nobody knew when the enemy might attack, and, more than anything, Bailey was glaring at them with watchful eyes.
"Well, whether we like it or not, the training has paid off."
Ernest, standing straight with his gun and watching the soldiers keep their eyes fixed on the forest, said this to Isaac and Bruno.
"That's true. I can tell my stamina's improved too."
"It's not exactly what I was hoping for, though."
Although Isaac found the training tough, he seemed to think it wasn't all bad now that he could feel his increased stamina. On the other hand, Bruno still grimaced whenever he remembered the training. It had really been brutal, so that was only natural.
The 1st Battalion soldiers stood perfectly still in formation, keeping a sharp watch on the forest. Seeing them like that, even Bailey felt a small sense of calm settle into his heart.
After all, Bailey was a commander thoroughly accustomed to turning units into an elite force through rigorous training, and this time, too, he had managed to mold the previously ragtag 1st Battalion into a proper "army" in a short period.
But as time dragged on, even the soldiers who had endured harsh training and grown into real soldiers started showing signs of fatigue.
Staying perfectly still while standing was actually harder than just walking.
It would have been nice if Bailey would be flexible and let the soldiers sit and rest for a bit, but there was absolutely no sign of that happening.
If Ernest went up to Bailey and suggested, "The men are getting tired, maybe we should let them sit and rest for a moment," Bailey would probably snap at him with the wild eyes of a starving wolf spotting a plump, unsuspecting lamb wandering alone.
It would have been nice if Ferdinand or Andersen took on the task instead, but Ferdinand was preoccupied with following orders and Andersen was busy avoiding any troublesome chores.
Something...
As Ernest listened to the booming thunder of the cannons, a strange sense of unease began to creep up on him.
It was pure instinct.
But Ernest had been trained not to rely on instinct alone—taught that lesson by none other than his respected father, Haires Krieger.
"Intuition can sometimes be very helpful, but it's foolish for someone untrained to trust only their instinct."
When he first heard those words as a child, Ernest hadn't fully understood what they meant.
But now, he understood perfectly well.
"There's something I'm missing. What is it?"
Ernest understood exactly what this sense of instinct was.
It happened when you knew something for sure, but couldn't quite recall it—yet it was already within your grasp, allowing you to unconsciously predict what would come next.
In other words, Ernest was aware of what was happening right now, not just because he had learned it in theory, but because he had internalized it through the hard-earned experience of survival.
In the span of a brief moment, Ernest quickly retraced his memories.
Memories of the horrific events he had lived through in the Bertagne Forest surfaced with haunting clarity—so vivid that even he was surprised by their intensity.
"Now."
In that instant, Ernest succeeded in arriving at the unspoken answer.
"What?"
"If the enemy is going to attack, it will be right now."
"…Sorry, what?"
"Tell each platoon to be on high alert. The two of you, go to the 1st and 3rd Companies and let them know: if the enemy attacks, now is the most likely time."
"Yes, sir!"
Leaving the startled Isaac and Bruno behind, Ernest quickly relayed his orders to the couriers.
Truly, Ernest believed that if the enemy were to attack, there was no time except now.
However, he didn't report it to the most important person—Battalion Commander Bailey.
Ernest knew that even if he did, Bailey wouldn't listen, and would simply brush off whatever he said.
"What did you see?"
Isaac, though momentarily taken aback by Ernest's sudden order, quickly regained his composure.
Trusting in Ernest, he stared out at the forest and asked.
"No, not right now."
Ernest fiddled with his gun, opened the chamber, and loosened the mouth of his bullet pouch.
"But I've already seen it enough times—more than enough—in the Bertagne Forest."
Having completed his preparations for battle, Ernest kept his jaw clenched and glanced sideways, scanning the 1st and 3rd Companies.
Perhaps spurred by Ernest's words, Ferdinand alerted the worn-out and restless soldiers of the 1st Company, who now snapped to attention, on edge.
In contrast, there was little reaction from the 3rd Company; though Andersen knew Ernest was capable, he didn't pay much mind to his sudden, unsubstantiated warning.
"If Count Lafayette truly is the commander who was holding back the 5th Division, he will never miss this chance. He's certain to attack now."
"Why is that?"
Bruno, looking uneasy, nervously glanced around as he pulled out a Balt Battery from his pouch and fastened it to the belt inside his shirt. Isaac had already finished preparations for battle.
"He's a commander who knows how to exploit a gap."
But Isaac and Bruno's understanding of military science was too limited to fully grasp Ernest's meaning.
"He's the kind of person who can identify the exact moment between actions—when the enemy lets their guard down, thinks they're safe, and their tension unwinds just enough for everything to fall apart—and then strikes."
Ernest rephrased, trying to make it clearer.
At the battle where Benzen and Hertz died, when the enemy paused their relentless assault and everyone thought it was finally over, they all relaxed and lost their edge.
That was when the enemy hit them, and the Imperial Army had to retreat before they could even fight properly.
When the Belliang Army launched a night raid, they skipped the first sentry post entirely, instead targeting the gap between the first and second watches—striking when the next sentries were barely awake and disoriented.
And in the battle where Yurgen and Jonas fell, after capturing the second trench line and as everyone felt a mix of relief and dread at the prospect of taking the next, they sent in the "Star of Summer" and charged the soldiers at just that moment.
The 5th Division had faced crises, several times already, where the entire division could have been wiped out.
If Belliang had had just a bit more ample supply of Balt Batteries, the course of the Belliang War of Conquest would have unfolded completely differently from how it has now.
The enemy is someone who can read the void on the battlefield like a phantom and pierce through those openings like an awl, turning the entire tide of battle.
A commander who leads his troops from a realm beyond simply following tactics—a realm that goes beyond sheer effort.
The world calls such a person a genius.
"Get down!"
Ernest suddenly shouted the moment he noticed flashes of light deep within the forest, and then, with a thunderous roar, shells streaked in like bolts of lightning.
"Aaagh!"
Thud! Thud! Boom!
The shells landed in front of the 1st Battalion infantry.
Then, bouncing along the ground at a low angle, they skimmed right through the infantry formation.
A soldier unlucky enough to be struck by a shell was blown completely to pieces—no trace left of a human, only hunks of mangled flesh.
Inevitably, the disciplined lines formed by the infantry scattered in the blink of an eye and fell apart.
Now, the soldiers, spread out and lying flat, only poked their heads up to cautiously peer toward the forest.
"What the hell!"
"Return fire! Return fire!"
The 1st Battalion was utterly shocked by the enemy's surprise bombardment—something they hadn't even imagined.
"They're too far away! We can't reach them!"
"Just fire anyway!"
"What the hell were those damn cavalry companies doing with their reconnaissance?"
Bang! Boom!
The artillery company, already on standby with the 1st Battalion, quickly loaded and began firing their own shells. However, the formation they'd arranged—set up to watch for enemies emerging from the forest and forming up—was actually too far from the woods.
Shells, fired to bounce along the ground and roll forward, either came to a stop too early or slammed ineffectively into the trees. When they tried lofting the shells with a high firing angle to reach as far as possible, they'd land near the edge of the forest, bounce once, and then come to a halt.
The range was just barely out of reach!
In contrast, the enemy concealed in the forest had positioned their range with uncanny precision so that the very edge just clipped the forward 1st Battalion infantry.
After the initial barrage of coordinated fire, the Belliang Army continued sending bullets flying in wild, scattered bursts as soon as they reloaded. The soldiers couldn't make a move, forced flat to the ground; yet they still took casualties as bullets bounced low over the earth and skipped through their ranks.
"Pull the infantry back! Spread out the cavalry wide to both flanks and lay down suppressive fire!"
Bailey immediately ordered the infantry to withdraw and sent in the cavalry.
Rather than having the cavalry launch a direct attack, the plan was to spread them out to both sides and fire at the enemy, aiming to suppress the hostile bombardment.
This was, in practice, quite an effective tactic.
The range of powder guns was inferior to that of the Balt Guns, and using artillery required significant time to aim and reload.
The Imperial Army's cavalry company was now able to attack the enemy one-sidedly, harassing them at will.
"Move the artillery forward!"
"Artillery, advance!"
Right after that, Bailey ordered the artillery to move up. It would take some time to reposition and set up again, but the cavalry would buy them that precious time.
On top of that, the terrain favored the 1st Battalion. From Lanosel to the forest there was a gentle slope—a shallow hill—meaning the 1st Battalion held the high ground, if only slightly. If they chose the right emplacement for the artillery, they'd be able to fire on the enemy with near impunity.
The infantry withdrew to a safe distance, the cavalry spread out left and right across the battlefield, and the artillery cautiously advanced. It was all happening with astonishing speed and precision—proof that all that grueling training had truly paid off.
Meanwhile, the Belliang Army troops hidden in the forest kept up their barrage against the 1st Battalion.
Now, however, the infantry had already fallen back, so their shells hit nothing but empty ground.
Just as Levin had predicted, the enemy was indeed attacking from the forest.
He hadn't expected them to smuggle in cannons as well, but the situation was manageable all the same.
At this rate, they'd be able to hold the enemy off and drive them back without much trouble.
Waaaaaah!
At that moment, Belliang Army soldiers in red uniforms burst out from the forest, launching a charge at the advancing cavalry company. The cavalry company now had to keep the enemy within firing range while also maneuvering to stay out of the artillery's line of fire.
Because the cavalry company had spread out left and right and moved a bit closer to the forest, they now found themselves exposed to musket fire from the Belliang infantry.
The cavalry company quickly wheeled around to widen the distance.
At the same time, they turned to fire back at the Belliang Army, but their numbers had already thinned due to the Belliang infantry's gunfire, and in the chaos of their hurried retreat, they couldn't inflict much damage on the enemy.
Also, the 1st Battalion was unable to return artillery fire since they were busy moving their cannons forward.
After dealing heavy casualties to the cavalry company, the Belliang troops didn't withdraw back into the forest—instead, they began a bold charge directly at the 1st Battalion.
"…The Royal Flag!"
Then, from within the trees, a large red flag appeared, its fabric flickering like flames, commanding awe and respect as it was raised high.
It was the Belliang Royal Flag, the banner held by Bertrand Belliang Lafayette, the king's nephew.
Bertrand hadn't holed up in Lanosel for a siege; instead, he had been lying in wait in the forest, ready to strike at the Imperial Army from the rear!
"Hold the line! Hold the line!"
The 1st Battalion infantry held formation outside the range of the enemy artillery, ready to face the oncoming attack.
They'd never actually thought the Belliang Army would really charge at them. The Balt Gun outclassed the musket in both range and power. On open ground, a firefight should be a one-sided affair.
The Imperial Army formed up in two ranks: the first row knelt on one knee while the second row stood tall, aiming their gun barrels at the enemy.
A gunfight on open plains against the Alliance Army, who used muskets—there was no need for cover or concealment.
All they needed to do was unleash overwhelming firepower and mow down the enemy before they could even fire back.
"Oh my God. They're actually coming."
"Hahaha! How stupid can they be!"
"Don't get careless! Move the cavalry to guard the flanks and rear!"
Unlike the staff officers who were getting excited, Bailey kept his composure and calmly directed the troops. He relayed orders to the cavalry with the flag, and the cavalry fully withdrew to cover their own army's flanks and rear.
"Open fire as soon as they're in range!"
Bailey's order was given.
Honestly, even if Bailey hadn't said it, the company commanders could have figured out as much on their own.
"There's no need to use the Balt Wind for this."
Watching the enemy recklessly charge forward, Isaac muttered to himself. If they're attacking head-on like this, you just have to shoot them down.
There's no need for Baltracher either.
"Fire!"
"Fire!"
The enemy was now within range. Ernest, as well as Ferdinand and Andersen, all gave the order to fire at almost the exact same moment. The infantry of the 1st Battalion fired at the enemy in unison, and not even three seconds later, another volley thundered out.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Pale Balt Light soaked the early summer's green fields.
With just two coordinated volleys, the Belliang Army in their red uniforms collapsed en masse, never to rise again.
"Retreat! Retreeeeat!"
"Arghhh!"
"Balt Wind!"
"Yes, sir!"
As soon as the enemy began to retreat, Ernest finally gave the order to Isaac and Bruno to use Balt Wind.
Because they hadn't used Balt Wind when the enemy first charged, the enemy had managed to advance much deeper than the range of the Balt Wind.
And now, just as they were retreating, Balt Wind was unleashed, extending the Imperial Army's firing range.
The Imperial Army relentlessly fired into the backs of the fleeing enemy, dealing even greater casualties.
"Cease fire!"
Just before the retreating enemy escaped beyond the range of Balt Wind, Ernest called off the wind.
Any further shots would only let the enemy escape at the edge of effective range, so the fire would miss.
In barely thirty seconds, they had killed over a hundred Belliang soldiers—a terrifying display of firepower.
It's over, thought Ernest.
We stopped them with minimal losses, and now Count Lafayette will have no choice but to retreat. If we just hold our ground, Lanosel, too, will be forced to surrender.
Ernest clenched his fist in triumph.
In the blink of an eye, the battle was over, and it looked like they'd be able to take Lanosel as well.
A perfect victory.
'But why, though?'
Even as he celebrated, Ernest simply couldn't make sense of the intentions of the enemy commander, Bertrand Belliang Lafayette.
This was the same commander who, even in the harsh conditions of the Bertagne Forest, had cornered the 5th Division several times.
There was no way such a skilled tactician would launch such a careless assault.
But no matter how he analyzed it, there wasn't a single thing more the enemy could do.
Now that the artillery from the 1st Battalion was advancing, their range could even reach the depths of the forest. The trees might make it hard to hit the enemy directly, but it would be more than enough to suppress them.
It was over. There was nothing more the enemy could do.
'Really?'
A frown twisted Ernest's face.
Up to this point, he'd observed the battle through the lens of logic and reason and concluded that it was already finished.
But the moment he asked himself, 'Really?' Ernest was reminded just how irrational war could be.
And then it struck him: war was something undertaken by humans, and battles were fought by humans, too.
"It's a trap."
"Charge! Chaaaarge!"
Beeeep! Beeeep! Beeeep!
As someone who viewed battle solely through logic and reason, Ernest hadn't even considered the possibility that this might be a trap.
He thought that giving the order to charge in this situation wasn't even worth considering.
Yet, to everyone's shock, the enemy had lain in ambush within the forest with their artillery, launching a sudden bombardment, taking out the cavalry, and then—seeming to ride the momentum—recklessly charged, only to be brutally driven back in defeat.
To Bailey and the battalion staff officers, this looked like the perfect chance to pursue the retreating enemy, to snatch that red Belliang Royal Flag disappearing between the trees.
The cavalry company and artillery company felt the same, even lamenting the fact that they couldn't press into the forest to attack.
The enemy had fought as best they could, in their own way, and had actually managed to see some success. It only lasted a moment, but the 1st Battalion had been caught off guard and thrown into confusion. The infantry suffered casualties from the bombardment, and even the expensive, monstrous cavalry lost a significant number.
It was truly a startling ambush.
Well done.
So, it was hard to believe that the following Belliang Army charge, and their retreat—leaving over a hundred casualties as they fell back into the forest—were meant as a trap to lure them in.
To anyone watching, it really did look like the enemy, emboldened, charged and then panicked and fled. Even Ernest saw it that way.
For a split second, he thought it was all over.
It was that convincing—and, in truth, even Ernest couldn't definitively say whether it was a trap or just a true defeat.
The only difference was that cautious Ernest thought they should hold their position to achieve their strategic objective steadily, while Bailey and the other excited officers, eager for glory, thought they should attack in order to seize the Royal Flag themselves and secure their strategic objective.
If their opponent hadn't been Count Bertrand Belliang Lafayette, the same man who'd blocked the 5th Division in the Bertagne Forest, and if the enemy's retreat had not led into the forest, Ernest himself would have ordered a charge. Because that would have ended the war, and from a broader perspective, it would have been the right thing to do.
But their opponent was the very man who had turned the Bertagne Forest into a living hell for the Imperial Army, and now the place they'd fled into was none other than Belliang's Forest?
"What are you doing! Charge, now! Move!"
So desperate were Bailey and the staff officers that they actually mounted up and rode over themselves, shouting orders to charge.
You couldn't take wheeled vehicles into the forest.
Horses couldn't properly fight there either, but at least you could carefully advance on foot as far as needed.
"Charge!"
"Charge! Charge!"
Battalion Commander Bailey rode straight up to the battlefield and gave the order in person.
Ferdinand's 1st Company was the first to begin the charge, and Andersen, watching how things were unfolding, soon ordered his 3rd Company forward into the forest as well.
"...."
"...."
On horseback, Ernest quietly looked up at Bailey, who glared down at him.
Bailey, eyes narrowed, was gripping the reins with his left hand and letting his right hand hang by his side.
"It could be a trap."
At Ernest's words, Bailey's right hand twitched toward the pistol at his waist.
"That's not for you to decide, 2nd Company Commander."
Refusing the order to charge with the enemy leader within reach was tantamount to giving up on victory in the war itself.
Even if Bailey couldn't execute Ernest on the spot, he could strip Ernest of his command authority as battalion commander and court-martial him.
In other words, there was no way for Ernest not to send the 2nd Company charging right now.
Either way, Bailey, acting as battalion commander, would order the 2nd Company to charge under his own authority.
"Charge."
"Charge! Charge!"
Ernest spoke, short and firm, and at his words, Robert clenched his fist tightly and barked out the command to charge. From Robert's perspective, it looked as if Bailey might shoot Ernest then and there, even though he had no right to do so.
They had to charge.
"Aren't you going to report this to the Regimental Commander?"
Leaving the 2nd Company charging behind him, Ernest spoke to Bailey in an even tone.
The order from Colonel Levin Ort, the regimental commander, was to prevent the enemy from leaving the forest and attacking the rear or flanks of the imperial forces assaulting Lanosel.
And yet, here they were, launching an all-out charge into the forest.
Did Bailey, Levin's subordinate, really have the authority to do that?
"A field commander's judgment is what truly matters, Captain Krieger."
Bailey spat out the words, clutching his pistol.
Ernest fixed his gaze on the distant edge of Lanosel's castle wall and the towers rising above it, behind Bailey.
Between Lanosel and the forest, across those gentle hills and alongside the artillery that had advanced a little further—came those who had crossed with them
Levin, who was attacking Lanosel, would not be able to see the 1st Battalion charging into the forest.
'Yes, we've been completely caught.'
Only then did Ernest become certain that this was a trap, and realize just how terrifying Count Lafayette Bertrand Belliang truly was.
He had perfectly predicted the tactics of an opponent he had never even seen, lured the 1st Battalion by exploiting the range of artillery, and, though it was an open plain, had used the shallow hills to completely sever the 1st Battalion from the 13th Regiment.
After that, he sacrificed more than a hundred of his own men to manipulate the psychology of the enemy as he pleased, drawing them into the forest as if by invitation.
Even Ernest, who suspected it was a trap, would not have been certain if he hadn't heard Bailey's voice ring out with such confidence.
That's how flawless the trap was.
They'd been utterly deceived.
Levin, who was wary of this kind of situation, probably hadn't even received the report the 1st Battalion's courier carried.
And even though Ernest could see through what was happening, as just a company commander, he didn't have the authority to stop the disaster.
Now, the only thing Ernest could do was to run into hell alongside his friends and subordinates, who had charged straight into the enemy's trap, in an attempt to protect them.
Leaving Bailey's burning gaze behind, Ernest began to sprint toward the forest.
Once again, it hit him.
Truly, hell was not a distant place.