Chapter 142 - Death and Honor Are Not the Same (6)
As the battle began and his tactical plan finished, Ernest ran forward, reading the situation through shouts and gunfire—when a sudden realization struck him.
"Damn it!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Obey my orders—no matter what! Only my orders! Ignore anyone else's commands! From this moment on, the 2nd Company answers to me alone! Anyone following other orders will be considered insubordinate and punished!"
Thinking of Bailey, Ernest made sure that at least the 2nd Company would act strictly according to his intentions, hammering the point home in the midst of combat.
The soldiers were startled by how Ernest barked orders like a madman, leaving them confused. But ultimately, not having to figure anything out on their own and just following Ernest's lead actually put them at ease.
"Robert! Slow down a bit! Make the curve gentler!"
"'Gentler'? Says who!"
When the 1st Platoon surged ahead, Ernest told them to adjust their pace.
His words came out scrambled—his head felt ready to burst—but despite sounding irritated, Robert understood what Ernest meant and carefully coordinated the charge speed of each squad.
It's already been three years since Robert started working alongside Ernest.
And all of Robert's military science knowledge was built upon what he learned from Ernest.
Even when Ernest gave vague orders, Robert could still understand exactly what he meant.
Given the nature of the terrain, there was no way the 2nd Company could maintain a perfect formation in the forest.
Still, even as they dashed ahead through the trees and their line faltered a bit, they managed to form an asymmetrical encircling shape, advancing forward with the left side curving gently.
Honestly, thinking that they were only able to pull this off because of Bailey's training made Ernest's stomach churn a bit.
"Enemy ahead!"
"Open fire!"
The fact that they'd circled deeply through the forest to hit the enemy's flank and rear—and that the enemy force was larger than expected, stretching the encirclement even wider—meant the entire 2nd Company spotted the enemy nearly simultaneously.
Babababang! Bababang! Pa-ang!
"Aaagh!"
"The enemy! Behind us—they're behind us!"
The Belliang Army had been attacking 1st and 3rd Companies with enthusiasm, so they couldn't help but be stunned.
The Imperial Army wasn't supposed to be attacking from this direction.
Bertrand attacked the tail end of the 3rd Company, which was holding the right side of the 1st Battalion formation, and then angled farther to the right.
The 3rd Company immediately pursued, and since the Imperial Army executed their operations company by company, each company pivoted suddenly, breaking apart into separate units.
If, at this point, they kept charging in following Bertrand's lure, then the 3rd, 2nd, and 1st Companies would each rush into the Belliang Army's trap in that order.
In other words, they'd be fed in one after another, making it easy for the enemy to defeat them in detail.
Furthermore, there were even reserve units lying in wait—both to open up a path for any Imperial Army companies joining the fight late, letting them enter the encirclement, and to block any possible retreat by cutting off their rear.
If Ernest's 2nd Company had simply charged right after the 3rd Company, they would have entered the enemy's encirclement and been attacked—making it nearly impossible to join up with 3rd Company.
Even if there were no obstacles in between, it's virtually impossible to run out and link up with another unit under a hail of bullets on the battlefield.
The chaos of battle alone can split units apart even without physical barriers.
Likewise, the 3rd Company—joining late—would also have ended up inside the encirclement, left isolated and under attack with the 2nd Company right in front of them, yet unable to join up.
And once isolated, they'd only become prey for the Star of Summer.
This was a plan meticulously crafted—taking into account the lay of Lanosel, the forest, low hills, and even the psychology of the commanders.
Add to that the Star of Summer, compensating for the powder gun's lack of firepower, and everything was perfect.
And with just this one battle secured, the Belliang Army could do to the Imperial Army what the 5th Division had suffered: stab deep into the Empire's exposed flank within Belliang territory.
Then, with the Balt Batteries they seized, they'd light the spark for a counteroffensive.
But now, in the midst of this flawless, impeccable plan—some lunatic had just flung a bucket of filth at it with everything they had.
"2nd Platoon, charge!"
"Waaaaa!"
Ernest, having managed to fan out the 2nd Company wide and maximize enemy confusion and casualties by extending their contact points, immediately ordered the 2nd Platoon to charge.
Just as Ernest had instructed earlier, Isaac and Bruno began powering forward, summoning Balt Wind and Balt Shield.
Pababang! Pabang! Pabababang!
When Bailey had given the order to charge, the company had hesitated.
But the moment Ernest gave the command, the 2nd Platoon charged straight into the enemy lines without a second's doubt.
It wasn't because the Baltrachers were clearing a path up ahead.
It was because the men believed that so long as they followed the direction Ernest pointed, they were doing the right thing—that trusting him meant victory, meant survival.
So they charged—not for victory, but for survival, trembling with fear as they carried out an assault meant for victory.
Following Yurgen through the night, they had learned that sometimes, running headlong for the most dangerous place could actually be the safest path.
And for all his lack of personal experience compared to Yurgen, Ernest was an even more reliable commander in battle.
It was hard to believe this was just a seventeen-year-old kid.
"What is this! What's happening!"
"How did this happen!"
In the blink of an eye, the 2nd Platoon punched a hole through the enemy's encirclement.
Although the 2nd Platoon hadn't yet joined up with their own forces, from the perspective of the Belliang Army—now attacked from behind by the 2nd Company—the hole made by the 2nd Platoon meant yet another front was blocked.
Now, the Belliang Army faced enemies on three sides.
Just a moment ago, the Belliang Army had been the ones surrounding and attacking the enemy—but in the chaos, they now realized it was they who were surrounded and being attacked from three directions.
And after the grueling retreat from Bertagne Forest all the way to Lanosel, the soldiers' motivation to keep fighting had waned too much for them to hold up under such a reversal.
"No! Don't run! Hold your positions!"
Despite the desperate screams of their commanders, Belliang soldiers began to flee toward the only gap left open.
But with enemies attacking from three sides, leaving cover only made them better targets.
Within moments, the Belliang soldiers who had just been firing on the 2nd Company were cut down en masse.
"2nd Company! All-out charge!"
"Waaaaa!"
Ernest didn't charge too early and increase friendly casualties, nor did he charge too late and give the enemy time to react. His timing struck the perfect balance: the charge came just as the isolated Belliang soldiers were barely hanging on, utterly demoralized, and just quick enough that Bertrand, the enemy commander, couldn't respond in time.
So, in that exact moment—when even Star of Summer, who had been finishing off Baltracher's 3rd Company and preparing to cut up the 1st Company, was caught off guard and hesitated—Ernest did not miss his chance.
"Run! Quickly!" Ernest shouted.
And just as Ernest had hoped, Ferdinand didn't miss his timing either.
The 1st Company, which had been getting picked off bit by bit at the fringes of Belliang's encirclement, seized the chaos and raced to link up with the 2nd Company.
With that, what had seemed like an easy Belliang victory now descended into uncertainty.
The 3rd Company was still stranded inside the enemy's encirclement, but with the 1st Company—previously at the edge of the ring—and the 2nd Company—who'd broken through to join them—a battered but actual battle line had taken shape.
The 3rd Company was still withering away, and overall, the Belliang Army still had the Empire's troops surrounded.
The Belliang forces had staked everything on this battle, and they outnumbered their adversaries by a sizable margin.
On top of that, they knew the lay of the land like the back of their hand.
The Belliang Army still had the upper hand.
However, now that a front line existed, the Imperial Army, equipped with Balt Guns, might seize the advantage.
"Ernest! Deployment!"
Most importantly, if there was anyone who could find a path through this unfamiliar forest—one he'd never even set foot in before—it was Ernest.
As soon as Ferdinand joined up with the 2nd Company, he entrusted the troop deployment to Ernest.
Ferdinand pulled back to the center to oversee the big picture, while Ernest took charge of the front.
Just as they'd always done back in their officer cadet days, they didn't get caught up over who held the authority to command—instead, they relied on trust in each other.
Ernest quickly scanned not only the 2nd Company but also the 1st Company, taking in the enemy's positions, the surrounding terrain, and even checking on the 3rd Company, which was isolated in the middle of enemy lines.
"Baumann! Deploy the right wing! Take cover behind those trees up ahead and block the enemy's encirclement!"
"Got it!"
Ernest first issued orders to Baumann, who commanded the 2nd Platoon of the 1st Company, telling him to unfold the right wing. The battlefield was chaotic—recklessly spreading out the troops would have been the quickest way to total annihilation.
But in Ernest's mind, the map of the battlefield was already perfectly drawn out.
What's more, Baumann didn't question the risky order for even a second.
"Robert! Pull the left wing back slowly! Keep doing it until I give another signal!"
"You there—cover the left wing as it falls back!"
Ferdinand took over issuing whatever additional orders were needed, so Ernest could focus on troop deployment.
Billim's 2nd Platoon began covering Robert's 1st Platoon as they slowly pulled back, following Ferdinand's command.
"Simon! With me!"
"Yes! 3rd Platoon!"
"Use the Balt Wind!"
Ernest personally led Simon's 3rd Platoon, and despite the danger, they sprinted straight toward the battered center of the battle line At the same time, Ferdinand gave orders to the Baltrachers to use the Balt Wind and shield their allies.
"Ugh!"
"Damn it!"
The Belliang Army struggled just to stay standing in the fierce, gale-like Balt Wind.
Even worse, the gunpowder blew away in the wind, making it impossible for them to reload.
Thanks to this, Ernest and the 3rd Platoon managed to break through safely and take up positions in the center of the battlefield.
"Advance!"
No sooner had Ernest and the 2nd Company 3rd Platoon secured their position than Ferdinand ordered the remaining 1st Company forces in the center to move forward.
Simon's 3rd Platoon used the cleverly overlapping trees Ernest had scoped out as cover, and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the enemy.
The center of the 1st Company advanced under cover as well, forming a new front with Simon's 3rd Platoon at its protruding core.
Every officer and soldier moved in perfect coordination under the command of Ernest and Ferdinand.
Once again, Bailey's training had shown results.
If only Bailey's tactical sense matched his skills as a trainer. Well, personality issues aside.
"Robert! Halt!"
"Halt! Take cover! Get to cover!"
Following Ernest's command, Robert stopped the withdrawal and took up cover.
With that, Ernest's plan, the picture he'd envisioned, was finally complete
The Imperial Army was on the verge of being swallowed whole by the Belliang Army.
The odds were nearly eight to two; even with the superiority of the Balt Gun, the best the Imperial Army could hope for was either defeat or a hard-fought draw with severe losses.
But now, things were different.
Ernest had stretched out the right wing to block the enemy's encirclement, pushed back the left wing, and ordered the center to charge.
The right wing was still curled back and nearly surrounded by the enemy, but the center and left wing now faced the enemy head-on, with their flanks protected.
Although the center protruded slightly forward, the embattled 3rd Company fought in front of them.
As long as the 3rd Company held their ground, the pressure on the center would be greatly reduced.
At this point, the odds could be seen as six to four.
Simply by reading the terrain and responding swiftly, a battle they should have lost had become almost evenly matched.
Now, the Imperial Army could break through in any direction.
Unlike moments before, when they were trapped by a complete enemy encirclement, now only the right wing was blocked, and the rest of the battlefield lay open before them.
"...."
"...."
Ernest glared at Star of Summer, who kept her distance and circled, never daring to approach directly, and Star of Summer glared right back at Ernest.
All along, he had kept Star of Summer, the one variable who could overturn the entire battle situation, in his sight and under constant watch.
As he looked at Star of Summer, Ernest felt a surge of emotions he'd never realized he harbored.
It was a sharp mix of hatred and resentment.
She had killed Yurgen, thrown the battle into chaos, and ultimately caused Jonas's death.
If not for the Star of Summer, the 5th Division could have seized control of the forest and advanced steadily onto the plain.
And Star of Summer, too, watched Ernest with those vivid green eyes, brimming with hatred and resentment.
They both felt the same emotions toward each other, and realized that even killing their opponent wouldn't rid them of these feelings.
Because this situation—where they stood as enemies—wasn't what either of them had wanted.
They both knew they were just fighting, pushed by circumstances, simply trying to survive.
Killing the other wouldn't bring back the dead.
Trying to ease their hatred and resentment by killing each other would only leave them directionless.
Nothing would be resolved; in the end, they would simply find a new target for their anger.
Even so—had he ever in his life wanted so desperately to kill someone?
"Fall back!"
Ernest's sharp shout rang out over the chaos of gunfire and shouting on the battlefield.
His command, spoken in slightly awkward Belliang, echoed through the noise.
"It's over already!"
Lacking the right Belliang words, Ernest struggled to fully convey his meaning.
But if Bertrand Belliang Lafayette truly was the mastermind behind all this, those few words would be enough for him to understand.
Star of Summer, who had been searching for an opening, suddenly twisted her face in frustration and disappeared into the trees.
Moments later, the Belliang soldiers began to retreat.
Bertrand had really called an end to the fight and pulled his forces back.
He truly was a wise commander.
"Captain Kissinger! Fall back!"
"Retreat! "Retreat!"
At Ernest's shout, the isolated 3rd Company hurriedly fell back and rejoined the allied forces.
The enemy didn't attack them—instead, they willingly let them go.
There was no advantage to be gained by attacking now.
If they went after a small target and exposed a gap to Ernest, they might end up suffering a heavy loss instead.
Ernest saw Battalion Commander Bailey and his staff among the group running toward him, but he didn't look any of them in the eye.
"You must be Krieger!"
Just as the 3rd Company began merging with their own forces, a fluent Imperial tongue with a distinct Belliang accent echoed from the other side.
It was a very deep, resonant voice—like a grand brass instrument.
"That's right! I am Krieger!"
Ernest didn't back down, answering firmly.
In contrast to the other man's mature tone, Ernest's voice—still only seventeen—was somewhat high-pitched, creating a striking difference.
Yet that youthful voice carried such force and conviction that it seemed to pierce straight through hearts and minds, as if it were the sound of gunfire or clashing blades.
The forest, now transformed into a battlefield, was so thick with tension and heavy silence that even the trees seemed to wait quietly for their words.
"Surrendering as soon as possible would be best for both sides, Krieger."
As the turmoil subsided and the forest seemed to listen in tranquil anticipation, the adversary lowered his voice a bit and urged them to surrender.
"Forget the idea that the troops outside the forest will come to your rescue. The battle was already decided the moment you set foot in these woods. I ordered my men to drive away your artillery and cavalry abandoned at the edge of the forest and seize your supplies. Just capturing the Balt Batteries alone will guarantee our victory."
"That's impossible!"
Bailey cried out in shock at the calm words of the enemy.
"Our forces attacking Lanosel won't just sit by and let that happen."
Ignoring Bailey, Ernest answered the enemy.
But his words lacked conviction.
Ernest knew all too well that Levin would not be sending any reinforcements.
"From your voice, it sounds like you know it, too. Yes, the troops at Lanosel will hold your allies back. They will either retreat, abandoning you, or cling to their position in the belief that you'll make it back on your own—only to end up surrounded on both sides and wiped out. There are no other options."
With the utmost courtesy, the enemy once again urged the beleaguered 1st Battalion to surrender.
Thanks to the efforts of Ernest and Ferdinand, they had managed to overturn what should have been a lost battle.
But that victory was limited to the realm of tactics; unlike Bertrand, Ernest couldn't dominate the war itself on the level of strategy.
It was a hopeless situation. In matters beyond the reach of tactics, the 1st Battalion was left utterly helpless.
To speak honestly, if Bailey hadn't ordered the reckless charge into the forest, none of this disaster would have happened.
After all, Bertrand's massive operation hinged on luring the 1st Battalion into the woods as the spark to set it off.
Realizing this from the enemy's polite explanation, Bailey now stood pale and drenched in cold sweat.
"There's no need to spill more blood for a battle that's already over, is there? Surrender. I recognize your brilliant achievements in battle, and I promise that if you lay down your arms, you will face no retaliation and receive the best possible treatment."
"I'm the Commander here! You Belliang bastard!"
...
Bailey, furious at the enemy's attempt to coax Ernest into surrender, shouted back.
The enemy fell silent, perhaps taken aback.
If you listened closely, you could hear murmuring coming from their side.
"I am the Gold born within Crimson, the Shining Raven who rules the prosperous Beech Forest—Bertrand Belliang Lafayette."
After a moment, the man finally revealed his name.
That old-fashioned introduction was actually quite trimmed down for someone of his status.
The "Gold born within Crimson" referred to the royal family of Belliang.
The "Beech Forest" pointed to the title of Count Lafayette.
And "Shining Raven"—the meaning of his name, Bertrand—symbolized wisdom.
In other words, Count Bertrand Belliang Lafayette, even though the fighting was not yet over, had chosen to introduce himself formally and with courtesy.
"…Lieutenant Colonel Bailey Hoffman, 1st Battalion Commander of the 13th Regiment."
Bailey hesitated for a moment, but then introduced himself boldly and in a polite tone.
However, Bertrand remained silent even after hearing Bailey's introduction.
"...I know it may be rude to ask the battalion commander this, but who exactly is Krieger?"
After a brief pause, Bertrand asked about Ernest. This noble and wise strategist seemed genuinely bewildered, unable to grasp just what sort of bastard this damned Ernest Krieger—who had foiled his plans time and again—actually was.
"He's my company commander!"
"..."
When Bailey snapped back in fury, murmurs rose again from the other side of the forest.
Ernest sensed that the atmosphere was shifting in an odd, uncomfortable way.
"Very well, Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman."
After a tense silence, Bertrand spoke again, this time with a hint of amusement in his tone as he addressed Bailey.
"You have no way to turn the tide of this battle. Stop this pointless resistance and surrender."
He then urged them to surrender, lacing his words with clear mockery, ridicule, contempt, and scorn.
"Don't delude yourself into thinking you can achieve anything here. The only thing you're capable of is begging your capable subordinate to spare your life, isn't it?"
"..."
Bailey's face flushed bright red with anger, and Ernest clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the stream of curses threatening to burst out.
Bailey had never intended to surrender—and had even dreamed of capturing Bertrand to win glory—but now, stung by Bertrand's mockery, he was filled with blind rage.
And whether Bertrand intended it or not, Bailey likely thought of Levin when he mentioned a "capable subordinate."
In just a short exchange, Bertrand had managed to grasp the inner workings of the 1st Battalion, seeing exactly where Bailey's pride stemmed from.
All of Bailey's jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, and his relationship with Ernest—Bertrand saw right through it all. That's why, from the field, he was expertly provoking the highest-ranking commander, Bailey, planning to manipulate the 1st Battalion to suit his own tastes and eventually swallow it whole.
To Ernest, who never really understood the subtleties of people's hearts, Bertrand's sharp insight was so impressive—it went beyond fear, almost making him want to study under Bertrand himself.
'Damn it.'
Just moments ago, Ernest had been able to see through everything on the battlefield as if he commanded it all, but right now, when it came to this tangled, hopeless knot of human relationships, he couldn't begin to see a solution.
"It's just a provocation meant to rile up the battalion commander. Don't take the bait,"
Fortunately, before Ernest could say anything, Hans Schum, the operations section chief and a captain, quickly whispered this advice in Bailey's ear.
"Why so quiet? Are you perhaps thinking of a way out? Don't trouble yourself. No matter how much you rack your brain after charging into a trap so naïvely, do you really think you'll come up with an answer?"
"Shut up!"
But Bertrand refused to give Bailey any time to regain his composure.
"Oh, or perhaps you're just busy listening to your capable subordinates? If that's the case, my apologies. I'll give you a bit more time."
"We need to retreat immediately."
"Shut up!"
Realizing the dangerous situation, Ernest frantically warned Bailey, looking anxiously around them, but Bailey just snapped at him in a rage, glaring as if to kill.
"Battalion Commander Sir, the enemy is trying to cut off our retreat by going around us."
Ernest forced himself to stay patient as he warned Bailey.
At his words, everyone was startled, glancing nervously around.
However, no one could spot any sign of what Ernest had warned about.
"If our retreat is blocked, we'll be completely trapped in the forest. We don't even have any supplies..."
"I told you to shut up! You insolent bastard!"
"..."
Ernest carefully observed Bailey's expression, tone, eyes, and the trembling hand clenching his pistol—he realized that Bailey was now incapable of rational judgment.
"Hahaha."
From the other side, Bertrand's laughter rang out.
"It's already too late, Krieger. How unfortunate."
Bertrand spoke with an easy confidence.
"Perhaps you should have been born a little earlier?"
He said this to Ernest with a look of feigned pity.
He meant that if Ernest had just been born a bit earlier, he would naturally have outranked Bailey—and if that were the case, none of this would have happened.
Bertrand, a strategist who controlled the war itself in the palm of his hand, was offering extravagant praise to Ernest, who had disrupted his plans repeatedly.
At the same time, it was biting mockery meant to ruthlessly taunt and belittle Bailey.
"I'm ready to accept your surrender. Call for me whenever you're prepared to do so. What was your name again? Well, anyway, whatever it was, Lieutenant Colonel Whoever."
Bang!
Just as Bertrand finished speaking, a sharp gunshot from a powder gun rang out from the direction of the forest exit.
It was only then that the 1st Battalion realized the enemy had blocked their retreat.
Even as Bailey seethed with rage at the insult, Bertrand had been quietly putting his plan into action.
Ernest had been right.
But he found no satisfaction in it.
In the middle of enemy territory, deep in a forest laced with traps and hostile anticipation—a place he'd never set foot in before—1st Battalion stood completely exposed, without their military packs, without supplies, without any support.
In that harsh moment, they felt the bitter truth that they were isolated and dying a slow death even now.