Chapter 145 - Death and Honor Are Not the Same (9)
The pace of the 1st Battalion's movement was painfully slow. That was because they were traveling with the wounded.
What made it worse was that the soldiers from the 2nd Company were struggling to carry those unable to walk, leaving nearly twenty men unable to fight in this dire situation.
Still, one small mercy was that the eight staff officers weren't just standing by idly at the rear—they had picked up rifles and were prepared to fight, at least to provide minimal defense. Among the wounded, too, there were some who couldn't move, but who could still shoot. When things got desperate, those men would defend themselves directly, allowing more of the 2nd Company to be committed to the fight.
"Will this work?"
Baumann's voice was low, tinged with doubt, as he asked Ferdinand.
At present, it wouldn't be wrong to say that Ferdinand was effectively commanding the 1st Battalion.
As the commander of the 1st Company, eldest grandson of Brigadier General Hartmann, eldest son of Lieutenant Colonel Hartmann, and a strapping young man of just seventeen, he was impeccable in both character and ability.
However, when it came to military affairs, Ernest was in charge of tactical operations for the troops. Without Ernest, trying to find their bearings in the forest at dusk would have been almost impossible.
In fact, when it came to small-unit tactics in engagements like this, Ferdinand could think of no one better than Ernest.
"We'll be lucky if it works. If it doesn't, then we'll just do our best with what we have."
Ferdinand replied in a calm, steady voice, as solid as a rock.
"If it doesn't work, that's the end. Even if we surrender, there's no guarantee they'll treat us well as prisoners. And, and Georg…"
"Baumann."
Ferdinand spoke in a firm voice to Baumann, who was suffering, tormented by thoughts of their friend wounded by a gunshot.
"We're all doing our best. If, despite doing everything we can, things still don't work out, then it means it's no longer within our control. Don't let yourself be consumed by things you cannot change."
Baumann glanced up at Ferdinand, unable to believe such words could have come from a seventeen-year-old.
His face twisted in pain.
"As a soldier, I am doing my best."
"..."
Ferdinand couldn't respond to the hint of accusation in Baumann's words. And Baumann, seeing Ferdinand had no answer, said nothing more.
Matching the pace of the wounded, the 1st Battalion moved slowly through the forest, where night was starting to fall.
They were retracing their path, but now, not a single person knew exactly where they were.
In a forest, even the same spot looks completely different depending on whether you're facing east or west. Realistically, memorizing the path through the woods means passing the same place over and over, imprinting the scenery in your mind.
Or, you could be like Ernest—able to picture the lay of the forest three-dimensionally in his head and compare the actual terrain to his mental map. That such a thing is possible is itself remarkable.
"1st Company Commander. The 2nd Company Commander says now's the time to disperse and form ranks."
"Understood."
In any case, for now they had Ernest, and that was enough.
After receiving the message from the courier Ernest had sent, Ferdinand ordered the 1st and 3rd Companies—who had been advancing in a tight formation—to spread out.
However, even though it was called a dispersal, the line was much narrower than standard skirmish formation usually used in a forest.
This made their flanks more vulnerable to enemy attacks.
Of course, considering the disparity in numbers and the fact that the enemy had already formed an encirclement, widening the formation wouldn't likely make much difference—but still, it was too narrow.
Moreover, instead of positioning himself in the center of the dispersed line, Ferdinand took up a spot on the left side along with the two Baltrachers from the 1st Company.
With just the two Baltrachers—who would be unable to counter the Star of Summer—and occupying this awkward spot, their right side was left exposed to the enemy.
To correct this imbalance, the 2nd Company, which had been at the rear, now moved forward.
The 2nd Company split into two groups—half positioned themselves to the rear left and half to the rear right of the line.
Now, a somewhat stable formation was established. But everything about it was textbook, and by-the-book tactics could never overcome such overwhelming odds.
What they needed now was a move that would catch the enemy off guard.
Facing an enemy with an overwhelming advantage, responding with standard tactics would be like butting heads with a bull—inevitably, the smaller 1st Battalion would be the one to have its head crushed.
"Oh God..."
"You believe in God?"
"No, but right now, I do."
Realizing that they had already done everything humanly possible, the soldiers began to pray.
Even though there were noble officers of the Empire—men who had tried to stamp out religion and faith as barbaric superstitions—they prayed anyway.
And in truth, the noble officers were no different from the rest, so none of them rebuked the soldiers for praying.
Fweeet!
Just then, a sharp whistle echoed from somewhere.
Fweeet! Fweeet!
Before anyone could figure out where the sound was coming from, a chorus of whistles erupted simultaneously from both flanks of the 1st Battalion's line.
Every 2nd Company Member who could whistle joined in all at once.
…
Then, after a brief moment, the sound was cut off entirely. The 1st Battalion came to a complete halt, aiming their muzzles at the forest.
Clatter.
"Ssshhh…"
As one nervous soldier adjusted his grip on his gun and let out a sound, Andersen raised his left index finger to his lips and shot him a fierce look.
Sweat, streaming from Andersen's completely bald head—so much that even the helmet liner couldn't catch it all—ran down his forehead and soaked into his thick eyebrows.
"Just like a fox."
Andersen carefully scanned the terrain ahead, then grinned and muttered to himself.
Although Andersen had charged straight into Bertrand's trap and taken heavy losses, nearly a decade of experience commanding a company wasn't for nothing.
It's the perfect spot.
It's ideal for the enemy to set up an ambush, and just right for the 1st Battalion to form a battle line too.
If the 1st Battalion advanced just ten more steps from here, the soldiers at the front would be riddled with bullets and drop to the ground in droves.
Ernest had memorized every bit of terrain he'd seen as they passed, and this spot had stood out in his mind more than any other.
At the same time, something extraordinary was happening in Ernest's mind—something even he couldn't explain.
He felt as if he could now walk through the forest with his eyes closed.
Tap.
"Prepare for battle."
Ferdinand spoke in a low voice as he placed his large hand on the shoulder of the soldier in front of him.
Without a word, the soldiers nudged the people next to them, exchanging glances.
"Between the trees up ahead."
"Be careful of the thickets."
Officers and seasoned non-commissioned officers whispered instructions to the soldiers about where to aim their muzzles.
"Count Lafayette isn't here."
Ferdinand murmured quietly, listening to the silent forest.
If Bertrand were here right now, he would never have let this perfect gap slip by.
Without Bertrand, the Belliang Army would be less capable of handling unexpected situations.
Everything was in place.
"Balt Wind."
Whooosh!
At Ferdinand's firm command, a Baltracher of the 1st Company summoned the Balt Wind with all her strength.
The powerful wind swept across a wide area, causing the thicket to shake violently, and the slowly darkening forest grew pale with light.
Pop-pop-pop-pop! Pop-pop-pop!
"Aaagh!"
There was no order to fire. Even so, the moment the Balt Wind whipped through and lit up their vision, the soldiers of the 1st Battalion fired without hesitation at the spots where they expected the enemy to be. Screams echoed from among the thicket and trees—the Belliang Army really had been lying in ambush here.
However, in reality, the damage suffered by the Belliang Army from that volley was minimal—barely enough to even be called casualties, with only about ten soldiers wounded or killed. Even so, the sense of shock that came from their ambush being discovered was far from insignificant. The confusion spread rapidly among the Belliang soldiers.
"Return fire! Return fire!"
Ratatatat!
The Belliang Army began shooting back. Through the pale glow of the Balt Wind, the hot flashes and thick smoke of gunpowder flared up, only to be swept away by the wind.
"Take cover! Keep your heads down!"
Unlike typical Imperial Army tactics, the 1st Battalion did not pour out bullets. Instead, they remained behind cover, waiting for the enemy's volley to end. The strong Balt Wind also quickly died down. The 1st Battalion couldn't expect any resupply at this point. They had to conserve their supplies.
As the Balt Wind, which had driven back the darkness with its pale light, faded away, it suddenly felt as if they'd gone blind in the enveloping darkness.
Bang! Bang! Ratatatat! Ratatatat!
"You savage Belliang bastards!"
While the Belliang Army, using their overwhelming numbers, took turns firing their powder guns relentlessly and loudly, the 1st Battalion, short on bullets, hurled curses instead of lead. After a brief moment, something strange happened: as darkness settled over the forest, gunfire faded and only shouts and swearing echoed back and forth between the two sides.
"Idiot! You have to say it in Belliang so they understand!"
"Hey! Hey! Aren't you from Belliang? Say something to them!"
"Uh, uh, you… you bastards!"
"Oh, for God's sake! Just repeat after me, exactly as I say it!"
The Belliang-born soldiers in the 1st Battalion suddenly found themselves turned into a barrage of profanity.
"Seeing the way you guys shoot, now I get why Belliang is such a mess!"
"What are you doing? Hurry up! I might not know the Belliang language, but I can tell that's not all there is to it!"
"Are you really making me say this?"
"Say it! Now!"
"Your k-king! All he does is sleep around, that's why your country's gone to hell!"
The naïve young man was so shocked by the words that just came out of his own mouth that he quickly clamped his hands over his face, his eyes darting around in panic.
After a moment of surprised murmuring, a voice from the Belliang side rang out in impressively fluent Imperial.
"You idiots are the ones who shouldn't be wasting time here like this!"
From the refined, old-fashioned accent—so typical of Belliang nobility—it was clear the speaker was of noble birth.
Nobles, no matter how sharp their tongues, could never hold their own in a battle of insults against a bunch of crude commoner bastards.
They'd just get absolutely humiliated and end up bawling for their mothers…
"When you're done sucking up to your Emperor's asshole, it'll be your wives and daughters doing it for you back home. Should you really be wasting time playing around with us?"
"...."
"Don't be shocked if, when you get home, some kid you've never seen calls you 'Dad!' Chances are, it'll be the bastard your Emperor left behind when you were busy brown-nosing him all these years—better serve that one like royalty! Provided your wife's still even waiting for you, that is!"
"...."
"You fucking morons. My grandmother could outtalk all of you! Go back and drink some more of your mother's milk! Oh, wait—after seeing your ugly faces, your mothers realized they'd given birth to something less than human, pissed themselves in horror, and ran off, leaving you behind! That's why you're all at this pathetic level! You motherless orphans!"
After this touching message personally delivered by the noble noble of Belliang, the Imperial soldiers were left so stunned that not a single word could escape their lips.
"Is that even a human being?"
"Wow, in all my life, I never thought I'd hear a foreign noble curse us out so perfectly—in Imperial, no less."
"What's wrong, orphans? Cat got your tongue? Are you all busy crying for the embrace of mothers you'll never have? Don't worry! When you get back to the Empire, your Emperor's ass will be waiting for you! Go ahead—hug it tight and suck as much as you want!"
"Hey, hey, don't talk back. Seriously, don't. Just keep your mouth shut."
"Is there really no way to kill that guy? I honestly want to."
"Just leave him. I'm actually curious how far he'll go."
If there's even the slightest chance you can put up a fight, you might try— but with a gap this overwhelming, how could anyone dare to resist? The Imperial Army, confronted by the enemy's vicious, utterly inhuman trash talk, couldn't even feel angry; instead, they were left in awe.
When vulgarity reaches this level, it's no longer contempt but reverence that comes to mind.
The 1st Battalion had completely lost the will to fight back against the taunts, and now listened in silence as one insult after another rained down on them.
They wondered just how far it would go—only to find out it had no limits. If anyone tried to write a memoir about this battle later, they wouldn't be able to bring themselves to put into words the sheer profanity and vulgarity of the curses they endured.
Somehow, though, it reminded them of the scent of their hometown.
They thought the stench of heavily fermented livestock dung couldn't be far off.
The battle entered a lull, with a single Belliang nobleman completely dominating the battlefield, wildly running amok. But this stalemate was not what either the 1st Battalion or the Belliang Army wanted.
Just before the sun disappeared, as the sky burned with one last red sunset and long shadows stretched through the forest, a flicker of light burst from the darkness.
"Have any of you ever seen your father's face? I bet he's never even smiled at you, not once! The minute he realized you weren't really his own kid—charge! Charge!"
"Waaaaah!"
The Belliang noble, in the middle of unleashing another foul stream of insults, suddenly switched seamlessly to Belliang language and gave the order to charge.
The Belliang soldiers roared and surged forward, full of courage.
At the same time, a pale shooting star streaked across the darkness.
"They're coming!"
"Fire!"
"Kill them!"
The soldiers of the 1st Battalion, who had been standing in a daze listening to the insults, snapped back to their senses and began firing at the charging Belliang Army. The Balt Wind whipped through the battlefield once more, seizing control of the fight.
But even the Balt Wind could not stop the Star of Summer.
"..."
From her vantage point up in the trees, the Star of Summer raced along, able to take in the entire formation of the 1st Battalion at a glance.
Thanks to the pale light of the Balt Wind, she could see everything.
'Left.'
On the left by Belliang Army's standard— the right from the 1st Battalion's perspective—she spotted a tall figure standing stiff and straight. Two officers stood beside him, their rifles slung over their shoulders.
Her gaze followed the rigid figure—then her eyes narrowed slightly.
'A decoy.'
She realized that the figure wasn't Ernest.
There had been no reaction to her presence at all.
'A trap? But there's no real need for me to attack Krieger in the first place. If that's the case, is it not a trap but a ruse to fend off attacks? Wasn't there supposed to be a Baltracher stationed here? Still, no one would take such a blatant gamble.'
Rather than attacking the 1st Battalion directly, the Star of Summer circled around, quickly scanning the battlefield.
Among the 1st Battalion desperately fighting against the Belliang charge, she could spot only one Baltracher wielding the Balt.
From what she could see, there were two positioned near the center-left and another two on the right wing.
But their opponent was Krieger.
It would be a mistake to take what she saw at face value.
'He knows two aren't enough, so he probably stationed three or even four in one place.
There are four visible, but in reality, only one is fighting.'
The Star of Summer couldn't decide where to strike.
If her opponent weren't Ernest, she would have been confident in cutting down even three Baltrachers at once and would have attacked the right wing without hesitation. With one Baltracher actually using the Balt in the center-left, she could avoid having to face all four at the same time.
Logically, attacking the right wing of the 1st Battalion made the most sense.
But that decoy bothered her too much.
Common sense dictated they would never leave the right wing completely empty, setting up only decoys without at least one Baltracher there.
So, were there three Baltrachers, with Ernest hidden among them, lying in wait to attack on the right wing?
But then—what about the Baltracher on the center-left?
And what about the commander, who appeared to be leading the whole battalion from that spot?
If she left them alone and one of them was killed in an attack, the entire unit could collapse.
'I have to attack.'
The Star of Summer knew all too well she could not delay the assault any longer.
The Belliang Army was suffering heavy losses charging the enemy.
She had to act now.
"Tsk."
In the end, after hesitating, she abruptly changed direction and began sprinting toward the 1st Battalion's left wing.
Both the center-left and the right wing were uncertain, so she decided to test the enemy's response by striking the far edge of the left wing—which, while close to the center-left, still seemed like somewhere she could easily retreat from if needed.
The Star of Summer became a meteor hurtling through the dark forest, reaching the very edge of the 1st Battalion's left wing in a single bound and landing at its tip.
And just as the soldiers saw her attacking and were about to scream in terror, that was when she finally spotted a pair of deep, dark eyes staring straight back at her.
There, at the rear of the center-left of the 1st Battalion, entrenched in cloth draped with grass and leaves, crouched four people.
Only one of them was locking eyes with the fierce Star of Summer as she descended.
"Now."
KWAANG!
"Ugh!"
At Ernest's resolute command, three Baltrachers combined their power to raise a Barrier, blocking the Star of Summer.
Reeling from the unexpected blow, the Star of Summer nearly lost consciousness for an instant.
But in that split second, she strengthened her defenses, narrowly avoiding death or complete blackout.
"Grab her!"
At Ernest's shout, the three Baltrachers used both Barrier and telekinesis to seize the Star of Summer.
Still dazed from the shock, she couldn't immediately break free.
Then, just as they held her, the Baltracher who had been unleashing the Balt Wind beside Ferdinand dashed over in a rush to join the three Baltrachers.
Astonishingly, Ferdinand raced over even faster and arrived ahead of the Baltracher.
With the Balt Wind stopped, pitch-black darkness instantly blanketed the forest.
The soldiers' eyes, accustomed to the pale glow of Balt Light, could see nothing, not even though the sun hadn't quite set yet.
The charging Belliang soldiers found it impossible to keep running in the darkness at their feet.
Those running in a panic stumbled and fell.
"Fix bayonets!"
"Fix bayonets!"
And in that moment, Andersen Kissinger, the 3rd Company Commander, who had begun leading the troops in place of Ferdinand, gave the order to fix bayonets.
At the same time, Ernest, moving like the wind to the rear where the reserve troops waited, switched on the Balt Lantern hanging from his waist and raised it high.
"2nd Company! Rally to me!"
At his thunderous shout, several wounded men who had been groaning on the ground sprang to their feet, and the 2nd Company members assigned to guard them quickly gathered around Ernest.
Once everyone was assembled, Ernest threw aside the Balt Lantern he'd been holding.
"Let's go!"
"Yaaaaa!"
Having followed orders to keep their eyes shut since the fighting began, the 2nd Company members could, even in the darkness, barely make out Ernest running ahead of them.
And with the entire terrain clearly mapped in his mind, Ernest could lead the way even in pitch-blackness.
"2nd Company!"
"Yes, sir!"
"2nd Company!"
"Yes, sir!"
On top of that, there was now a call—one could even call it a symbol—for the 2nd Company.
Ernest led his men at a run toward the right wing, squeezing through the narrow gap between the center and the right, daring to cut straight through the heart of the dark battlefield.
"Let's gooooo!"
"Uaaaaah!"
Robert, who was leading the 2nd Company members deployed on the right wing, felt a rush of wind sweep past him and, almost screaming, took off running after it.
The 2nd Company troops guarding the right flank all simultaneously charged into the darkness, following their company commander.
"Light the fires! Hurry!"
"No! Don't light the fires! That'll only help those bastards! If we leave them, they'll fall on their own!"
As the Imperial Army began to use the Balt in limited areas to capture the Star of Summer, darkness fell over the battlefield, and the 2nd Company led by Ernest was now charging across the field with a thundering battle cry.
There was nothing to see—only the sound of shouts echoing off the trees, ringing through the night.
The Belliang Army was thrown into confusion.
Some panicked commanders quickly lit torches, trying to drive back the darkness, while others insisted they should let the darkness persist, believing the 2nd Company charging across the battlefield would be swallowed up by it and brought down before long.
"They really aren't using the Balt."
"Tch!"
The only place on the battlefield as bright as midday was where Star of Summer, the four Baltrachers, and Ferdinand were.
Ferdinand, watching Star of Summer—barely able to do more than defend herself against the four Baltrachers—muttered quietly,
Except for Star of Summer, the Belliang Army hadn't used Balt Guns or even Baltrachers with Balt Batteries.
Even if the claim that they'd seized the 1st Battalion's supplies left outside the woods was a lie, they could have resupplied with Balt Batteries from the bodies of Imperial soldiers killed earlier in the daytime battle.
"Looks like defeating the 13th Regiment with stolen supplies alone really was too much for them, huh?"
Ferdinand had spotted the vulnerability in Bertrand's Belliang Army.
It was something they'd just discussed in the recent strategy meeting.
The quartermaster had commented on the number of Balt Batteries the 1st Battalion had left outside the woods: "It's a substantial amount, but not nearly enough to fully arm the Belliang Army for a fight against the 13th Regiment out on the plain."
Bertrand couldn't afford to use up too many Balt Batteries disabling the 1st Battalion of the 13th Regiment.
If they depleted their stores here, they'd be unable to face the 13th Regiment, who were currently attacking Lanosel.
That's why Bertrand wanted the 1st Battalion to surrender.
It wasn't just about minimizing casualties, but about seizing the Balt Batteries that could be claimed intact by accepting the battalion's surrender.
If nothing else, Bertrand hoped to have the 1st Battalion die of dehydration and starvation as he maintained the encirclement, refraining from launching an assault despite pressing time constraints.
But as soon as battle broke out and the Imperial Army began expending their Balt Batteries, Bertrand's carefully crafted strategy started to erode—like a sandcastle on the seashore caught by the rising tide.
Voom!
Star of Summer clenched her teeth and unleashed a full-force wave of Balt energy.
The four Imperial Army Baltrachers' telekinesis scattered, disrupted by her uncanny manipulation of Balt.
"Use as much as you want."
Ferdinand, watching this, addressed the Baltrachers.
"It's better to use it all up here than let it fall into enemy hands."
"You cowardly—!"
"Cowardly?"
Star of Summer, furious, snapped at Ferdinand in the Imperial tongue.
Ferdinand frowned, as if he couldn't understand what she was saying.
Then, moments later, realization dawned and he let out a dry chuckle.
"To call someone cowardly on a battlefield where lives are at stake—how naïve."
He'd been around Ernest for so long that he'd never even considered he might one day hear someone accuse another of cowardice on the field.
"They're coming to rescue the Star of Summer! We absolutely must stop them!"
"Yes, sir!"
Ferdinand began leading the soldiers himself to block the enemy on their way to rescue the Star of Summer.
"Krieger will never return alive!"
Star of Summer snapped this at Ferdinand, her voice sharp and venomous—a shriek of pure rancor.
Only then did Ferdinand truly sense that the Star of Summer was a woman.
"Our Baltrachers will tear that bastard to pieces!"
"No."
Ferdinand replied firmly to the Star of Summer, who cried out—and desperately hoped—that Ernest would die.
"Your Baltrachers will rush in here to rescue you, and he will survive."
If it were Bertrand, perhaps he would have made killing Ernest his top priority.
But Bertrand wasn't here, and the other Belliang Army commanders would put the rescue of the Star of Summer—the hero and last hope of Belliang—before all else.
That's why the 1st Battalion had deliberately left a gap in their formation before the battle began, to see if Bertrand was present on the battlefield.
What was needed now was decisive action.
The 1st Battalion had already made their choice.
If the Belliang Army decided to kill Ernest, or if they rescued the Star of Summer and still refused to withdraw, then the battalion would ultimately be annihilated.
The Belliang Army had to make a decision—whether to rescue the Star of Summer now, and if so, what to do afterward.
Could any of the middle-ranking commanders—not even Bertrand himself—really decide, here and now, to throw in the precious Balt Batteries that must be preserved for Belliang's revival, just to wipe out the 1st Battalion?
No, absolutely not.
The Belliang commanders would rescue the Star of Summer and then have no choice but to withdraw, conserving the Balt.
After all, they knew that the Balt expended here was the last breath left for Belliang.
"We won't be able to leave this place until we've used up every last bit of Balt. Star of Summer."
Ferdinand spoke resolutely.
Ernest would make his way back just fine, slipping through the pitch-black enemy camp without interference from the enemy Baltrachers.
He was the kind of person who'd survive even if thrown straight into Hell.
All that was left now was for the Baltrachers of both sides to sit here, staring each other down over the Star of Summer, and waste the last of Belliang's breath—the precious Balt—in a drawn-out clash.
"Don't come any closer! Kill him—kill Krieger!"
Star of Summer cried out with all her might.
If Ernest, who had charged in here, were killed now, the Belliang Army could keep pressing the attack against the surrounded 1st Battalion at will.
Even if the Star of Summer died, the four Imperial Army Baltrachers who were pouring out their Balt at maximum power to subdue her would be rendered helpless, making it easy for the Belliang Army to crush the 1st Battalion, recover the remaining Balt Batteries, and—if incredibly lucky—even engage the 13th Regiment in battle.
Nearly impossible, but not entirely hopeless.
But if the Belliang Army chose to rescue the Star of Summer here, leading to a drawn-out slugfest between the Baltrachers, the depletion of Balt would only accelerate.
Not only would Bertrand's usable Balt Batteries dwindle, but so too would the hope of capturing any from the fallen 1st Battalion; everything would be spent in the struggle.
In other words, the grand strategy that Bertrand had devised would take its first magnificent step—only to stumble and collapse, its leg cut out from under it.
This is the crossroads.
Will both Ernest and the Star of Summer die here, or will they both survive?
If both perish, it will mark the dawn of Belliang's resurrection, a signal soaring high in the sky just as the kingdom teeters on the brink of destruction.
If both survive, Belliang will finally collapse, bleeding out and dying without ever rising again.
If it were Bertrand, he would have abandoned the Star of Summer, killed Ernest, then encircled and annihilated the 2nd Company that had broken into his lines, and finally, surrounded the now-hopeless 1st Battalion to demand their surrender.
Bertrand never attributed more value to things than they were worth.
Similarly, he did not overvalue people.
He simply made use of whatever value others attached to them.
She was certainly an outstanding Baltracher, but just one.
If letting her go could bring a doomed kingdom back to life, Bertrand would have handed over the Star of Summer with a smile.
"Save the Star of Summer!"
"Save the Star of Summer!"
"No, don't!"
But Bertrand, having retreated from the field and dismissed the matter as an obstacle in the realm of tactics, was not here.
The remaining Belliang commanders had no choice but to send their Baltrachers to the left wing of the 1st Battalion in an effort to save Belliang's hero, Belliang's hope—Star of Summer.
The Star of Summer wailed in despair, and as Ferdinand watched the Baltrachers charge forward together with Belliang soldiers armed with Balt Guns, a faint smile crossed his lips.
"We've won."
Bertrand had come close to denying the power of tactics in favor of strategy and seizing victory.
And now, the 1st Battalion had nearly succeeded in turning the tables—shattering the foundation of strategy with sheer tactics and bringing everything down.
In the end, with this single battle, the 1st Battalion would be able to thwart the resurrection of the Belliang Army.
And Ferdinand had no real intention of killing the Star of Summer.
Even with just the amount of Balt wasted so far, this battle was essentially over.
If the Belliang Army wasted even more Balt trying to rescue the Star of Summer, they would only be driving the final nail into Belliang's coffin.
He simply needed to hold out with Star of Summer as leverage, let both sides expend their Balt, and then let her go.
No matter how this battle ended, Belliang was doomed—the loss of one more person, even someone like the Star of Summer, wasn't worth any further damage.
Moreover, if the Star of Summer died, the Belliang Army might go berserk with rage and launch a blind assault.
That was the last thing the 1st Battalion—already small in number and low on supplies—wanted to deal with.
Of course, if possible, capturing the Star of Summer would be best.
It would put them in a favorable position to negotiate.
That left just one thing.
"Now all we have to do is survive."
To survive.
And when it came to surviving, Ferdinand had never met anyone more reliable than damn Ernest Freaking Krieger.
Even if you threw him into hell itself, Ernest would find his way back out alive.
And as far as military science went, Ernest was such a ridiculous genius that he had pushed Ferdinand Hartmann—once hailed as the greatest cadet in the history of the Imperial Military Academy—into the perpetual runner-up spot.