Chapter 178 - Sitting Face-to-Face with the Marshal
After Bertrand's presence was confirmed, skepticism spread not only through the 1st Battalion but throughout the entire 13th Regiment regarding this operation.
"Bertrand is a formidable opponent. For just the 13th Regiment to seize control of the forest is an utterly reckless mission."
Levin spoke, now referring to Bertrand by name rather than by his title of Count Lafayette, emphasizing just how threatening a commander he was—and, by extension, how reckless this plan was.
"13th Regiment Commander, everyone in the 2nd Corps knows Bertrand is a difficult adversary. But we have no choice—we must carry out the mission assigned to us. We have to secure the forest and break through the enemy's defensive line before winter arrives, and any additional support will only come once winter is already here. We have to act now, and there's no other unit for this task but the 13th Regiment."
The 5th Division Commander also understood how difficult it would be to take on Bertrand.
However, with winter fast approaching, there was no time to lose.
Even if the situation was challenging, it was better to settle things in autumn than to fight a battle in winter.
Each day they waited, Konchanya would be fortifying the hills even more.
Right now, the trenches were still sparse and incomplete, but come spring, they would surely build something terrible, like those triple trench lines they'd once constructed in Bertagne Forest.
One way or another, it had to be done now.
And there was no one better suited for this job than Colonel Levin Ort, the careful and highly capable commander of the 13th Regiment of the 5th Division, who had actually survived fighting Bertrand before.
In other words, due to the excellent performance of Levin and his subordinates, which had earned them the full trust of the higher-ups, the 13th Regiment now found itself tasked with a head-to-head showdown against Bertrand, who had dug in and fortified the forest.
If Soren—who always vowed to just do the bare minimum—had heard this assignment himself, he would surely have shed hot tears of utter frustration.
And so, it was finally decided: the 13th Regiment would engage Bertrand in battle within the forest.
The 14th Regiment would also enter the forest, but as they were set to focus on protecting the flanks, it was clear the 13th Regiment would be bearing the brunt of the effort.
Cautious as always, Levin did not recklessly send troops into a forest the enemy was already fortifying.
First, he requested a thorough reconnaissance of the area, and the 5th Division Commander accepted his request.
"Goddamn it, not this shit again."
"'Again' isn't quite right, is it? The situation's even worse than last time."
And so, the 5th Division's Rangers were deployed.
However, the Rangers were facing numerous problems.
First of all, the 5th Division's Rangers knew almost nothing about this forest, which had been the furthest rear on the Mihahil-Belliang front.
They didn't just lack knowledge of the terrain—they were unfamiliar with the plant life as well.
Even Elite Rangers would struggle to operate in a completely foreign forest.
Next, due to the Bertagne Forest battle, a staggering number of Rangers whom the Empire had painstakingly trained lost their lives.
Of all the battles during the Mihahil Empire's First War of Conquest, the Battle of Bertagne Forest had the highest number of casualties per hour.
In fact, it would likely go down in history as the single bloodiest battle ever fought.
They endured that horrific battle for two whole months—elite or not, no one could have held out.
Even the Elite Rangers were decimated by the severe losses.
Every Trainee Ranger in the middle of their training was thrown into the fight, and they all perished too.
Now, Levin had no choice but to conduct operations with nothing but greenhorns, most of whom had trained for less than six months at best.
To take a bunch of rookies into a completely unfamiliar foreign forest, slip past enemy patrols, and conduct a reconnaissance mission?
If that were possible, there never would've been a need for a separate Ranger branch in the first place In the end, the grim reality was that the few Veteran Rangers who had survived the Battle of Bertagne Forest somehow had to handle everything themselves.
But if these remaining Veteran Rangers all ended up dying in the process, there would be a gap in the Ranger force.
Who would teach the next generation?
They were truly at an impasse, unable to do anything, and so the 5th Division Rangers had no choice but to abandon independent operations.
The 5th Division's Ranger Battalion Commander held long meetings with the two Regimental Commanders who were scheduled to enter the forest.
Given that Rangers are regarded one rank higher than other military branches, even as a Battalion Commander, he held the rank of Colonel.
Thus, three Colonels put their heads together in a prolonged discussion.
As a result, a concrete tactical plan was established.
First, the 15th Regiment of the 5th Division and the 6th Division would strike the enemy's defensive line.
During that time, the 14th Regiment, together with a single Ranger company, would make a frontal entry into the forest.
However, they would not be the main force either.
The main thrust, the 13th Regiment, along with two Ranger companies, would enter the forest from the East.
The 14th Regiment would serve as the Anvil, and the 13th as the Hammer.
In short, the battle would begin with attacks from the 15th Regiment and the 6th Division to support the 14th Regiment, which in turn was meant to support the 13th Regiment.
Before that, the 13th Regiment had to slip into the northern woods at the edge of the Bertebras Mountains, east of the forest, and lie in wait.
Since the 13th Regiment had to begin its operation from a position so far separated from the main force that it was almost an independent mission, they even had to establish a special supply route just for them.
"Order them to build a supply route here. Immediately."
The 5th Division Commander gave his order without a moment's hesitation. This directive was quickly relayed to the Logistics Corps, tasked with transporting supplies all the way to the western edge of Belliang.
"What do they think the supply route is, a latrine drainage ditch? Do they think if you just say 'build it,' it'll magically appear?"
"Haha, well, if the Division Commander says build it, we don't have a choice but to slap it together. Damn, this is absolute bullshit."
The Logistics Corps, who received the order to create an extra supply route for an entire regiment with zero prior discussion, cursed up a storm but still split their forces to carve out the new supply line.
The most crucial part of planning a supply route is advance reconnaissance.
For this, the 5th Division Cavalry Regiment ran themselves ragged—nearly peeing blood from the effort—to get it done, completing the scouting mission.
Thanks to their effort, supplies arrived safely before the 13th Regiment ran out at their assigned starting location.
Those who had actually been hoping for a supply failure so the operation would be canceled could only feel bitter disappointment at the flawless delivery.
"Damn! If nothing else, they're absolute masters at keeping the supply lines running! Seriously!"
"Those bastards in Konchanya, they're pathetic, aren't they? We've crossed the whole mountain range, set up our rear support right at the edge—bam! Supply route, snapped into place! And they can't manage this?"
The soldiers of the 13th Regiment, especially those in the 1st Battalion, actually wished the Konchanya army would pull some insane stunt, like crossing the Bertebras Mountains and breaking through Belliang's central region, cutting the Imperial Army's supply line—a heroic feat for the ages.
But if something like that were possible, the Empire would have already pushed through the forests and mountains and unified the continent ages ago.
Despite everyone's wishes, the Logistics Corps' hastily thrown-together supply mission turned out to be a resounding success.
That meant the 13th Regiment now had to proceed with the cursed forest infiltration, just as planned.
For this difficult mission, Colonel Levin Ort, the 13th Regiment Commander, decided to entrust the vanguard to his most reliable subordinate.
"1st Battalion Commander, I'm counting on you."
"…Yes."
Lieutenant Colonel Soren Kaufmann, the 1st Battalion Commander and now spearheading the 13th Regiment, answered in a low voice, looking as though he'd aged another ten years in just a few moments.
This infiltration mission was full of unknowns, and because the battalion would have to cross the entire forest from east to west, even the battalion headquarters planned to enter the woods together.
'Damn it! He just gets to sit this one out!'
For Soren, who had to go into the forest himself, it was infuriating to know that Levin—who, as the regimental commander, of course wasn't expected to go in—would remain outside.
Saying things like "I'll do only as ordered," or "I'll just do a decent job"—those are the kinds of words you say when your own life isn't on the line.
Facing the forest himself, Soren knew he'd have to push himself to the absolute limit just to survive.
"Captain Fox! Captain Fox!"
"Our Captain Fox! Hurry and scope out where the enemies are in the forest and how many there are!"
"How should I know that…"
"Captain Fox says he doesn't know! We're all doomed!"
"No way!"
"..."
Given the situation, it was only natural that expectations for Captain Ernest Krieger—the infamous Fox Company Commander, who had earned the unfailing trust of the 1st Battalion—would reach their peak.
"Get lost, all of you…"
Ernest spoke weakly to the bastards causing a ruckus around his Company Commander's tent—as if they were holding some kind of barbaric religious ritual to receive a revelation from God.
"Hey! 'Get lost'? Isn't that a bit harsh?"
"…3rd Company Commander, what are you doing here?"
"Isn't it obvious? I came hoping the Fox Company Commander might come up with something for us."
"Yes, I don't think my words are too harsh. Please get lost."
"Don't be like that, just say something! I'll be promoted to major after this battle—I can't die here!"
"Please, just go away…"
Captain Andersen Kissinger, the 3rd Company Commander of the 1st Battalion, who had a promotion to major already lined up after this battle, pestered Ernest relentlessly.
But even so, there was no way Ernest—who only had a 'slightly' better head for strategy than most—could hand down any divine revelation.
"What do you think, 2nd Company Commander?"
"..."
However, not only Captain Hans Schum, the Section Chief who, like Andersen, was due to become a major after this battle, but even Lieutenant Colonel Soren Kaufmann, the 1st Battalion Commander himself, started asking Ernest for his opinion in the meeting.
As a soldier, Ernest had no choice but to answer his superior's questions.
After all, you can't exactly tell Soren to 'get lost' in the middle of a meeting…
"In a situation where I don't know the terrain, the enemy's numbers, their armament, their training level, or their deployment, what could I possibly say?"
Ernest stated the obvious.
You can only give an opinion if you know at least something, but what do they expect him to say when he knows nothing at all?
"But you do know something about the enemy commander, don't you."
"…Ferdinand…"
But Ferdinand's unexpected betrayal blocked even this escape route of stating the obvious.
Ernest felt a sense of betrayal that this thick-headed bastard had cut off his way out, but at the same time, it wasn't even infuriating—because this was just how Ferdinand had always been.
"If you were able to see through Bertrand's strategies, tactics, and even troop deployments, surely you can spot something here. At the very least, you're better at this than we are."
"..."
And once again, Ferdinand's stubborn faith left Ernest thoroughly exasperated.
In the end, Ernest had no choice but to surrender.
"To be honest, I think Count Lafayette has probably predicted and prepared for an attack like this."
"Wait, 2nd Company Commander. Why didn't you mention this earlier?"
"Section Chief, as you yourself just pointed out, I'm just one lowly Company Commander."
When Hans asked why Ernest, a mere company commander, hadn't pointed out the flaws in a massive operation carried out by two entire divisions, Ernest could only answer with righteous frustration.
Was he supposed to barge into a generals' meeting and tell them to stop the operation?
As if a lowly company commander—just a captain—could do that?
Especially when he didn't even have any definite evidence to back it up?
Those who had survived the battle with Bertrand had begun to overestimate Ernest's abilities.
To be fair, he had shown more than enough talent to warrant it—but even that had only come after meeting Bertrand in person and seeing the big picture firsthand as the situation unfolded.
How could anyone compare reconstructing a ruined fortress—where most of the original features remain—to being asked to design a castle by looking at a single stone lying on the ground?
"And with no reliable intel, what am I supposed to say? All I can offer is the rather irresponsible statement that if we're dealing with Count Lafayette, he's bound to be prepared for us. The only other thing I can mention is the presence of the 'Star of Summer.'"
"…Ugh, now I'm getting a headache."
As soon as Ernest brought up the Star of Summer—Estelle Pouarrié—everyone present began to feel a throbbing in their heads.
That is, everyone who had actually been on the receiving end of a fight with her.
If the Belliang Royal Flag was here, Bertrand was here too.
And if Bertrand was here, of course that meant Estelle would be as well.
Of course, everyone had already known that Estelle was likely here.
But the instant they actually heard her name aloud and the reality sank into their minds, it was as if a violent fever swept over them—headaches, chills, and, most of all, the urge to give up swelled up within them at an alarming rate.
All anyone wanted was to throw in the towel and go home.
"2nd Company Commander."
Watching his fellow veterans struggle in silence, Soren, the Battalion Commander, called out to Ernest in a calm voice.
The moment Ernest heard that voice, he could immediately sense what was coming next.
He quickly shook his head at Soren in desperate protest, choosing not to reply.
"You'll be taking the vanguard of the 1st Battalion."
Just like that, Ernest found himself saddled with the crushing burden he least wanted—the vanguard of the 1st Battalion, the regiment's spearhead in the crucial mission to break through Konchanya's defensive line.
Eyes full of betrayal, he stared back at Soren.
Soren avoided Ernest's eyes.
That's it for the Beekeepers Alliance.
You filthy traitor.
***
"Your Excellency, we've confirmed that the enemy's cavalry is conducting reconnaissance to the east. Just as you predicted, it looks like they'll try to push through from the east."
"..."
In the cool autumn forest, as falling leaves drifted down, Bertrand, lost in thought, took a deep breath at those words.
He could see right through the Imperial Army's tactics.
Seated in this dense forest, he had anticipated the exact process the Imperial Army would go through after seeing Konchanya's defensive line and deciding to plan a forest infiltration.
It wasn't because Bertrand was a genius, but rather, because Belliang—after waging such a long war with Konchanya—had studied every possible tactic an attacker might use against Konchanya's defensive line.
Of course, perfectly memorizing all of those and choosing the highest probability tactic to respond with—that did require Bertrand's brilliance.
"According to the plan."
"Yes, sir."
Bertrand issued his orders in a calm, even voice.
Everything was already in place.
All they had to do was swallow the enemy whole the moment they entered the forest.
Yet, even as everything was falling seamlessly into place, a constant unease churned inside Bertrand.
'It was just like this that time, too. It was a battle I couldn't possibly lose—yet we were defeated.'
Bertrand stared fiercely across the forest, recalling the battle that had taken place in front of Lanosel.
'What would Krieger do in this situation?'
Not a single day had passed without him replaying his fight against that man who defied all logic.
He went over it several times a day.
Hundreds of times, he wracked his brain, desperately searching for a way to win.
Bertrand tried to imagine, from Ernest's perspective, how he would attack under these circumstances.
But Bertrand was, at his core, a strategist—someone who conceived plans from a broad, overarching view.
He simply couldn't predict how that unrealistic existence would strike.
If only Ernest weren't here, Bertrand felt certain he could win somehow.
But if Ernest was present...
'Krieger, are you still alive? And if you are, have you been promoted? Surely someone that young can't have become a battalion commander already. Are you going to stand in front of me and lead a battalion yourself?'
Bertrand pushed up his eyebrow with his thumb, his sharp gaze straining to pierce the impenetrable mist that clung to the battlefield.
'No, there's no way he'd be here.'
Even as he stayed alert for Ernest, Bertrand reasoned there was no way he would be here.
It was a judgment so sound that no one could possibly refute it.
As a royal and the commander of the Belliang Army, Bertrand had staked his honor by declaring defeat and formally accusing Ernest of murdering his superior officer.
In noble society, honor is power itself.
And the honor of royalty is something that must always be defended.
Only then could the honor of the nobility be respected.
Whether Ernest had really killed Bailey or not, from the Imperial Army's standpoint, they would have no choice but to bring Ernest before a court martial.
In circumstances like these—where the situation is so ambiguous—they couldn't afford to set a bad precedent by acquitting someone accused of murdering his superior officer.
Even if there was no evidence, they might still sentence him to death.
And even if Ernest were acquitted, there was no way the Imperial Army would send the main character of such a massive scandal back to the frontline.
No officer in the world would want Ernest as a subordinate, and just to prevent any accidents caused by discord, they'd assign him to some rear post far away from the action.
Whether Ernest was dead or alive, Bertrand was sure he would never meet him on the battlefield again.
It was with all this in mind that he had reported Ernest for the murder of his superior officer.
Yet, despite all this, Bertrand—acutely conscious of Ernest, who truly shouldn't be here—continued to review and revise his already flawless plan.
He personally scouted the terrain, wandering through the entire forest on feet as tentative as a newborn fawn, and even after perfectly deploying his troops, he drafted multiple contingency plans in anticipation of the enemy making some irrational breakthrough.
But the anxiety simply wouldn't go away.
Bertrand had learned the hard way just how unpredictable a battlefield could be—and just how crushing that margin of error could feel.
If something like before happened again, the field commander would ultimately have to respond on the spot with quick judgment.
Bertrand was an excellent strategist, but he could never be the kind of person who led by seeing, listening, and feeling everything firsthand in the chaos of battle.
'Krieger.'
He felt as if he were lost in a maze within the thick mist of the battlefield—being pursued by some unknown monster to whom logic didn't apply.
Even after doing everything possible within the bounds of reason as a commander, Bertrand was driven mad by the thought that all of it could collapse in an instant.
Bertrand had realized long ago that he would never be free of Ernest's shadow until the day he died.
Every time he faced war, the thought of Ernest would come and fill him with fear.
But perhaps, because of that fear, he'd be able to devise even more perfect plans.
'I have to win. No matter what.'
Bertrand absolutely had to win this battle.
Konchanya had held Bertrand in the highest regard for defending the Bertagne Forest for two months, and had even apologized for not sending reinforcements during that time.
But that was all.
Now, Bertrand was nothing more than a prince of a fallen kingdom.
Worse yet, he was a commander who had lured an entire battalion into a trap and thrown everything he had at the enemy, only to lose.
And this, even with the Star of Summer, Estelle Pouarrié, at his side.
Talking about Ernest Krieger was pointless.
After all, a commander who defied all logic couldn't possibly exist in this world.
That's why, despite leading a considerable force and seeking asylum in Konchanya, Bertrand's position was as precarious as ever.
If he lost here and surrendered the forest, he might never get another chance.
'Survive, win, and rise again.'
Resolving himself to victory, Bertrand thought of his family in Narvaing—of his uncle, the former King of Belliang.
Since news of the former king's suicide was strictly controlled by the Empire and hadn't spread much within Belliang, Bertrand had no inkling that his uncle, the man who'd entrusted him with the royal flag and the fate of their kingdom, had taken his own life.
Bertrand believed that honor was nothing but an illusion—and so, humiliation was an illusion as well.
He could never understand killing oneself out of defeat, out of an inability to bear humiliation.
Why die, when all you had to do was survive and plot your comeback?
Fixing his gaze on the autumn forest, blanketed with fallen leaves, Bertrand envisioned the coming battle, the shifting politics of Konchanya, and the changing landscape of the continent.
He could not afford to lose.
No matter what it took, he had to win.