"We have achieved our initial objective—a single victory. Now we must withdraw before it's too late."
Lucian spoke firmly, as if he would accept no objections.
The marquis and the other lords quietly nodded, as though they had no particular dissent.
After all, none of them could predict what kind of disaster would befall them if they delayed any longer.
"Very well. Let the soldiers rest for a day, then we'll pull out at once."
"No. We must move immediately."
"What? Isn't that far too fast? The soldiers are in no condition to—"
At Lucian's continued words, the marquis showed his bewilderment.
Even now, there were many soldiers whose bodies were still numb, unable to move properly.
And yet, instead of resting until they recovered, he was saying they should march right away.
"If we depart now, it's obvious we'll be moving at a snail's pace. The able-bodied soldiers will only grow more exhausted helping those who can't move. Wouldn't it be better to let them rest for at least a day?"
"If there were no threat at all, I would have had them rest not just for one day, but for three. But time is tight. An enemy pursuit force will arrive soon."
"A pursuit force? The enemies who ambushed us were repelled by the allied army, and the rest should still be in Bodiam Castle. What threat remains? If anything, Krepfeld should be celebrating that the Empire was driven back."
"Krepfeld hasn't become independent just because the Empire lost once."
Previously, Lucian had believed that if the Empire suffered a defeat, its vassal states would rise up all at once, making reconquest impossible.
The marquis, on the other hand, believed that the Empire still had enough strength left to attempt suppression again and again.
Lucian's view was the same as before, but the problem lay in Krepfeld's intentions.
Judging by the fact that they had broken the Grand Accord, Krepfeld was likely leaning toward the former interpretation—but there was always the chance of an unforeseen variable.
"From Krepfeld's perspective, they would want to eliminate any possibility of the Empire advancing again. Even if they can't secure independence outright, they would want to buy time until another upheaval occurs. For example, by capturing a powerful claimant to the imperial throne and using him as leverage."
The expressions of all the lords, including the marquis, changed.
They wondered whether Krepfeld would really commit such madness—but at the same time, the attacks they had just endured came to mind.
These were people who had already torn up the Grand Accord and even hired unauthorized mages, leaving themselves with no way back.
Would such people really care about the Emperor's wrath or the backlash that would follow?
"So you're saying the Krepfeld bastards will send a pursuit force after me?"
"It is only speculation, but the likelihood is high."
"Lu—Lord Lucian! Is there no way around this!?"
Claude, his face drained of color, shouted as he failed to hide his anxiety.
Lucian paused as if to consider, then opened his mouth.
"The most reliable solution would be for His Highness the First Prince to leave the battlefield first, accompanied by only a small contingent of his personal guard—"
"That won't do."
"Marquis?"
Claude turned in surprise toward Marquis Bernhardt, who had answered in his stead.
Ignoring Claude's gaze, the marquis fixed Lucian with a cold stare.
"No matter how much you claim it's for His Highness's safety, what do you think will happen if the supreme commander is the first to abandon the battlefield? The soldiers' morale will hit rock bottom, and His Highness's reputation will be irreparably tarnished!"
"At times, one must endure humiliation."
"It won't end with mere humiliation—that's why I object. If things go wrong, certain sycophants may question His Highness's qualifications and attempt to interfere with the succession to the throne."
At the marquis's blunt words, everyone held their breath.
Even Claude, who had momentarily been tempted by Lucian's proposal, turned deathly pale and began to tremble.
"H-The marquis is right. I will not flee on my own."
Seeing Claude speak in a trembling voice, Lucian clicked his tongue.
So he was afraid of dying—but giving up the throne scared him even more.
"Tsk, things would've been easier if you'd just run."
It was regrettable, but there was no helping it.
Lucian cleanly cast aside any lingering attachment and presented a second option.
"Then there is only one course left. We withdraw as quickly as possible, even a moment sooner, before the enemy arrives."
"But the wounded who haven't recovered yet—"
"If they can't walk, then we carry them. If this were a long campaign, resting would be the better choice, but the border is only three days away. Even if it makes the soldiers suffer more, moving quickly is the wiser option."
In truth, abandoning the wounded would be far faster, but the allied army was composed of elite troops drawn from each noble house.
There was no chance the lords would leave behind soldiers from their own families' forces, and unless one wished to earn their hatred, it was impossible even to suggest abandoning them.
Worse still, they could end up branded with the infamy of having forsaken their allies in plain sight.
"It seems our course has been decided. Unless there are further objections, I propose we move at once."
As expected, there were no dissenting voices.
Following Lucian's plan, the allied army hastily hoisted the wounded onto their backs and began their retreat.
"What did you say? We pressed the enemy hard, only to suffer a crushing defeat from a force that struck from the rear? And Count Dominic was killed in the process?"
"Yes. Those bastards displayed His Excellency's head on a spear, brazenly, like the trophy heads of barbarians—"
"Those sons of bitches!"
Bang!
Eric, the young king of Krepfeld, slammed his fist down on the table.
From the moment they broke the Grand Accord, he had been prepared for retaliation.
If he was willing to use any means necessary, then it followed that the enemy would do the same.
But no matter how prepared he thought himself, the death of a cherished loyal retainer—and the desecration of his body—was more than enough to deliver a brutal shock.
"The enemy's losses… how severe were they?"
Having barely suppressed his rage, Eric asked in a trembling voice.
The knight's eyes darted back and forth, as if recalling the moment of defeat, before he answered.
"There were fewer fatalities than expected, but a great many soldiers were rendered combat-incapable. Nearly half collapsed under the aftereffects of magic and were unable to move. Even among those who could still move, many were cut down by His Excellency's assault, so their effective fighting strength has been reduced to less than half."
"Even so, if they didn't die, they should have recovered to some extent by now."
"According to the mage, they won't be able to properly use their muscles for about a fortnight. They might manage to walk at a quick pace, but running or forcefully swinging weapons would be nearly impossible."
At the knight's report, Eric's eyes flashed.
In other words, although they had been defeated, the enemy's strength had been halved—and the surviving troops were burdened with wounded comrades.
If one also accounted for those killed by Dominic's attacks, a frontal assault would be more than enough to crush them.
If they were stupid enough to march straight to Bodiam, we could wipe them out unilaterally—but they can't possibly be that foolish.
With the Grand Accord shattered and the life of the First Prince threatened, the enemy would surely try to withdraw as quickly as possible.
Even if it meant abandoning the defensive advantage of the castle and fighting in the open field, Eric had to sally forth and pursue them now.
If he could capture the First Prince, the Emperor would have no choice but to accept Krepfeld's demands.
"Wait—come to think of it, where is the mage who accompanied us? Don't tell me he was killed in the battle?"
"I don't know. Before the sortie, he said he would stay behind and wait, but after the defeat he never appeared and simply vanished."
"He ran away."
He had promised to hire him as a court mage if things went well, yet the wandering mage's reaction had been lukewarm.
Eric hadn't liked the man's money-grubbing attitude to begin with, but to think he would flee without even collecting his payment the moment he saw defeat.
Has Krepfeld come to seem so laughable even to a mere mage? To the point that he was certain it would collapse after a single defeat?
Grinding his teeth, Eric thought of Colin.
There was no way to retrieve someone who had already left.
If Krepfeld were to achieve independence openly and proudly, the man would regret his choice and come crawling back.
Today's humiliation could simply be repaid then.
"March out! Annihilate the imperial army, seize the First Prince, and achieve Krepfeld's independence!"
***
"Just as I expected, they're really crawling along."
Raymond complained as he looked at the allied army inching forward behind them.
More than half the soldiers were unable to move unless they were being supported or carried by someone else.
With so many wounded, the march could only be slow.
"At this rate, I'm not sure we'll reach our destination in time. No matter how I look at it, the enemy's going to catch up first."
"Worried?"
"To be precise, I'm worried they'll tell us to hold off the pursuit force. We're not going to end up handling the final cleanup too, are we?"
Lucian gave a short chuckle at Raymond's concern and shook his head.
"That won't happen, so don't worry."
"Even if you say that, we're the only ones who still have our full strength. What if the other lords and His Highness the First Prince push it off onto the Third Young Master?"
"I'll refuse."
"Pardon?"
"I said I'll refuse."
"W-Wait, can you even do that?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Lucian shrugged at the flustered Raymond.
"It's true that if Valdeck were to throw himself in to hold the enemy back, the allied army's losses would be minimized. But right now, there isn't a single person who can make that kind of proposal to me."
Throughout this war, Lucian had consistently put forward the best possible courses of action—
warnings about breaking the Grand Accord and the impending water shortage, the proposal to withdraw, even the prediction of an ambush.
And in the end, the ones who ignored all of it and nearly got themselves killed were the allied command.
Aside from Cedric, who had his own ulterior motives, not a single person had stood on Lucian's side. In that sense, they were all equally at fault.
"And after ignoring every one of my suggestions, they expect me to save them from the brink of death and then handle the cleanup too? It's not even laughable. Unless they want to completely fall out with House Valdeck, they wouldn't dare even voice something like that."
"But if we're caught, someone will have to stay behind to buy time for the retreat. Will anyone really step forward?"
"Of course there will."
And a lord who was both extremely reliable and extraordinarily powerful at that.
Just before Lucian could answer with a smile, the soldiers' shouts rang out.
"The Horsen River!"
"The border!"
The place where they had put on that farcical charade when they first arrived came into everyone's view.
Once they crossed the river, the pursuit force wouldn't be able to recklessly chase the allied army.
Just as everyone was breathing a sigh of relief, thinking they had survived—
"P-Pursuers! The pursuit force!"
"The Krepfeld bastards are after us!"
Despair-filled screams suddenly erupted from the rear.
The soldiers who had been relaxing turned deathly pale and looked back.
Though their numbers were small, a pursuit force composed entirely of cavalry was charging toward the allied army like madmen.
"They're still some distance away, but at that speed, they'll catch us faster than we can cross the river."
"Lu—Lord Lucian."
"What is it?"
At the call of some tactless viscount, Lucian shot him a murderous glare.
Under that sharp gaze, the viscount, who had been about to ask him to hold off the enemy, flinched and turned his head away.
If Lucian himself refused, there was no position from which he could possibly force the issue.
At Lucian's attitude, the gazes of everyone searching for a scapegoat converged on a single man.
The head of the most powerful house after the Grand Ducal House of Valdeck—and the one who still had the largest number of troops capable of fighting.
Damn it…
Marquis Bernhardt clenched his teeth under the unspoken pressure.
In pleasant terms, it was a mission to buy time until the retreat was complete—but done wrong, it could easily mean death.
Yet as a marquis, he had no choice but to accept it.
Unlike Lucian, who had distinguished himself greatly in this war, Bernhardt had made far too many erroneous judgments.
If I don't salvage at least a shred of dignity here, I'll be crushed under Valdeck for years to come. Worse still, it might even affect my authority within the noble faction.
If it were merely a matter of relinquishing the same level of power as before, it might have been bearable—but for the marquis, such a life was no different from death.
Rather than accept that fate, it was better to stake his life in battle and restore his damaged authority.
Having steeled his resolve, the marquis dropped to one knee and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Your Highness the First Prince! I will hold the enemy back, so please use that opening to—!"
"Please wait a moment, Marquis. That may not be necessary."
The one who cut off the marquis's impassioned plea was Cedric, the Second Prince.
Stepping forward unexpectedly, Cedric swept his gaze across everyone and pointed beyond the Horsen River.
"Look over there. Our allies are arriving."
"Pardon? Allies—what in the world do you mean…!?"
The allied command froze as one when they followed the direction Cedric indicated.
Lucian's reaction was no different from that of the other lords.
The reinforcements were far more formidable than anyone had imagined.
The Red Wing Knights…?
The Emperor's personal guard—renowned as the strongest force in the Empire—was charging toward the allied army.
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