Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 12 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Beast’s Howl

The walls of Epirus loomed ahead of them. Countless flags flapped in the wind in front of those walls, bearing the emblems of the ten houses of the north.

Ryoma smiled ferociously at the army lining up before him. “Well then, looks like the enemy’s ready to go at it too.”

Count Salzberg’s army was twice the size of Ryoma’s. If Ryoma were up against an amateur, it would be one thing, but the enemy had defensive facilities and was experienced enough to use them to their advantage. But despite their resources, Count Salzberg’s army chose to meet Ryoma’s army head-on, on an open field. Realizing they had the numerical advantage, they wanted to finish this war as quickly as possible.

Both options—staying inside the walls or going outside them—had their pros and cons. Count Salzberg and the other nobles chose the latter. After all, he did have the ten houses on his side, and he was up against a single upstart baron. His victory seemed assured. If he let it show that they were struggling against Ryoma’s forces, even a little, it would besmirch their families’ names. They would be the laughingstock of not just all of Rhoadseria, but the entire western continent. Others would then view them as nobles in name only, no better than commoners.

Good. This proves that they don’t have any more soldiers left in their domains.

There were only two options for fighting an enemy without prior information. The first option was to go on the defensive and minimize losses while gathering intelligence. The other was to use the greatest offensive power you had to defeat the enemy. Both methods had their merits.

Count Salzberg chose to crush Ryoma with greater force. Deep down, though, he and the ten houses feared Ryoma. And that fear was what convinced the nobles to meet Ryoma in battle. Ryoma had blocked their attempts to send spies into Wortenia, so uncertainty and anxiety had grown in their hearts.

They’re moving just as I planned. Proud people are very predictable.

The commoner revolts that had erupted all around Rhoadseria further restricted the nobles’ options. All the effort Ryoma had put into making sure the rebellions happened proved to be worth it. All that was left now was to fight and slay the enemy. He didn’t even have to make a speech to inspire his soldiers.

One of the soldiers at Ryoma’s side blew a horn, and the two armies lined up opposite each other.

The enemy army stood in single and double lines, forming an orthodox rectangular formation—a traditional formation used throughout history in Ryoma’s world. It took little time to organize, which was helpful, but other than that, it offered no particular advantages. At best, it widened the surface area of the army and minimized losses for the vanguard when the fighting became savage.

Ryoma split his army into two groups of five hundred troops each. One group was for the vanguard and the other was for the rear guard. Since Count Salzberg had more men, he split his army into a vanguard of eight hundred, a mid-guard of five hundred, and a rear guard of another five hundred. The remaining soldiers guarded Epirus. Even though winning this war would be easy, Count Salzberg couldn’t risk his stronghold falling to the enemy.

That choice would eventually cause Count Salzberg a great deal of misfortune.

♱

The ground shook as the black army began to march. Count Salzberg’s army charged forward to meet them.

“They’re pretty quick, given that they’re on foot!” said one of the commanding officers in Count Salzberg’s army.

His name was Cidney O’Donnell, the man Count Bertrand had sent to watch over Robert. But right now, he was on the frontlines, leading the charge.

Why?! This isn’t what I signed up for!

Cidney’s heart burned with indignation. However, the situation cared little for Cidney’s feelings.

The enemy soldiers moved swiftly, much faster than warriors in metal armor could ever run. In fact, even if they had been wearing just leather armor, they were still moving too fast. That left just one conclusion: martial thaumaturgy.

“So the rumors are true?! Dammit, what are the archers doing?! Close the gap! Ready the front spearmen!”

Under Cidney’s command, Count Salzberg’s soldiers prepared to intercept the enemy.

Bows weren’t commonly used in this world. They were ineffective in such frantic fighting. Bows were used for their ability to fire rapidly and attack from long distances. In other words, so long as archers remained a safe distance away, they could attack without fear of counterattack.

But this world also had thaumaturgy. With martial thaumaturgy, the human body could move at speeds that not only matched horses, but even arrows in flight. They could wear armor so thick that an ordinary soldier wouldn’t be able to penetrate it. Soldiers could smoothly close in on their enemies. And during their advance, they could use different weapons at different ranges more effectively. A sword had a longer range than a dagger, and a spear could reach farther than both.

Cidney had lived through countless battles, and there was no doubt in his voice. As the black wave approached his forces, with the banner of the double-headed snake fluttering above them, his heart was steady.

“Get ready!”

The soldiers around him responded with a battle cry. They concentrated, bidding their chakras to operate. However, most of the knights present could only operate three of their chakras.

In this world, those who mastered the Manipura chakra, located under the navel, were regarded as true warriors. By repeatedly activating it countless times, warriors could operate it with ease, even during stressful combat situations.

The chakras in the knights’ bodies began operating, augmenting their physical abilities. Three steps, two, one... The enemy soldiers had entered the range of their spears.

“Die!”

They thrust their spears downward, clashing with the enemy’s weapons. Red sparks sprayed between opponents. They thrust their spears a second time, and a third. They thrust so hard their hands became numb from the impact.

One knight felt his spear slip from the force, and he desperately tightened his grip.

He’s matching me tit for tat. He might be a commander.

Many talented knights took to the front lines even though they had subordinates to command. A single skilled knight could do the work of several ordinary knights. And in this world, survival of the fittest was law. Killing another life-form meant absorbing their prana, so the strong actively pursued mighty opponents.

This was why the knight believed he was up against a skilled, experienced soldier the same age as him. But what he heard next made him doubt his hearing.

“Doyle, cover me from the back and take care of the enemies on my sides. I’ll handle this one. Go!”

There was nothing unusual about his words. The problem lay with the voice that had spoken them. It was a young man’s voice. Based on the pitch, he seemed to be in his mid-teens, or at the very least, no older than twenty.

This can’t be... I’m fighting a child that’s as young as my son?!

This boy who was matching him in combat was the same age as his successor. And because the knight had helped his son train and knew how skilled he was, the realization that this young boy was fighting him equally was that much more shocking.

Who are these soldiers? This can’t be... It’s absurd!

The boy was dodging, blocking, and returning the continuous thrusts the man had spent years perfecting. This was the worst nightmare a knight could face.

How is he dodging my attacks?! How in the blazes is he countering me?!

One doubt followed another, and soon the knight’s mind was overcome with confusion. His attacks gradually grew weaker, and his thrusts became predictable. It wasn’t because of physical exhaustion, though. The knight’s stamina and endurance was much better than ordinary people’s. But even a knight graced with superhuman strength could succumb to mental exhaustion and desperation.

This can’t be. It can’t, it can’t! This isn’t supposed to happen!

In most cases, the first attack decided who would win. But they’d exchanged blows dozens of times now, and there still was no clear winner. In all of this knight’s long career, he had never experienced something so frustratingly difficult. He’d always thought that he was stronger, but his confidence and strong will were crumbling to pieces.

“Die already, you stupid brat!” the knight yelled before using the most powerful thrust in his arsenal.

That was a fatal mistake. The knight had forgotten that he wasn’t dueling one-on-one. He was fighting on a battlefield where lives were on the line. A sudden intense blow struck him from behind. The knight’s arms, which had been aloft, fell limply to his sides.

Warm, sticky fluid rose from the pit of his stomach, filling up his throat. A rusty taste filled his mouth. His hands weakly fumbled over his back, but all he could feel was a warm, wet substance. What had happened went without saying.

The knight glanced over his shoulder, glaring at the enemy standing behind him.

“You damn demons... I hope you burn...in hell...”

Other hateful epithets leaked from the dying knight’s lips, but he knew his words were utterly meaningless. At first, his army had formed a rectangle. But while he and the young boy were exchanging blows, the formation had shifted. Little by little, the black wave of soldiers was penetrating the white formation.

♱

“Oh, now this is interesting. They’re facing our knights head-on and matching them.”

Sitting atop his horse, Robert narrowed his eyes as he watched the ensuing battle. Ecstasy and bloodlust oozed from his facial expressions.

Signus shook his head. “This isn’t a show, Robert. They’re pushing us back.”

Signus was surprised by Robert’s nonchalant attitude, yet his own smile carried a hint of sarcasm. The current situation was proof that Signus’s hunch about the outcome had been right.

Robert glanced at Signus and then rubbed his chin and laughed. “Right back at you, Signus. This only happened because you said you wanted to see what the enemy would do.”

Just then, cheers and roars erupted from the frontlines. Before long, a messenger on horseback approached them with a report.

“Oh...” Robert’s lips curled into a smirk as he read the report. “They actually killed Cidney.”

Robert’s smile was truly vile. He cared nothing for the death of his fellow man. For all Robert was concerned, Cidney O’Donnell was nothing more than a thorn in his side, a dog his father had sent to bark at him whenever he acted out of line.

“So your chaperone got killed,” Signus said.

“Aye. He was a real pain. Kept hiding behind my father’s orders at every turn,” Robert replied, looking displeased. But then he realized he’d have to prepare some kind of excuse to keep up appearances or Cidney’s death might come back to bite him. “Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s not like I killed him or anything. He just kept talking a big game, so I gave him a chance to prove himself. He ought to thank me for that.”

Robert had craftily engaged Cidney’s sense of self-preservation and hunger for glory, which had prompted Cidney to take command on the frontlines. By sacrificing his most troublesome subordinate, Robert was able to ascertain the enemy’s strength.

“You always were a bloody idiot, Robert, but you do have a good eye for people’s true nature.”

“Hmph. See, unlike you, I don’t like wasting my energy by thinking over the little things. You don’t need to look too hard at someone to tell what they’re about. And if you can’t do that, I’d say the rest of the world doesn’t know how to judge people properly.”

Signus eyed Robert and saw that he was sulking.

Signus and Robert had known each other for a long time. They had fought their first battles together and dealt with many of the same problems. They’d become kindred spirits and had been close ever since. They truly were bosom friends, but their natures couldn’t have been any more different. Signus acted on careful analysis, while Robert was more of a savage beast, a natural-born hunter who strode through the wilderness with nothing but his intuition. And though both were powerful commanders leading the vanguard into battle, those around them appraised them differently.

But what makes Robert so nasty, Signus thought, isn’t just his martial prowess. It’s his skill as a schemer.

Since others usually saw Robert as a brave but tactless warrior, he was judged to be both a competent general and something of a berserker. Robert took full advantage of that perception too. He was a genius at manipulating those around him by relying not on logic, but on his optimized intuition.

“Well, either way, I have my information, so let’s get down to business, Signus.”

“Right. Struggling too much in the first fight wouldn’t bode well, would it?”

With that said, the two of them began operating their first chakra, the Kundalini chakra. Their breathing synchronized, and their bodies surged with prana. The lump of hot energy building up in their perineum began climbing upwards.

The highest chakra that Robert and Signus could operate was the fifth one, the Vishuddha chakra. There were seven chakras in the human body, so being able to activate the fifth one, which was located in the throat, was truly proficient. It took talent and severe training, and on top of that, one had to survive countless battles.

“Let’s go, Signus! You take the left flank!”

“Got it, you can count on me!”

The two spurred their horses into a gallop and charged into the black wave of enemy soldiers.

♱

Doyle was thrusting his spear on the frontlines, so he felt the moment the atmosphere of the battlefield shifted. Until then, it had felt like their side was winning. But suddenly, everything was overturned.

What is this? It feels like the first time I saw a giant monster...

It was an uncomfortable sensation, like an insect was creeping down his spine. There was a word for that feeling—terror. Of course, Doyle didn’t deny the fear filling his heart. Fear wasn’t a sign of weakness.

Doyle had once been a slave, but he’d found a new future for himself on the Wortenia Peninsula. His teachers, the members of the Crimson Lions, had made sure to instill that lesson into his heart. Fear wasn’t weakness; it was an important sensor mankind had been graced with. It was like a car’s brakes. Without fear, one would never truly become a powerful warrior. Fear urged one to defend themself and deal with dangers aptly.

Oh no... This is bad.

The words his master had told him before the battle surfaced in his mind. The enemy soldiers before him had him parted, clearing the way for a single knight on horseback. He was wielding a battle-ax, swinging it around to slay Doyle’s comrades. It was like watching a knight gallop through an empty field. Count Salzberg’s soldiers followed a short distance behind him, also afraid of that ax.

“He’s good! Everyone, surround him!” Doyle called out, his survival instincts kicking in at the sight of this man.

This must be one of the two men my lord warned us about. Robert Bertrand or Signus Galveria. Let’s see which one is scarier—him or the peninsula’s giant monsters!

Faced with one of the most feared commanders in this war, Doyle’s heart filled with an elation that drowned out his fear. His comrades felt the same.

As if he meant to mock them, Robert imposingly introduced himself. “My name is Robert Bertrand! Come at me if you’ve got a death wish!”

Robert was a storm. He roared like an animal and swung his battle-ax. He had a body of steel, overwhelming prana to reinforce that body, and a strong will to perfectly control those elements. When all that combined, he became a force of violence.

The sound of metal striking metal echoed loudly through the battlefield. Doyle used all the force he could muster to resist the pressure of Robert’s attack.

It’s so heavy! What a powerful strike.

Doyle had the disadvantage of being on foot, while Robert delivered his blow from horseback. Still, Robert’s attack was too strong.

Doyle tried to block Robert’s ax with his spear, but the spear’s grip bent under the pressure, and the blow went through. Doyle fell to his knees. His head was protected by a helmet, which kept the blow from being fatal, but the impact still muddled his brain.

“Oh. Well, color me surprised,” Robert said in a voice so composed it was inappropriate for battle. “You actually blocked one of my attacks. Then how about this?!”

Robert swung his battle-ax from the opposite direction. It hit Doyle and knocked him upwards.

The sound of the metal clashing resembled an animal’s howl. For as loud as the battlefield could be from all the fighting, the sound of Robert’s swings reached the soldiers’ ears all too clearly. He swung his battle-ax with blinding speed, and each blow knocked Doyle’s body up into the air like a feather.

Each blow felt like a boulder had bashed into him. Doyle survived thanks to the martial thaumaturgy augmenting his body, but a normal person would have died instantly. But though Doyle had avoided death, the blows crushed his bones, making it impossible for him to move on his own. And an injured person on the battlefield was as good as dead. If Doyle were some brave general or a warrior known across countries it would be one thing, but he was one ordinary knight among many.

Normally, Robert would have moved on from Doyle’s limp body and gone in search of new prey. But Robert ignored the rules of battle. Laughing like a demon, he spurred his horse forward, his ax aloft. Robert was strong, and since Doyle had given him trouble, he decided that he’d have to eliminate him right then and there.

But as Robert readied to swing, a black-armored soldier rushed between him and Doyle.

“Hey, someone get Captain Doyle out of here and have him treated!” the soldier yelled like a wounded animal. “And call for reinforcements. We can’t let this guy live!”

Though he was shivering, the soldier desperately blocked Robert’s blow.

Robert couldn’t believe it. “Hey, what in the blasted hell is going on here?” he uttered in confusion. “Now there’s another soldier who can block my attacks? And this time he actually completely blocked it!”

Robert wanted to believe this was some kind of daydream. But much to his surprise, this was very real, and it nicked at Robert’s confidence.

Am I holding back on them without realizing it? No... But how are they blocking my attacks? Martial thaumaturgy can’t explain this.

Be it the masses who couldn’t use martial thaumaturgy at all or even experienced knights and mercenaries, Robert could count the number of opponents who had successfully blocked his ax on one hand. None of those exceptions had survived his second blow. Robert had spent his entire life building up his martial prowess; he prided himself on his overwhelming inhuman power.

In that moment, what made Robert Bertrand who he was cracked slightly, producing an opening he normally would have never made. His body suddenly sank, and in the next instant, he found himself uncontrollably pitching forward.

Shit! I was careless!

The enemy soldier had keenly noticed Robert’s momentary doubt, and seeing it as an opening, he had swung his spear at the black horse’s front feet.

As his horse bucked, Robert rolled forward. Immediately grasping his situation, he thrust his ax’s handle into the ground, using it as a makeshift staff to quickly regain his balance and land on his feet.

Robert glared around cautiously, holding up his battle-ax.

Well, crap. This is bad.

He was surrounded by enemy soldiers. He should have made his own soldiers follow close behind him, but at some point he’d gotten separated from them.

Their thrusts are accurate and sharp, and they’re aiming for the gaps in my armor. These soldiers would make for top-notch knights in our army.

Swiftly dodging the spears coming at him from all directions, Robert swept his ax horizontally. Metal struck metal as his ax met a soldier’s spear, sending a flurry of sparks into the air. But his sweep failed to cut down the enemy he’d aimed at.

He jumped back to absorb the impact of the blow. Goddammit. They’re all skilled.

Abiding by his animalistic instincts, Robert stepped back in retreat. A cold sweat ran down his back. Five soldiers had him surrounded, all of them fairly skilled. Still, they were individually much weaker than he was. It wasn’t so much a difference in talent, but more of a gap in their experience.

Either way, since Robert could use the Vishuddha chakra, he would probably still emerge victorious. But that was assuming he was facing them one-on-one or had his own soldiers nearby to help. As strong as he was, Robert would still be in trouble against five skilled soldiers at once, especially when they surrounded him like this. Even if he were to slay them, he’d still need to break out of the enemy’s formation. Otherwise, he’d definitely die.

I might have underestimated them. Guess I have to take this seriously.

Robert always charged into battle and tore a hole in the enemy’s ranks. It wasn’t a very refined strategy, and exposing himself to danger like that was risky for a general. This was partly why others saw him as a berserker. Yet no other tactic utilized his impressive fighting abilities as well as this one did. He’d never been defeated in war before, so Robert was sure that this time things would play out the same way. That ended up working against him, however. He’d known that they would be difficult opponents, but he hadn’t thought that each and every knight would be so strong.

Breaking through this encirclement on foot would be hard. I can turn this around if I regroup with Signus somehow, but...

The enemy slowly closed the circle around him. Robert dodged their thrusts and swipes as he waited for a chance to escape. He’d lost track of how long he’d been doing this. Had it been only just a couple of minutes, or had he been doing this for over ten minutes already? His breathing turned ragged, and sweat spilled from his pores. His armor and battle-ax were coated in clotted blood.

“Robert, are you all right?!”

One corner of the encirclement crumbled away. Signus had appeared on horseback and knocked away enemy soldiers. It seemed he was having trouble too, because the iron club in his hands was filthy with human flesh, and his helmet was missing.

“Over here, Signus!” Robert shouted as loud as he could, making his position known.

“You’re still okay, but you won’t get out of here on foot. Let’s bust out of here!”

“All right. Don’t worry about me!”

Instantly realizing Robert’s situation, Signus charged into the enemy. He knew that if he were to stop his horse for even one second, the enemy would knock him down and flank him too.

Just then, out of sheer coincidence, Robert spotted a man standing two hundred meters away—a large man riding on a black horse. At his side were two twin girls, one with silver hair and the other blonde. This man exactly matched a description that Robert had heard of before.

It’s him!

There wasn’t a rational reason for it. Robert knew he should help Signus break the blockade around them. But the moment he realized the supreme commander of the enemy army was facing him, Robert’s animalistic instincts exploded. Every muscle in his body strained, twisting him like a bowstring.

The next moment, Robert hurled his beloved battle-ax at Ryoma. The power behind it was phenomenal. The ax, which was already heavier than standard, flew through the air faster than an arrow launched from a special alloy composite bow meant for hunting large monsters. If it were to hit Ryoma directly, it would cleave his body in two. However, Ryoma cut down Robert’s lethal attack with a single swipe of his katana.

Both Ryoma and Robert stood in place, two hundred meters between them. Oddly enough, Robert felt as if he had locked eyes with Ryoma.

I see! So you’re Ryoma Mikoshiba!

Robert picked up a spear some unknown knight had dropped and turned back to exploit the opening Signus had created.

All right! Come at me with all you’ve got! This was the moment Robert truly acknowledged Ryoma as a worthy opponent.

Before long, Robert and Signus shook off the black wave chasing them, and both camps blew the horn for their soldiers to retreat.

♱

Stars twinkled in the night sky, spread unevenly around the pale moon hanging at the center of the celestial sphere. It was a breathtaking scene, the very picture of the cosmos’ endless possibilities. This mystical sight was said to bring peace to the hearts of men. Yet no one had the leisure to appreciate it—not Ryoma Mikoshiba, who had just concluded a battle this afternoon, nor Count Salzberg.

“My apologies, Master Ryoma. I come bearing a report,” Laura said from outside Ryoma’s tent.

Ryoma looked up from the papers in his hands. All the documents he’d received that day were high priority and required his immediate attention, but right now, nothing was more important than Laura’s report.

“Laura? Come in,” Ryoma said.

The tent’s entrance gently fluttered open. A young woman, as fair as a goddess, entered the tent with a smile, her golden hair trailing after her. That smile calmed Ryoma’s nerves ever so slightly. He’d been on edge, dealing with this war.

“From the look on your face,” Ryoma started, “I’m guessing our losses are about what I thought.”

“Yes,” Laura answered. “We’ve only had thirteen dead so far. As for the injured, we have twenty-two heavily wounded soldiers. But thanks to the nostrums and the healing verbal thaumaturgy, they’re not in danger of dying. Given a few days, they should be able to regain their stamina and return to their units. Also, most of the casualties were because of those two.”

As Laura concluded her report, Ryoma heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. What were the emotions filling his heart? People had died because of his orders. It wasn’t because of an accident or circumstances beyond his control either. He’d initiated this war and ordered his men to march to their deaths. Though they were soldiers bound by duty, most people wouldn’t follow such orders.

I can’t get used to this. Anyone who does is a terrible human being.

Ryoma’s feelings were rife with contradictions. Ever since he’d been summoned to this world, he’d ordered people to die countless times already. Their lives were in as much danger as they were when he’d sent them to slay monsters in Wortenia, or when he’d ordered them to eliminate the surrounding nobles’ spies. Ryoma weaved all sorts of schemes to help them and provided them with the finest equipment he could, but no matter how cunning his tactics were or how effective his equipment was, some would inevitably die. Each time they did, Ryoma was torn between the necessity and the foulness of his acts.

In the end, it didn’t matter if he was at home or in another world. Sacrifices had to be made in order for things to change, and those in the position to lead had to pave the way with their subordinates’ blood. It was callous and cruel, and were Ryoma to be sacrificed, he wouldn’t tolerate it. But it seemed no god could create a world where sacrifices were unnecessary. Nor could mere humans achieve such a fantasy.

And so Ryoma had only one way to deal with this: to work as hard as possible to minimize those sacrifices while etching each one into his heart.

“This just shows that those two are real monsters,” Ryoma said. “And that my army is a match for the surrounding territories’ soldiers.” Ryoma turned his gaze toward an ax hanging on the tent’s pillar. “Though I guess they did leave me one big parting gift.”

Ryoma hadn’t expected Robert to act the way he did. It was merely luck. Ryoma had coincidentally seen Robert on the battlefield, and somehow he had managed to block Robert’s attack. Ryoma wasn’t confident he could have blocked a second one. Nonetheless, he acted like he was prepared for any unexpected developments.

Laura added, “The gear we purchased from Nelcius is proving surprisingly effective. I’m sure if you were to sell them in another country, they would go for a hundred gold coins each.”

“Yeah, they worked as well as I expected.”

In preparation for this war, Ryoma had racked his brains over how to protect his soldiers. The Wortenia Peninsula originally had no denizens. There were demi-human villages, but since they were hostile toward humans, Ryoma couldn’t expect taxes or conscripts from them. If he wanted to develop his domain further, he had to expand his territory somehow. But to do that, he needed an army to fight off the surrounding nobles and other countries. It was a catch-22.

In the end, Ryoma chose to buy and train slaves, forming an army that way, though slave soldiers were an expensive investment. He couldn’t do what the ruling class did and use commoner conscripts as disposable soldiers. Ryoma wasn’t keen on treating his soldiers like that in the first place. His only choice, then, was to increase their individual strengths.

Of course, going to all that trouble to educate his soldiers only for them to die in battle would be a huge loss. To prevent that, Ryoma relied on the endowed thaumaturgy the demi-humans, particularly the elves, used. Even now, demi-humans still made such equipment, and it sold for high prices due to its powers.

“Enchantments to reduce weight and strengthen armor are the most common additions,” Laura stated, “but I believe humans struggle to produce them with such efficiency.”

Ryoma nodded. “Prana consumption can greatly influence the outcome of battle. Trading with Nelcius was the right thing after all.”

An armor’s efficiency was mostly due to the quality of the raw materials and its thickness. It needed to be hard, resistant, and thick, but at the same time, as light as possible. Making something with those contradictory conditions was difficult, which was why the demi-humans’ crafting techniques were so desirable.

For now, we have to make sure news about our gear doesn’t leak. I’ll need to tell the Igasaki clan to remain vigilant.

The armor Ryoma had bought from Nelcius greatly increased his soldiers’ performance, allowing them to easily overwhelm the enemy side. But in the end, it was only a difference in gear, and equipment didn’t pick who used it. At least if some of their armor were stolen, no enemies would be able to replicate the enchantments easily. Even so, it was better to nip those kinds of dangers in the bud.

Still, that clarifies what our policy should be going forward.

Ryoma was already formulating a few tactics. All that remained was to pick the one that best fit this situation.

If we hold our ground, they can’t break through our lines even with their numbers. The problem is those two...

Robert and Signus could each single-handedly turn the tides of battle. The fact that Ryoma’s soldiers had boxed them in and the two had still managed to break out was proof of their power. The safest way to deal with them would be to order the Igasaki clan to assassinate them. Or perhaps Ryoma could manipulate and trick Count Salzberg into killing them for him.

Ryoma wasn’t keen on either of those options. Robert and Signus were fearsome enemies, and if they were to attack Ryoma without regard for their own lives, who knew if Ryoma would be able to push them back.

But...if I can turn them to my side, they’ll be valuable allies.

Ryoma’s objective wasn’t to control northern Rhoadseria. The dream he envisioned required as many skilled people as possible, so he needed to turn even his enemies to his side.

I have to make this gamble.

“I’ll take Sara and five hundred men and head south,” Ryoma declared. “I’ll leave the other five hundred to hold the fort.”

Laura’s brows twitched. “Understood. Should I take command of the frontlines, then?”

“Yeah. I’m counting on you. Lione will help you out too.”

Sensing Ryoma’s resolve, Laura nodded. She understood his intentions perfectly.

And so, as countless plots and schemes began to move, the first day of battle—the preliminary stage of this war—drew to a close.