Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 19 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Tiger Cage Pass

The Wortenia Peninsula was once known as an undeveloped, uninhabitable no-man’s-land infested with the most savage of monsters. It was a deserted land that rejected human life, a penal colony to which Rhoadseria’s most hated and terrible criminals were sent.

There were only two ways of entering the peninsula from Rhoadseria. One was by the sea. Being an oblong peninsula that extended into the open ocean from the western continent’s northeastern corner, it was much like an appendix jotting out of the cecum. As such, most of the peninsula was surrounded by the sea.

Of course, this didn’t mean a ship could dock anywhere along its coast, but there were multiple inlets one could land in, and if one had a ship and a seasoned captain capable of navigating around the sea monsters reigning supreme in the ocean, one could land on the peninsula with relative ease.

It was this potential for sea trade that had allowed Ryoma to bolster the barony’s economy after he was made governor of Wortenia following the civil war. It was for this purpose that he’d actively wiped out the pirates that had used the peninsula as their hideout for many years. The only disadvantage to speak of was that one had to make an initial investment in sturdy ships and seasoned sailors that could weather attacks from the monster-infested waters, so only people skilled in economics could successfully pull off this feat.

The only other way into the peninsula was, needless to say, by land, but it was not an easy path. The road connecting the Wortenia Peninsula to the continent’s northeast was a route running along the Tilt Mountain range. The trees of this road were thick and overgrown enough to impede passage. It was the least favorable terrain for mobilizing an army.

What’s more, the Tilt Mountains were a natural obstacle, the precipitous cliffs forming a topography that made it difficult for large groups to cross on foot. The mountain stood two to three thousand meters tall, extending like walls, and for most people, the cliff face was too steep to walk on. There were some flat areas along the way, but only animals could cross this path with relative ease. Even a mountaineer or mountain photographer would need a considerable amount of equipment to cross these mountains. It was otherwise borderline impossible. That much was evident from the many adventurers who’d tried and failed to enter the Wortenia Peninsula.

The only safe way through was a long mountain road leading to where the Tilt Mountains converged to form a valley. Unlike a highway, which was protected by barrier pillars, this road was an unpaved animal trail. On top of that, the surrounding mountains were home to monsters that weren’t daunted by the harsh terrain and were always prowling in search of new prey. The road truly felt like the entrance to a no-man’s-land.

To adventurers who lacked the financial wherewithal to hire a ship, these mountains were the only way in. Indeed, many adventurers had made their way to Wortenia, hoping to make a fortune by hunting the precious materials obtainable only in this peninsula. They all had taken this path to get there—at least until the Mikoshiba barony came to govern Wortenia. 

Ten days had passed since the northern subjugation army occupied the razed remains of Epirus. With this foothold, they only had to advance northeast in order to enter the Mikoshiba barony’s heartland.

Perhaps the heavens were on their side, because the sun shone brightly down on them. The sky was clear, without a single cloud in sight—the perfect weather to march an army. Pious believers in the teachings of the Church of Meneos would have said that the God of Light was giving them his blessing to bring down the hammer of justice upon the Mikoshiba barony.

Nonetheless, the soldiers assembled at that spot weren’t emboldened by the fine weather. Instead, they were all visibly anxious and overwhelmed by the sight before them.

Helena Steiner sat on her horse and used a pair of binoculars to see the situation for herself. She then clicked her tongue. At that moment, she realized the meaning of Ryoma’s parting words when they met that night. Her brows furrowed.

So this is the card he hid up his sleeve. I can see why he was willing to go to war against an army of two hundred thousand. This is what he told me to look forward to.

A baffling sight spread out before Helena. The first thing to catch her eye was the imposing size of the Tilt Mountains. They truly were a natural fortification. This on its own wouldn’t have been enough to daunt her, though. Until Ryoma came to govern the peninsula, it was a domain of Rhoadseria. While they lacked maps of the peninsula itself, their maps were relatively detailed up to the Tilt Mountains. The steep topography did not come as a surprise. True, they were more imposing than Helena had heard, but that wasn’t what made her pause.

The most prominent feature was the fortress built along the mountain road, although calling it a “fortress” was somewhat incorrect. It was a semipermanent defensive installation, likely built to serve as a checkpoint at the entrance to the Wortenia Peninsula during peacetime. To that end, it wasn’t so much a fort, which would be relatively easy to demolish, than it was something closer to a castle or a stronghold. Whatever one called it, its purpose was obvious; it was a defensive facility meant to keep enemies out.

The only word to describe this stronghold was “stout.” Helena could only estimate the height of the stone walls from afar, but they seemed to be about twenty to twenty-five meters tall, a match for the walls of the capital and Count Salzberg’s stronghold in Epirus. That alone made the prospect of attacking this fortress imposing.

If that was all, we’d still have a hand to play, but from a cursory look, he set up quite a few traps around here.

Tall walls were an impediment, but there were ways to get past them. One could use ladders or siege towers, and the northern subjugation army did have siege weapons, which included towers, but Helena spotted other aspects that would make it difficult to take this fort.

The ditch built around the gate is tricky. It makes it hard to bring siege weapons into range. And what would happen if we charged our troops forward?

Helena couldn’t tell how deep the ditch was, but either way, it made attacking the walls exceedingly dangerous.

During the last war, he dammed up River Thebes so that when the enemy soldiers set foot in the empty moat, he could flood the ditches and drown them all. 

Ryoma had used this tactic to fend off Kael Iruna’s attack, costing the knight many of his men. It was a lethal tactic that resulted in a crushing defeat and turned the tides of the war.

Helena couldn’t tell yet if the possibility she dreaded was true, but if they were to take the safest route, they’d need to start filling in the moat. Still, she had her doubts about Ryoma repeating the same plan.

It’s highly unlikely he will do that given the terrain. There’s no water source on the scale of the Thebes in the area. If he did it, he’d have to draw water from the sea, but no matter how far the moat goes, it’s not long enough to access the ocean. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have another plan we’d have to be wary of...

Since the possibility of him reusing the same tactic remained, Helena did keep it in the corner of her mind, but there were other issues weighing on her too.

The spikes set in front of the moat are definitely there to impede our soldiers. 

This kind of fortification was called an abatis. It was a rather popular option, used often during Japan’s Warring States period. It was a very simple fortification method; nearby trees were used to form sharp, two-ended stakes that were then driven into the earth. But for how simple it was, it was an effective deterrent against attackers. The stakes were thrust diagonally into the ground so as to face approaching enemies, stabbing into their legs. They could also have ropes tied between them meant to trip soldiers up.

Of course, Helena didn’t know the word “abatis,” but she’d seen things like it in her many years on the battlefield. She knew how to deal with such fortifications, but removing them took some effort.

And I should probably assume there’s more than just one layer of walls here.

Looking from a flatland, it was impossible to see ahead, but it was perfectly reasonable to assume there was another layer of walls—if not several.

Most imposing of all was the fact that since the mountains blocked off the point of attack from both sides, the approach to the fortress was incredibly narrow. The road was more spread out at first, but the closer one came to the gate, the more the surrounding mountains seemed to clamp around the road, only allowing a handful of soldiers to pass at any one time.

In other words, the closer one came to the gate, the more narrow the road became and the fewer people could pass, like a phalanx formation. Such dense formations were by no means a bad tactic, and they were effective when driving one’s army into the enemy on open fields, but when it came to besieging a castle, it was a bad play. If the enemy had ranged weaponry, clumping one’s army together was simply lining them up as targets for arrows, boulders, or oil bottles, increasing their losses.

He seems intent on stalling the infantry, only to whittle them down from a safe distance with ranged weapons.

Castles, fortresses, and strongholds differed in scale and employed different means, but they all shared a single purpose: to keep intruders out and to reduce the enemy’s numbers. The stronghold in front of Helena was clearly built with those objectives in mind. Even Helena, with her experience as the Ivory Goddess of War and the many victories under her belt, could see it would be difficult to take this fort.

Its structure uses the terrain wisely. Even with 170,000 men, it would be difficult to break in with a frontal assault. Not bad, Ryoma. I didn’t expect you to have this kind of knowledge too.

Even though they had lost many soldiers during the first battle, the northern subjugation army still held the overwhelming advantage when it came to numbers, and numbers translated directly to an army’s strength. To properly use that strength, though, one had to keep the terrain in mind. The fortification Helena saw had been designed meticulously so that the enemy couldn’t leverage their numerical advantage. Not even a seasoned soldier like Helena could find any flaws in this defense.

Nevertheless, as his enemy, Helena couldn’t keep blindly praising Ryoma. In thirty minutes’ time, the northern subjugation’s leaders, including Queen Lupis, were to gather and discuss the invasion of the Wortenia Peninsula.

Relying on numbers to attack would be suicide. We’ll have to prepare for a prolonged siege to break the enemy’s morale, or gain ships to launch a surprise attack on the peninsula from the sea.

She was aware that each of those ideas had major issues, but even if just in name only, Helena was the commander in chief of this campaign. She would follow Queen Lupis’s orders as supreme commander and put forth her best efforts to guide the army to victory.

But first we need to gather information. It might be too late to do so now, but we still have to do what we can.

They ought to have gathered information on the Mikoshiba barony’s terrain and defensive installations before the war started, but Meltina, in her blind belief in a numerical advantage, had neglected to do so. Or rather, she’d had no choice but to forgo it. She had sent spies, but none of them had returned.

It would have been better to postpone the war, after all. 

Once the spies didn’t return, Helena had proposed that they postpone the northern subjugation, but doing so risked hurting the morale of the participating nobles, impacting the amount of rations and horse fodder they would bring to the war. In addition, Mikhail and Meltina had opposed the idea, rejecting it outright. Helena couldn’t go against the two of them either. To begin with, she had the same misgivings as them. Even so, Helena seemed to have underestimated the situation.

And who’s to say this fortress is the only ace he has up his sleeve?

Helena suspected that Ryoma had some kind of trump card hidden away. She knew him to be a shrewd, calculating man, and a man like him wouldn’t challenge a country to war without a good deal of preparation. Be that as it may, all she had was the distinct feeling that he had something planned.

I thought that razing Epirus might have been that trump card, but apparently I was wrong.

She had considered that he was purposefully making Epirus seem defenseless so that he could kill Queen Lupis once she entered the city, but he’d set fire to it far too quickly for that. In which case, the purpose of the razing was to strike a blow against the northern subjugation army’s morale.

He probably didn’t think this alone would turn the tide of the war, but he did act while keeping it in mind.

This war wasn’t simple enough that it could be won by a single, vital blow. Then again, no one would actively leave themselves open to such a blow to begin with. This was why in boxing, one threw jabs to keep the enemy in check and chip away at their guard. War was much the same. Each single attack might have only a small effect on the overall campaign, but enough attacks would eventually make the enemy bleed.

And by the end, you bleed out and die.

This was much the same, but even knowing this, Helena couldn’t do much. She was the commander in chief of the army, but Queen Lupis was part of the battle too, making her supreme commander. Helena was merely her aide. On paper, Helena had full command, but in practice, her hands were tied.

Moreover, Queen Lupis’s true adjutants were Meltina and Mikhail. Both were high-ranking knights of pedigree and had received educations to match that. In addition, their past errors had served as valuable experience, and Helena could see that they were becoming more and more capable. But while they weren’t incompetent, when it came to facing Ryoma Mikoshiba, they were clearly out of their league. Meltina and Mikhail weren’t commanders; they were knights and warriors.

Those two may have improved somewhat, but they’re still too impulsive.

If Helena were to say that to their faces, though, she’d just buy their ire, and it could push them to do something drastic to prove her wrong. Knowing this, Helena decided to let them act freely.

Meltina’s choice wasn’t necessarily wrong, considering we don’t have any other options—at least, for as long as we don’t have a strategy to resolve this.

Helena could try to go against their decision, but if they were to look to Queen Lupis to make a final call, that would put an end to all arguments. The only thing that would achieve would be further strain on Helena’s relationship with Queen Lupis and her adjutants. Knowing this, Helena could only devote herself to fulfilling her duty—even if the outcome of that would mean the deaths of many.

“Now, let’s get going, even if it will just end up being a farce.”

Helena put away the binoculars, turned around, and made her way to Queen Lupis’s tent, the bitterness of the difficult war to come lingering in her heart.

Chris Morgan followed his honored lady into the tent. Although it was made for use in a war camp, it was spacious and furnished with expensive carpet. In its center was a long, U-shaped table. At the top of a table was a luxurious chair meant for Queen Lupis, while the seats for the other participants sat on either side of it.

Most of the chairs were already occupied. The only empty ones were Queen Lupis’s and the ones adjacent to hers. Based on the number of chairs, twenty people were participating in this meeting. Over a hundred noble houses were part of the northern subjugation army, so only a handful of them were part of this council.

Gathering everyone here would be excessive.

This tent was special, set up for the explicit purpose of hosting a large group of people for war councils like this one, but it still wasn’t large enough to accommodate one hundred people. Besides, those invited to this war council didn’t come alone. Much like Helena, who’d brought her lieutenant Chris, the other members had come with their own retinue.

Helena passed by the lieutenants standing near the tent’s wall and settled into the seat directly to the right of Queen Lupis’s. As commander in chief of this army, it only made sense she would sit near the top of the table. Chris stood behind her and looked around the tent.

The guards will be asked to stand outside the tent, but the lieutenants must be present. Still, what a roster.

The nobles who were part of this council were all among the most prominent aristocrats in Rhoadseria. Present were Viscount Furio Gelhart, who was acting in secret to restore his authority and title as duke; Count Adelheit and Viscount Romaine, prominent members of the nobles’ faction; and Count Hamilton and Count Eisenbach, who were forced to inherit their households following the deaths of their fathers in the House of Lords.

The Counts Hamilton and Eisenbach had especially high morale and were burning with desire to avenge their fallen fathers. The same could be said of most of the victims’ families gathered here. To them, Ryoma’s actions were treasonous and senselessly violent.

Yet wars weren’t won entirely on morale, and their being nobles with power to match didn’t mean they were also capable in military affairs. Most of them were more at home handling internal affairs instead. Their jobs were to make their domains flourish and collect taxes.

While none of them denied the importance of military might, most nobles weren’t on the front lines, fighting and commanding soldiers. The higher a noble’s rank, the larger their domain, so they were less likely to actively participate in military affairs.

There were exceptions, of course. Thomas Salzberg, one of the reasons behind this campaign, had been a high-ranking noble famous for his might as a warrior.

But he was an exception to the rule.

The Salzberg county had been charged with an important defensive position in northern Rhoadseria, and the head of the house had been required to be a capable military commander, but most of Thomas Salzberg’s accolades as a warrior were attributed to his battles before he’d inherited the headship. The only war in recent years where he’d directly stood in the line of battle was his recent and final war with the Mikoshiba barony.

In this regard, most nobles didn’t have any live combat experience, and those who did only participated in battles prior to rising to the headship to legitimize their succession rights.

Though it’s debatable whether that counts as them being part of the war.

It was better than having no experience at all, but it was questionable whether there was much meaning to leading a war where everything was prepared for you.

Chris found people like them talking as if they knew it all laughable.

Even if they were capable warriors, more people at the discussion table isn’t necessarily a good thing. There’s no guarantee they’ll come up with any good ideas, and it could make the discussion even more difficult to manage.

The northern subjugation army still had 170,000 troops left, but it was split between the Rhoadserian army, led by Queen Lupis, and the nobles’ alliance army. The idea of Rhoadseria mustering all its soldiers to form a mighty force sounded good on paper, but realistically it was mostly a scraped-together mob of conscripts.

It was often said that too many cooks spoiled the broth, and including the arrogant, impatient nobles in a war council could easily send it spiraling out of control. That saying didn’t exist in this world, but if Chris had known of it, he’d have certainly used it now. He knew that introducing such inconsistency to strategic decision-making could be terribly dangerous.

Especially when we’re up against someone like that man.

Chris didn’t much like Ryoma Mikoshiba, but it wasn’t for the same bigoted dislike that nobles held toward upstart commoners. Now that Ryoma and his honored teacher and role model, Helena, had parted ways, Chris still retained a great deal of respect mixed with envy toward Ryoma. Putting aside any personal qualms he had, he held Ryoma in high regard. Ryoma’s past achievements commanded that much respect.

Just the fact he has the courage to try and push back such a large army speaks to his pluck and talent.

Regardless of everything else, Chris had to admit that, and the very thought brought a smile to his lips. The change in his expression was subtle, but one person near him didn’t fail to notice it.

Helena turned around to look at him, a slightly teasing glint in her eyes. “You seem quite amused. Did you spot anything interesting?”

She wasn’t finding fault with his attitude, but the way Helena looked at him gave Chris the impression that she was peering into his thoughts, which sent a small shiver running down his spine.

“No, pardon me,” he apologized at once. “I was just thinking.”

As Helena’s lieutenant, Chris was a high-ranking commander in the northern subjugation army. Given his position, he couldn’t be heard praising the skills of the enemy general they were about to fight to the death. It was natural, then, that he’d chosen to apologize and refuse to elaborate any further. Helena didn’t require any further explanation, though, since she seemed to understand what he was thinking.

“I see... Very well, then. But you should focus now. It’s about to begin.”

Helena suddenly gazed at the entrance of the tent. Queen Lupis was arriving.

Sensing the change in the atmosphere, the nobles all rose from their seats. A voice announced the queen’s presence, and the tent flap opened. There stood Queen Lupis Rhoadserians of Rhoadseria, clad in pure white armor. Standing behind her were her two aides, Mikhail Vanash and Meltina Lecter.

Helena knelt, and everyone else followed suit—a gesture of utmost respect when in the presence of the monarch. Queen Lupis answered this by raising her hand and stepped inside. She then sank into the seat at the head of the table.

“We’re in the middle of war, so there’s no need to concern yourself with palace gestures. You may be at ease, everyone.” Her words lightened the atmosphere in the tent.

Meltina was apparently the facilitator of this war council. If a facilitator was necessary to make sure the council proceeded smoothly, then Meltina was a good choice for that. However, that meant little if she didn’t realize the opportunity she was given.

“Now then, let’s begin the council. First, we need to discuss our current plans—”

As soon as Meltina spoke, one of the nobles got to his feet and angrily kicked his chair away. “You think we have time to be discussing our plans now?! We’re a righteous army, gathered to bring that criminal upstart to justice! We just need to press the attack!”

Speaking like this in Queen Lupis’s presence was very brave indeed, and had he read even a single strategy manual, he’d have known that no frontal assault would capture that fortress.

I believe that’s the recently appointed Count Eisenbach. He’s burning with a thirst for revenge for his father’s murder at the House of Lords, but despite that, he’s a complete amateur when it comes to war.

Chris was honestly astonished that the count would propose attacking the stronghold, and Helena, who remained silently seated, likely felt the same. Chris didn’t know how much time Ryoma had spent building that fortress, but it had obviously taken him a long while. Ryoma Mikoshiba had known he would eventually face Queen Lupis in war and made preparations for it ahead of time.

Attacking a fortress meticulously prepared by the Devil of Heraklion... Even if we use up every soldier we have, all 170,000 of them, we wouldn’t topple it.

Chris wasn’t beset by cowardice; he simply knew that mere foolhardiness wasn’t enough to win a war—especially not when they were so intimately familiar with the enemy’s capabilities. If they were to blindly charge into that fortress, it would only end in bloody tragedy on their side.

But the real problem is how everyone else is reacting. I had a feeling this would happen.

Chris sighed. To him, Count Eisenbach’s proposal was too foolish to even spare a thought on, but the other nobles seemed spurred by the count’s words. What’s more, Meltina, the facilitator, hadn’t interrupted him, and as a result, the other nobles voiced their agreement.

“I see... Yes, perhaps charging in with full force is better than resorting to petty tricks.”

“Yes, the more time we waste, the more likely that man will resort to trickery.”

The nobles murmured in consent, seemingly blind to the fortress standing in their way.

They say people only hear and see what they want to, but are they really this foolish?

Chris sighed again, lamenting the fact that these were the people with whom he had to fight against that monster of a man.

It was then that Meltina finally spoke up. “I’ve heard all of your opinions, but I’d like to hear what Lady Helena has to say as commander in chief of this army,” she said, turning her eyes to Helena.

“Initially, we assumed we’d be facing Ryoma Mikoshiba on the field while he holed up in Epirus, but he minimized the front line by abandoning his occupied domain. We clearly have the numerical advantage, but considering that we don’t know the structure of that fortress, trying to force our way in would be too dangerous. I suggest our army retreats for a time so we may have a fresh start. Otherwise, assuming supplies aren’t an issue, we prepare for a prolonged siege so as to lower the enemy’s morale.”

Helena’s suggestion was a safe one, and it reflected the reality of the situation. The nobles, however, only responded with angry shouts.

“That’s absurd! What is that naive strategy?!”

“Agreed. I don’t see why our troops should fall back at this point.”

“To think Helena Steiner would come up with such a slow plan. I hear Rearth has a saying for those who have lived past their glory days. ‘How the mighty have fallen,’ yes? I’d say it fits this situation perfectly.”

They spoke with scorn and mockery, directing their dark enmity at Helena. From their perspective—or perhaps more accurately, so they convinced themselves—Baron Mikoshiba was but an insect not to be feared.

If Mikoshiba was that insignificant, we wouldn’t need this many nobles to conquer a frontier territory, now would we? Surely they realize that. But with everyone else watching, none of them can openly endorse caution.

This had been obvious to Chris before this council had even started, but seeing his expectations turn out to be correct didn’t make him any happier. At this rate, they would end up deciding to go into a reckless, dangerous siege battle.

At that point, we’d have to figure out how to suppress their hard-line arguments without bruising their dignity.

This was a natural conclusion for anyone leading an army. From a military standpoint, the nobles’ demands were certainly foolish, but if their arguments were to be beaten down with sound logic, their dignity wouldn’t stand for it. Trying to suppress their ideas would just intensify their backlash and run the risk of their disobeying orders to storm the fortress of their own accord. In a sense, the point of this war council was figuring out how to delicately overturn the nobles’ demands without bruising their dignity and keep them under Helena’s command and control.

I hate that we must play along with this farce, but we have no choice.

In Chris’s heart brewed something between frustration and resignation. He believed Helena must have felt the same way, but apparently, he was making empty assumptions. Rather than argue back, Helena smiled, looking around at the nobles.

“I see... With your morale so high, it might be possible to force open those gates with numbers alone. I made that proposal based on traditional theory, but as commander in chief, I can’t risk lowering your morale. You have my apologies.”

Helena had just apologized as commander in chief—something that normally wouldn’t ever happen. Her words had made the nobles, who had spoken so passionately just moments ago, shrink back with guilty expressions.

Helena Steiner’s name carried a great deal of weight and influence in Rhoadseria. She was a hero who’d saved the kingdom from crisis several times over, and as commander in chief of the northern subjugation army, she held high authority and command over the entire army. Pressuring such a person to the point of forcing an apology out of her left even the most arrogant of nobles ill at ease.

Despite their reactions, Helena carried on. “Now then, as for the attack, we’ll have to decide which forces will lead the charge.”

The nobles became speechless. They’d never expected their suggestion to attack the fortress would be decided on so easily.

Helena continued the talks, without regard for their reactions, and looked around before nominating one of the nobles. “In that case, I think we’ll have Count Eisenbach do the honors. What do you think, Your Majesty?”

“Very well.” Queen Lupis nodded briefly and looked to the count. “Count Eisenbach, you will lead the charge. Capture that fortress and bring the traitor’s head to me.”

Count Eisenbach’s face turned crimson red, and he beat his chest in a show of force. The queen’s direct word had stirred up his morale, and his mind was occupied by one word and one word only: victory.

“I accept your orders, Your Majesty. I promise you Baron Mikoshiba’s head!”

“Bold words. I look forward to it.” Satisfied, Queen Lupis nodded, then looked to the nobles around the table.

“Everyone, work in tandem with Count Eisenbach’s vanguard as you charge the fort. Understood?”

This was the queen of Rhoadseria speaking; it wasn’t a question or request, but a royal edict. What’s more, neither the queen nor her two aides, Mikhail and Meltina, seemed to have any intent of stopping this decision from being put into practice. In fact, it almost seemed like they’d wished for this to happen.

The surrounding nobles didn’t seem to notice this, however, instead making boastful promises.

“As you wish! We will prove our valor!”

“We can’t let Count Eisenbach hog all the glory to himself, can we? I will be the one to capture the fort!”

The nobles rose from their seats, thrusting their fists up high.

Chris remained silent, his eyes fixed on Helena’s back as she remained seated wordlessly.

♱

That night, Chris visited Helena’s tent alone. His mouth was dry, and his expression was blank. He was nervous, and he knew it. The sentry guarding the entrance to the tent seemed to notice something was off about the lieutenant and stood there on edge too.

That makes sense.

The war council had ended in a way Chris had never expected, but the real issue was the reason he hadn’t seen it coming. Was he simply too inept to properly predict this? If so, he was better off; he could get away with this by humbly admitting his faults and trying to improve. But what if that wasn’t the reason?

Maybe I shouldn’t be asking this, but...

Since he couldn’t deny the possibility of another reason, Chris started doubting how to conduct himself going forward. He had no choice but to come to Helena for the answer.

“Lady Helena, may I come in?”

“Yes, Chris, of course. Come in.”

With her permission, Chris entered the tent. As commander in chief, Helena had been given a spacious tent, ten square meters in size. An expensive carpet adorned the ground, making it quite comfortable as tents went—a difference of heaven and earth from the tents most soldiers had to sleep in.

The resident of this tent, on the other hand, wore a dark expression. “No need to stand while you talk, dear. Take a seat on the sofa. I’ll brew you some tea.”

Helena got up from her work desk, which was stacked with papers, and turned on a portable cooking stove by the wall. The device used endowed thaumaturgy and didn’t require any kindling or fuel. It was like a gas stove used for training, but even smaller. It was a very expensive piece of equipment, only available for high officers.

The water boiled in no time at all, and after preparing the tea, Helena sat down. Chris took a seat across from her on the sofa by one of the tent’s walls and sighed.

I think I see now...

Helena hadn’t called a soldier to prepare the tea—she’d done it herself. This wasn’t typical of a commanding officer. On top of that, it had taken her no time at all to prepare the drinks. She even had tea cakes prepared. All this implied that she had been expecting him to come by, which meant that the war council earlier that day had all gone according to her expectations.

The question is why...

Chris looked intently at Helena, waiting for her to speak.

“You look like you have misgivings about today’s war council.” Helena brought her cup to her lips and sipped on it like she was teasingly testing it for poison.

Chris nodded sincerely. “In truth, it’s not so much that I have misgivings. I just want to find out why.”

“Why, you ask?” Helena gave him a tired smile. “So that we may win, of course.”

“By going on a frontal assault? Surely you’re joking. It’s a stout fortress built upon natural defenses!” Chris retorted, his tone becoming harsher.

It can’t be... Is she seriously saying a frontal attack will help us win here?!

While he wasn’t spouting any insults, he was clearly criticizing Helena—even looking down on her. It was like asking a scholar what one and one added up to and being told the answer was three. It wasn’t in any way how a lieutenant was supposed to act around his commanding officer, and in most cases, he could have been demoted and reprimanded for his actions.

Chris would have never spoken to Helena like this before, but the moment they decided to part ways with the Mikoshiba barony, Chris had started to question Helena’s judgment. His doubts were starting to show in his words.

Helena didn’t fault Chris for this, though. “Yes. If nothing else, relying on numbers is the best way to achieve victory right now. You’re right, strategically speaking, it’s not a very wise choice, and we will no doubt suffer many casualties.”

“And knowing all that, you’re still approving a frontal assault?”

“I realize it’s a terrible choice, but at this point, it’s our only chance at winning.”

Chris noticed the cold glint in Helena’s eyes. “Why?” he asked again.

Helena gave Chris a probing look, seeing right into him. Heaving a small sigh, she started speaking in a grave tone.

“Have you checked how many rations we have?”

“Our rations? Well, it’s an army of two hundred thousand, so the rationing would be harsh, but it should last for this expedition. What of it?”

An army marched on its stomach. It was a major issue that applied in all wars, regardless of place or time period. This was why Sun Tzu advised to forgo stocking up on food within one’s country, but to focus on pillaging the enemy for their supplies.

It was clear this advice didn’t apply this time, however. Queen Lupis had stated that her army could pillage the Mikoshiba barony’s domain, but pillaging alone couldn’t support such a large army on its own. Preparing men and supplies was why it had taken so long to gather the army in the first place. They’d had to reap supplies from all across Rhoadseria to support such a large army for several months.

But wait... No, I suppose our preparations weren’t thorough.

The image of Epirus burning in crimson flames flashed in Chris’s mind, along with that of its original inhabitants. It was then that Chris broke into a cold sweat.

Helena could tell from the change in his expression that he had arrived at the truth. “Correct. Our original plan supported two hundred thousand men, but that’s not enough anymore, thanks to Ryoma’s ploy of forcing us to shelter the commoners living in this area.”

A group of fifty thousand refugees had come to them for help days ago. If it had just been that many people, they wouldn’t have been that heavy of a burden, but Queen Lupis had created a ripple effect, and refugees from all across Rhoadseria had come to the northern subjugation army, requesting their queen’s protection. The population of Epirus and its surrounding villages probably exceeded a hundred thousand people.

And the entirety of northern Rhoadseria likely comes up to twice that.

The army was technically allowed to pillage against commoners that lived under the Mikoshiba barony’s occupation, but that didn’t apply to refugees who rejected and sought to escape Baron Mikoshiba’s rule. They’d made the choice to remain loyal to Rhoadseria and live under Queen Lupis’s rule—the very definition of patriots—so when such loyal subjects had come to her for help, Queen Lupis hadn’t been able to reject them.

Queen Lupis’s regime is not a successful or wealthy one, but even so, her image as a beautiful and caring queen that provides for the people is what keeps this country together. She can’t afford to shatter that image.

In that light, it was clear that her choices were limited.

“Not to mention, the burning of Epirus was a painful blow. If we’d taken the city, we’d have been able to house the commoners for a time, but after that inferno burned it down, it’s doubtful there’s even enough roofs to place over their heads.”

“In that case...” Chris started.

“Right now, Meltina and Mikhail are scrambling to reorganize the supply line from the rear while keeping the growing number of refugees in mind. In other words, the ones being subjected to starvation tactics aren’t the Mikoshiba barony, the defenders, but rather us, the attackers.”

Chris now fully understood the situation. “So that’s what happened. You proposed a full retreat or a prolonged siege to cut off the nobles’ own retreat, didn’t you?”

Helena nodded. “They swore victory before the queen and denied the safe options their commander in chief proposed, even going so far as to mock me. They can’t turn back now. If they do, they’ll be punished under the queen’s name. They have no choice but to push forward, no matter the cost.”

“Then can’t we retreat and reorganize our forces?”

Chris hadn’t realized that they were that cornered, but if what Helena said was true, it was all the more reason to pull back and start the war over from square one.

Helena shook her head. “Retreating now isn’t an option. Even though our food situation is at risk, we still outwardly maintain the overwhelming advantage in this war. If we force a retreat now, the refugees will think we abandoned them, and the nobles participating in the subjugation will be displeased. From their perspective, the war would end with them having gained nothing, and considering the state of the north, they wouldn’t receive any rewards for their participation either.”

Her words had a scathing edge to them, mocking the nobles who clamored on about how they participated in this war to bring the treasonous baron to justice. There was no justice in how the northern subjugation army worked: there was only the banner of justice, meant to mask personal revenge, and a greedy desire to take away Baron Mikoshiba’s riches. If the nobles were to fail to achieve either of those objectives, their disgruntlement would turn to Lupis, who had ordered the northern subjugation.

“To avoid that, our only choice is to attack the fortress. If we give the order, we at least avoid the possibility of the nobles taking matters into their own hands and attacking the fort without our consent, yes? And this is also a golden chance to cull the numbers of those foolish nobles too.”

“And Her Majesty knows this?”

“Of course she does. I couldn’t make such an important decision on my own discretion.”

Chris was rendered speechless, and Helena watched him silently while sipping on her tea.

♱

The following day, when the sun rose in the east, the blowing of a horn echoed through the foot of the Tilt Mountains. At this signal, the northern subjugation army’s 170,000 troops began their march on Fort Tilt.

It was a menacing sight; the army looked like it could blot out the sky. Nevertheless, looking down at the enemy marching on him, Ryoma’s expression didn’t change one bit. Instead, a confident smile played on his lips.

Laura stood behind him. Her eyes were full of mercy for the soldiers in front of her and scorn for the commander who had ordered them into this march. “I had my doubts about how the enemy army would respond when faced with Fort Tilt, but as you predicted, they were foolish enough to choose to attack it with brute force.”

“True.” Ryoma nodded. “From their perspective, they didn’t have much of a choice, and they believe they have the advantage. Of course, Lady Helena probably knows exactly what’s happening, but even though she’s commander in chief, she doesn’t have full rights over the northern subjugation army. She likely decided that she can’t keep the nobles’ wishes in check, so it’s better to let them roam free than to stop them. That way, they’d at least maintain offensive momentum.”

I guess relying on numbers sounds nice and simple, but they’re not that stupid. They probably realized my plan by now and are scrambling to rebuild their supply line.

On top of that, they were sending the foolish nobles out to serve as vanguards. That way, no matter which way this turned out, the queen’s side wouldn’t lose much. If the nobles somehow managed to capture the fort, then that was fine. Lupis could just praise their achievements and reward them accordingly. But if the nobles were to lose and get nearly wiped out, Helena would be fine with that too. The fact that nobles would attack such a natural fortress with a frontal assault proved that they had no understanding of tactics. Plus, given that the northern subjugation’s supplies were insufficient, this was a good chance to reduce the number of mouths they had to feed.

That’s what I would do, anyway.

The nobles were basically a neutral pawn—even if they lost, the army as a whole wouldn’t lose much. Yes, they were losing troops, but effectively wasting these unnecessary soldiers could prove advantageous. The question was how much of this Helena, Queen Lupis, and Meltina had planned.

“Well, regardless of whether they had this in mind, it won’t change how I’m going to respond.”

This was the front line of their defense—a position that Ryoma had ordered Boltz to build. It was more than just that, though. It was an impregnable fortress that made use of natural defenses. If the northern subjugation army were to try and break through it with brute force, they would experience true hell.

This fort truly is a cage to capture the tiger that is the northern subjugation army. I should call it the Tiger Cage Pass.

Ryoma cracked a sarcastic smile despite himself. Once, there was a fortress in ancient China known as the Tiger Cage Pass. Also known as Sishui Pass, it was an important position guarding the then capital of China. In The Annals of Three Kingdoms, it was the site of the famous battle between Dong Zhuo’s army and the alliance between Yuan Shao and Cao Cao.

Of course, the Annals was a work of fiction and not a history book, but Ryoma had read this story in his youth and was quite engrossed by it. He particularly admired Lü Bu Fengxian, the Flying General.

The thought that Ryoma, a high school boy, would have to command a situation so similar to that battle from The Annals of Three Kingdoms was moving. It was indeed the kind of situation of which any fan of the Three Kingdoms would fantasize.

But if I’m the one hiding in the Tiger Cage Pass to intercept a large army, that means I’m the Dong Zhuo in this situation. And while I don’t think I’m that bad of a tyrant, I’d rather be Cao Cao, if I could choose.

Ryoma wasn’t reckless enough to want the role of Liu Bei, known as the virtuous general, but at the same time, he didn’t want the role of Dong Zhuo, who was synonymous with corruption and evil. Cao Cao was also depicted as evil in The Annals of Three Kingdoms, but unlike Dong Zhuo, Cao Cao achieved great things as both a warrior and a politician.

Dong Zhuo had the image of a terrible villain who ruled the city Luoyang with an iron fist, while Cao Cao was seen as more of a cunning rogue who did what was necessary to win in an era of turbulent war. It was natural, then, that Ryoma would prefer to have his role over Dong Zhuo’s.

But as a matter of fact, Ryoma shared some similarities with Dong Zhuo. Ryoma’s setting fire to Epirus was similar to Dong Zhuo’s setting fire to the city of Luoyang to retreat to Chang’an. If Koichiro were to hear of this, he’d gleefully tell Ryoma of his resemblance to Dong Zhuo.

Talk about having a supportive family...

Lament though he might, the furnace of war had been set aflame, meaning Ryoma had little time to bask in reveries, so he thrust his right hand to the heavens. The following second, the sound of bells and drums shook the air, and battle cries rose up from the fortress. Then a shower of arrows fell from the sky.

This was the start of the Siege of Fort Tilt—an event that would go down in history as a gruesome battle to be remembered years later.