While Artria was making preparations to pull off what could only be described as sheer lunacy…
King Cassius II of Dedolant, unfortunately, had no bandwidth to concern himself with their antics.
So instead, the command staff stepped up and gave them an enthusiastic thumbs up.
(Of course, thanks to this, Artria hopped right onto the express train to Hell. But minor details.)
So then, what exactly was King Cassius II doing all this time?
“I shall personally lead the Fifth Army! There is but ONE Benito in this world! For the sake of that ONE Benito, and for Dedolant’s alliance, I shall march to battle!”
With both the capital seized and the northern regions crumbling one by one, King Andrea II of North Benito had reached his breaking point. Not that he seemed to care—he was too busy drowning his sorrows in booze, even as people told him he ought to flee to Dedolant.
Eventually, even the few remaining advisors and nobles, utterly fed up with his incompetence, abandoned ship. Some didn’t formally surrender to the Empire but opted not to resist them either.
And just like that, the castle where King Andrea II held court fell, sending Dedolant into a panic.
There was no better picture than a king riding to save another king. Especially when said move could also rally the waning spirits of Dedolant’s wavering troops.
And as a nice bonus, maybe it could shift the Empire’s focus back to the south for a bit.
With this in mind, Cassius II handed over internal governance to the command staff and set his army in motion.
“Back in the day, Dedolant would’ve finished all preparations and charged into battle days ago.”
Bummer. Tragic. To be honest, it was suffocating.
Too late. Everything was just… too late. The delay in the allied advance was maddening.
Not only was morale down, but the troops themselves weren’t up to par—evidence of Dedolant’s declining strength. They’d tried to preserve their best fighters, but how had things turned out this way?
“Hurry! Faster! We MUST rescue Benito and our alliance!”
Indeed, it had to happen. Only then could Dedolant absorb whatever fragments of Benito remained.
Although it was true that King Andrea II’s poor leadership had alienated much of his people, there were still loyalists in the north who regarded him as their rightful ruler.
As long as they stuck around, they could cause trouble for the Empire. They might even stall the southern legions regrouping or advancing toward the Dugal front.
“Your Highness! Your Highness!”
But alas, the heavens, the gods, and luck had all turned their backs on him—thanks to one particularly charismatic man.
“It’s… too late.”
“What nonsense is this? Too late? Speak plainly.”
“News has just arrived, Your Majesty. The southern Benito army has seized the castle where King Andrea was stationed… and Andrea II was captured.”
Drat. Upon hearing the news, Cassius II bit his lip so hard he drew bl**d.
If only Andrea had held out a little longer… Just a few more days would’ve made all the difference.
From start to finish, this king—YOU—have done nothing but drag us down.
“Your Highness, what will you do?”
“…We’re retreating.”
And so, Benito had fallen. Though some northern territories persisted, there was no unifying force anymore. The moral high ground now belonged entirely to the Empire. The southern region had been completely lost.
For Dedolant, this was like having their guard up but still getting gutted.
With the Fifth Army in charge of defending the south, Cassius II returned to the royal castle. But the news that awaited him there was yet another tragedy: the fall of Benito.
“What do you mean, Artria is collapsing? Even if their fortresses and castles are falling, I was told they could hold out for months, wasn’t that the case?”
“Well, Your Majesty, while you were away, the command staff in Artria sought our advice about launching a massive counterattack…”
“And?”
“They said they’d go ahead with it if we provided support…”
What. The. Hell. Cassius II facepalmed dramatically.
Even if an opportunity for a counteroffensive presented itself, there’s a time to strike and a time to sit tight. Moreover, Artria lacked the elite soldiers Dedolant once prided itself on.
What kind of recklessness drove them into such a hopeless plan, with no backup or support?
“With the power of the Deo people, they believed they could push through and sustain themselves by looting the Empire’s supplies. That should be enough, they said…”
“Ugh…”
There it was. They were nothing more than echoes of his old mistakes.
Filling their gaps with declarations of the “glory of the Deo people.” Believing victory would solve everything, no matter the cost. Rushing headfirst into battles they couldn’t win.
Cassius II thought to himself—it was all his fault. And yet, at the same time, he couldn’t help but shake his head. This made no sense.
Back during the Setongrad incident, there had been valid reasons. Given the Empire’s troop deployment back then, attacking Dedolant WAS reasonable.
But THIS counterattack by Artria was completely different. It was diving headfirst into an enemy fully prepared for an all-out offensive.
Artria didn’t have elite forces, their momentum was non-existent, and worst of all, there was a terrifying sword-wielding lunatic up north!
“Deliver my command immediately. Consolidate their lines and retreat, NOW!”
“Unfortunately, Your Majesty, it seems most of Artria has already fallen. Their capital has likely been seized by now…”
Bang!
Sweeping everything off the table, Cassius II stormed out to the command center. The southern and northern shields Dedolant had clung to were now gone, lost in the blink of an eye.
Up until now, Dedolant had managed to hold out because they only had to deal with the central front. But starting tomorrow, they’d be facing the Empire’s forces on three fronts.
“This… What madness is this? THIS IS INSANE!”
“Stand strong, Your Highness! We did our best…”
“Our best? YOUR BEST? If that was your best effort, Artria should’ve been secured!”
The command staff exchanged nervous glances. Then, in unison, they began chiming in with predictably similar excuses.
“The Deo people could’ve carried it through. But it seems the bl**d of Artria has grown too distant from ours. That was the command staff’s miscalculation.”
“What…?”
“But fear not, Your Majesty. The Deo people shall rise to the occasion now! Rally the citizens, arm them, and fight! With everyone united, we can survive this!”
Is this… really coming from the same people? The ones who had just been shouting about Deo pride moments ago?
Yes, Cassius II admitted it. The calls to the glory of the Deo people began with him. Fine, he owned that. But THAT was where it ended. No further!
Arming all the kingdom’s citizens? Do they even know how to fight?
The Empire has been honing its warriors into highly trained killing machines all this time, and you think this is a good idea?
Pride in the Deo people is great—but only when it actually makes sense. THIS is just absurd!
“Your Highness! Let us drive the Empire away! Trust us!”
Amidst the chaos, Leonite, the guy who’d escaped while Paelus surrendered, suddenly roared confidently.
Seems like he’s serious. Seems like he truly believes they can pull it off.
“Gruber…”
Stepping away from the madness, Cassius II quickly called for his aide.
“What’s… going on here?”
“Your Highness.”
“I only shouted about the glory of the Deo people when we could fight. When victory was achievable. When there was at least a slight, rational chance of success. But THIS…”
“Your Majesty, you must not falter. For our sakes, you must stand firm. Please lead us until the very end.”
“Until… the very end?”
At these words, Cassius II let out a soft, bitter laugh. Clever as he was. A prince and king who’d brought Dedolant this far. He saw it immediately—their hidden meaning.
They refused to admit fault. They didn’t want to acknowledge that their misjudgment had led to all this.
And so, they needed a scapegoat. A pretense to justify all their mistakes. That scapegoat… was him, King Cassius II.
They were merely parroting what their lord had originally declared, clinging to it even more fanatically now.
Claiming no responsibility, blaming it all on the king. Arguing they only acted from loyalty and patriotism.
Glory of the Deo people! For this, they fought without question, never doubting its validity. Clinging stubbornly to this vision, demanding he continue along this path.
“Me. This me… I’ve been nurturing these poisonous mushrooms all this while.”
What should be done about this situation? Well, the answer is already decided.
It’s just that even Cassius II didn’t want to take that particular step.
But as circumstances now stood, his resolve melted like snow in spring.
Even if the royal line collapses and the nobility is uprooted entirely… the common folk, though they may live under a new banner, will survive regardless.
Isn’t that enough?
“…”
As the king fell silent, Gruber—the aide-turned-confidant—watched him quietly.
His gaze gleamed sharply, like a blade catching the light.
