Chief of the Imperial Staff, concurrent Commander of the First Army General Staff… meet Kael Klauwitz.
Oh my goodness gracious. With just one of these titles, a person could reasonably start hyperventilating. And here I am, stuck with two!
Never in my wildest, craziest, out-of-control dreams did I ever think I’d end up like this.
Just two short years ago, I was screaming, “Stay away from me with that army nonsense!” Now? Overnight, I’ve somehow transformed from zero to hero, and now I’m being hailed as the Empire’s shining beacon of hope.
“Is the world ending?!”
The truth is? I am no grand figure worthy of all this. I’m not some legendary founder of the Empire. I’m not one of history’s revered national heroes. Heck, I’m not even in the same league as the legendary General of my past life or any other illustrious figure who saved nations.
Nope. I’m just the schmuck who happened to get lucky with some residual knowledge from my past life. It’s all just pure dumb luck, the stars aligning perfectly, and—voila!—here I am, somehow thrust into this ridiculous situation.
“Humility?” You try staying humble when everyone’s bowing and scraping at your feet. You tell me you’re not enjoying at least a little bit of the power trip.
Ugh. As much as it’s true—I swear, I didn’t ask for this stuff—but the sheer, overwhelming pressure of it all? It’s absolutely ridiculous.
Not only am I overseeing the First Army, but there’s also the allied forces and reserves sitting out back. Altogether, nearly 400,000 lives depend on what comes out of my mouth, my strategy, my decisions. And this isn’t just a march or a parade. It’s war. People are going to get hurt. People are going to d*e. And anyone who thinks this is all sunshine and roses? They’re the real lunatics here.
“Ughh…”
Deep breath. Rub my eyes. Collect myself.
Look, I get it. I know it. At this point, it’d be pointless to back out. Not only that, but I wouldn’t even think of quitting now. Why? For my family. For my beloved wife, for the Klawitz name, for everyone around me who’s counting on me. And yeah, let’s be honest—now, more than ever, I owe it to myself too. Because if I don’t step up, who will?
“Chief of Staff, the Commander is waiting.”
Oh, I know how the outside world likes to label me as some sort of tactical genius. Honestly though? I’ve never, not once, thought of myself that way. If anything, I’d just rather sit there quietly and keep mumbling about how it’s all just dumb luck.
But excuses won’t get me anywhere. No, if there’s work to be done, then by gum, I’m going to do it. To the fullest of my abilities. Because this isn’t just about me anymore—it’s about the Klaubitz family, about being the eldest son of the Duke of Bertier Empire. And yeah, fine, let’s not forget this whole “genius strategist” thing everyone loves throwing around.
“You grace us with your presence, Chief of Staff.”
As I walk into the tent, I’m greeted by a familiar face—our First Army Commander, a man I’d seen many times over in official gatherings, balls, and celebrations. Word was that he was set to be one of the key figures in the military hierarchy soon—and sure enough, here he was.
Commander of the first ever First Army. Yep, he’s got a legacy being carved in stone already. If things go well, his family will bask in glory for generations to come.
…Until the history books also note he led one of the Empire’s biggest defeats. Not ideal, huh?
“Good to see you again, Commander.”
“As much as I’d love to have a friendly chat, let’s cut the pleasantries. There’s far too much on our plate right now.”
“Absolutely. Let’s get down to it.”
With a wave of his hand, the aides spring into action, quickly unfurling a map. Staff members rush to place markers representing the Imperial Army and our enemy, Dedolant, on the battlefield.
“Our current situation is as follows…”
“Looks like we’ve been pushed back pretty hard.”
“Yes. While we gave up some strategically less important positions deliberately, the sheer ferocity of Dedolant’s counter-offensive overwhelmed us in many vital areas.”
Our plan to push all the way to Dedolant’s capital? Big, epic fail. We stormed their borders, extended too far into enemy territory, only to have the extended frontline completely dismantled. Worst part? The central flank, where the Western Legion was positioned, is in dire straits.
I’ve learned it the hard way—those bastards were sitting pretty on their elite reserves while baiting us with second-tier troops. Turns out, much of our intel came from their lesser units and reinforcements brought by their allies, like Artria. Plus, they even drafted surrenderers from Dugal into the fray.
And before you blame the Legions for missing the signs? Dedolant had us all fooled—we had no way to distinguish their real, battle-hardened forces from the decoys. And let’s not forget, even their second-line soldiers were decent fighters.
Oh boy, sure did we get played. Bigtime.
Now, discussions continued, but they’re all just a litany of failures at this point.
The Western Legion? Essentially destroyed. The Eastern and Southern ones? Heavily battered, requiring downtime to recover. Pretty much the only force left standing is the Northern Legion. And that’s it.
“Chief of Staff, you’ve really done the impossible.”
“Really?”
“In the absence of a fully mobilized reserve force, filling in a gap of 40,000 combat troops isn’t an easy feat. Yet here we are, with reinforcements from allied nations ready to be deployed under our banner. That’s impressive.”
“Oh. You mean that.”
I hesitated for a moment—originally planning to bring this up later, but given the circumstances, it can’t wait.
“In the meantime, the reinforcements from the allied nations will remain stationed at the rear.”
“Chief of Staff? In the rear?”
“Yes. There’s separate assignments for them, and I fully intend to keep the Western Legion’s role intact.”
“But the Western Legion is in tatters! If we’re hit again in this condition…”
“Exactly. Which brings me to my point.”
As I finish my sentence, the Commander and other officers stare blankly, puzzled.
“Exactly?” one of them repeats. “What exactly?”
“Surely, you’ve all heard about the heroic stand I took at the fortress?”
“Of course! The entire army has heard tales of that remarkable defense!”
“Yes. Everyone here present has no doubt been in awe,” chimes in another officer.
Spare me the flattery. Sure, it might feel good, but I didn’t bring this up for compliments.
“After further review of the battle intel, it seems that none other than Dedolant’s Third Prince was the one leading that raiding party.”
“If only we had arrived just a tad earlier, we could have captured him alive!”
Hold up. Hold. Up. Yeah, sure, it was all thanks to the timely arrival of those Eastern Allied forces. Had we faced them directly? Well, let’s just say our “heroic allies” would’ve turned into a pile of goo.
“At first, I was quite disappointed. However, upon reflection, something doesn’t add up.”
“Huh? Doesn’t add up?”
“The Third Prince. He’s one of Dedolant’s most important figures. After the coup, he’s practically their King. And yet, he personally leads an army all the way to our stronghold?”
“Well, yes…”
“Yet, after pulling off a devastating counter-offensive, encircling our forces, and effectively neutralizing our units… they’ve done next to nothing after that, haven’t they?”
Oh yeah. Everyone was utterly convinced we were just moments away from total collapse. That massive, terrifying counter-offensive? It paralyzed us with fear. But, to be honest, I didn’t panic. Maybe it was because I was far enough removed that I could stay level-headed.
“They’re too exhausted to press their offensive. That’s clear.”
“How…?”
“Even in defeat, our legions are some of the finest combat units around. The forces that clashed with them were surely battered. The unit commanders I spoke with recounted fierce battles, and it’s evident that Dedolant also suffered heavy losses in this exchange.”
So, despite their incredible success, Dedolant hasn’t pushed further. Why? Because after that final, desperate charge led by the Third Prince and his royal guard, the rest of their forces were spent.
“Relax. If they wanted to launch another trap, they’d be wasting their time plotting when they could simply have pushed us out as we are. If the enemy truly holds the advantage, why would they need anything more complicated than brute force?”
Take a deep breath. Calm down. Your army needs rest. Stiff muscles need relaxing. Dedolant likely hopes to trap us in a panic, to have us trip over ourselves. Don’t let them win that way.
“We need to focus on turning this situation around in our favor.”
“Our favor?”
“That’s right. This is Dedolant’s land. They’re the ones in the hot water. The longer the war drags on, the more pressure they’ll be under.”
The Empire’s grand strategy thus far? Blitzkrieg. Finish this thing quick. I mean, some people were already talking about forcing a surrender before the New Year festivities. But not me—I believe in the long game.
Dedolant’s no pushover. Thinking they’d just crumble under us was wishful thinking. And once you’ve tangled with them and realized their strength, you’ll avoid underestimating them. So, instead of rushing, they’ve drawn us in.
Yes, we lost two Legions. But seven remain—and reinforcements are on the way. With the reserves and allied forces already here, we’ve got numbers on our side.
“The capital isn’t threatened. But if Dedolant continues this game, they’ll come to regret it. They can’t afford to make a mistake—not with their capital city and kingdom at stake.”
We’ve swapped punches. We know each other now. This war, from here on out, will come down to who can last longer.
That’s the real fight.
