When Kael, the fallen star, made his grand return to the divine stage and started making waves in the system…
“Can you believe it?! That fallen star rises again! And we missed the perfect chance to secure victory for our army! And it’s all because of you useless, spineless moderates at the helm, you hear me?!”
“Morons! This is entirely because the commanders and advisors planted by you hardliner bastards are complete buffoons! So pathetic not even the god Baru shook his head in disappointment!”
“Spineless cowards!”
“War-mongering imbeciles!”
Somewhere within the Coalition of Nobogorod, the Demon Race was busy exchanging lovely words of affection.
First off, moderates had seized control of the Council, forcing key hardliner leaders into early retirement. However, this did not mean all hardliner factions in Nobogorod were snuffed out. Hardliners never truly disappear as long as there’s an Empire standing—or even when it falls, they’ll just find another nation to target as their new obsession. With this in mind, when troops that had advanced dangerously close to the border retreated back to the capital city of Veograd…
“Commanders of all ranks, report to the Council at once!”
“If the army had failed in small skirmishes, it’s one thing—but this? Coming back covered in a far more humiliating defeat? You’ll each have to fully account for your disgraceful actions!”
With moderates circling like vultures, and hardliners sharpening their talons, it was clear they both wanted their chance at tearing one another apart. Naturally, this involved shifting blame for the army’s failure onto the other side.
“So, why didn’t you launch a night raid when the star fell?”
“Commander, answer me directly! Why didn’t you strike while the Empire was on its knees?!”
“Unless, of course, you were too cowardly to even consider one! Speak up, why don’t you!?”
First, the moderates had pounced on the commander tied to the hardliner faction, eager to eviscerate him. Even the highest-ranking officials can’t escape responsibility when things go sideways. Political loyalty isn’t enough to save anyone if they’re facing criticism from the opposing camp.
“That… I did my utmost! The reason I didn’t order a night raid was because…”
“The Imperial Army recovered far too quickly. There was nothing left to be done!”
“For real? Who could have expected the star to rise again?! It was beyond our control!”
“Oh, it was certainly out of our hands… but still unjust and heartbreaking!”
For all the commander’s battlefield expertise, the political arena was another battlefield entirely. And these politicians in the Council? They were seasoned beasts who had been honing their claws for years. The commander had some political savvy, sure, but it wasn’t enough to hold back the tide.
“This situation cannot be pinned solely on the commander!”
Of course, the hardliners weren’t sitting back and letting the moderates take all the shots. Though they’d lost their majority in the Council, they still had their power. With such unprecedented circumstances, even frontline commanding officers had to face scrutiny—and most of those happened to be moderates. That made it an obvious move for the hardliners to seize the opportunity.
“Records show that at the time, the frontline officers consistently contested orders from the commander! Their constant interference delayed crucial decision-making!”
“This defeat stems from the officers who directly clashed with their superiors, undermining their authority. It’s practically mutiny, don’t you think?!”
For over a week, the two factions continued their tiresome back-and-forth. What started as a military meeting devolved into chaos, a street brawl of screaming voices. The once-revered Demon Race councilors were reduced to barking like dogs, hurling insults with reckless abandon.
“…Hmph.”
Through it all, Charlotte observed silently, unable to hold back an exasperated sigh.
There was no denying it: this was an outright loss for Nobogorod. The blame game needed to stop so they could regroup and prepare for the next clash. Unfortunately, the council had been bickering for a week straight, like two cats stuck in a sack.
Hardliners aren’t all bad, and moderates aren’t all saints. It was simply a tangled web of clashing interests. No one was “right” anymore. Whenever someone suggested a solution, the reflex was to instantly argue against it.
“Now I understand why Father couldn’t quit cigars…”
“Though… even then, isn’t it time to quit these things?” she thought, recalling how supposedly those harmful cigars could wreck one’s health. Though, perhaps, the real culprit was chronic stress.
‘This can’t continue. If this drags on any longer, we’ll be sapping the nation of its strength. We’ve got to do something.’
Initially, she had no intention of getting involved. She shouldn’t. The hardliners were gunning for Council Chairperson Kalande, a moderate faction leader. They weren’t plotting an assassination—but planned to attack him by seizing on the fact that Charlotte herself had been on the battlefield this time.
It was a risky move for Charlotte since the Chairperson’s daughter stepping in would bring heavy political baggage, not to mention the lack of actual authority made it hard to pin down accountability. Still, if she did intervene…
“It’d be better to just stay quiet.”
At first, Kalande had tried to dissuade his daughter, emphasizing the lack of potential benefits. Still, after her fervent insistence, he finally relented with a resigned, “Do as you see fit.”
The next day, Charlotte stepped into the Council herself.
“Esteemed councilors, let me first make this clear—I am not here as Kalande Estania’s daughter, the Council Chairperson. I am here as a member of the army who briefly exchanged blows with the Empire’s ground forces.”
She wasn’t playing sides, not for the moderates nor the hardliners.
The moderates exchanged puzzled glances while the hardliners took a step back to survey the situation.
“To address the issue at hand: yes, there was friction between the commander and the frontline officers. However, it wasn’t disruptive enough to impede the chain of command. If anything, it reflected a healthy relationship between superiors and subordinates.”
“Charlotte, what’s healthy about a relationship that involves friction?”
“Well, if we take your point, it sounds like you’re saying that subordinates should blindly follow every order, whether it makes sense or not. And that superiors can do no wrong. Is that what you’re implying, councilor?”
The hardliners’ chorus of outrage began, but they backed off when the moderates growled back in unison.
“Subordinates must follow orders, but if those orders seem flawed, they have the right—and responsibility—to voice concerns. Meanwhile, superiors? Well, they should aim to be right, but perfection is impossible. So, listening to subordinates is key to a healthy chain of command.”
“So, you’re saying everything went according to a healthy chain of command?”
“Exactly.”
A subtle glance at Kalande prompted a moderate aristocrat to follow up.
“Then if all was healthy, how did this situation arise? By your logic, there was no issue on our end?”
“Precisely, there was nothing wrong with our side. The issue was elsewhere.”
Murmurs erupted among the councilors, but Charlotte quickly continued.
“Look away from our forces. Focus instead on the Empire. Their strategies far surpassed our expectations. They knew every move we’d make as if reading off the back of our hands.”
The memory still gave her shivers. So many hours, so much effort put into plotting their strategies—only for the Empire to execute theirs with perfection, without a single flaw.
“They planned everything with precision. From the unique conditions of the battlefield, the sudden fog, morale collapse, and even our lack of confidence in engaging in a full-scale battle. Every single factor was considered. No matter who commanded our forces, or what other officers were involved—they would’ve all made the same decisions and mistakes.”
“But records show the field officers did protest these decisions.”
“Yes, but they didn’t protest vehemently. Ultimately, they too lacked conviction, so they placed their trust in the commander’s orders.”
Enough fighting among factions was pointless. It was time to move on, lest they weaken themselves further. Should the Empire sense their weakness and push for renegotiation, or neighboring nations decide to stir the pot, the moderates’ newly gained power could swiftly shift back to the hardliners.
“…Could internal leaks have been a factor?”
In the middle of this, an oblivious moderate councilor persisted, latching onto minor details.
“Even if that were the case, do you think the Empire would have let us retreat so easily? It would’ve been far more advantageous for them to take out our entire main force.”
Her tone polite but her gaze ready to incinerate, Charlotte stared the councilor down, who promptly backed away with, “Ah, yes! Very true!”
‘Phew.’
Finally, after over a week of this circus, it was coming to a close. What had they even accomplished in that time?
‘Perhaps the Empire’s strategists anticipated even this.’
Surely… they had. A very high probability existed that the letter mocking them had been written with this situation in mind.
After leaving the Council, Charlotte visited the War Department.
“Would you mind repeating that for me?”
“I’d like to know the command structure of the Imperial Army forces that participated in this battle. Is that possible?”
“It will take some time, but…”
“I can wait.”
If she could identify the command structure, she might pinpoint the brilliant strategist responsible.
A few days later, after receiving the necessary information, Charlotte carefully reviewed it.
“Division commander… with below them the advisors… and field commanders…”
For a long while, she sifted through data on experienced older leaders, assuming such intricate strategies could only come from them. In the middle of this, reports came in from espionage agents in the Empire, identifying the strategist as none other than a young aristocrat.
Upon hearing this, Charlotte’s composure faltered, her disbelief evident.
—
