Self-defeat. Being bound by one’s own words and actions.
This was precisely the situation for Prince Georg III and the leadership of Dedolant.
It all began during the early stages when Dedolant spearheaded its rapid expansion.
Then came the purge of all existing political forces and the restructuring of their internal affairs.
This was followed by the annexation of Artria, the conquest of Dugal, and the assault on Ross Tannika.
Throughout it all, they chanted but one rallying cry: none other than the glory of the Deo people.
In the distant past, the Deo people were undoubtedly powerful. The land that now belongs to the Empire was once theirs.
Over time, due to external pressures and internal divisions, they lost it all.
The leadership of Dedolant arose once again to champion this lost cause.
“Let us reclaim the glories of the past! We, the Deo people, are not meant for this! We’re capable of building an empire, but we’ve only hindered ourselves!”
“Let us unite, suppress dissenters, and make them into fertilizer for our rise!”
The effects were tremendous—far beyond what anyone had anticipated.
At the time, Prince Georg had already been rising through the ranks with impressive military accomplishments. Then this figure stood tall, crying out for the glory of the Deo.
Who among those with the bl**d of the Deo could resist such a call?
This fervor spread like wildfire, even reaching Artria, a fellow Deo nation, where it burned fiercely. Even the Deo-descended citizens of Dugal rallied to the cause, which partly explains why Dugal fell so quickly and easily.
Everything was going well. Every issue, every situation, every battle—nothing seemed insurmountable.
With the banner of “the glory of the Deo people,” every problem, whether taxation, military issues, or state affairs, was effortlessly solved.
At some point, perhaps the leadership had forgotten an important truth: that nothing in life comes without a cost. That there’s no such thing as a free lunch. And if something seems too good to be true, sooner or later, you’ll have to pay the price.
“Hmph.”
Prince Georg sighed as he sat in a corner of his tent, repeatedly massaging his forehead like someone nursing a headache.
“Those Empire bastards, who once humiliated our Deo people, have gone mad and are practically begging to d*e!”
“Seton? To think they dared to name their fort after that abominable figure! We can’t allow this!”
“We must reclaim it! We must take it back! If necessary, we must burn it to the ground!”
Such cries echoed throughout Dedolant, Artria, and even the newly conquered lands of Dugal. The outrage over this affront to the Deo people burned fiercely. No one remained silent.
Perhaps their patience had been stretched too thin by the greatness achieved under the banner of the Deo glory. Perhaps the indoctrination—or brainwashing—had run too deep to be ignored. To think anything was excessive was simply not an option in the minds of the Deo people.
“Your Highness, the attack preparations are complete! We await your orders!”
“…”
Orders. Orders, indeed. Right now, his rational mind was screaming at him to halt this attack.
Should he follow this logic and simply order the army to retreat?
Unfortunately, the world isn’t that simple or easy. Every gain comes with its own price. Either you pay it willingly, or someone forces you to pay.
“Hmph.”
Rising from his seat, Prince Georg stepped out of the tent. Behind him, countless aides followed, and soon his commanders joined as well.
“Is that it?”
“Yes, Your Highness. That is the fortress that dared to take the name of that despicable man.”
With those words, Prince Georg fixed his gaze on the distant fortress.
Just a year ago, it had been a stunningly beautiful castle in Dedolant, the capital of the ancient kingdom that was the precursor to Dedolant and Artria today. A symbol of the Deo people’s history, glory, and duty to revive.
The castle had once shone brightly, receiving much care and attention as a reflection of Dedolant’s kings.
But it fell to the Empire’s assault—or rather, it was deliberately handed over to lure in enemies. Despite fierce objections at the time, Prince Georg pushed the plan through.
‘Back then, too, I had invoked the glory of the Deo people. I argued that enduring a temporary disgrace would lead to eternal honor, and our ancestors would forgive us.’
Ordinarily, Dedolant’s massive counteroffensive should have retaken the castle. Prince Georg himself was supposed to breach the empire’s borders and devastate the hinterlands. Meanwhile, Dedolant’s elite forces would have prepared and struck.
But things didn’t go according to plan. He was unable to attack the imperial border. The reorganized Dedolant army was sent without rest to Artria and Benito.
Thus, reclaiming this castle kept getting delayed. During this delay, the Empire remodeled the fortress entirely.
“Setongrad.”
d*mn it. Goddammit. Prince Georg cursed under his breath.
No matter how many times he looked, no matter how many angles he examined it from, the fortress was no longer just a castle—it was now a ferocious beast’s maw, an impenetrable fortress.
It was clear that any attack would involve committing fully until its capture—if it were even possible without complete destruction. Not initiating any assault might be easier, but once the battle began, there’d be no pulling back. Their enemies’ intentions were as obvious as daylight, yet Prince Georg knew he couldn’t avoid walking into their trap.
How was he supposed to convince his forces now?
After all, the decision to temporarily give up this castle was his and the leadership’s. He had rallied the people by invoking the glory of the Deo, asking them to endure temporary humiliation.
Reversing his stance now would outright invalidate everything they had built up to this point.
While hypocrisy and double standards may be the special talents of those who wander the political arena, there are moments when it works and when it most certainly does not. This was the latter. The glory of the Deo could not be denied. Regardless of preference, the castle had to be retaken, and Seton’s name had to be removed.
‘So be it. As long as we win somehow, it’ll all work out, right?’
Realizing there was no turning back, his mind cleared. And he acknowledged the truth—he had achieved victory in countless battles before. Though he had been dealt a blow by the empire’s strategist, it wasn’t a devastating defeat.
“Imperial troops stationed inside the fortress?”
“According to intelligence, it’s the Empire’s Western First Legion.”
“Didn’t the entire Western Legion withdraw?”
“Yes, we heard that too, but it seems there was a change of plans within the Empire.”
The First Legion. The First Legion. That’s right. An army of their caliber was indeed necessary to defend such a mighty fortress.
There’s no way the Empire’s First Legion would be anything less than formidable. They held the honor of being the very first legion, after all. Besides, these were the very soldiers who had dealt him a significant blow—a blow that surely fueled their desire for vengeance.
Despite fears that this might be some sort of trick, repeated checks confirmed it to be true. Beneath the walls of this fortress, the Setongrad, lay the Empire’s First Legion, the same forces that had retreated after their recent major defeat.
‘What a cruel twist of fate.’
From Dedolant’s perspective, this mission sought to remove the name Seton and reignite the flames of the Deo people’s glory. Even though they were fully aware that failure might lead to internal chaos.
In contrast, the Empire’s First Legion sought to avenge their recent failure, shake off the label of ‘broken spear’, and fight their way through this battle knowing it could lead to their total annihilation.
A battlefield where one side must live, and the other must d*e.
Faced with this inevitable encounter, Prince Georg braced himself for battle.
*
“Chief of Staff.”
I turned to see my personal aide carefully offering a stack of documents that needed my immediate attention.
“Are you alright?”
“To be honest, not really. It feels like I’m sending them into certain d*ath.”
My gaze landed on Setongrad—an antlion pit that might well ensnare Dedolant.
Initially, I had planned to assign a different contingent of troops as the garrison.
But then, an unexpected visitor appeared and made a passionate request.
“Please, Chief of Staff, assign me and the First Legion to that post.”
It was none other than the commander of the First Legion.
The first time we met was when he arrived in the west, before his transfer to the south. Now, he volunteered to be stationed in Setongrad.
Of course, I tried to dissuade him. I argued the First Legion had done enough. Despite their recent defeat, they had performed admirably in earlier battles. While I understood the commander’s feelings, I couldn’t overlook the welfare of his soldiers.
But then he said something that stopped me in my tracks.
“This isn’t my personal decision, Chief of Staff. The subordinate commanders and even the soldiers have unanimously agreed to request this transfer. That’s why we’re here.”
“Our First Legion had to leave our comrades behind. I understand fully that it was the best and only choice, but we can’t bear to do it again. Chief of Staff, we’re the Empire’s First Legion. If we retreat again, we cannot be the First Legion.”
“We’ve decided the First Legion must be the first to face the enemy and fight until the very end. Every single member of the legion concurs. That’s why we’ve come to you.”
I asked the First Legion commander: do you know what guarding Setongrad truly means? To be left stranded in front of a charging horde? To stand like a lone shield against a massive wave? A battle not easily won, perhaps the toughest few months of your life? And if things turn for the worse, your entire legion could be wiped out?
“Yes, we understand. The soldiers have responded the same way. This is what they wanted to add: ‘Whether alive or dead, we want to proudly proclaim that we were part of the Empire’s First Legion.'”
Once I heard that, I had no more arguments.
It was simply a matter of using my authority as the First Legion Chief of Staff and regional commander to assign the First Legion as Setongrad’s defense force.
The fortress is well-stocked with food and defense supplies. Though not abundant, reinforcements have a certain degree of feasibility.
But it won’t be easy. It’s part of a strategy to willingly place our forces in the enemy’s encirclement.
The First Legion has willingly taken on this arduous and solitary path.
Stay sharp, and give them the victory they deserve. The shining victory of the Empire, through the hands of the very people they trusted in.
