The new year had dawned, but the cutting winds were as merciless as ever.
If anything, it felt like the real winter was just beginning, with the bone-chilling cold refusing to let up.
Winter is a brutal season. No creature finds it easy to endure.
And humans, supposedly the “wise ones” among all lifeforms, are no exception.
“Cough, cough!”
A single soldier stationed atop the city wall guarding the perimeter let out a few hacking coughs.
Maybe he had caught a cold like many others due to the freezing weather. But the soldier merely wiped his nose a few times and didn’t make any fuss about feeling unwell.
This wasn’t some school for kids. This was a battlefield where life and d*ath hung in the balance.
There’s not a single one of us here who’d throw a tantrum about a measly cold while healthy warriors on the frontlines fight on. Here, in Setongrad, if you’re sick, you’re likely missing a limb anyway.
So yesterday, today, and tomorrow, until that day comes—we all keep fighting.
—Thud
“Huh?”
“What’s with that ‘huh,’ you? Take this.”
A second soldier standing nearby unhesitatingly handed over his own cloak.
Setongrad had a decent stockpile of winter supplies prepped by the Empire, but replenishing them was nearly impossible given how quickly they were being used up. And whenever Dedorant launched an attack, one of the supply warehouses would inevitably go up in flames.
There’s no avoiding some level of loss, so handing out cloaks like they’re in endless supply simply can’t happen. They had to tough out this harsh season with what they had.
Which means giving up one’s own gear is a pretty big deal.
“I’m fine, you use it.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re not going to rough it with just a windbreaker, are you?”
“Stop being loud! The sound of you coughing is enough to drive me insane.”
“That’s… hey! What if you start coughing later? Won’t you annoy me then?”
The argument about who should take the cloak went on and on: “Take it,” “No, you take it.”
At one point, the soldier who offered the cloak declared that he’d “just burn it instead!”
The other guy almost choked, yelling something about how that was clearly not the solution. Just as the bickering reached a boiling point:
“You idiots, just keep acting like fools! You clowns!”
The sergeant of the two soldiers approached, spewing a cacophony of obscenities like he was auditioning for the role of angriest drill instructor in history. If his expression was any indication, he’d seen the entire spectacle unfold.
“What a fine display! Whispering and chatting away while you’re supposed to be on guard duty. And now you’re talking about throwing perfectly good supplies into a fire, are you?”
“S-sorry, sir!”
“Sorry, sir!”
“Under normal circumstances, this would’ve earned you ten laps around the drill yard fully geared up. But you two are on the frontlines now. If you two clowns keep squabbling like this, we might miss an enemy ambush. And then what? Every one of our buddies down there trying to sleep gets turned into headless ghosts, that’s what!”
From beginning to end, his lecture was pure logic. No room for argument.
So all the soldiers could do was repeatedly mutter “We’re sorry” like a broken record.
“You two, after your watch ends, I need you to see me.”
“Can we just go after the shift change?”
“Shift change and what? Are you not planning to sleep? Go get some rest and come to me after that! Unless we have combat tomorrow, but dammit…”
And with that grumble, the sergeant disappeared downstairs.
But then, as if by magic, he was right back, whipping a mysterious object through the air.
“Whoa!”
It was a brand-new cloak. Probably supplied straight from his own stash.
“What about you? What are you gonna do without it?” one of them asked.
He responded with a single sentence:
“Take care of it, and when this winter’s over, you’d better return it.”
It wasn’t just advice—it was a command. A command that boiled down to: Don’t you dare d*e before this terrible winter’s over and all our preparations are done. Before the Empire unleashes its massive counterattack, stay alive. That’s the order.
So, live. No excuses.
The soldiers exchanged knowing smiles, then wrapped themselves in the warm cloak and resumed their watch. And before long, they would marvel at their superior’s foresight.
“Enemy sighted! Dedorant forces are approaching!”
“Wake up! Wake up!! Large-scale attack imminent at the northern gate! Quickly, back to your posts!!”
Despite winds so brutal they could peel your skin off and temperatures freezing to the bone, here were the warriors. Those determined to reclaim this place and those determined to hold it at all costs.
Everyone here fights with a single burning resolve: to pay back every ounce of humiliation inflicted on them. And so, the long and grueling battle restarted—a fight from which no one could step back.
*
“Big brother!”
Kaya appeared in a blur of speed, leaping up and wrapping herself around me like a human spring-loaded hug.
On the surface, she’s still that same giggly little kid from years ago. She’s just a bit taller now, a few years older, but other than that, she’s the same.
Of course, from the perspective of Charlotte and the others accompanying her, this seems rather… awkward. It doesn’t match the image of Kaya they’ve seen on the frontlines in Artria.
I’ve heard they called her a veritable butcher over there, cutting down enemies with such precision and ferocity that she became the stuff of legends.
If the reports from the war council are true—and they are—Kaya’s personally responsible for taking out more than a hundred Artrian knights. Considering how each knight is a top-tier warrior in their own right…
Well, I suppose thinking of her as someone who single-handedly destroyed hundreds of tanks might be the right analogy.
So, yeah, their bewilderment makes sense. One moment she was chopping heads like she was opening beer bottles, and now she’s all cute and snuggling.
But to me, she’s family. Someone I love just as much as my father and mother.
“Welcome back, Kaya. Was everything okay up north?”
“Yeah, no trouble at all. Actually, it was so easy I was worried it might’ve been a trap.”
“…Well, that’s… a relief, I guess.”
She’s my little sister, but let’s be honest for a moment: she’s slightly terrifying. “Too easy”? Last I heard, Dedorant had sent one of their top-tier divisions to the Artria front. And yet, she claims it was effortless, even going so far as to suspect there might’ve been a trap.
“Ahem. Kaya, right? I’ve reminded you several times about this…”
“Eh? Oh, right!”
“You need to always be mindful. The Chief of the Imperial Staff may be your brother, but he also commands the 1st Army. If you’re not careful, you could inadvertently cause him trouble.”
Hmm. Something seems to have gone on here while my eyes were elsewhere. In a flash, Kaya slips out of my embrace and bows her head humbly.
And then she proceeds to do something I never thought I’d see.
“Kaya Klauwitz reporting for duty, sir! Greeting the Chief of the Imperial Staff!”
I glance at Charlotte, who winks at me from the corner. Incredible. Even Father struggled to manage Kaya with this level of poise. Only Mother herself could’ve gotten her to act this way, and now Charlotte has replicated the feat.
“…Yes, well done, Kaya. Thank you for your efforts. Come in.”
Not as Kael’s little sister, but as Kaya Klauwitz, knight of the Empire on deployment.
And I, too, welcomed her back not as her brother, but as one returning victorious hero greeting another.
“Charlotte, come in as well. I’ve heard you both worked hard out there.”
“Why, thank you. To be honest, it reminded me of my homeland, Nobogorod. The chill was invigorating rather than oppressive, don’t you think?”
“That’s correct, Miss. It was the perfect temperature for movement.”
Of course. That’s precisely why I deliberately sent the Nobogorod reinforcements to Artria when winter approached. Artria is far colder than anywhere the southern kingdoms are used to. Sending a southern army into such a place would’ve resulted in catastrophic non-combat casualties.
For the Artria front, you need the Empire’s Northern Legion or the hardened troops from Nobogorod. But the Northern Legion was tied up recovering from the last battle and preparing for our upcoming counteroffensive. Thus, Nobogord’s heavy infantry proved ideal.
“Chief of Staff, the leader of the Ghost Legion and the acting commander of the 4th Corps from the southern front have arrived.”
“ Excellent. Could you tell them to wait for a moment?”
After dismissing my aide, Charlotte leans in casually.
“The way you’re gathering everyone suggests the timing is almost here.”
“Precisely, Charlotte. Just as you said, now is the time for us to become the sharpened blade.”
After losing two corps to Dedolant’s counterattack, we’ve spent months expanding our lines north and south, supporting resistance cells in Ross Tannika and Dugal, all while carefully prepping Setongrad into a perfect trap where the enemy can only get stuck.
But on paper, it looks like the Empire’s 1st Army is the one on the defensive. After retreating from an enemy blitzkrieg and not mounting an offensive since, our situation seems tenuous at best.
And perception matters. For those safely distant from the battlefield, it appears our forces are struggling to hold the line. That same perception infects even the fighters on the ground.
Even if we’re winning strategically, if the outside world perceives us as losing, soldiers will feel it. Commanders express their anxieties.
War is about momentum, and that momentum builds through great victories.
And these don’t come from spreading thin or exhausting the enemy. They come from annihilating the foe in one decisive battle.
“It’s been two months and a week since the battle of Setongrad began. Both Dedolant and our 1st Legion must be nearing their limits. This is our moment.”
“But Dedolant knows this too. Surely they understand that this weakened state is the perfect time for our counterattack. Will they not retreat to regroup for another day?”
If they had their full wits about them, yeah, that’s exactly what they’d do. Withdraw, retreat to fight another day.
But can Dedolant do that now? All their grand rhetoric about the glory of the Deo people, about not tolerating the yoke of Seton, all of it…
And beyond that, they have another problem.
“Charlotte, have you ever heard the term ‘sunk cost fallacy’?”
