Hold Dedolant’s forces stationed near Setongrad right where they are.
By any means necessary, make sure they give it their all one more time.
Upon hearing my command, the First Legion Commander gave a salute, pledging to carry it out without fail.
Though no detailed orders were explicitly given right then and there, it was rather because I lacked the heart to say it out loud, and I felt unbearably apologetic for it.
Regardless, the First Legion Commander and his team must already have a good understanding of what needs to be done.
Like carving Seton’s name into the fortress of Dedolant, it’s somewhat about provoking them further.
Meaning, they’re not fools who would take blatant challenges head-on like “Come and attack us one more time if you dare.” Who’d fall for that?
Provocations work best when delivered strategically at the right moment.
Overdoing it might only alert them to something suspicious.
Consequently, the First Legion refrained from using emotional bait similar to Setongrad’s tactics—they couldn’t rely on that.
Instead, a more certain and straightforward method was required.
By making Dedolant increasingly apprehensive, yet unable to resist attacking in the end, thanks to a sweet trap set before their eyes.
Suspicious it may seem, suspicious it may be—but irresistible all the same.
“Chief of Staff, an urgent report: Flames have soared inside Setongrad!”
“…Is that so.”
Of course. The method the First Legion chose was instigating internal unrest—a deliberate tactic to show the enemy that the defenses inside were weakening.
“Attack now, and three months of suffering will bear fruit.”
“First and last chance—grab it. This opportunity is a blessing from God.”
Indeed, the Dedolant command couldn’t help but take the bait.
Thus, Dedolant eventually couldn’t restrain itself in response to Setongrad’s apparent vulnerability due to this deliberate chaos.
The situation was becoming more complicated, yet the bait laid out before their eyes was too sweet to resist.
After all, they were dealing with a fortress that had tormented them for three long months.
The name of that fortress bore the disgrace of Seton, a heavy burden for the Deo people.
Wouldn’t anyone want to obliterate all of this in one fell swoop?
“Ultimately, by ensnaring the Dedolant contingent this way, from our empire’s perspective, there’s no better outcome. But…”
A sense of bitterness gradually spreads.
Even though complete preparations were meticulously planned for this operation,
Even if we made sure that no innocent soldiers would be caught in the blaze we ignited,
It was still the First Legion that ended up handing over both the castle walls and the outer defenses.
Meaning they handed over at least seventy percent of what was crucial to the defenses.
Casualties must have been significant. So many lives lost, so many wounded, all for the sake of a greater triumph for the empire, all due to my order through the First Legion Commander.
A tough pill to swallow indeed.
This is the battlefield, where the sacrifice of the small for the benefit of the greater whole happens all the time.
It’s not selfish—it’s a necessary role played by some for the ultimate goal.
A responsibility placed on those commanding from high positions. They must not falter, must appear unaffected.
“…Can such indifference truly be achieved well?”
The higher you rise, the higher the expectations, the greater the burdens that come with it.
While the confidence in doing something correctly brings its own burden, the burden of justifying lives lost weighs far more heavily.
You may even find it necessary to see people as mere numbers. As a person, can you truly endure that?
“Chief of Staff?”
“Charlotte? When did you arrive?”
“Just a moment ago. Your aide mentioned my presence, but you didn’t respond.”
“Oh, I guess… I was lost in thought.”
“Lost in thought? For someone so sharp like the Chief of Staff to be this distracted, something’s on your mind, isn’t it?”
Sitting down, Charlotte smiled and made a teasing remark.
In response, I merely let out a bitter laugh and asked my aide to bring tea.
“Drink up.”
“Will the Chief not partake?”
“I, well, I’m just… a little off, that’s all.”
Charlotte’s expression suddenly shifts as something dawns on her. Her gaze alternates between me and her teacup before she speaks:
“…You seem to be troubled. Let me guess what’s on your mind?”
“Huh?”
“Judging by how your internal conflicts have surfaced at once this time—something common for people in high-ranking positions.”
“How sharp of you. Is that due to the demon race traits perhaps?”
Even though I didn’t spell anything out, Charlotte somehow picked up the clues.
“Chief of Staff, there’s a saying in Nobogorod: The higher you climb, the less capable you become of understanding others’ feelings.”
“…”
“It suggests that one becomes a being that forgets the human heart, whether intentionally or unintentionally.”
“I see.”
“It’s a fortunate thing, from my perspective, that you’re still bothered by these concerns.”
“Fortunate? What do you mean?”
“As proof that the Chief of Staff is still human.”
“Proof?”
“Yes. Now that you’ve ascended so high, one might think you’ve lost connection with those below. But instead, you’re someone who still reflects on those earlier days, looking after those still down below.”
Honestly speaking, I found Charlotte’s words hard to grasp.
Shouldn’t humans naturally be this way? So many people have had to endure hardship because of me.
I’m no better than them—I’ve just been lucky, that’s all.
“That’s why I admire you, Chief of Staff. On the surface, you seem like a perfect genius strategist, but upon closer inspection, you’re surprisingly an ordinary human. Someone who quietly maintains balance without losing their moral compass.”
“Hmm, that’s quite the compliment.”
“But true!”
“Hmph. I doubt even that will make anything fall from the sky in Nobogorod.”
“Hehehe! Of course not. After all, a Chief of Staff who’s only commanding the army would never overstep their boundaries!”
Charlotte bursts into laughter, and watching this makes me feel a slight sense of relief.
Right. Even if I still fall short in many areas, it appears I haven’t completely changed.
Even the ability to harbor these feelings of longing, regret, and apology is significant.
“Carry the burden, yet don’t let it engulf you. Be worthy of your position, yet never forget you’re human. Kael, my son, stay strong.”
Recalling my father’s advice on the battlefield, I conclude: Lucky as I am, it seems I’ve been incredibly blessed indeed.
*
Before everything began, I distributed a portion of the First Mobile Legion to permeate beyond the frontlines.
A force of almost twenty thousand moving together at once would be immediately conspicuous.
Above all, they aren’t a strike force intended for major battles, nor are they meant to attack fortified positions.
To summarize my orders to them: Attack if feasible, but if not, no worries.
Block key routes, cut off communications, and destroy anything that looks vulnerable.
Don’t obsess over winning the fight. Your job is simply to create confusion.
By hastening the retreat of an already anxious enemy command, we can achieve our goal.
It seems the mobile units that infiltrated the rear are exceeding expectations with how effectively they’re operating.
“Chief of Staff. New reports from the Setongrad front indicate that some enemy units are on the move to reinforce their flanks, while others are hastily preparing for retreat.”
“How about Setongrad itself?”
“Despite the flames that erupted a few days ago, followed by the loss of the castle walls and outer defenses, our forces are still holding firm within the inner fortress. Though there were tense moments, since word of allied movements has reached them, they’ve slowed down their offensive and the battle has calmed significantly.”
“Luckily.”
Indeed, it’s fortunate. We feared they might cling desperately to Setongrad and perish with the fortress.
From Dedolant’s perspective, however, that simply wouldn’t make sense.
No matter the pride or morale, losing too many troops would render it meaningless.
For now, they’ll focus on securing their flanks and assessing the situation behind them.
‘Perhaps it’s already too late.’
By now, the eastern and southern legions should have completed a wide encirclement.
From both the upper and lower levels of the central theater, the enemy’s midsection is surely being severed.
Meanwhile, the cavalry units split off from the First Mobile Legion continue to target isolated points and relatively defenseless installations.
With communication hubs seized, and messengers targeted, chaos will undoubtedly escalate.
“The enemy must be shown the clear intent of encirclement. Our message is that they will all perish if they don’t retreat.”
“But Chief of Staff, if we do that, we won’t fully capture Dedolant’s forces. Some units are already withdrawing.”
“That’s precisely the plan. Let’s funnel these angry bastards into one spot where their predictable resistance is known to us.”
I’ve already mentioned this: we don’t fight those with bloodshot eyes.
Victory against such opponents is a hollow gain. When Dedolant collapses, it’s the end, but the Empire must endure and maintain its dominance.
To achieve this, something overwhelmingly superior is essential.
Thus, we steer them into focusing solely on a clenched retreat, leaving only half of their forces behind, ideally.
Though whether they’ll manage to withdraw even half is yet to be determined.
“The soldiers have reached their limits after continual battles throughout the winter. Retreating isn’t easy even for well-trained units, the hardest part being an orderly withdrawal. And under the shadow of potential encirclement, how effectively can they retreat, especially when already exhausted?”
“So the strategy you prefer, Chief, isn’t a complete encirclement followed by annihilation but rather a grand encirclement that coerces them to retreat with as few limbs as possible while leaving their core behind?”
“Exactly. The parts left behind will be precisely what I need.”
As if on cue, those carrying out my orders returned.
“Chief of Staff, we’ve returned.”
“Welcome back. So, how did it go?”
I catch myself wringing my hands, an impatient child awaiting Christmas presents—though these are indeed very promising gifts.
“Among the Dedolant prisoners willing to cooperate, we’ve identified some popular Dedolant folk songs, and they’re currently teaching our military band. We’ll make sure the music captures the spirit of Dedolant songs, avoiding any overtly mournful tones or obvious calls for surrender. Just the original Dedolant flavor, right?”
“Exactly. And, by the way, ensure we don’t twist these into something overly melancholic or overtly surrender-centric. Keep it just as the Dedolant soldiers shared—something any Dedolant person would recognize and relate to. Understand?”
“Would we dare otherwise, Chief of Staff?”
The empire’s great victory, the empire’s mercy, and the legitimate case this will grant the empire—all are at play.
The emperor must have his reasons for appointing me as Chief of Staff.
It’s perhaps my skill at winning with something other than pure combat tactics that he seeks.
I am a servant of the empire and the emperor’s trusted vassal, the eldest son of a Duke.
I must demonstrate this. For my family and lineage, for those who look up to me.
And, perhaps as Charlotte suggests, for this version of myself, too.
