The Imperial Army was advancing, without the slightest hint of rest or pause. Every moment counted.
Their momentum had reached its peak. They were ready—not just internally, but externally as well.
After filling their bellies and getting their bodies properly warmed up, they pressed forward.
Behind them followed countless supply lines, and beside those were reserves in staggering numbers.
In stark contrast to that, the situation for those left behind within the encirclement wasn’t good.
Half the supplies they initially had were taken by the breakout unit.
And what remained? Some of it was burned to ensure it wouldn’t fall into enemy hands.
With the little that was left, Dedolant’s rear guard had to hold on.
It was a truly difficult situation, but they understood.
Without abandoning any shred of hope, they fought on, believing they would eventually escape this trap.
After all, what good would leftover supplies be once they broke free?
However.
Just this morning, shocking news was delivered to the commander of Dedolant’s rear guard, Paelus.
[Side Unit in Retreat.]
“….”
He couldn’t believe his ears. How could this be happening when they were holding the line closest to the enemy?
Everyone was sacrificing their lives to send as many allies to safety as possible.
If the side units broke, how would they ever make it home?
“Commander… what… what should we do now?”
“….”
“Rumors are spreading fast—I don’t know how they got out so quickly. They say the side is collapsing and we will soon be completely surrounded. Just like the Empire experienced before, it’s happening to us now.”
Despite the words of the subordinate officers, Paelus couldn’t find the strength to speak. The worst-case scenario had become a reality.
If their own unit couldn’t hold and was forced to retreat, it might be understandable. But Dedolant’s heroes, Atria’s brothers, and even Dugal’s collaborators had gritted their teeth to buy them time—and now the side units had failed, trapping everyone in this hell.
“Remaining supplies?”
“Not much. At best, a week. If we ration it as tightly as possible, maybe half a month.”
“What’s the status of the soldiers?”
“Most are injured, with a large number critically wounded. Though fighting spirit still remains, how long that will last is uncertain—”
This report never finished, as someone’s arrival cut it short.
“Uncertain? What kind of absurd nonsense is that? Anyone with Deo bl**d should fight proudly to the very last!”
“…General Leonite.”
Leonite, appointed by Prince Georg himself to oversee discipline and morale, was a staunch supporter of the prince and a fanatic for Deo pride. In every battle, he preached endlessly about the superiority of the Deo people, driving soldiers to the field.
No soldier dared hesitate in front of him—they’d end up dead by his hand instead of the enemy’s.
“Our Dedolant forces can still fight, Commander Paelus!”
“You heard the report, General Leonite. Most of our soldiers are injured.”
“Lights wounds can be returned to battle. We Deo need only our pride to overcome!”
“But we barely have 30,000 men left. The Empire’s main force charging at us from the front is 50,000 strong. If we account for those pressing from the sides, that’s over 100,000.”
With or without injuries, Dedolant’s forces totaled just 40,000. Any child could see that the odds favored the Empire.
Yet Leonite appeared unfazed.
“Don’t underestimate Dedolant’s forces, Commander Paelus. Perhaps you don’t realize it, but I’ve seen firsthand—alongside Prince Georg—just how powerful and courageous the Deo people can be.”
“….”
“This Empire’s encirclement means nothing. With enough effort, we can break through it. Besides, that coward Steiner has retreated? Hah! Soon, Prince Georg will reorganize and come to our aid.”
“But even under the Prince, there are barely 50,000 troops left.”
“With the full force of Atria, Benito, and Dugal united alongside Ross Tannika, we’ll exceed 100,000 in an instant!”
“They can’t be pulled from their lines, General Leonite! You know that as well as I do. If you don’t, then you don’t deserve your position!”
As the voices grew louder, the other officers stepped in to calm them. Yet even among these officers, a subtle divide was brewing.
Truthfully, the soldiers were already at a great disadvantage physically and mentally, but Paelus had managed to keep morale high enough to survive this long.
If not for him, the whole army might’ve collapsed before now.
Meanwhile, Leonite enforced discipline with authority and fear. If anyone so much as hesitated, he’d accuse them of treachery and enforce military law on the spot—striking terror into everyone.
Naturally, given their clashing personalities, Leonite and Paelus clashed repeatedly.
Lower-ranking officers and common soldiers favored Paelus, while mid-level officers, drunk on Deo pride, supported Leonite—proving each man appealed to different types of soldiers.
“So, Commander Paelus, what exactly is it you wish to say?”
“….”
“Surely not… that we cannot hold on and must surrender, since rescue is impossible?”
“…There’s still a small chance.”
“Ha! Have some respect! You’re Dedolant’s general and part of the glorious Deo people! To even suggest surrender before making a final stand is unacceptable!”
Leonite aggressively pressed Paelus, pushing him hard.
“You can still fight—our soldiers and officers can too. And the troops outside the encirclement will try to break through the Empire’s lines. Yet you, entrusted by the Third Prince himself, suggest such a thing? Shame on you!”
With unrestrained anger, Leonite stormed out of the tent, followed by his supporters, leaving Paelus and a few aides behind.
Afterward, Leonite roamed the camp, enforcing discipline wherever he went. He declared anyone showing weakness to be an enemy—even though the war wasn’t over yet.
He called it “spreading the poison of surrender” among the glorious Deo people and vowed to eradicate it.
“Stand tall! Your fight has just begun! This is a holy war—for the glory of the Deo people! A trial for eternal honor! Do not submit—fight!”
Some nodded in agreement, others doubted. A few even slandered Leonite in secluded corners.
Yet none voiced their discontent openly, for they all shared in the pride of the Deo people, no matter where they came from.
Even Dedolant’s recruits from Atria and honorary Deo members from Dugal held firm to the dream of Deo superiority.
Fine. Let’s fight. Maybe the odds will turn. Prince Georg had never lost a battle—this couldn’t be the time.
He was the man who had revived Dedolant’s power and nearly restored the Deo people’s lost glory. Surely, this great leader would save them.
*
That was a month ago.
Inside the encirclement, Dedolant’s rear guard was wasting away. Supplies had run out two weeks prior—though even before that, rations were cut in half.
Now, there was nothing left but the harsh reality of survival at all costs.
In this grim state, two things remained unchanged.
First, Paelus and his loyal lower-ranking officers continued their heroic defense.
Every time imperial forces attacked, they led from the front—firing arrows and swinging swords on the makeshift battlements.
Their leadership inspired Dedolant’s soldiers, who bit down hard and fought off every one of the Empire’s dozens of assaults over the month, despite mounting casualties and exhaustion.
The second was Leonite and his aides’ relentless enforcement of discipline.
As the siege dragged on and conditions grew unbearable, their resolve only hardened. They maintained an iron grip, ensuring no one could leave—or surrender—to the enemy.
They all understood: if even one gave in, it would trigger a domino effect, likely ending in their immediate deaths.
This forced everyone to keep a tight leash on the soldiers, eyes blazing with desperation.
Thanks to Paelus and his lower-ranking officers’ leadership and the soldiers’ relentless efforts, the Imperial attacks were repelled.
They attributed this to the strength of the Deo people—a sign that the main Dedolant forces outside would soon arrive.
But no news came.
Communications lines only insisted they hold on.
“The heroism of your resistance gives strength to everyone. A little while longer and change will come,” was the repeated message.
When Dedolant’s rear guard reached their absolute limit, on one specific day, songs began drifting from the Imperial camp.
[In Front Of The Barracks]
At The Gate
There Stood A Magic Lantern
And So Too, A Lady Waiting There Still.
And Thus We Seek To Meet Again.
The Magic Lantern Knows
The Graceful Steps Of Her Feet.
Every Evening, The Lantern Lights Up Again.
But She Forgot Me Long Ago.
And If I Should Feel Pain,
Who Will Stand Beside The Lantern?
With You, Lilly Marlene
With You, Lilly Marlene…
