“Thank you for making the arduous journey, Commander Paelus.”
Understanding the enemy’s chain of command is a fundamental duty for any commander.
And when it comes to just how high up the Imperial Chief of Staff is, Paelus knows this better than anyone. He holds a position that oversees all Imperial Army operations, granted full authority by the Emperor himself. He commands field commanders and legion commanders alike, with a simple wave of his hand capable of mobilizing at least one hundred thousand soldiers. It’s like being the king of a kingdom… well, the top dog in the military, at least. And currently, that top dog is a young man, barely into his thirties.
‘Huh, he looks about the age of my son.’
The young man, in his early twenties, is undeniably young—too young, some would argue.
But this young man is the mastermind behind the Empire’s undefeated streak. He’s a tactical monster who’s never tasted defeat.
When I first heard the tales of this guy, I thought they were exaggerated propaganda. How could anyone conquer the three eastern kingdoms with just a few clever tactics? Surely, this was just the Empire manufacturing its own hero.
But then Benito fell, reduced to ruin in the south. Dedolant’s great victory was turned into mud. And even Prince Georg of Dedolant was outmaneuvered.
‘Alright, I get it. I shouldn’t be focusing on how young he looks. This guy has more strategy and experience than seasoned veterans twice his age.’
With no lessening of tension, Paelus greeted Kael.
“No great effort was made on our side, if anything, the effort was more on yours.”
And instead of setting up camp in the middle of the battlefield, the conference tent was closer to Dedolant’s side. Paelus was subtly reminded that they could cause trouble if they wanted to. Of course, they had no such intention—just a bit of pride-posturing. Stupid, but better than letting Dedolant have the upper hand.
“Haha, no trouble at all, thanks to our distinguished guest escorting us along the way!”
Distinguished guest? Paelus followed Kael’s gesture to turn his head—and was immediately struck by the sight of a woman who seemed far too beautiful for such a brutal battlefield.
Surely, if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, that was the Empire’s Second Princess.
“This is Her Imperial Highness, Princess Isabel. Commander Paelus.”
“So, we truly do have a distinguished guest among us. I am Paelus Gusthagen, Your Highness.”
“Second Princess, Isabel Heldenberg, at your service.”
This—this Dedolant-side meeting spot with the Chief of Staff and even a Princess present? If Leonite had known about this, he would’ve gone ballistic over a potential attack.
‘Half the guards around her are from the Empire, the other half are demons from Nobogorod. What is going on here?’
Did they really bring reinforcements to a meeting of this importance? Just how close have the Empire and Nobogorod become? Are they almost allies now?
Paelus’ mind raced, considering the implications.
“Commander Paelus, I’ve heard many things about you.”
“About me?”
“Yes, your forces pushed back our initial assault, and have since held your ground against our overwhelming attacks. Your efforts have been significant, to say the least.”
“That was due to the hard work of my soldiers, not my personal brilliance.”
Modest, yes, but it’s also true. Without the bravery of the soldiers from Dedolant, Artria, and even Dugal, none of this would have been possible.
“I was thoroughly impressed as I reviewed the reports. You left a memorable impression.”
“You didn’t set up this meeting just to throw compliments, did you?”
“Hmm. Quite right. Your soldiers must be reaching their limits. It must be quite uncomfortable.”
Paelus flinched at that. Directly hearing how well the enemy understands their situation was a bitter pill to swallow. When questioned whether sustaining or fighting would even be possible, he couldn’t bring himself to answer.
“One question. Chief of Staff.”
“Speak.”
“Is this meeting truly not about surrender?”
“If we were offering surrender, would you accept it? I don’t think so, do you?”
With a playful smile, Kael tapped the table.
“How about a break? Just 72 hours of perfect ceasefire. What do you say?”
“…”
“I’ll state for the record: during those 72 hours, the Empire will not engage in any form of tactical or strategic military actions. We will maintain the encirclement but nothing else. All operations are suspended, Commander.”
“… Are you serious?”
“I swear, on the Empire and my loyalty to His Majesty the Emperor.”
Kael glanced over to Isabel beside him as if confirming her as his witness. When Isabel nodded in agreement, Paelus’ expression soured further.
“Seems abrupt, this talk of a ceasefire.”
“I’ll admit, it does.”
“Without even celebrating New Year’s, we’ve spent nearly a month locked in battle. People on both sides, Empire and Dedolant, follow the same faith, celebrate the same festivals—but here we are ruining them with this d*mn war.”
Why fight over nonsense and make things harder than they need to be? Paelus didn’t like the way Kael pointed that out, but it stung, nonetheless.
“It’s not much compared to the usual week-long New Year’s celebrations, but wouldn’t three days be sufficient to capture the spirit? Let’s bring back a little festivity.”
“Is that your reason for proposing a ceasefire?”
“Do we need more? You and me, we’re all just dragging others—fathers, husbands, and sons—into this mess. Even if we can’t send them home right now, can’t we give them a little taste of warmth during these three days?”
“…”
At Kael’s words, Paelus involuntarily thought about the soldiers in his own camp. The young men suffering from hunger because supplies had run out. These young soldiers should be celebrating at home, singing songs like “Lili Marlene,” not fighting in some distant battlefield. High-ranking leaders start wars, but the ordinary men d*e in them.
Paelus’ mouth felt dry, his chest heavy. Hearing the truth from an enemy was both painful and humbling.
“If we don’t accept this ceasefire, what happens?”
“Unfortunately, we’d have to keep fighting, like we always have.”
“And if we accept but the time expires?”
“As adversaries, attacks will naturally resume.”
Still, accepting would mean giving soldiers three days of rest. At least three days of reassurance, with the enemy’s leader personally vowing it. Kael’s offer left Paelus speechless, fidgeting with his hands instead.
“Ah, by the way, if we do accept the ceasefire, I thought we could mark the late New Year’s with a small gesture of goodwill.”
“Goodwill?”
“Opportunities for you all to eat and drink during the holidays.”
“You’d give us food and drink? To enemies?”
“At least for the 72-hour window, we can treat each other as fellow humans dragged into this mess. A bit of kindness isn’t too much to ask.”
“Of course, don’t get it twisted: we’re strictly handing out three days’ worth of rations, and how you distribute it is up to you, but don’t expect leftovers.”
Paelus couldn’t help but agree. Would you scold someone for eating when they’re starving? No. The person suggesting it would be killed on the spot.
“So, what say you, Commander? Let’s settle this while we’re here.”
“Without giving me time to deliberate?”
“Well, if we give you time, it’s going to make things harder on your side.”
So he knew about the internal dissent. Truly, a frightening man.
With a bitter smile, Paelus understood and nodded.
And shortly after, a brief ceasefire was declared between the two armies.
*
As expected, Leonite was furious about the whole ordeal.
“Is this reasonable?!”
How could a commander accept a truce so hastily with the enemy? Even when their intentions were clear, biting into the bait like this? Shouldn’t they have rejected it coldly, no matter how tough things got?
“And Leonite? What do you think the soldiers will think if we turn down a few days of rest, a chance to fill their stomachs?”
“That’s… I…”
“This isn’t a suggestion of surrender. It’s a ceasefire for three days. To deny it would imply we can endure no further, wouldn’t it?”
Leonite’s concern was clear: the soldiers might lose hope entirely. But, this was separate from that. The Empire had already cast out the olive branch of rest. If the news had spread and they refused it, they’d collapse not in three days, but tonight.
And when something sweet is placed in front of starving men, and someone tries to stop them from taking it…
In a rational moment, perhaps they’d hold back, but not now. Instinct would override everything, and they’d eliminate anything standing between them and that relief.
“Commander, a supply convoy under a white flag has arrived.”
“Maintain your guard but treat them with politeness, as if they were envoys.”
After some confirmation, the Empire’s goods were laid out before them.
Moderately generous, not lavish—enough food for everyone, with a bit of warming liquor included as well.
“Commander, there’s always the possibility that this might be poisoned or—”
Leonite’s warnings were cut short as Paelus personally inspected the supplies.
“If it’s poisoned, I’ll be the first to d*e. Seems fair enough, doesn’t it?”
“…Seems fine since I, an old man, am still intact. Aide?”
“Yes, Commander?”
“Ensure the incoming supplies are evenly distributed to all units. Let them eat and drink freely within the three days. We’re celebrating a belated New Year, after all.”
And thus began a strange truce, a temporary New Year celebration between the Empire and Dedolant.
