183. How to Flip a Turtle (1)
*
“I believe it wasn’t just out of mercy that you spared us.”
“Of course.”
In the dense forest, Fernandez stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the tree bark and the delicate mistletoe stretching out between them. Barem and his warriors stood behind him.
Abel watched Fernandez with a warm, enigmatic smile. Not now, I must keep my composure. Fernandez frowned slightly, forcing his expression to harden.
“The internal strife isn’t happening only to you.”
“Naturally. Everyone is scattered, destined to be picked off one by one.”
“Since Hazart Kazal rose to power, all clans have faced the same fate. It doesn’t matter.”
Our role is to flip that situation. Fernandez quietly observed the mistletoe. Small flower buds were tangled within it. As he chuckled softly, the mistletoe branches swayed slightly.
*
“Good heavens…”
Kirhas narrowed her eyes, looking down at the map of flowers that bloomed and withered in an instant. The map had always been changing, but never as dramatically as now. Kirhas sighed as she watched the chaotic blooming of flowers.
-Pop!
Yellow flowers sporadically sprouted among the red flower graves, only to wither instantly. The yellow flowers, symbolizing ‘potential allies,’ bloomed across the map, only for more than half to wither and shift positions.
The information that infighting had broken out among the enemy forces flashed through her mind. Forces resisting Erik were emerging among the enemies. And just as quickly, they were dying.
In that chaos. Countless lives represented by flower buds. How many humans were dying beneath this dazzling and beautiful map? Watching the northern lives being slaughtered in real-time, Kirhas felt a chill.
It was dazzling. Like venomous snakes living in the jungle, the colorful flowers burst forth, blooming red above, while death roamed beneath, under the gaze of the gods in the north.
“Lady Freya… This is…”
[Shh. Oh dear. Your master is looking for you now.]
“Are you watching him?”
[That man is speaking to me.]
“How can I respond?”
The vision to craft grand strategies and the courage to execute them. In all these aspects, Kirhas relied on Fernandez. Though he wished for her to stand on her own, considering she had only been free from slavery for less than two years, it was almost too ambitious of him.
But Kirhas tried. To think for herself and to keep up with Fernandez’s pace. Yet, in this rapidly changing situation and amidst the blooming death, she needed Fernandez.
[Do you think I could have shown you the map without reason?]
A miracle that could never happen under normal circumstances. The ability to make flowers bloom on a wooden table, regardless of season or seed. And the ability to share senses with all new life.
[You are seeing the same thing as him now. Speak. I will relay it.]
Freya sat gracefully, her eyes closed, smiling confidently. Kirhas nodded and pointed to the table before her.
“Show him the map.”
*
“Oh, ohhh…”
“It’s a miracle…”
The warriors began to murmur. Fernandez turned his back to them, gazing at the flower buds spread before him.
The same scene would be unfolding at Hazart Palen’s command center. The map provided by Freya was beautiful. Countless flower buds bloomed among the dense tree trunks and branches.
This is the northern view seen by the gods. The difference from Hazart Palen’s map is that it’s a bit less friendly and contains more varied information.
Freya trusted Fernandez’s judgment and intuition. The flowers, with their colors, sizes, and distribution, marked more information on the map. This was closer to a complete tactical map. A level of map one wouldn’t expect to see in the north.
“Hmm… Even if I see this, it’s hard to understand.”
“It doesn’t matter. I understand it.”
Unlike a wooden table, the shrubs were neither flat nor connected. No matter how dense, a coniferous forest couldn’t provide the flat conditions of a table. To Abel, familiar with the Dane Kingdom’s tactical maps, these conditions were strange.
“But one thing is clear. The enemies are dividing.”
“They’re splitting into three fronts. Battles are happening even now between them.”
“What’s that black area?”
“An area where we can’t gather information.”
Fernandez’s voice grew slightly somber. Abel tilted her head, then quickly hardened her expression.
“Don’t tell me…”
“Yes. An area Freya cannot see… A place where all new life has been completely eradicated.”
A place where humans, plants, animals, and even insects have been utterly and paranoically burned away. No matter how harsh the northern lands, life always finds a way to sprout… but not here.
“It’s growing wider.”
“Three days.”
Fernandez looked away from the map. He spoke in the northern tongue to the warriors lined up behind him, silently watching.
“That’s how much time we have left. Three days.”
“Do you mean Erik can end this war in three days?”
“No. If they continue slaughtering life at this rate, the north will lose its ability to recover in three days. Even if we win, the north will become a land where life cannot survive.”
The map was ablaze with red and black flowers, the area expanding moment by moment. The enemy’s frontline was vast, and now even their information was uncertain.
In this overwhelmingly unfavorable situation, with slim chances of victory and so much to protect, Fernandez turned his gaze back to the map.
“From now on, scatter and rescue those in the same situation as you. Flee.”
“Fighting head-on…?”
“Well, if suicide is your life goal, then fine. But it’s not a recommended way of life. Your deaths will just become offerings for demons to manifest, and that means the death of your families in the rear.”
A truly horrific death. Fernandez said this while looking at Barem’s face. Barem bit his lip.
“What should we do? Should we just recklessly stir up the nearby positions? Putting aside the difficulty of distinguishing friend from foe, they have demons on their side.”
“If you encounter the enemy, always flee. If you gather allies, scatter the moment you do. If possible, split into at least four groups in completely different directions.”
“…? Then wouldn’t we just be deserters? What good are warriors scattered across these rugged northern mountains?”
Wouldn’t it be better to all flee towards Hazard Palen? At least then there’s a higher chance of survival and rejoining the main force. When Barem asked this, Fernandez shook his head and laughed.
“That’s the mindset of herbivores, Northerner.”
Sticking together for survival is the worst of plans. Troops breaking away, resources wasted on fleeing. Every single person is precious now, and such considerations aren’t even worth thinking about.
But if we scatter across the mountains, even if we can’t immediately contribute to the battle, each individual’s survival rate skyrockets.
No matter how many troops the enemy has, they won’t have the resources to search for deserters scattered across the mountains while Hazard Palen is right in front of them, preparing for battle.
Searching is a tedious task that takes a lot of time and effort. With a tempting feast right in front of them, preparing for a hopeless fight, individuals who can’t support Hazard Palen are just a nuisance, not a problem.
Erik and Bard probably think like this:
-Let’s crush all the resistance forces first, then leisurely enjoy winter hunting.
‘Exactly.’
Even if the deserters reinforce Hazard Palen’s resistance, it’s not bad. From the enemy’s perspective, the resistance forces gathering together means they can aim for a large-scale battle.
So they’ll let it go. Intentionally, even encouraging us to flee. What they want is the collapse of our forces, expanding their achievements, and securing as many offerings as possible.
Until now, the resistance has moved systematically while hiding their true strength. They’ve stuck to brutal guerrilla tactics and rescue operations, leveraging their informational advantage.
What will the enemy think when they realize this? ‘They’re gathering forces to prepare for a battle.’ Of course, it’s a trap.
So they’ll ignore the deserters causing internal strife. They won’t bother hunting down the stragglers fleeing into the forest. But the forest is the cradle of life, and all life in the north is under Freya’s gaze.
“Have you ever seen a hawk hunt a turtle?”
“…?”
“First, flip it over.”
Fernandez drew his greatsword and slammed it down on the map. *Crack*, a branch with flower buds shattered.
*
[Your master’s message. I… don’t quite understand. He said, ‘Flip the turtle.’]
Freya opened her eyes and spoke. Part of the map crumbled as if cut by a sword.
[And he cut out that area. What does it mean?]
“A turtle… a turtle…”
Kirhas looked down at the map with sword marks. The long frontline of the enemy, the southernmost edge adjacent to the resistance’s main forces, was thinly sliced…
‘Flip the turtle… If it doesn’t mean lifting and flipping it.’
If a hawk or eagle, a creature without hands, wanted to flip a turtle, how would it do it? Kirhas carefully stabbed the northern frontline, the exact opposite of the cut frontline, with a dagger.
-*Crack.*
*
The flower fell off on its own, as if cleanly cut by a sword. Fernandez laughed deeply at the sight.
“Correct.”
Like playing a game of chess. Or explaining a brilliant chess move. Across the distance between him and her, they took turns stabbing the map.
-*Thud, crack.*
-*Rustle. Crack.*
The blooming garden was slowly carved away. Red petals withered. The enemy would wait for the resistance to gather enough troops while resolving internal conflicts.
They’re not fools. The resistance’s best efforts aren’t a threat to them, and even if their numbers grow, it’s actually beneficial. More offerings to secure.
Stronger demons, bigger demons, and finally…
‘Sadarkelisa.’
To a battlefield where a Great Demon could be summoned. The plan to summon Einherjar to disrupt the enemy’s rear lost its meaning as the enemy’s own mistakes overshadowed it. Tactics can always change according to the situation, but the strategic goal remains constant.
Fernandez’s goal has always been one and the same.
“To make the turtle stick its head out.”
-*Crack.*
Disrupting the rear, informational advantage. Potential allies scattered across the mountains. The enemy’s encampments temporarily paralyzed by internal strife. To provoke the crouching turtle into sticking its head out, and to shake its hard shell until it flips over.
So still, his tactic is the spear, the spear, and the spear.
“From now on, scatter as many troops as possible.”
Stabbing the map with his sword, Fernandez spoke to Barem.
*
“You said the battle was starting, but you’re still here looking at maps. Southerner?”
Aeren, fully armed, entered the tent. She clicked her tongue at Kirhas, who was staring blankly at the map with a haggard face.
“What are you doing?”
“Look at this.”
Aeren frowned and approached Kirhas. Her face showed deep fatigue, as if she had stayed up all night.
The map was a mess of sword marks. Had this southern woman gone mad? Just as she was about to rage at the destruction of the precious tactical map, Kirhas pointed to one corner with her finger.
“Us.”
Then she pointed to another corner.
“Them.”
And then to the scattered yellow and purple flower petals in the middle of the enemy’s territory.
“Your Excellency.”
Now Aeren could see the map clearly. This wasn’t a destroyed map. The map itself wasn’t made of paper or parchment, but of flowers and leaves, with tactical plans drawn not in ink but with a sword.
The enemy’s territory was still crouched stubbornly. There had been internal strife, and their forces seemed weakened, but they still outnumbered the resistance by at least two to one.
But something, somewhere, felt unstable. The brightly colored flower buds were trembling.
“The turtle has been flipped.”
*
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