Chapter 343: Act 111 – Duke Toniger and the Young Lord (11) (First Update)
Parsons thought he had seen through Brendel’s intentions.
But this old knight would never understand the kind of existence he was fighting against across this forest. Just like Brendel was familiar with every lord of Erluin—whether they were from the past, present, or future—whether they wielded immense power or were impoverished.
He knew these people as intimately as he knew his own fingerprints.
From the Year of Blossoms and Summer Leaves to the beginning of the Second Age, he had dealt with almost every lord of Erluin, great and small.
If Parsons had known that Brendel could recall his little-known nickname from decades ago, he might have reconsidered his choices.
But history has no “ifs”—
When Brendel first received the news about the old knight retreating from Parsons in his study in Firburh, he couldn’t help but chuckle and tossed the information from the ‘Raven’ back onto the desk.
The Raven was his nickname for the front-line wizard scouts, as these individuals often used ravens to convey messages, and this nickname had spread throughout the army.
“What a shame.” Vurn, having read the report, shook his head in disappointment. “That old man is indeed cautious; if he were to act rashly, we would have already won half this war—”
“Relying on the enemy to make mistakes is not a good habit, Captain Vurn.” Antinna, standing beside Brendel, glanced at the captain and coldly replied.
As time passed, this chief aide of Brendel was gaining more and more prestige within his circle. Although her tone was reproachful, it didn’t seem out of place to Vurn; it felt justified, as if it were natural.
Vurn instead smiled a little. “I just find it a pity; now that he’s retreated, we’re going to face a tough battle.”
“Not necessarily,” Brendel replied softly.
He was well aware that the old knight was cautious but fundamentally had a rebellious spirit flowing in his veins, just as he was familiar with what kind of tactics his opponent preferred and what choices he would make.
This so-called intelligence was just a small trap he had set.
Whatever choice his opponent made would not be beyond his expectations.
Hearing the young lord say this, Antinna glanced at him from behind. She had known about this plan since Tagib left the city that day; Brendel’s arrangement had once seemed unfathomable to her—it was not tactical but rather predictive.
But now, this prediction had come true.
The aide was a bit dumbfounded, staring at Brendel’s back in a daze.
“Not necessarily?” Vurn asked in confusion.
“Sir Parsons graduated from the Royal Military Academy in his youth and participated in the November War; he is exactly that kind of no-nonsense academy officer,” Brendel replied. “You know, on the main wall of the Royal Military Academy, there’s a quote written in Cruz—”
“‘For both sides in war, the means of warfare are to achieve their objectives and to prevent the other from achieving theirs.'”
“This quote is the guiding core of Erluin’s military thought and is regarded as a classic by all professionally trained officers.”
Vurn nodded, and alongside him, Crenshia and Medisa nodded as well. Vurn, coming from a military background, was not unfamiliar with this saying, but Crenshia, drawing from decades of experience in the wild, could see the truth contained within it by combining it with his own understanding—
As for Medisa, this princess-general’s understanding of warfare needed no further explanation.
“So Parsons is the same,” Antinna came to herself and quietly asked from the side, “Isn’t that so, my lord?”
“Yes.”
Brendel continued, “So I instructed the cave dwellers to mobilize their entire clan to harass, plunder, and raid the Parsons region, just to convey this message to the old gentleman.”
“We are struggling as cornered beasts, eager to seek a breakthrough before Count Rendener’s army gathers.”
“Isn’t that our situation?” Vurn asked.
“Yes,” Brendel nodded. “But is there such a foolish enemy that would tell you the truth to allow you to deliver a ‘Critical strike’?”
Brendel slouched on the high-backed chair, entirely out of character for a lord. This made Antinna’s brows almost knit together, and Flour’s face didn’t look too good either.
However, the young man seemed in good spirits, casually using game terminology.
“Critical strike?”
“That’s an ancient term,” Brendel said, lying without a twitch of his face, “It means deadly blow.”
Vurn finally nodded.
“So this is reverse thinking,” Medisa said softly. “We call for battle, and naturally, he cannot let us have our way. But conversely—following the principle of cautious prediction, the enemy cannot so blatantly expose their weaknesses to you, and they will find ways to disguise their objectives.”
“Unless this is a trap,” Vurn interjected.
“What does this trap convey?” Crenshia asked.
“The enemy hopes to buy time,” Vurn answered, evidently adopting the perspective of Sir Parsons.
“Then the way to undermine this objective is to mobilize troops as quickly as possible—”
“But what if this is a double trap?” The discussion quickly intensified.
“So no matter what, we are left with only two choices.” Antinna extracted her focus from the thought loop and replied calmly. “Either hold still until the army gathers or immediately mobilize troops and resolve things swiftly—”
But Medisa shook her head.
“Military simulations are not that simple; this is not merely a game of rock-paper-scissors. Relying solely on psychological analysis—” the Silver Elf Princess replied, “Some things cannot be concealed: troop numbers, supplies, morale, as well as weather and geographical factors, plus potential reinforcements.”
“Two choices, combined with this intelligence, should be sufficient for Sir Parsons to make a decision.”
“And add in the factor of character,” Brendel supplemented.
“Then where is the trap you mentioned, my lord?” Upon Medisa’s reminder, Vurn returned to his senses, looking at Brendel in confusion.
According to the Silver Elf Princess, shouldn’t Parsons be able to make the right judgment easily?
And it seemed that the old knight had indeed made the right judgment.
Just like this young lord had said, they were struggling like cornered beasts, eager to find a breakthrough before Count Rendener’s army gathered.
But now that Sir Parsons chose to hold still and wait for the army to gather, they had lost that most precious opportunity.
Hadn’t they?
But Vurn saw Brendel shake his head, smiling. “Trap? Haven’t I already set it up? Each of you is in it, yet unaware—”
“What?”
Everyone was taken aback.
The young lord smiled and pointed to his forehead. “The so-called limitations of thinking mean that I presented you with a question that is not simply yes or no, leading you to fall into the vortex of choices—”
“But you all failed to consider that this is a real war, where there are hundreds of possibilities rather than just two choices. If you cannot escape this labyrinth of thought, you will not see the third path—”
Everyone present fell silent.
“The third path?” Vurn frowned and asked.
“If Parsons chooses to advance, he will be struck head-on, and we will directly break through.” Brendel replied. “But he certainly wouldn’t be so foolish; I don’t think even Grudin would make such a low-level mistake.”
“But if he chooses to retreat, give me two months or even three months to drag the war past the dawn of spring, then I would welcome that just the same.”
Brendel shrugged. “What are we lacking? Time.”
“But time isn’t necessarily in our favor, my lord.” Antinna groaned as usual, as if her brows had not unfurled in a month.
Seeing her like this, the young man earnestly reminded her, “Frowning too often can cause wrinkles, my dear aide.”
The noble lady shot him a glance. “In any case, I will hold you responsible, my lord—” she said with a pout.
Brendel smiled slightly, finding some satisfaction in easing his aide’s tension. He laughed and explained, “Don’t worry, time will ultimately be on our side.”
He wasn’t just speaking off the cuff; ever since the Druid returned to his land, he knew they might already have news about Valhalla, just like in history, for which he had made a series of arrangements.
Including instructing Tagib to harass Parsons to delay that old knight’s timing for an attack was all aimed at ultimately achieving this goal.
Only Brendel understood what Valhalla meant, so he had to delay the start of the war until that legendary territory was in his grasp, after which everything would no longer be a problem.
With this clarity in his heart, he looked at the others; they were looking at him with skepticism, but at least they knew this young lord never spoke empty words.
“But won’t that old man notice something’s off?” Vurn still felt something was strange.
“Did you notice?” Brendel countered.
“But that was just a momentary decision!”
“A moment decides everything; in war, changing the final outcome is often about one or two details,” Brendel shook his head. “For a commander, indecisiveness is the worst sin, and repeatedly changing decisions is a tremendous taboo.”
“Besides, once he decides to retreat today, he will then have to struggle with Tagib’s harassments. Even when he realizes, he will have long slowed his mobilization, and by then, it will be too late to regret.”
“So does that mean he’s destined to lose no matter what?” Vurn asked.
“I gave him a test paper, and the two answers available for selection were both arranged by me. Why wouldn’t he lose?” Brendel replied. “Sometimes you need to switch roles, but going along with the enemy’s rhythm is ultimately not a good thing.”
Brendel suddenly stopped speaking, as he sensed a quieting of the surroundings; all his subordinates were looking at him with a strange gaze, as if they were seeing a monster.
The young man felt embarrassed; he realized this wasn’t some profound strategy, merely something Instalung had played out. Back during the Second Black Rose War, that black knight had humiliated the old gentleman in exactly this way, and Brendel was just borrowing a page from that playbook.
“So what now?” Vurn asked. “What should we do?”
“Do your own jobs,” Brendel replied. “This is the second thing I needed to say today; I’ll probably need to leave the territory for a while, maybe for a month or longer.”
He clasped his hands, intertwining his fingers. “I wouldn’t want to come back to find this place in disarray.”
“My lord, you’re leaving again?” Antinna frowned again. “Schafflund?”
“Classified.”
The young man put a finger to his lips. (To be continued. For details on what happens next, please log on; there are more chapters and support the author for legitimate reading!)
