After confirming that the Nobogorod army had withdrawn, we too set off on our return journey. As far as I can recall, there were only a few skirmishes with small units; there wasn’t a single proper battle. The enemy didn’t take a devastating blow, nor did they surrender or retreat because of any major loss. It was just… anticlimactic.
But despite that, the soldiers were inexplicably overjoyed, their mood brimming with the energy of a grand victory.
“bl**d flows! bl**d flows! What kind of ridiculous d*ath is this?! bl**d flows! bl**d flows! What kind of ridiculous d*ath is this?!!”
Everywhere I turned, soldiers were enthusiastically belting out this eerie, unsettling song, their voices echoing around us.
I was startled by it at first, curious about its origins—until I found out it was some kind of military anthem.
Huh. This doesn’t seem like the Imperial Army anthem Father taught me, though…
Because of Father’s background in military circles, he made sure I memorized the official Imperial Army anthem thoroughly. Something about fighting valiantly at the forefront, upholding glory for the empire. It was quite majestic, if I may say so… or at least that’s what I remember. But the soldiers singing now? It sounded completely different.
…Well, who am I to question? If the troops are hyped up by it, I guess that’s what matters. Plus, the soldiers I chatted with said this version actually boosts their morale quite a bit.
If only they weren’t so obsessed with that Army Tiger thing. Other than that, I’d probably just nod and move on.
“Lord Kael!”
Turning my head, I saw the princess riding her steed toward me.
“Your Highness.”
We were still on the move, so formalities were brief. I merely bowed my head in greeting.
“Did you see our soldiers? They’re absolutely buzzing!”
“Yes, Your Highness. It’s understandable given that we’re returning without significant losses.”
“And much of that success is thanks to Lord Kael’s brilliant strategy.”
Is she aware that a significant portion of that success is also thanks to her own glowing support? Honestly, she probably wouldn’t have gotten involved if she wasn’t flashing those brilliant eyes.
“While it’s true the signal balloons were clever, I think the second part of the scheme was even more impressive—you managed to give Nobogorod a decisive blow without even engaging in combat.”
“Hahaha. Indeed.”
“Everyone will be talking about this when we return. Aren’t you excited?”
“Hmm. To be honest, Your Highness, I’m more embarrassed than anything.”
“Embarrassed? About what?”
Looking genuinely puzzled, the princess tilted her head, her big eyes wide open. Frankly, she looked so cute that I almost laughed out loud. Of course, I didn’t; that would’ve been completely inappropriate.
“Your Highness, as well as the Legion Commander, have been very generous in attributing these victories to my supposed strategies.”
“It’s not generosity—it’s genuine admiration for your brilliance!”
“I don’t know what to say, Your Highness. But honestly, from my perspective, those ‘strategies’ might not even deserve the title.”
“What do you mean? Why are you so certain?”
“Because they all came down to sheer good luck.”
At my response, the princess fell silent, staring at me for a moment. She must think I’m merely being modest right now, don’t she?
But if she truly asks, my honest answer would simply be ‘no.’
“Thankfully, things turned out well. But these plans were predicated on the assumption that the enemy would move exactly as I expected. If things had gone awry, not only would the operation have failed, but we might’ve suffered catastrophic losses.”
My father, a renowned military figure, always warned against building plans assuming an opponent will act exactly as you predict. And if it happens to work once, then it’s just divine favor—he’d tell me to offer thanks and never rely on it again.
“To put it simply, Your Highness, this was beginner’s luck. Just that. Pure and simple luck.”
Pure and unadulterated luck. It was insane how well things went. That’s just the truth.
I wanted to explain this to the princess to temper her overly optimistic expectations.
“Hmm. I see, Lord Kael.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“I understand.”
“Understand what? You don’t look like you understand a thing!”
Her expression said something entirely different, something along the lines of: Oh, how wonderfully modest you are! How impressive!
~
”Beware the arrogant. Distance yourself from those who think too highly of themselves.”
A wise, caring father, a great family head, and a former Emperor shared those words. Isabel believed she would carry them deep in her heart until her dying day.
By that measure, the person beside her now, Kael, was utterly the opposite.
“To put it simply, this was beginner’s luck. Just that. This time, it was sheer luck, Your Highness.”
Everyone else was showering him with praise. Soldiers cheered, commanders applauded—hell, even the stoic Legion Commander tapped him on the shoulder in approval. Even Isabel herself hadn’t held back with her compliments. In that atmosphere, it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for him to let his ego swell a little.
Yet Kael did nothing of the sort. Instead, he appeared embarrassed. He kept calling it mere luck, burdening himself with unwarranted humility.
“I am not a remarkable person, nor could I ever be a strategist.”
Perhaps, just perhaps. He might be telling the truth. It could have just been lucky guesses. Or perhaps the gods smiled upon him for a moment.
But what happens next? If someone gets that lucky, many would flaunt it. Others would barely contain their glee.
Kael, on the other hand, you truly hold yourself to an almost alarming degree of self-criticism.
And because of that, Isabel couldn’t help but feel even more warmth toward him. He seemed more reliable, more trustworthy.
“Hmm. I see, Lord Kael.”
“Very well, if you insist on calling it luck, then let’s not completely rule out that possibility.”
“But I have no intention of lowering my expectations of you.”
“Still… Lord Kael.”
This needs to be said.
“To the person who thinks this is nothing but luck…”
With a radiant smile, Isabel turned to him.
“Good fortune only seems to find people who truly deserve it.”
“And if good fortune keeps finding you—not just once, but twice, thrice… isn’t that evidence of true ability?”
With that, Isabel couldn’t help but smile even wider, a warm glimmer in her eyes.
~
Somewhere within the Bertier Duchy—a mere three days’ coach ride from the capital—sat a stately land. Was it due to the legacy of the first duke, a loyal steward-c*m-warrior who protected the empire’s early days? This land had birthed countless brilliant military figures over the centuries.
Its current proprietor, Arthur Klauwitz, the Duke of Bertier, was no exception. Esteemed as one of the empire’s finest arms-bearers, he fought in numerous battles before transitioning into a capable commander. Now retired from active duty, he managed the Klauwitz household, guiding the family forward.
So as the Duke, all official dispatches entering this duchy fell under his watchful eye—a natural right of both a house head and a duke.
“Miss, please! If the house master finds out, we’ll all be in grave trouble.”
This was why the Klauwitz family steward currently found himself sweating profusely as he tried futilely to dissuade the young lady in question.
“That’s a message about my brother Kael! Give it to me already!”
“That’s from the War Office, not personal correspondence! Even if the master reads it first, you’ll know the news soon—just please wait a little bit—”
“Wait?! When Kael’s message is right in front of my face?! Give it here, steward, now!!”
Before the steward could utter another word, the young lady snatched the dispatch from his grasp and sprinted away, her ponytail bouncing behind her.
It was an instantaneous, dramatic move. If anything, the steward was left dumbfounded by the speed of it all.
The sound of rushing footsteps broke him out of his daze.
“Master, sir!”
Standing there was none other than the Duke himself, shaking his head gently.
“Let her be, steward. You know how she is with anything involving her brother.”
“But, your grace, this is official correspondence!”
“It’s not like it’s top secret. She’ll read it and bring it back eventually. Honestly, I’m more worried about whether it’s even about Kael. The disappointment would break her heart if it weren’t.”
The daughter, who doted on her older brother with a near-reverent devotion since childhood, was currently fifteen. Though Arthur had hoped she’d outgrow that phase, it seemed as though her devotion to her big brother had only grown.
Back when we first sent Kael to the military academy… or off to the front lines… she’d throw tantrums, crying that the whole world was against her beloved brother.
It warmed his heart as a father, though it stung when she accused him of being the opposite. Over time, he’d simply learned to let it be. Surely, one day, she’d find a suitor worthy of her affection…
No, no. The thought of some random stranger claiming my daughter already makes me see red.*
Just then, a familiar voice rang out.
“Father!!”
A young figure came barreling toward him—her face a mixture of urgency and excitement.
“What is it, Kaya?”
“Father! It’s Kael! Kael did something incredible! He accomplished something amazing!”
