Morning. Normally, it’d be around the time the world starts to wake up.
Ordinary folks would be shaking off sleep, preparing to welcome the day.
Tidying up bedding, washing up, cooking breakfast, and eating it.
Truly simple and not exactly brain-busting. Extremely basic actions.
Some might look at it all and call it monotony—dull, repetitive daily life.
They say a life without change is no different from being dead.
If such a person were here saying that right now…
Trust me, soldiers from both nations would’ve torn them apart on the spot.
Because it’s precisely this ordinary life that’s the most worthy of being preserved!
—
The road leading to Benito. Near the river. The adjacent plain.
There, the Empire’s 6th Legion stood face-to-face with Benito’s army, shrouded in an eerie, heavy silence.
These weren’t clueless peasants dragged out into a fight without a clue.
Each side represented the pinnacle of their nation’s military might, carefully cultivated and honed by their homelands.
And because of that, they had a rough idea of how today’s battle would go.
Take, for instance, a boring day of just staring each other down before retreating.
Or lightly testing each other’s strength while carefully assessing.
Or, sending in a knight or two to duel and show off their skills.
But today? Today was going to be a bloody battle where lives would shatter.
—
“Commanders, report! All units are in position.”
“The left and right wings are ready.”
“We’re just waiting for orders from the center, Commander.”
Messengers arrived one after another, delivering updates from the various units.
Upon hearing it all, Benito’s commander exhaled, letting out a heavy sigh.
The Empire’s 6th Legion in front of him—one of their toughest adversaries. Could they really win?
Doubt crept in, but he quickly shook it off.
It wasn’t about can they win—it was must. They had to win.
Only then could they safely return home.
Only then could they secure an advantage in the broader war.
And as an added bonus, only then could they save their own necks.
We can do this. They’ve placed their backs against the river—it shows confidence, yes, but if we can break that belief, they’ll crumble instantly.
The fear of d*ath hits harder than anyone expects. An enemy charging from the front with a river rushing behind—it’d shake even the Empire’s mighty legions.
“Advance.”
With that order, the Benito army began to move forward—50,000 troops marching toward the Empire’s 6th Legion, which was positioned against the river.
Divided into 10,000 each on the left and right wings, and 20,000 in the center. The remaining 10,000 were held as reserve forces to strike in the decisive moment.
On paper, Benito had overwhelming numbers, but the Empire held the edge in training. It was going to be a difficult fight, but necessary.
Thinking of this, the commander tried his best to hide his restless anxiety.
—
“Breaking news!”
Infantry at the front began to charge, while cavalry from both flanks surged forward. The Empire countered with its own cavalry, stopping the intrusion.
The numbers of their cavalry match what we know. No hidden forces here.
Assured by this, the commander continued observing the battlefield.
As expected, his cavalry was struggling but managed to hold thanks to their superior numbers.
The southern kingdoms generally lacked strong cavalry forces due to the lack of good horse-breeding lands. However, Benito had made strides in this area for one simple reason.
His Majesty learned quite a bit from Dedolant.
Thanks to King Andrea II’s keen interest in bolstering cavalry forces, inspired by Dedolant’s expertise, Benito managed to build a formidable force within a year, leaping ahead of its neighboring kingdoms.
—
With cavalry battles winding down, the commander turned his eyes to the real battlefield. The Benito army and the Imperial Legion were about to clash. Likely, the first engagement would be between Benito’s right wing and the Empire’s left.
—
“AAAAHHHH!”
With a tremendous roar, massive forces collided. The clash of steel, blade against blade, life against life, echoed across the field. The remaining troops also engaged their enemies.
It was truly beginning now. The Benito commander focused all his attention on the battlefield. There would be a moment—a decisive one—and he had to seize it with the 10,000-strong reserve forces held in storage.
One blow could make all the difference. If successful, it could send the enemy straight into the river. The Empire had their backs against the water, making it harder for them to maneuver their reserves effectively due to the cramped spaces.
He wasn’t about to let that slip.
Time continued to pass unrelentingly, countless lives fading meaninglessly, yet the world moved on as if nothing happened.
“Commander! The left wing is requesting reinforcements! The enemy’s right is much stronger than expected…!”
“It’s impossible. The reserves are our ace—we can’t squander them here. Yes, the enemy is tough, but so are we! Tell them they must hold, no matter what! Until our right wing can grind down the enemy’s left and until the center creates an opening!”
“Yes, sir!”
Surely, upon hearing this, the left wing commanders would scream their lungs out. But that’s the reality of command. As the overarching leader, one must ignore the grunts’ struggles and their spilled bl**d if it leads to victory. No matter how many times it happens, it must be done.
And in fact, the commander’s judgment was not wrong.
—
“…Reserve forces!”
“Commander?”
“Prepare the reserves now! NOW!”
He saw it—a fleeting glimpse of a weak spot. Victory was within reach.
As the battle dragged on, the Empire was likely using their reserves too. But due to the tight spacing, their ability to pull troops back and send others forward would be compromised—a vulnerability spotted by the commander.
Upon receiving the order, 10,000 Benito reservists prepared and positioned themselves stealthily behind the center, effectively emptying most of their camp but showing no concern as they awaited the critical moment to strike.
It’ll come again. A fleeting weakness. A momentary gap.
How long had he waited anxiously? Finally, he spotted the opening in the Imperial Legion.
They were deploying their reserves too, but slower this time—an undeniable sign of fatigue on both sides.
“NOW! Throw in the reserves! Push from the center and keep going!”
On the commander’s shout, a messenger dashed, raising the banner signaling the charge.
—
Blow the trumpets louder! Raise the flags higher!
Wait… was that sound… no, it wasn’t from their side.
Then whose? The Empire’s? Why was it coming from behind?
A chill ran down the commander’s spine.
The Empire had placed its back against the river, as if determined to block them. They had no choice but to keep pushing forward, no retreat. One victory here was absolutely crucial.
Ultimately, everything came down to annihilating the Empire’s 6th Legion.
Almost as if someone carefully orchestrated this entire situation for Benito.
—
The commander’s staff fell to the ground, unnoticed as a few remaining officers rushed in.
“C-C-COMMANDER! Disaster! Disaster! A large cavalry force has appeared behind us!”
“But the Empire’s cavalry—wasn’t it all here? Unless…”
As Benito’s commander froze, staring blankly behind them, there it was—a massive cavalry force galloping fiercely toward them, banners flying high.
They weren’t just any cavalry—they belonged to the Empire’s 13th Legion. The very same 13th Legion battering down Benito’s gates.
“Commander! Retreat now!”
“And where exactly should we retreat? Against such elite riders?”
“But sir!”
“We fight. We are glorious soldiers of Benito. We won’t retreat, with the enemy behind us. Even if this means kissing d*ath on the lips!”
Blinded by the knowledge that the 13th Legion was supposedly focused on Benito, and their desperate need for one single victory, it became clear the Empire had planned all of this from the start.
Dividing their forces, secretly setting aside the cavalry, spreading rumors of the 13th Legion attacking Benito fiercely, while using the 6th Legion to tie them down here.
But no, the real target wasn’t Benito—it was them. Since the very beginning.
—
“Huh… huh… huh…”
The commander laughed, out of sheer futility. And out of fear—for what would happen to their nation next. For the sheer brilliance of someone who could manipulate hearts so easily.
Before long, the cavalry of the Empire’s 13th Legion arrived, swiftly destroying Benito’s camp and annihilating the remnants of the command center. They then surged forward with brutal speed, hitting the already worn-out Benito army from behind.
A massive gap formed within Benito’s ranks due to the surprise attack, but the Empire’s 6th Legion was no pushover—they capitalized instantly.
That day, the elite soldiers Benito had painstakingly cultivated melted away like summer ice under the sun.
