"Uh, um, that's good."
Enkrid stood on the podium and declared that he would kill the enemy commander.
Of course, that wouldn't actually happen. To be precise, not right now. What was being sent now were the underlings.
Krais understood this perfectly.
That's why he took advantage of Enkrid's words.
What would happen if they suddenly killed the enemy commander? What if word of it reached the enemy?
'What would I do?'
It would be difficult to take the lead. They would increase the guards and raise the vigilance.
If that happened, the need for a full-scale attack would be unnecessary.
'They'd just move more cautiously.'
They had even made it look like they were moving their troops at night. Subtle hints were dropped for the spies to report.
Krais fully utilized Enkrid's words.
'Even better.'
The strategy was based on the premise that neither side would act rashly due to mutual caution.
It would have worked well anyway, but Enkrid's comment made it work even better.
'As expected, his mind works well.'
Although he seemed to dislike thinking, the leader was quite perceptive.
His judgment was sharp.
Even now, things were going smoothly.
The ones who had only been watching cautiously didn't take action but thoroughly reinforced their defenses.
The number of torches lighting the night increased.
The scouts running in all directions worked tirelessly, with horses and riders moving swiftly.
Yet, Krais still couldn't shake his unease.
So what should he do? Visually, the unease would be reduced a little.
What they needed now was eyes.
On the battlefield, those eyes were, of course, the scouts.
"The scouts will determine the outcome," Krais said, and Vengeance nodded more deeply than ever.
"Yes, of course."
Afterward, he fiercely pushed his own scouts.
"Move, all of you! If you're lazy, the rest of the soldiers will die! The pain!"
"It will kill me!"
The chants became increasingly bizarre, but they were effective.
They moved.
The forces gathered, reorganized, and spent the day preparing.
At dawn, they left the gates against the dim sky.
"Forward, all units!"
The voice of veteran soldiers rang out through the ranks.
Krais watched, still uneasy.
It was always like this. It always felt ominous and uncertain.
'It's fine.'
He spoke to himself.
If things go wrong, he could flee. That thought gave him a small sense of comfort and allowed his mind to focus.
A ship anchored is less easily pushed by the waves.
To the west of the Border Guard, the troops moved over barren land unsuitable for farming.
A little to the south, Krais stood on a small hill, surrounded by two squads of guards, watching the battlefield.
What would happen?
Would it go as expected, or would something unforeseen occur?
Or would the enemy read his intentions and counterattack?
'What if they launch a full-scale attack from both sides?'
That would be the worst. There would be no way to block that.
Even if Enkrid had ten men, it wouldn't be enough.
"I'm bored. Big Eyes."
Rem, who had accompanied him for the guard, grumbled.
He subtly lowered the axe resting on his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
His stance and gaze said he wanted to fight immediately.
Krais was not his usual self.
He said without paying any attention.
"Wait. We'll fight enough that you'll beg me to stop."
Right now, he was too busy thinking.
The enemy's intentions, the enemy commander's thoughts, their personalities, their tendencies in judgment—he was processing all of that in his head.
It was a harsh thing to say, but Rem, unlike usual, kept quiet.
Even he could tell that Krais was acting differently.
'This guy has some use after all.'
Rem wasn't as foolish as he appeared. He, too, could think things through.
Though, he just forced everything into his own way of seeing things.
Krais didn't notice that Rem was being unusually quiet.
His mind was still working at full speed.
In any case, the key was a small elite force.
How to use them would determine the outcome of the battle.
Amidst the ominous and uneasy feelings, Krais felt a strange sense of satisfaction.
'If things go as planned.'
He could probably block it. He didn't consider minor variables. Those were for the troops to handle.
Krais' mind naturally began to plot the next steps.
What could they do to win more easily? What would they need?
'What if we unify the troops and equipment here?'
His thoughts continued, envisioning the future. Unified equipment, reorganizing the soldiers based on the same tactics, creating an army that moved like the hands and feet of the commander.
He'd heard the imperial army fought like that.
Could the Border Guard's standing army do the same?
The elite group of special individuals could be kept separate.
But the rest of the troops would have unified strength. That's the unification of military power.
'With unified troops and equipment.'
Even if the soldiers might lose in a duel...
"Victory is certain in battles at the company level and above."
While the elite small forces are important, large-scale battles are just as crucial.
To win in large-scale battles, unity is key.
Even if they lose in a one-on-one or ten-on-ten fight, winning a hundred-on-hundred battle will still secure the victory.
Watching the allied forces assemble, Krais realized this anew.
As he named different units like swordsmen, spearmen, and shield-bearers, Krais quietly sorted his thoughts.
He believed that the current approach would eventually have a useful application or become profitable.
When the Border Guard's standing army appeared, Baron Tarning was suddenly struck with fear.
"The pain is mine!"
"The joy is mine!"
"Bring it on!"
It was clear that the enemy had more soldiers and better equipment.
"Don't be afraid. That's exactly what they want," said Lykanos, a warrior from the Black Sword group.
A weapon handle stuck out from his shoulder, with a spiked flail slung diagonally on his back. The weapon was heavy, with sharp needles attached to the round metal end, giving it a menacing appearance.
Lykanos' arms were as thick as the thighs of most women, and his gloves had metal plates on them.
At a glance, it was evident he could easily crush a human skull.
In fact, he could do nearly everything Tarning imagined.
He was one of the top warriors within the Black Sword group.
Aside from the leader, no one else could give him orders.
"What are those damn cultists doing?" Tarning asked.
"They're probably just waiting for an opening," Lykanos responded.
Lykanos was a great fighter, but not particularly bright.
Tarning was even less so.
One of the cautious nobles finally spoke up.
"There's bad talk within the Border Guard. There's a line of people ready to flee at any moment."
This noble was someone who had run away from his fief.
Tarning frowned at his words.
If things had truly fallen apart within, what was the current state of their forces?
"The pain!"
"The torment!"
"I want to hurt!"
"Make me suffer!"
"Kill me!"
Were they all just insane?
Had they all taken some kind of drug together?
"...When I left, the army wasn't even properly controlled," the noble muttered quietly.
Lykanos wanted to crush the man's skull right there, but he restrained himself.
It wasn't really his concern.
"Just respond appropriately!" Tarning snapped.
Would the cultists respond if they launched a full-scale assault?
And Aspen beyond?
Tarning didn't think they would. All of them were disgusting creatures.
If their own forces weakened here, they might not have another chance.
They couldn't afford to be backstabbed by the cultists.
"Damn it, I'll just crush anyone who tries to charge!"
It was an appropriate response, or so Tarning thought.
One of his subordinates, a noble who had come from Border Guard, muttered under his breath.
"If we go all-out, the cultists and Aspen will join forces. That's the end for us."
He hesitated for a moment but kept quiet.
If he spoke up now, he'd immediately be accused of being a spy for the cult.
"You, you're a spy!"
Tarning, in a fit of rage, slapped the noble across the face.
The slap made a sharp, satisfying sound.
Slap!
"Ah! Oh no! No, please, I swear! When I left, the morale of the army was already a mess!"
The noble fell to the floor, groaning as he spoke.
"Shut your mouth!"
Tarning's outburst rained down on the noble.
The noble begged for his life.
Seeing a man getting stomped on, Tarning decided to let the matter go.
It would be handled from above.
Lykanos followed his orders and kept the battle response to a minimum.
"We'll wait until they've spilled some blood, then we'll attack."
The Wolf Bishop followed Lykanos' lead.
'No need to spill the blood of our own followers first.'
The cultists held their breath.
The assassination squad hadn't come yesterday, but it might today.
A messenger from the Black Blade came, spouting nonsense about needing help.
"Martai's garrison needs to be kept in check, and we must prepare for assassins."
Lykanos seeing the rejected request, had veins bulging in his forehead, but there was nothing he could do. Tarning's threats were the only sound in the air.
"At this rate, we'll be finished!"
Lykanos was tempted to deal with the noisy Tarning immediately, but he was the one who had caused this war, the excuse for everything.
He was a pig that couldn't be killed.
***
Aspen had invested resources to understand the situation beyond the fief.
They used spies, scouts, and even magic to gather information.
"Are they moving?" one of his subordinates asked.
The man ran a hand through his green hair, feeling it slide back into place.
His cold eyes gleamed as he spoke.
"It's not our turn yet."
The man was Abnaier, Aspen's genius strategist, who had been relegated after their previous defeat.
This time, he had a clear goal for the battle.
That one's head was the priority.
Expanding the territory was a problem for later.
There was a mountain of preparations made because of it.
My heart raced. How long could we last?
I wasn't the type of person who enjoyed torturing others for pleasure, but as a strategist, watching how well my preparations would work was a pure joy.
***
"Crazy bastards! What did I say? My words are the words of a god! I said light! What, huh? Charge! Hear me!"
At the squad leader's shout, the squad members shouted in unison.
"Ah!"
They were all overcome with rage. It was understandable. They had learned to obey orders unconditionally in a very short time.
The newer recruits were treated even harsher.
It wasn't out of malice.
Veteran squad leaders and platoon leaders were called. They would just do as they were told.
"We will fight hot but cold, not to get caught up in the heat of the battlefield."
Krais came barking, and naturally, no one paid attention.
Then, Enkrid stepped up.
With his black hair and blue eyes, the madman of the battlefield spoke.
"Even if half of them die, make them listen to the commander. And you all listen to your superiors. If you don't, you'll die. Rem and I will alternate training and beating you."
No matter what their previous rank had been, whether clever or not, once they joined the military as soldiers, simplicity was the best.
They followed Enkrid's words.
Among them was Bell.
Now a platoon leader, Bell shouted out in anger.
"Do you all want to die?!"
"Ugh!"
"Don't go out! I said don't go out!"
The frontline was here. Bell's shout from the front rang out.
Krais had intentionally told Graham to do it that way.
The forces they had were mostly new recruits, most of whom were experiencing battle for the first time.
One recruit couldn't hear anything around him.
All he could see was the devil-like enemy soldiers.
Spears, swords, shields, hammers, maces, and flails filled his sight.
'Ah.'
Am I prepared? Is my judgment sharp? Should I thrust the spear like this? Should I raise my shield and block?
The doubts continued, and when his mind turned completely white…
Bang!
Someone hit him on the back of the head.
It was so hard that stars appeared. His white-blond head had color return to it.
The surroundings started to come into focus.
"Damned bastard, didn't you hear me say that?"
The curses pierced his ears. It was the platoon leader's shout.
"Yes!"
"Thrust ten times!"
"Thrust ten times!"
They did as they were told. The new recruits all thrust their spears forward.
"Back! Back! Fall back, damn it, fall back! You get in there and see! I'll kill you myself!"
The veteran soldiers who had become squad leaders shouted all around.
And so, the first small-scale battle passed.
It started at dawn, and due to the slow march, it was noon when they encountered the enemy and the battle began.
There were eighty total, two platoons of infantry fighting.
Six wounded on their side.
No casualties.
They fought fiercely, thrusting their spears and holding up their shields, but kept enough distance to fall back.
In reality, this wasn't because of the enemy, but thanks to their own command.
"Why do they keep doing this?"
A mercenary from the Black Sword unit spoke awkwardly.
His blood was boiling, ready for a frenzy, but the enemy retreated.
Naturally, he couldn't chase them alone.
So, the Black Sword unit also received orders to retreat.
The next day, a similar battle occurred.
This time, the faces had changed. Only the soldiers' identities had shifted.
In the second battle, one unfortunate soldier from the Black Blade unit failed to block an attack, and the spear grazed his neck, killing him.
He was a serf from the Tarning Viscount's territory.
It was a hastily assembled unit.
Graham and the frontline commander immediately recognized the state of the enemy.
The Tarning Duchy's forces were a haphazard, unsteady bunch.
Still, they didn't charge straight into battle.
The third battle was even more unusual; they opened the south gate and provoked the enemy.
"Is this kid a little slow? Come at me, are you here to watch?"
A soldier's taunt in the northern dialect sparked the battle.
It was another similar skirmish.
With three companies at most, and two at the least, they rotated and fought, retreating at the right moments.
So, four, five, six times, a total of twelve small-scale battles took place.
The death toll was six.
And of the remaining soldiers, most had now learned a rough idea of what battle was about.
More importantly, these were the ones who had survived Enkrid's training.
Combat experience quickly filled in the gaps for them.
And as Krais had hoped, the Border Guard's elite force looked much larger.
To the enemy, their combat seemed irregular.
Naturally.
Who would conduct real combat training in such a crisis?
"It's fortunate that only idiots seem to have gathered."
Krais sighed with relief and looked at Shinar and Enkrid.
"Now, you can finally do what you're meant to."
Shinar, with a calm gaze, looked at Enkrid.
"This seems like too much for a pre-event meal."
"What event?"
"Our engagement, of course."
It was a typical lighthearted fairy joke.
Enkrid grabbed the central torch of the camp.
Shinar responded. She changed the direction of her left foot. It was toward the outside of the camp.
This fairy seemed oddly sensitive to fire.
"Are you alright?"
"This is getting ridiculous. You're cruel."
The fairy said this expressionlessly and then stepped outside the camp.
Enkrid chuckled softly and returned to the camp to check his equipment.
"Oh, well, we've got a mission."
And then he said it. Everyone rose to their feet.
The pack of beasts, restless after not fighting for the past few days, was there.
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TL here! Thank you for reading!
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