ROGER DAVIS
The day has ended, and the fighting has stopped for now. I just spent the last half hour reading reports of both battles, and now I have a better understanding of both enemy generals.
For instance, I finally understand how Lord Munimentis achieved victory on Devil’s Bay with significantly fewer forces than his enemy. Lord Munimentis prefers—and excels in—utilizing defensive strategies. It is an unexpected method of combat from someone so young, but I cannot deny the wisdom behind it. He achieves victory through patience, whittling down his enemy’s numbers while reducing his own casualties to a minimum.
Even today, he defeated 10,000 of Lord Cromwell’s troops, while losing only 3000 soldiers himself.
On the other hand, stands Eremus.
I had granted him the title of “sir” because, even though I wasn’t sure of his abilities, I could tell that the coup at Eagswall most likely took years of patience and a fair amount of cunning.
However, that man does not deserve such a noble title. His actions in today’s battle prove that he is evil, completely and utterly.
To use his own men as a sacrifice to increase his own knowledge of warfare…
How despicable.
However, his acts also reveal the difference in experience between him and Lord Munimentis. While Lord Munimetis has a solid base of experience in warfare, Eremus is using the blood of his own comrades to try and create that very same base.
In other words, Eremus is clearly the less skilled of the two. Not to mention that, while he defeated 15,000 of Atwood’s soldiers, his actions caused him to lose 20,000 troops of his own.
“My lord!” A servant enters my tent, “Here is the book you sent for!”
He hands me the book and I wave him away.
‘An Introduction to Military Strategy by Lord Julius Consilium’
It’s a nostalgic book. All nobles sent to the Miltary Academy used this book for most of their education to study strategy. That’s how I instantly recognized the familiar order of strategies used by Eremus. He has used almost all of those strategies, and now, only the last one remains. He is sure to try that too, judging by his pattern.
Now that I know what he is going to do next, my victory is assured. As stated in one of the first pages of this book: ‘If one can anticipate the enemy’s strategy, and execute a proper counter-strategy, then they can even overcome a vast difference in numbers.’
And, when I join Atwood, we will have 45,000 troops, while Eremus will have 40,000. An advantage of 5000 troops for us, so even numbers won’t be a problem for us.
The only one who can ruin this course of action is Lord Munimentis. He too went to the Military Academy, so he too should be able to spot the familiar pattern of Eremus’ tactics.
However, my spies report that a messenger was sent, but Eremus told his troops to send the messenger away without even hearing him out. This is concurrent with the reports I received from Eagswall a few days ago stating that there is tension between Eremus and Lord Munimentis.
As expected, there is a rift between the peasants and nobles. I only dread to imagine how much chaos this will cause in Salvorum if the enemy wins this civil war.
Either way, this rift will the enemy’s downfall. Because Eremus did not hear out Lord Munimentis’ message, I know exactly what he will do, and I know exactly how to defeat him with barely any casualties.
This civil war will end tomorrow. I can guarantee it.
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EREMUS
“Eremus,” Luna calls to me as I’m double-checking today’s reports.
I turn to her. Why did I even allow her to enter my tent as she pleased? It seems I’ve ended up growing fond of this girl.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Was it… wise to just send Lord Munimentis’ messenger away?” She asks hesitantly, “He could have had something important to say.”
I feel a pang of annoyance ruffle my insides, “I don’t care what Munimentis had to say. I’m finishing this battle my own way.”
Luna looks even more unsure at my answer, but I wave her off, “Go to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
She opens her mouth in protest, but then thinks better of it and leaves.
The next day, as my army gets back into formation, I notice that the enemy army is looking far larger than yesterday.
“Sir!” A messenger comes up to me, “Our spies have reported that Davis has joined Atwood’s forces and taken command. Their army now numbers 45,000!”
Their 45,000 against our 40,000, huh?
I look at ‘An Introduction to Military Strategy by Lord Julius Consilium’ in my hands. Let’s hope this book is correct.
The flagbearer gives me a nod. My army is ready.
We are now about to try the final basic tactic in this book. The bait and surround tactic. This tactic requires me to send a small force to bait the enemy too far onto my side, and then to send more troops up to surround the enemy and finish them off.
“Give the order,” I tell the flagbearer.
The flagbearer instantly raises a green flag, and the bait force advances.
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ROGER DAVIS
As expected, the bait is sent towards us first. It is composed of far more soldiers than it should be, but I suppose it makes sense as the enemy commander has never actually utilized this tactic before. I play along.
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My army gives chase, and the pieces slowly fall into place.
The enemy thinks they are being subtle. They think I don’t notice. But I already know what they are going to do, so I know well how to turn the situation on them.
I make sure that a fair bit of the army looks like they are giving chase, when in reality they still haven’t ventured too far deep into enemy lines.
Slowly… slowly… the enemy readies their trap, and slowly, I ready mine.
Then—
The enemy springs their trap!
Two columns of enemy troops rush ahead and surround my forces. The enemy’s surrounding force looks a bit thin, but this works better for me anyway. I raise my arm high, and my army instantly obeys in commencing the counter-strategy.
The majority of my forces, which didn’t penetrate too deep, break through the edges of the enemy’s surrounding forces, and surround them instead!
Instantly, the enemy’s tactic is turned on them, and now their defeat is certain.
So why—?
Why does the air feel so strange?
Why is something inside me screaming that something is wrong?
Why—?
Why is the enemy not panicking…?
And suddenly, realization hits me with me with the force of a sledgehammer. The larger than usual bait troops, the thinner than usual surrounding troops—!
‘If one can anticipate the enemy’s strategy, and execute a proper counter-strategy, then they can even overcome a vast difference in numbers.’
Eremus—!
That is what he was aiming for! He must have known that I would realize he was using ‘An Introduction to Military Strategy by Lord Julius Consilium’ to bolster his knowledge of warfare! He must have known that I would use this knowledge to my advantage!
That’s why he turned away Lord Munimentis’ messenger: so that I wouldn’t even suspect him of being informed of his supposed “fatal” mistake!
“RETREAT!” I yell to my troops, “RETREAT AT ONCE!”
My voice carries through the battlefield and no doubt reaches the ears of all those it needs to reach.
However—
It is too late.
Another pair of the enemy’s troop columns advances and surrounds my forces which had surrounded the enemy’s initial surrounding forces. Those forces of mine are locking in combat, and they can no longer escape.
In the middle, where I had sent my troops to pretend to fall into the enemy’s trap, the fighting is also fierce, and one that my forces can longer escape from. If they try, they will simply be hunted down from behind.
The enemy’s bait forces were larger than usual because Eremus intended to use them to properly face my troops in the first place. And his initial surrounding forces were thinner because they were the true bait all along.
My troops continue to suffer heavy casualties as I try to think of a way out of this mess. There must be something… something to turn the tide—something to save the lives of my troops!
But… no matter how hard I think. I cannot find a way out.
This is… my loss.
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EREMUS
The plan goes exactly as I envision it. I had been worried for a second when Munimentis sent his messenger last night, but it seems that me sending that messenger away without even meeting him worked out well.
Roger Davis didn’t suspect a thing until it was too late.
Now, his forces are trying to defeat my false bait forces in the middle so they can support their surrounding troops which are ironically surrounded, but it’s already too late. Fidel is leading the middle, and his prowess is showing.
Soon, the enemy’s army is whittled down to nothing, and I feel a large smirk spread across my face as the ground trembles at the cheers of my troops.
Yes… this is it! This is my victory!
I have proved once and for all, that I am better than Roger Davis—than Munimentis and his fellow nobles!
It still feels so muted, like it did yesterday—like I’m still an observer from far away—but I can’t deny the jubilation that rises up within me.
Finally—this civil war will end!
With this victory, Ducis and I are far closer to achieving our ambition than ever before!
In the midst of all this cheering, some of my troops bring me Atwood and Davis in chains. I only have eyes for the latter.
I tell my soldiers to take Atwood away.
Now, it is only me and Davis here. Even though he is kneeling on the ground and tied up, he still looks far nobler than any of the nobles I have ever seen. His black hair is loose and tangled, there are bruises on his gruff face, and it seems a part of his goatee was chopped off in the struggle to bring him in. And yet, he glares at me, like I’m the one on my knees before him.
“You are an evil man, Eremus,” Roger Davis says, the steel in his gravelly voice bared at me like a knife to my throat.
“I simply did what was necessary for my ambition,” I say. I don’t know why I’m trying to justify myself to Roger Davis, but for some reason, I can’t help myself.
Roger Davis smiles wryly, “I know of your ambition, and I also know—this was not necessary.”
His red eyes pierce through me, and for a split-second, they seem to flash a dull, lifeless blue. I instinctively take a step back as the world grows a little less muted around me.
“G-guards, take him away!” I yell.
There’s panic in my voice. I don’t know what or why, but I’m afraid of something—something I don’t want to acknowledge.
The guards come to me and escort Davis to where we’re keeping all the enemy soldiers who surrendered. Even as he’s being lead away, Davis’ eyes remain locked to my own, and I end up averting my gaze first.
I stare at the battlefield. My soldiers are busy at work, rounding up prisoners and searching for the dead and the wounded. Almost unconsciously, I walk there. As soldiers run around me, fulfilling their tasks, I realize that it’s almost like I’m in a haze. I’ve blocked something out.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Fidel. He’s kneeling on the ground, staring intently at something. I go to him, because of curiosity or something else, I don’t know.
When I reach him, I follow his gaze, and—
Metuculo.
There, lying in the grassy dirt is Metuculo, a spear running straight through his chest. His messy blonde hair is matted in blood, his skin is paler than I have ever seen, and the freckles and splatters of blood on his face are indistinguishable.
He’s dead. It’s obvious to see that the light from his eyes is already gone.
Fidel takes a deep breath, his face set in stone.
“Metuculo… he always followed me around, looking at me like I was the greatest hero in the world,” he says slowly, “It was a huge ego boost.”
I listen silently as Fidel lets loose a long, tired sigh.
“He was clumsy, and weak, and slow… but he tried—he always tried so hard. I never told him that I admired him for it. I was a little too embarrassed to admit it. But now… I guess I’ll never get to tell him now.”
Fidel turns to me, and gives me a tired grimace, “I know it was probably necessary, but I still can’t help but be a little angry. Not at you, boss, but at all this nonsense. At first, I only joined up because this country sucked for peasants like me. But now… I finally see what you and Ducis are going for. I’m going to do everything I can to help you guys achieve your goal.”
He fixes his gaze back on the cooling corpse of Metuculo without my leave. To be honest though, I don’t think either of us care about something like protocol right now.
More importantly, Fidel said he knew that this was probably necessary, but…
“I know of your ambition, and I also know—this was not necessary.”
That is what Roger Davis told me. And I wonder, was all this really necessary? Could I not have learned of the basics of warfare later on? After finishing this battle up with minimum casualties?
Why did I use this strategy, which sacrificed so many of my soldiers, just to gain knowledge in warfare faster?
‘I’ll show you, Munimentis…’
That is the declaration I had made in my mind right before the battle.
Does that mean… that I did all this just for the sake of my pride?
The veil lifts, and the muted nature of the world disappears. I can see everything as it is now.
Ah… something was breaking. Something is breaking. Something important inside me is cracking, slowly but surely.
Throwing away my morals… sacrificing my soldiers all for the sake of my pride…
It surely would have hurt, so I unconsciously dampened the world around me. But now I can see everything clearly.
The corpses on the ground stare at me, their eyes a field of dull, lifeless blue glaring at me—condemning me.
“Remember me—every time a new dye of blood stains your hand, RECALL MY FACE!”
Yes… I see now, these eyes…
They are a curse from Rex.
I should proudly be able to look back at these eyes right now, but because I confidently marched into the wrong path, because I willingly closed my eyes to the truth, I avert my gaze.
I’m sorry.
I will never let my pride take a hold of me like this. Never again.