Chapter 74: The Chaotic Pre-War Meeting

About a month after we arrived at Morning Light City, the troops stationed near the Royal Capital had reached nearly eighty thousand men. Fred’s goal of concentrating his main forces had been achieved, and the supply lines were starting to strain. Just at that moment, news came from all over the country that the Cretans were launching a massive invasion. The lands left unprotected by the garrisons fell into the hands of the long-plotting Cretans one piece after another, like sweet pastries being sliced off. Their original owners were frantic with worry. They cursed the cunning and treachery of the invading army, wishing they could rush back to their own territories at once, while the soldiers also worried about the situation back home.

This meant that the time for the counterattack had come.

Silver Shield Castle was built at the northern exit of Blade’s Edge Canyon, guarding the vital route from Morning Light City to the southern parts of the Kingdom of Delanmaya. It was less a castle and more a fortress pass, physically separating the central hills of Delanmaya from the southern plains. Legend had it that seven hundred years ago, when Delanmaya had not yet been founded and the continent’s landscape was vastly different from what it was now, General Barak, the famous general of the Kotek Empire who was known as the “King’s Sturdy Shield,” built the first wall protecting Morning Light City in just forty days, and with ten thousand elite troops scattered the southern Cambrias army beneath its walls. Emperor Mirappentys III of the empire praised this battle highly and decreed that a castle be built here, naming it “Silver Shield,” meaning “the shining shield that repels all blades for the empire.” Unfortunately, just three years after the castle’s completion, General Barak fell gravely ill and died. That same year, Silver Shield Castle was taken by a surprise attack from the Cambrias, proving the iron rule of war: “There are undefeatable generals, but no undefeatable cities.” The following year, the Kotek Empire fell.

The Cretans’ choice of Silver Shield Castle as the place to mass troops and apply pressure on Morning Light City made sense: the castle’s back faced Blade’s Edge Canyon, and on both sides were rocky cliffs that towered into the clouds, impossible for a large army to climb. Inside the castle, one could attack when advancing and defend when retreating. Even if the castle fell, the steep Blade’s Edge Canyon would help delay the pursuing troops and prevent a total rout. However, for us, there was not no good news: the main defensive direction of Silver Shield Castle was on the southern side. The tall, solid southern wall firmly blocked the canyon exit, while the northern defenses were not as well developed—though of course, that was only relatively speaking. As the most important defense line protecting the capital region, Silver Shield Castle, after years of management, had long become one of the kingdom’s most famous strongholds. Before this fortress fell, anyone would have believed that we faced a grueling, bitter battle. Though with our enormous numerical advantage victory was assured, many soldiers would surely fall forever in this siege. Moreover, the Cretans would not suffer any substantial losses.

No one could have imagined that this mighty fortress would be destroyed in a single night. That’s right, I said “destroyed”—the kind of “destroyed” that completely erased it from the kingdom’s map.

The one who accomplished all this was none other than Baron Miraze, that young nobleman who sent chills down my spine every time I thought of him.

It all started with a dispute over war strategy.

“There’s nothing to think about. We have eighty thousand troops in hand, and the garrison in the castle is less than twenty thousand. As long as we launch a proper frontal assault, Silver Shield Castle will be ours within five days.” The one speaking with such passion was Count Meril, one of Duke Gallett’s confidants.

“Count, what you say is true. But you must note that our enemies are not just the twenty thousand defenders, but also the Cretan army gathering in the south of the kingdom, and the Winstons in the north who are also occupying our territory. Every warrior’s life in our hands is precious, sir. You cannot waste them as carelessly as firewood.” The speaker was General Vincent, the man who had been thoroughly humiliated beneath the walls of Rileyville by Prince Louis’s charging formation, the “respectable” nobleman who had once slandered Fred shamelessly in the royal court. He had a well-known but never publicly acknowledged in-law relationship with our powerful Minister of Military Affairs. To be honest, hearing words like “every warrior’s life is precious” come from his mouth truly made me feel uneasy.

“But, General. The Cretans are ravaging the sacred territory of Delanmaya. We cannot tolerate such behavior for even a moment.” The Count’s tone carried dissatisfaction.

“Indeed, they are ravaging our sacred territory, and that naturally includes your beautiful estate as well.”

“What are you insinuating, General?” Count Meril shouted in fury, but his anger seemed laced with a trace of guilt.

“Insinuating? I’m not insinuating anything. I’m only reminding certain people not to treat the kingdom’s army as a tool for private gain.”

“You…” Count Meril looked ready to burst into angry curses, but was stopped by his colleague, Count Laxis, who was also one of Duke Gallett’s confidants.

“Then, General.” Count Laxis said methodically, “What is your opinion?”

“We completely surround Silver Shield Castle, and send a separate elite force around Mount Uzzig to seal off the southern exit of the canyon. Within fifteen days, at most thirty, the Cretans will collapse without a fight due to supply shortages. At that point, we block the canyon exit, attack from both sides, and annihilate the Cretans completely.” After finishing, General Vincent stroked his handsome brownish-yellow beard with a meaningful look and nodded and smiled at everyone. If I hadn’t just heard his dizzyingly stupid idea, I might really have taken him for a resourceful commander. After the disastrous defeat at Rileyville, we had heard something of General Vincent’s glorious achievements: he called himself “a faithful executor of classic siege tactics,” and his specialty was using several times or even dozens of times the enemy’s numbers to surround a few hundred bandits or thugs gathered together. The result of that went without saying. But even so, big jokes of letting the enemy slip through his fingers had happened more than once.

Count Laxis was not an idiot. He spotted the flaw in this so-called “classic tactic” at a glance—though more likely, he had known all along that General Vincent’s head only contained one stale idea, and had long prepared his response:

“General, if that’s the case, our ‘elite force’ would have to march through Cretan-occupied territory for as long as twenty days. Let’s not even mention whether they’d be ambushed. Can you guarantee that after twenty days, the Cretans won’t attack from somewhere else? Can you guarantee that the garrison and supplies at Silver Shield Castle won’t keep increasing after twenty days?”

“This is war. We have to take some risks!” General Vincent seemed to feel that being questioned like this had made him lose face.

“The Royal Capital is right behind us. We have no right to take risks!” Though Count Laxis’s words came from selfish motives, they still had some merit.

As the lords argued, the number of officers joining the dispute gradually grew, and the atmosphere in the meeting hall became strange and hostile. I deliberately paid close attention and seemed to discover the truth hidden beneath the complicated arguments:

Those who supported a full-force attack on Silver Shield Castle were mostly supporters of Duke Gallett in the struggle for the throne. Duke Gallett’s own territory was also on the southern plains. If the Cretans were allowed to run rampant, the economic and military strength of Duke Gallett’s faction would take a serious hit, directly putting them at a disadvantage in the power struggle at home.

This was also likely the main reason the Minister of Military Affairs’ faction advocated delaying the war.

Fred sat at the table in the center of the meeting room, looking very unwell. Millia’s departure had drained away almost all of his joy. Despite Baron Miraze’s insistence, he firmly refused all social invitations. However, the Baron was indeed an old hand at handling such matters. Through some channel or other, he had spread the love story between Fred and Millia, embellished with extra details, among the famous ladies and misses of the Royal Capital, earning quite a few tears and much curiosity from kind-hearted women. This meant that Fred, far from seeming rude for declining invitations, instead became respected and beloved through these whispered conversations passed from mouth to mouth. Of course, Fred had no idea that his name had become synonymous with “the ultimate lover” in the hearts of many noble women of Morning Light City. He simply shut himself in his study every day, buried in mountains of battle reports and plans, wishing he could skip the time for eating and sleeping altogether. We had all urged him to rest properly, but it had no effect.

“I know what I’m doing, my friends. This isn’t a good method, I know that too, but it’s probably the only way I can relax my mind right now. Please don’t worry about me. All I need is a little time…”

Indeed, he was probably the only one among us who didn’t need reminders or advice. He was clever, calm, and always able to judge things correctly. But a person’s emotions are not controlled by reason. When faced with his own feelings, the best he could do was to use the wrong method to do the right thing.

Now, he was propping his forehead with his right hand, leaning sideways in his chair, observing this military farce unfolding before him with a mocking and helpless gaze. Even setting aside the emotional turmoil, I felt sympathy for my young friend: though he nominally held command of the army, the partisan struggles over the throne had greatly weakened his authority, making it impossible for him to exercise his exceptional command abilities as he once had. He was like a warrior trapped in a narrow crevice—possessing extraordinary skill, yet with both hands and feet pinned by two hard rocks, unable even to draw his weapon.

And at this moment when he needed help, we were powerless. In fact, given our ranks and backgrounds, just being allowed to sit in this meeting hall was already the result of Fred’s special efforts. At this long rectangular table, we sat so far from Fred that we were almost against the opposite wall, so far that we could barely make out his face. Sitting in our position, we had no qualification to express opinions at all. Even if we had the right to speak, we absolutely could not open our mouths, because we all knew that at this sensitive moment, every word we said could bring Fred endless trouble. All we could do was stay silent and keep our mouths shut.

Silence—that was the greatest help we could offer Fred.

“These damned idiots. Even Red Flame’s mules fight better than they do.” Riley complained in a low voice. I was startled and quickly patted his knee, signaling him to stop complaining before it caused unnecessary trouble. Fred looked over at us at that moment, and I waved my arm slightly, signaling him to keep enduring.

Just then, Baron Miraze’s clear voice rang out again in the meeting hall:

“My lords, I think we can first summarize the problems at hand.”

The Baron’s recent performance had deeply won the attention of all the high-ranking officials present. His clever mind and flawless way of handling affairs, especially the “deep friendship with General Fred” he had recently displayed, kept people from looking down on him because of his low title. On many occasions, people almost treated him as Fred’s spokesperson, though that was not entirely accurate.

“The problems we need to deal with are no more than the following. First, we must rush to the southern plains as quickly as possible, to avoid any surprises in the battles to come…”

His words drew loud approval from Duke Gallett’s faction, while the Minister of Military Affairs’ faction wore looks of disdain.

“Second, we must minimize our losses so that after taking the castle, we can prepare for the prolonged war that will follow…”

The Minister of Military Affairs’ faction rang out in agreement like startled flies, while Duke Gallett’s faction fell into chaos. Some impatient young nobles even shouted: “You can’t win a war without losing some men!”

“Additionally, I want to add one more point: although our food reserves are still sufficient for now, most of that is the result of support from the southern plains. If we cannot quickly reopen the route to the southern territory, I fear our eighty thousand troops won’t last long. General Vincent, perhaps you could unite the lords of the Holy Grail Basin to take full responsibility for the logistics of our eighty thousand troops. If so, I believe your siege strategy has great potential.”

General Vincent’s territory was precisely the largest piece of fertile land in the Holy Grail Basin. He lowered his head and hastily calculated the required amounts, his expression suddenly changing. He shook his head and fell silent, saying nothing more. The lords who had originally supported him gradually quieted down as well. Indeed, logistics were not just the Cretans’ weakness—they were also a headache for us. The war with the Winstons had already consumed more than half of the grain stores in the central and northern regions. Now that it was late autumn and early winter, to rely entirely on this region’s resources to sustain a prolonged war of attrition would require the central and northern nobles to bleed their own wealth to supply it. That was even more painful than cutting flesh from their bones.

Logistics might not decide the situation of a war as visibly and directly as the numbers of soldiers and weapons, but it was truly the most powerful determining force in the course of a war. For someone like me, who had long worked in logistics, recognizing this was not difficult. But at this moment, it had become an efficient thread in Miraze’s hands, tightly binding together the two opposing sides that had been irreconcilable. The Baron had raised the right question at the right time. Now, even if there were still some immature people who opposed a quick attack, they were reminded by their still-sober allies and reluctantly backed down.

“You mean, we really have to launch a full-force assault on Silver Shield Castle?” Fred asked the Baron with a trace of gratitude. After all, it was the Baron who had freed my friend from the endless, irritating arguments. If not for the infuriating proud smile that hung at the corner of his mouth, even I might have developed a liking for him.

“There’s no need for that, General. Give me five days, and I can present the castle to you with its shell peeled off!” At this moment, Baron Miraze said something that shocked everyone present. To those generals and nobles, probably only the most deranged madman would say something so reckless and overconfident.

“Baron, this is simply absurd. What method will you use to accomplish this goal?” Count Laxis was so shocked his mouth couldn’t close. “If you truly can do it, it would be the greatest magic trick in history.”

“Magic? Count, I like that word. But as you know, before the trick works, its mystery cannot be revealed to everyone.” He turned his head toward Fred and said, “General Guderian, if I can obtain your approval, I will have the honor of presenting a wonderful magic show for all the lords present.”

“What do you need, what troops and equipment, Baron?” Fred responded quickly without much deliberation. Though from his doubtful expression I could tell that even he didn’t know what the Baron was planning, he didn’t seem to doubt that the Baron could accomplish the task well.

Could it be that this young Baron’s wisdom and cleverness had already left my outstanding friend in the dust?

For no reason, I suddenly felt a chill in my heart. That feeling made me very uncomfortable.

“I don’t need more men. My eight hundred personal guards are enough. As for equipment, sir, I have already prepared everything.” The Baron’s words provoked an even stronger reaction: with only eight hundred men, he was going to break a solid castle defended by twenty thousand elite troops. You didn’t need any special knowledge of tactics or strategy—as long as a person knew basic arithmetic, they could easily arrive at the answer “impossible.” The generals in the meeting room whispered among themselves, and some simply shouted in a voice everyone could hear: “This guy is crazy!”

“If there’s anything else I need, General, I’ll need your cover. If possible, please send troops to challenge the castle beneath Silver Shield’s walls for three consecutive days. And if you’re willing, a slight feint attack would make the effect even better.” Baron Miraze paid no attention to the others’ murmurs, only provocatively looking at Fred. That familiar look flashed in his eyes once more—the look of pride, the look of fanaticism. The owner of that look seemed to be the master of this hall, and other than Fred, he regarded no one at all.

“Very well, you will receive sufficient support.” Fred looked straight into his eyes, his expression calm. I didn’t know who else besides Fred could remain calm under such a burning gaze, without even a slight furrow of the brow.

“Then I shall take my leave, Commander.” The Baron struggled through those words, turned around, and left the meeting hall. When he spat out that last honorific through gritted teeth, it was as if he had suffered the greatest humiliation.