Chapter 76: Dividing into Three Routes

On the second day after Silver Shield Castle was destroyed, emissaries from the Royal Capital arrived. They brought the order to promote Baron Miraze to Lieutenant Colonel Staff Officer, and also brought His Majesty the King’s demand to retake the lost territories as soon as possible.

The Baron showed not the slightest joy at his own promotion. Perhaps, to him, such a position was only a humiliation in disguise.

“According to the normal strategic pattern, it would be better for us to divide our forces into three routes here, advancing toward the southern plains from the east and west sides of Mount Uzzig and through Blade’s Edge Canyon respectively.” In the subsequent private discussion with Fred, the Baron made this suggestion.

“Although the advance of the Eastern Route Army and the Western Route Army will be slowed by the terrain, this way we can take control of the main roads leading to the southern plains, keep the Cretans from cutting off our retreat, and also ensure that Morning Light City will not be attacked by enemy surprise troops.”

“I think so too,” Fred nodded in agreement. “And we should leave five thousand men at both ends of the canyon to rebuild the passes, ensuring the safety of the canyon passage.”

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t get blown flat by the Cretans again,” Rodrick said from the side.

“Creating an explosion of that scale is not a simple matter, sir,” Baron Miraze explained impatiently to Rodrick. “Apart from preparing a large amount of specially made explosives, one also has to know the structure of the mountain and the formation of its rocks like the palm of one’s hand. Otherwise, no matter how much effort is spent, it will only blast up a layer of rock chips and dirt. I also spent a great deal of time on Mount Uzzig when I was studying geology—without that, there was no way I could have found the right blasting points in just a few days.”

My heart gave a slight leap: Could he have thought about how to destroy Silver Shield Castle long ago?

This suspicious thought flashed through my mind and was gone.

“I suggest…” The Baron turned back to Fred and said, “Let the 1st and 3rd Legions, together with some of the southern nobles’ private troops, form the Eastern Route Army, with General Carterlake, commander of the 1st Legion, as the overall commander. Most of them are supporters of Duke Gallett. This operation is to retake their own lands, so there should be no major problems. Although Carterlake is a bit pedantic and not flexible enough in deploying troops, for regular battles he can barely pass as a careful, disciplined commander. Moreover, the southern nobles are in a hurry to get their lands back, so they will inevitably be eager for quick gains and prone to reckless advances. He can also play a restraining role.”

“Let the armies of the two factions advance separately to avoid internal friction? Although there will be problems in mutual coordination, for now this is the only way. But if so, the Western Route Army seems to lack trustworthy commanders. The two commanders of the 6th and 11th Legions…” Without needing him to remind us, we all knew how worrying those two were: Lieutenant General Fentron, who was timid and afraid of trouble, and Lieutenant General Kanwei, who was reckless and impetuous. The fact that those two could survive for so long without a single scratch on battlefields where life hung by a thread could only be called a negative miracle created by the God of War and the God of Death working hand in hand.

“You should not only pay attention to the legion commanders, my lord. In fact, there is a more suitable candidate.” The Baron was equally full of contempt for those two senior officers. “In fact, I think the commander of the Western Route Army should be General Vincent. Don’t be surprised, my lord. Although General Vincent lost his legion beneath the walls of Rileyville, he is now in control of two private forces totaling five thousand men—his own and Marquis Meneval’s. It is the strongest military force apart from the kingdom’s regular legions. By status, he is the former superior of the two legion commanders; by kinship, he and the Minister of Military Affairs share a secret in-law connection through the marriage of their children, and he is the representative of Marquis Meneval’s power in the army. Having him serve as the overall commander of the Western Route Army should be the most suitable choice.”

“I don’t think General Vincent’s skill in commanding troops is any more reassuring than the two Lieutenant Generals,” I spoke up in opposition at this point. I really could not forget this incompetent general’s ugly performance beneath the walls of Rileyville. Not only had he dared to suffer a complete defeat at the hooves of the Winstons’ horses while holding an absolute advantage, he had also shifted the blame at court and heaped baseless slander on Fred. If someone like him were made the commander of the Western Route Army, the day of our complete annihilation would be just around the corner.

“Indeed, Lieutenant Colonel Gid, relying on General Vincent alone cannot accomplish the task of outflanking and encircling the enemy. But fortunately His Excellency the General isn’t a stubborn man. As long as you can gain his trust, he will be willing to listen to your sound judgments. So we only need to equip him with a competent legion staff officer, and the Western Route Army’s operations will be guaranteed. Fortunately, we have exactly such a person.”

“Who?” Fred asked.

“Me.” Baron Miraze gave a slight nod.

“Early this morning, our dear General Vincent couldn’t wait to come and express to me his friendship with His Excellency the Minister of Military Affairs. His attitude was so sincere that I really couldn’t bear to refuse him.” The Baron said with a contemptuous smile. “I think General Vincent won’t refuse my good intentions…”

My heart was startled: General Vincent, that old fox, was really quick at buying people’s loyalty. In one move, he had pulled the young Baron who had created a miracle over to his side. Whether in terms of reputation in the army or practical effect, the addition of this sensation-causing Baron was a powerful bargaining chip for his camp.

“Congratulations, Mr. Baron. This shows that you have become someone valued by the Minister of Military Affairs,” I said with pointed implication. Indeed, others might not know, but we all understood that if this proud, haughty young man sided with the Minister of Military Affairs and was given important positions, then, adding his keen strategic insight and the enormous influence created by his newly established achievements, the scales of the throne would undoubtedly tip heavily toward Marquis Meneval’s side. Thinking of this, I also recalled the not-so-friendly look that Baron Miraze had given Fred, and I felt a little worried for my friend.

“Oh, Mr. Gid, you truly sadden me. I am not the kind of person who would be pleased by being valued by others, especially by such an old, incompetent fool.” The Baron’s answer was as proud as ever. “You don’t actually think I’ve gone over to that old man Meneval’s side, do you? I just think that at this stage, we might as well take advantage of their curiosity. I believe General Guderian doesn’t need me standing by and meddling during a battle.”

Although his words were not free of sarcasm, no matter what, they put our minds at ease a great deal. Although I had never had any particular liking for the Baron, he had indeed helped us a lot in this whirlpool of power where danger lurked at every step. No matter which side he leaned toward now, Fred and the rest of us would all be implicated. This we all knew very well.

The decision to divide into three routes was proposed at the subsequent war council and was passed without difficulty. The 1st and 3rd Legions controlled by Duke Gallett’s faction, together with the southern nobles’ private troops supporting him, totaling about thirty thousand men, formed the Eastern Route Army, commanded by General Carterlake, the commander of the 1st Legion. The 6th and 11th Legions controlled by Marquis Meneval’s faction, together with the nobles’ private troops from the central region, totaling about twenty-five thousand men, formed the Western Route Army, led by General Vincent. The main force of the 9th Legion and the remaining private troops, totaling about twenty thousand men, formed the Central Route Army directly under Fred’s command. The 6th Independent Legion of about five thousand men, commanded by Major General Festerian, stayed behind at Blade’s Edge Canyon to provide support. Through this division, the two factions in the army were clearly separated. Driven by common interests, these foolish and arrogant nobles were united as never before, while their contempt and hatred for each other stirred up thoughts of competition in their hearts. Under the influence of many factors, the commanders of this great army did indeed look a bit more like soldiers than before.

“All of your achievements will be reported directly to His Majesty the King, and His Majesty will certainly make appropriate judgments about your rewards based on your deeds. The gods will surely bless the sacred land of Delanmaya and illuminate the path of our glorious return.” At the end of the meeting, Fred said these words according to Baron Miraze’s instructions. These words were simply telling everyone blatantly: your achievements will add bargaining chips for your masters in the contest for the throne, so go ahead and kill the enemy to your heart’s content. All the commanders in the meeting room who were not idiots had their eyes shining after hearing this, each wishing they could immediately find the Cretan army, charge into their ranks, and slaughter them to the last. This kind of agitation through the lure of benefits had never been liked by my friend, but it had to be admitted that for these despicable creatures whose eyes could only see power and money, such agitation was indeed very effective.

“General Vincent, from today on, you are my superior officer. Please take care of me and offer your guidance in everything.” After the meeting, I saw Baron Miraze putting on a show of getting close to General Vincent.

“Lord Baron, you are young and capable. With you assisting me, our great army will surely advance with unstoppable force.” General Vincent slapped the Baron’s shoulder vigorously to show friendliness. For a fleeting moment, disgust at this deliberate display of friendliness showed in the Baron’s eyes. But he stood there respectfully all along, his face full of sincerity as he said nonsense that no one believed:

“General Vincent is a famous general in the Delanmaya Army. Your glorious achievements have always been kept in my heart. I can say that I grew up listening to your heroic legends since I was a child. This time, being fortunate enough to follow you and learn the affairs of military command is truly my honor. As for ‘assisting you,’ those words truly make me feel unworthy and uneasy.”

“Hahaha, you are far too modest, sir.” It was obvious that General Vincent was pleased by the Baron’s flattery, especially the part about “growing up listening to heroic legends,” which was original and won his great favor. He then affectionately placed his right hand on the Baron’s shoulder, and the two walked away talking along the way. Behind them, countless pairs of eyes with ulterior motives were watching. In the eyes of Duke Gallett’s confidants, Baron Miraze had probably already become an unwelcome person. They probably did not know that in the young Baron’s proud heart, General Vincent—and even the Minister of Military Affairs above him—was no more than “a person who could be used.” That man’s desire for power perhaps surpassed even the greatest schemer among them, and perhaps even he himself did not know how high a position could satisfy his intense lust for power. At this moment, I even felt a bit worried for the smug General Vincent. That muddled old man had no idea that the person he was winning over was a fierce wolf that could not be bought with short-term benefits.

Since they had to take a roundabout route for a long journey, at dawn the next day, the Eastern Route Army and the Western Route Army broke camp and set out simultaneously. We spent five days clearing a road that could ensure the passage of the army through the rocks and loose soil piled up in Blade’s Edge Canyon, then passed through the canyon and entered the land of the Greenleaf Plains in the south.

By this time, it was already the season of early winter’s first chill. The ground was covered in withered grass, making the Greenleaf Plains somewhat undeserving of its name. From time to time, gusts of cool wind carrying a thread of chill blew past us, piercing through our heavy armor into our bodies and making us shiver now and then. The days had become visibly shorter, and the most reliable proof was that the distances we marched by sunrise and sunset were getting shorter and shorter. The nights grew longer and longer, and the cold became harder and harder to endure. Sometimes we had to spread all our clothes over the blankets to resist the gradually deepening cold. Every morning, the frost covered the plains in a vast expanse of white, as if the gods had laid out a paradise with silver.

Unfortunately, this was not a paradise, but a battlefield. What was destined to cover this place in the end would not be the grace bestowed by the gods, but dripping fresh blood.

This cold weather was our blessing, for our enemies were the Cretans from the warm south. To save their lives, some soldiers were already praying to the gods for this winter to be colder, and even colder. If there were no war, if they were at home with their wives and children right now, perhaps their wishes would have been exactly the opposite. But now, although the bitter cold of deep winter was something no one was willing to endure, it had become the most important comrade-in-arms for our soldiers, who had long been used to the severe cold of the north. They would rather suffer the torment of the cold wind than face the enemy’s fierce, deadly blades. This was precisely the humble yet contradictory hope of these soldiers, who could permanently fall here at any moment.

On the fourth day after entering the Greenleaf Plains, Riley and Roll, as originally arranged, led three thousand men toward Dark Cloud Fortress in the southwest to reinforce its defenses. Dark Cloud Fortress was a vital thoroughfare guarding the three passages leading to the Greenleaf Plains in the northeast, the Vida Basin in the south, and the Gemflower Plains in the northwest. Now that the Vida Basin in the south had been completely taken by the Cretans, the fortress served as the transport hub connecting us with General Vincent’s Western Route Army. As one could imagine, in the near future, that place would become an important battlefield where the two armies would fight fiercely.

Saying goodbye to friends was always painful, especially saying goodbye on a battlefield. No one knew when we would meet again, and no one could even guarantee that there would still be a day of reunion.

Although we could not stop any of this from happening, we could, before parting, wholeheartedly say “take care” to one another.

“You two take care of yourselves, and bring my army back in good shape.” When saying goodbye, Fred repeatedly instructed Riley.

“I promise. I’ll bring it back to you exactly as I took it. Are you satisfied now?” Riley answered with a beaming smile, then turned to Dakla and said:

“Big guy, you’d better be careful this time. If you get hurt again, I won’t be able to hurry over from Dark Cloud Fortress to save you.”

“Hmph, I wouldn’t dare get hurt again anyways. Last time, Millia’s wound medicine nearly killed me on the spot. Fortunately, I…” Suddenly, reminded by Riley’s vigorous winking, he barely realized something and finally stopped, looking at Fred with a face full of apology. We all fell silent at the same time. The atmosphere suddenly became somewhat awkward.

“It’s all right. What needs to pass will always pass. If I can’t even bear to mention her name, what courage would I have left to face this war?” Fred said with a bitter smile. “Alright, let’s not talk about this anymore. You must closely watch the movements of the Western Route Army. I don’t trust them. If their defense line collapses, immediately retreat to Gulen City in the northeast. Absolutely never fight on two fronts.”

“Don’t worry. When has my defense line ever let you down?” Riley said cheerfully.

“Everyone… please… don’t die…” It was only when they were about to set out that Roll, standing at the side, blushed and shouted to us loudly. His clumsy farewell caused many of the nearby officers and soldiers to laugh out loud.

But I felt a little heavy in my heart, and in the end, I could not laugh. There was no worse farewell than these words, and yet there were no words that could more aptly express how we felt toward each other at this moment.

Everyone, don’t die.

Perhaps, in a brutal war, this was nothing more than a luxury fantasy that everyone yearned for.