Chapter 182 - Face to Face with the Marshal (6)
"Is it true that Krieger is here?"
As soon as Estelle returned to the front line, which had been pushed back, and saw Bertrand's face, she asked him that question.
Because she needed to present herself well in Konchanya's society, Estelle had started growing her hair out again, and she looked as radiant as a flower in full bloom.
However, it was equally obvious to everyone that she was also bristling with thorns—and even harbored deadly poison—so no one dared to speak to Estelle casually.
"Ah, Sir Estelle. You've done well. Thanks to you, we were able to get through this crisis."
Bertrand greeted her with a gentle smile, unbothered by her blunt attitude.
He even praised her contributions, despite the fact that all she had done in this battle was wait and then be repositioned.
"…Are you mocking me right now?"
Estelle frowned.
Even though she was acting so rudely, no one could call her out on it, simply because of the shift in positions after Bertrand's exile to Konchanya.
Though Bertrand was royalty, his country had fallen, and despite his abilities, they were dismissed because of Ernest.
If not for the troops who'd followed him, he would already be locked away in the Konchanya royal palace, treated as nothing more than a stud horse for breeding children.
Konchanya's plan was to have a son with Bertrand—thereby muddying the line of succession when Belliang was restored, and ultimately swallowing up Belliang for themselves.
To that end, they relentlessly pressured Bertrand to marry into their family.
Estelle, in contrast, was someone Konchanya desperately wanted for themselves right now.
Although her Balt efficiency was considered dreadful, no one in the world could match her ability.
She could overturn tactics and perfect strategy with her individual power.
Above all else, it's her efficiency that makes her unparalleled.
Just give her three Balt Batteries, and she can wipe out an entire battalion by herself.
That's why so many nobles in Konchanya are showering Estelle with gifts and proposing marriage.
Simply winning Estelle would be a gain in itself, but if her child is born with Balt abilities, it would be the most profitable deal imaginable—worth every penny spent and more.
In other words, at this point, Estelle held a higher position in Konchanya than Bertrand did.
"Hahaha, how could I possibly mock you? If not for you, I wouldn't have survived this long," Bertrand said with a hearty laugh.
Estelle's expression darkened even further at that, but Bertrand just watched her reaction with a leisurely wave of his hand.
"I wasn't being sarcastic. If it weren't for you, the Fox wouldn't have backed off. I might already be having my entrails eaten by now."
He wasn't trying to flatter her—he was simply stating the truth.
Without Estelle, Ernest might have turned to 1st Battalion Commander Soren right then and said, "Now that Count Lafayette has appeared, things should be easy. Let's capture him here."
It takes at least three Baltrachers to face off with Estelle.
And even then, the only way it would work is if Ernest—with his extraordinary tactical mind—commanded them personally.
Without Ernest, they would need at least four Baltrachers, and if Estelle was fully equipped with Balt Batteries, it might take five to subdue her.
In effect, Estelle alone wields the power of an entire battalion.
Beyond that, with her overwhelming mobility, she can strike anywhere she wants with battalion-level force, exactly when and where she chooses.
If you look at it that way, it's fair to say her influence is on the level of a whole regiment.
"…He's really here…"
Estelle grit her teeth.
She had desperately hoped he was dead, but he had survived.
She'd thought she'd never see him again on the battlefield, yet here they were, meeting once more so soon.
He truly is like a cockroach.
To make sure she finished him off, she'd probably have to burn the whole building down.
"Still, it's fortunate that he's still in a position where he takes orders on the field. I don't know what tricks he pulled, but even after receiving this Count Lafayette's surrender document, he apparently brushed things under the rug. Or maybe, even though his accomplishments were recognized, he couldn't get promoted because of the Imperial Army's rigid rank structure."
"He's still just a company commander?"
"That's right, he's a company commander."
"Hah."
Estelle scoffed briefly at Bertrand's words.
The derision wasn't directed at Ernest, but at the Imperial Army itself.
The Imperial Army had subdivided roles to create a more systematic chain of command.
But at the same time, they'd introduced such a rigid hierarchy that it became impossible to utilize talent flexibly.
"This may be our last chance to kill that bastard. Let's switch to the offensive."
Estelle's beautiful green eyes, reminiscent of summer, glinted with murderous intent as she insisted on launching an attack.
Bertrand, as if trying to calm her down, raised both hands in a gentle, placating gesture.
"Now, now, let's take it easy, Sir Estelle. Of course, I want to go fox hunting too, but unfortunately, that's not an option for us right now. Isn't it a problem if our soldiers suffer any more losses?"
"..."
Estelle understood well enough how precarious Bertrand's position was.
If Estelle were to fully side with Konchanya, Bertrand would immediately become as helpless as a kite with its string cut.
He couldn't afford to lose the Belliang soldiers, who were both his real fighting force and his political base within Konchanya.
"It would be nice if Konchanya offered us reinforcements, but I doubt that's going to happen."
If Konchanya sent additional troops, Bertrand could go on the offensive right away and drive the 13th and 14th Regiments out of the forest.
But there was simply no room for that.
Even though the 15th Regiment and the 6th Division were small in number, if he let down his guard, the defensive line could be breached at any moment.
"For now, let's put off the fox hunt.
Shouldn't we focus on the mission at hand?"
"But we've already given up half the forest to those bastards. If we don't take the offensive, Konchanya will start to doubt Your Excellency."
At Estelle's words, Bertrand responded with a broad grin.
That smile was partly the confident grin of someone who sensed victory, but it was also a relieved smile, reassured that Estelle was still on his side.
Bertrand spoke with conviction.
"There's no need to worry about that, Sir Estelle. The moment we established and solidified a front line, we'd already won."
"…What?"
Estelle's eyes widened in disbelief at Bertrand, who was confidently proclaiming victory even after giving up half the forest.
The fierce, venomous flower that had been brandishing thorns just moments before seemed to have returned to her original pure and lively self.
Bertrand watched Estelle and gave a faint chuckle.
Estelle suddenly snapped back, furrowing her brow deeply.
"We've built a solid front line here. Maybe a fox could dig a tunnel and sneak past, but what authority does a lowly company commander have to lead troops at the regimental level and dig tunnels?"
Even as he acknowledged Ernest's abilities, Bertrand mocked the reality of Ernest's position.
"Is Konchanya in a hurry, or is the Empire in a hurry?"
And as Bertrand joked, Estelle also understood the situation.
Just as Bertrand said, the Belliang Army had already beaten the Imperial Army.
Before long, they would be able to drive the Imperial Army out and completely reclaim the forest.
***
"So far, we have succeeded in securing nearly half the forest and establishing a front line But any further attack seems impossible. We're up against Bertrand; if we try attacking, all we'll do is reenact the Battle of Bertagne Forest."
"..."
Colonel Levin Ort, commander of the 13th Regiment, unlike his usual self, listened as Lieutenant Colonel Soren Kaufmann spoke with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, and then he slowly closed his eyes, sinking into thought.
'I've done all that could be done. It's just that the opponent was too strong, so we could only achieve a partial success. Any further attacks would only increase our casualties. We should be satisfied with having secured half the forest in a standoff, and focus on defense.'
Soren, in saying this, was trying to gloss over both achievements and mistakes and focus on self-preservation by hunkering down rather than launching any reckless assaults—a rare moment of fervent speech from him.
But he was far too talented to be left in a backwater post, which is why Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann, Chief of Staff of the 2nd Corps, had dragged him out by the scruff of his neck and appointed Soren,as the battalion commander of his beloved grandson.
And now, Soren had accurately grasped and articulated the current situation.
We must not attack.
We should be content with holding half the forest, and devote ourselves to defending what we've taken.
"It was a difficult operation, and a formidable opponent, but you've all accomplished the mission admirably. Everyone did well. I'll make sure upper command recognizes the value of your efforts."
After much deliberation, Levin decided to view this outcome as a half success, rather than a half failure.
For that reason, he gave high praise to the battalion commanders who risked their lives to lead the troops on the field.
Levin believed that those who struggled firsthand in the field deserved rewards, far more than those who sat in the safety of the rear and did nothing but talk.
That was true in the past and remains true now, so when reporting to the higher-ups this time too, he'd insist, "I did nothing. It was my subordinates who suffered on the front lines—please acknowledge their deeds and see that they are rewarded"
"How can this be my accomplishment? We owe it all to the Regimental Commander's guidance from above, and to the subordinates who followed orders so well below."
However, receiving recognition for his achievements and catching the attention of the higher-ups was the last thing Soren wanted, so he adopted a serious tone and credited all his success to Levin and his subordinates.
"Ha! 1st Battalion Commander, you're truly a remarkable man. I consider it an honor to have fought alongside someone like you. But if someone of your caliber doesn't get credit for his deeds, then who would ever fight bravely? Don't be modest. If you refuse this recognition, it'll only dampen the morale of the entire regiment."
"Indeed, that's exactly right! Regimental Commander, in this battle, Lieutenant Colonel Kaufmann's wisdom soared like the clouds, and his courage struck like lightning. Without him, we never could have broken through the enemy's defensive line so smoothly in the northern forest. If not for him, my 2nd Battalion might have been wiped out by Bertrand's schemes. If that had happened, the 13th Regiment would have been forced to retreat, and then the 14th Regiment would have been annihilated as well. All of this is thanks to Lieutenant Colonel Kaufmann, so please ensure he receives the recognition he deserves."
"P-please, that's enough…"
"1st Battalion Commander! Don't be embarrassed! The credit is all yours!"
When the noble Lieutenant Colonel Soren Kaufmann, a hero whose virtue shone like the sun, whose wisdom floated like a cloud, and whose valor struck like thunder, tried to decline the honors, the commanders of the 2nd and 3rd Battalions stepped up.
They even set aside their own accomplishments to praise Soren and insisted that all recognition should go to him.
If a man like this doesn't deserve a reward, then who possibly could It would benefit the military to promote him as soon as possible and let him serve in a position befitting his abilities.
Perhaps they were witnessing the moment when a hidden tiger finally revealed itself to the world in all its majesty. It was hard to believe that this heroic figure had spent so long idling away in a quiet post as a major.
'He never had the chance to soar because no one recognized his talents! The Chief of Staff's insight for recognizing him is truly extraordinary.'
The commanders of the 2nd and 3rd Battalions, who had seen the 1st Battalion led by Soren firsthand on the field, were deeply impressed by the emergence of this hero and the wisdom of the Chief of Staff who recognized him.
Just two months ago, Soren was only a major; even if he were promoted rapidly, none of them would feel any of the pettiness or jealousy that usually accompanies such success.
Soren was never meant to remain a mere battalion commander.
How could a mere human hope to block out the sun with his small hand?
All he's hiding is his own narrow vision.
Even if you cover your own eyes, the sun will still shine its light upon the world for all to see.
It's just a matter of time—sooner or later, Soren will be promoted.
And the sooner he rises, the more the army, and the Empire, will benefit, so he must be promoted without delay.
"I'll make sure to inform the higher-ups of my 1st Battalion Commander's accomplishments."
When even the battalion commanders—who are supposed to be competing for recognition and rewards—joined together to extol Soren's achievements, how could Colonel Levin Ort, commander of the 13th Regiment, simply pretend not to notice?
Levin gazed at Soren with passionate eyes and spoke seriously and firmly.
'Even if this war ends here, it won't be long before another one begins. As a soldier, I can't just stand by and let someone of his caliber be pushed off to some unimportant post.'
Levin saw straight through to the dream of being a honeybee that Soren held in his heart.
The problem was that Soren was simply too talented to let him quietly chase that dream.
He must be kept on a tight leash and driven relentlessly so that he works diligently for the army.
Frankly, this bee bastard has been living off the rank of major far too long.
He's old enough that it would have made sense for him to wear a colonel's insignia by now, but he's managed to cling to the rank of major for nearly ten years.
If you hang around that long as a major, people normally assume you're incompetent, and yet, oddly enough, those around him have never rated him poorly.
It means he has keenly read the room and navigated the razor's edge of everyone's expectations and standards.
"Who knows, maybe the 1st Battalion Commander will go down in Imperial Army history as the officer who served the shortest time as lieutenant colonel before getting promoted to colonel."
"Haha! Kaufmann, it's only been two months since you made lieutenant colonel, right? At this rate, you might get promoted before the year's out!"
"..."
Surrounded by people constantly showering him with praise, Soren's face went pale and his lips quivered.
Only then did Soren realize what was happening.
The precious dream he had cherished close to his heart had long since been shattered, trampled into the ground.
Denying reality, he'd been desperately scraping together those broken pieces with the mud, clutching what amounted to refuse against his chest and gazing upward at a hopeless dream.
The look on the face of a man who had lost a dream he had treasured for so long resembled a corpse.
It was a truly pitiful, tragic sight.
Perhaps this was the punishment he deserved for betraying Ernest and unilaterally disbanding the Beekeepers Alliance.
He'd do well to accept it.
Or not.
Regardless of the wretched moment when Soren Kaufmann, the living, breathing 1st Battalion Commander, lost his dream and became a wax doll, the 13th and 14th Regiments, having established their lines at the front, stood face to face with the enemy in tense confrontation.
"Haah…"
"Haahhh…"
"Haaahhh…"
"Haaaahhhh…"
"..."
Despite their outstanding performance in the recent battle and barely taking any casualties—which should have meant high morale—Ernest, the 2nd Company commander of the 1st Battalion; Robert, the 1st Platoon Leader; and Baltachers, Isaac, and Bruno could do nothing but sigh over and over again.
Billim, who was still new to all this, watched his seniors anxiously, trying to read the room.
Simon, as always, kept his focus solely on his own tasks.
"Why… why are you all acting like this?"
Wanting to ease his sense of isolation and unease, Billim cautiously asked the question.
Robert, his face looking drained, turned to Billim as he let out another deep sigh.
"Must be nice for you… to not be sighing in a situation like this…"
"No, I mean, what's…"
"We're facing off against Count Lafayette, setting up a defensive line in the forest. This is just like the Bertagne Forest, all over again."
"..."
Having never experienced the Battle of Bertagne Forest, Billim was left speechless.
If he dared say something like "Is it really that bad?" here, he'd almost certainly get beaten up.
"Still, at least… haah… at least things shouldn't get any worse from here"
Ernest spoke, letting out yet another sigh.
"Count Lafayette isn't the type to attack us first."
"What about us? Are we going to attack?"
Isaac, his voice trembling after witnessing so many disasters caused by the Empire's reckless offensives, asked in response to Ernest's words.
"...I don't think we will, right?"
After hesitating a moment, Ernest answered with a question of his own.
That response sent a wave of anxiety through the 2nd Company officers.
Deep down, they realized Ernest was considering the possibility that the Empire might once again go on the offensive.
"We've done enough already. Sure, we didn't push them out completely, but we took half the forest. Konchanya has to be feeling the pressure at their flank, so they'll probably have to pull their defensive line back. Unless they're just holding those ranks for show!"
Robert said through gritted teeth.
And he was absolutely right—the front line the Imperial Army had carved into the forest was now dangerously close to Konchanya's defenses.
If the Imperial Army threw their strength into the forest and managed to break through the line Bertrand had built, even just a bit more, they'd be able to bypass the defensive line and step right onto Konchanya's territory.
Or perhaps even hit the enemy's defenses from the side.
If Konchanya has any sense, they'll have no choice but to pull their defensive line back.
They simply can't be sure the Imperial Army can be fully stopped in the forest.
No matter how skilled Bertrand is at holding a defensive battle in the woods, there are clear limits to what he can do.
In fact, this time, Bertrand suffered a partial defeat.
Konchanya must be doubting him now, and there's no question that anxiety is spreading among their ranks.
In other words, when all is said and done, the 13th and 14th Regiments will end up accomplishing their mission.
Even if it's just a portion, they've managed to push back Konchanya's defensive line.
"But we can't be sure of anything."
"..."
However, Ernest was looking at the situation from a slightly different angle.
Just as Konchanya couldn't be certain, neither could the Empire.
"Above all, if we can't fully secure the forest and decisively push back their defensive line, we'll be right back in trouble before long. Looking at the bigger picture, if there's a chance to take control of the forest now, we have to go after it."
"If you're only going to say things like that, could you just keep your mouth shut?"
"I was only answering because you asked. Why are you getting on my case?"
"Shh, just be quiet."
Robert, annoyed that Ernest was only stating the truth, urged his superior to pipe down.
"Haah..."
Ernest let out another deep sigh and stared out across the forest.
That's where Bertrand and Estelle are.
The people who once made Ernest feel a murderous intent he'd never experienced before—are over there.
It's just like before.
He wants nothing more than to kill them, and yet, he can't.
This is a situation where fighting is not an option.
Most likely, Estelle—who probably wants Ernest dead more than anyone else in the world—feels the same.
'…Yeah, if there's any way to avoid fighting, it's best not to fight at all.'
Ernest slowly closed his eyes.
Wishing for a battle just to resolve this hatred, this resentment, this murderous urge—that would be foolish.
Ernest needs to survive and return.
He needs to do it with his friends.
He can't risk his own and his friends' lives just to settle these pointless feelings.
'If the Regimental Commander were here, he'd be dead set against launching an attack in this situation. If we can finish the battle as things are, there's nothing more to wish for.'
With another sigh, Ernest let those thoughts settle.
And almost as if Ernest's wish had been granted, Levin, true to his cautious nature, firmly argued to higher-ups that any further attacks would only bring meaningless casualties.
Despite his usual caution, Levin's stance was so forceful that it seemed almost aggressive.
The 13th Regiment maintained their lines for several days, enjoying a tense but welcome peace at the front.
Levin clearly had no intention of attacking, and the 14th Regiment, having suffered heavy losses, was in no shape to fight.
And since their opponent was Bertrand, launching an offensive also seemed far too reckless.
It looked like the border battle with Konchanya would fizzle out anticlimactically.
"From this moment on, the forest will be under the control of the 6th Division."
"...."
"The 13th and 14th Regiments are to be redeployed to the western plains, so we're to prepare for withdrawal as soon as the 6th Division's troops arrive."
But when the courier delivered that dreadful news, Ernest realized things were taking a turn he hadn't wanted.
"Damn it."
Ernest curses under his breath.
Levin had adamantly opposed any attacks in the forest.
His judgment was sound, and it was likely the 5th Division Commander agreed, choosing not to attack and instead to hold the line.
From the start, the 5th Division had no way to switch to the offensive, since the 2nd Battalion of the 13th Regiment and the entire 14th Regiment had taken heavy losses.
However, from the perspective of the 2nd Corps, it was essential to secure the forest for good.
So, instead of the 5th Division—which refused to take action and opposed another attack—they decided to deploy the 6th Division, who were ready to fight boldly and claim some distinction.
Before long, this forest would become hell once more.
And the Throne of Hell would surely belong to the man who had turned Bertagne Forest into a nightmare in the first place—Bertrand Belliang Lafayette.