Chapter 33: I Won’t Be Defeated So Easily. (1)
Viscount Cobalt scratched his chin with an unusually serious expression.
“Noon tomorrow…”
There was only one day left.
It was urgent, absurdly little time.
“L-Lord!”
“Even now, we can try persuading more houses. Surely there must be a way to stop this war…”
From retainers to the Third Young Master, the people whose anxiety had reached the peak began blurting out words as they pleased.
But there was only one thing Viscount Cobalt could say now.
“Everyone, calm down.”
“…But.”
“The war has become unavoidable.”
“…”
“Everyone here knows we are at a disadvantage. So from now on… it is right that we discuss how we will overcome this.”
“We must, somehow, somehow stop the war…”
Malion opened his mouth hesitantly and spoke.
“Malion, the carriage has already departed.”
Viscount Cobalt shook his head as he answered firmly.
So that Malion would no longer indulge in meaningless thoughts.
So he could focus on the present situation.
No matter how one looked at it, that was the better choice.
Cobalt drew in a breath and continued speaking.
“All of you, consider how we will conduct this fight… Share your thoughts. Anything is fine. If there is even a slight chance of victory.”
At that moment, one of the retainers swallowed nervously and raised his hand slightly.
“As expected, wouldn’t it be best to shut the gates and engage in a siege defense? That way, we can somewhat overcome our numerical inferiority and make it a fight we cannot lose…”
“That is correct. If we delay as long as possible, we can burden Calpion…”
Other retainers nodded as if agreeing.
Then Malion, who had been listening, shook his head and spoke with an anxious face.
“A s-siege will be difficult.”
“Why?”
“The supply grain… still hasn’t arrived. The food we have stored now isn’t even enough for two weeks, because of the mercenaries. If we start a siege, it will only benefit Calpion.”
“Ah…”
The retainers’ faces sank even heavier.
Viscount Cobalt rubbed his lips, sinking into thought.
“How ironic.”
The supply grain and arms ordered from the city had still not arrived.
Because the quantity ordered was considerable, it had taken longer than expected.
On top of that, even the stockpiled food in the warehouse had been quickly depleted thanks to the mercenaries Hardin had brought.
Meanwhile, the enemy… was the Calpion Viscounty, with money to spare.
If they attempted a siege in this state…
“We… will be the first to wither away.”
Of course, even this could delay their destruction a little.
The problem was that this was a method guaranteed to end in defeat.
A gloom settled across everyone’s faces.
“What if we draw them into the castle and use firepower against them?”
“Or we could use traps…”
The participants made several suggestions, but all were unrealistic and far removed from reality.
A deep sigh leaked from Cobalt’s lips.
“There is no answer.”
An overwhelming lack of supplies.
Because of this, the number of strategies available had been drastically reduced.
A way to cut off Calpion’s head before their own supplies ran out.
Considering the current situation, only a few answers remained.
No, to be honest… it was more correct to say there were almost none.
“In the end, that alone remains…”
Viscount Cobalt spoke in a voice that had sunk deep.
“What about meeting them on the field, and striking them with a wedge assault?”
Then Mulgybson opened his eyes wide like lanterns and asked back.
“You mean to attempt a decisive battle?”
“That’s right.”
Cobalt nodded.
Wedge Rush.
A type of final battle tactic where highly mobile cavalry at the front would break through the enemy center, while the following units blocked the flanks to prevent encirclement.
If it succeeded, they could quickly strike the enemy’s head, but if anything went wrong, it was a highly risky tactic with a great chance of being surrounded.
Any ordinary commander would never entrust their house’s fate to such a method…
“As things stand now, this seems to have the greatest chance of success. To be frank, there is no way to win using orthodox means.”
“…”
At Cobalt’s words, not a single person present, including Mulgybson, could open their mouth.
Faces filled with worry and fear.
It was only natural. A wedge assault was a gamble with no way back.
They weren’t silent because they liked the strategy but because they all knew it was the only option left.
With the lack of food, even if they attempted a siege, it was obvious they wouldn’t last long.
With insufficient troops, conducting a conventional pitched battle was impossible.
Amid the continuing silence, Viscount Cobalt spoke.
“Is there no other opinion?”
“….”
In the stillness, Mulgybson finally replied.
“I can’t think of any alternatives.”
After that, no other answer followed.
As the heavy atmosphere grew thicker, Viscount Cobalt exhaled and spoke.
“Then… we’ll proceed with this method. Make sure the knights fully understand the operation plan, Mulgybson.”
“Yes, I’ll have them prepare without any issues.”
Mulgybson nodded with a decidedly grave expression. Just then, Hardin let out a sharp snort and crossed his arms as he spoke.
“Why is everyone at a loss for words? Honestly, that’s just suicide.”
“What did you say?”
Everyone’s gaze turned toward Hardin.
Hardin shrugged his shoulders and answered.
“Am I wrong? Calpion isn’t stupid. There’s no way they won’t predict this. You all know, don’t you? A wedge assault is easy to counter if the enemy expects it.”
“….”
Viscount Cobalt closed his eyes tightly, unable to offer any rebuttal, and at that moment, Malion, standing beside him, shouted.
“Brother, is this the time to say things like that? Who do you think caused this situation in the first place!”
“Well now, do you really think having supplies would have changed the outcome? Whether we hole up in the castle or charge out, the fact that their forces are overwhelmingly superior wouldn’t have changed.”
Malion’s body trembled violently, a murderous gleam rising in his eyes.
“That man…”
Then Cobalt slowly opened his eyes and asked Hardin again.
“If that’s the case… Hardin, are you saying you have another alternative?”
“Of course, I do.”
“What is it?”
A hint of expectation rose on the faces of Cobalt and the retainers. Seeing that, Hardin smirked and spoke.
“Put me in charge of the vanguard.”
“What?”
“Huh?”
Confused reactions came from all around, but Hardin continued speaking unbothered.
“Let me, and the mercenaries I’ve trained… take the vanguard. I’ll smash them all. I can more or less predict how they’ll come at us.”
With his arms crossed, Hardin declared confidently.
The faint hope that had briefly appeared on everyone’s faces quickly turned into bewilderment and anger.
“Is he serious?”
“What does he think this war is…”
Especially in Malion’s case, his face flushed so red it looked like he might swing a fist at any moment.
Cobalt let out a sigh and spoke.
“That won’t do, Hardin.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll admit your prediction is probably right, and that your swordsmanship has improved. But… war is different from a duel.”
“Different?”
“Yes. What I mean is, you are not prepared.”
“But…”
“Hardin, didn’t I say it earlier? This is not the time to waste with pointless words.”
There was force in Cobalt’s voice and eyes.
Not prepared…
“So that’s how he sees me.”
To hear something like that from a descendant so far removed, it made something heavy press down inside him.
But what could he do about it?
He couldn’t simply disregard the Lord and charge out as he pleased.
And if he needed an opportunity to charge out… he’d just make one himself.
Hardin let out a snort as he replied.
“Yes. Well, I’ll do as you say, Father.”
Only then did Cobalt exhale a deep breath and turn his head to address the retainers.
“Tomorrow morning, assemble in full armor on the plain in front of the castle. Leave the elderly and children inside the walls, and make sure all troops are fed to their fill.”
“…Yes.”
“Understood.”
“Then, dismissed. Make haste.”
At those words, everyone quickly poured out of the council chamber.
Before long, Hardin was left alone inside. Slowly, he turned his head and stared fixedly out the window at the plain beyond.
“So, tomorrow it is.”
Hardin stretched out his arm, clenched his fist tightly, and muttered to himself.
“Well, it’s been a long time… this should be fun.”
The corners of his mouth twisted without restraint.
---
Outside Daphne Castle.
In the broad clearing between the farmland and the manor.
A dozen campfires burned, and the large cauldrons hanging above them belched steam and smoke into the sky thick with dark clouds.
“Quickly, quickly! Come get your share!”
“If you’ve been served, step aside right away!”
The women and servants standing beside the pots tirelessly ladled out food to the able-bodied men preparing for war.
“Eat as much as you can.”
“…Yes.”
The house knights, the conscripted soldiers, and even Beryl and the mercenaries.
They all noticed the portions were more generous than usual, but no one could smile.
“Damn it, of all things… war with Calpion…”
The mouths and hands of everyone eating moved noticeably slow.
They all knew it well.
The chances were very high that this meal would be their last supper.
As the meal was nearing its end…
“Everyone assemble! Form the battle ranks!”
“Move quickly!”
Under the knights’ orders, the troops finished cleaning up and began to gather.
The soldiers picked up their weapons and started lining up in rows and columns.
“Listen! Stay in position until further orders!”
“…Yes.”
After that, Commander Mulgybson rode about on horseback, arranging the formations.
From knights to conscripts, a total of three hundred men stood assembled in a square formation.
“Uuhhh…”
There were boys barely past childhood.
“Who are we fighting again?”
“Calpion, Calpion!”
“Cal…pion?”
“No, Calpion! Grandfather!”
Scattered here and there were people who looked closer to old age than middle age.
They had dragged in anyone they could to make up the numbers, and this was the result.
And this wasn’t the only problem.
“…War, huh.”
“I don’t want to die…”
Their so-called equipment amounted to worn-out everyday clothes and farm tools, and if they were lucky, a rusted sword or a hunting bow.
They were hardly soldiers—just a disorderly rabble.
Before the fighting even began, they were already shaking like cornered mice.
In the middle of them stood the Daphne household servants, who looked at Gadolph and asked.
“Damn it…”
“Sir Gadolph, are we going to die like this?”
“H-hah! It’ll be fine. We have… we have me, don’t we! A real man shouldn’t be scared over something like this!”
Gulp, gulp!
Gadolph, face flushed bright red, raised a bottle in one hand and drank deeply as he shouted.
The problem was, even as he did so, his entire body trembled and sweat streamed down his forehead.
“…He doesn’t look fine at all.”
“Why’s he drinking like that…”
Anxious expressions spread across the servants’ faces.
And right beside them—
“Whew… Is this really all right, Brother Beryl?”
“…I’m not sure myself.”
The Maw mercenaries stood in small groups, and Mikkelsen was staring fixedly at Beryl as he asked.
What stood out was that these men were holding rather unusual weapons.
“Who in the world uses something like this as a weapon?”
“Truly…”
Mikkelsen looked at the log in his hands with an expression of stunned disbelief.
They’d taken the logs used for training and sharpened the ends to points.
It looked less like a weapon and more like a battering ram.
Thanks to being able to use mana, at least they could hold it without much strain, but…
“Still, fighting with this is a bit…”
“Should we just run?”
“Damn it… They’re basically telling us to die.”
While everyone was on the verge of tears—
Thud!
“Argh! Who was that?!”
Someone had struck Mikkelsen hard on the back.
He frowned and turned his head.
– Hiiing!
There was a horse and a man riding atop it.
It was Manton, the drill instructor.
He’d been hit in the back by the horse’s head.
“Don’t get in the way.”
“S-sorry.”
Damn it… this bastard again.
Mikkelsen’s eyebrow twitched as he stepped back.
Manton looked down with a face full of contempt.
“Idiots… Are you really planning to fight with that?”
“Sir Knight, we… have our circumstances…”
“Silence.”
Hey, this was all the Young Master’s orders!
If you’re going to complain, go do it over there!
Mikkelsen’s breathing grew rough, and his face turned red.
Then Manton spoke.
“I just hope you don’t get in the way.”
“What the hell, how would we possibly— mmmph! Uuugh! Brother, why are you covering my mouth—mmph!”
“Heh heh! Apologies, Sir Knight. Please go on your way!”
Beryl quickly clamped his hand over Mikkelsen’s mouth and pulled him back.
“Idiots.”
I never had any expectations for you lot in the first place.
Manton shook his head in disgust and passed by.
---
At that moment, atop the castle wall of Daphne Castle overlooking the plain—
“What are we supposed to do…”
“…Haa…”
Hardin, Malion, and the retainers stood on the wall, nervously watching the front.
Standing there blankly, Hardin turned his head toward Malion and asked.
“Hey, Malion.”
“What is it?”
“Why… am I here?”
No, fine, they didn’t want him in the vanguard.
But then… why not at least put him on the field? Why leave him up here?
“It’s Father’s order.”
“Order? From Father?”
“Yes. In case the tactic fails and we have to retreat… someone has to stay behind to organize the withdrawal and prepare a siege. He said he would entrust the command to me and you.”
“Haa…”
A deep wrinkle formed between Hardin’s brows.
Were these bastards already thinking about losing before it even started?
If they had to fight anyway, shouldn’t they be throwing everything into it from the start?
Hardin scratched his head and spoke.
“Can’t I just go over there too? You only need one commander, right?”
He pointed with his finger far into the distance, where the Lord stood.
He could see the Lord and the Daphne knights mounted on horseback.
Malion forced a twisted smile and replied.
“…Well, Brother, I imagine you’d only be a hindrance over there.”
Twitch.
A hindrance, a hindrance… heh.
Hardin let out a rough sigh as he retorted.
“Come on, I’m a mana user too. Wouldn’t I still be some help? I did… beat Donfel, you know?”
“Brother, war is different from a duel.”
“What?”
Fwoosh!
Malion’s eyes gleamed coldly as he spoke.
“Stop acting spoiled. If I could go out there… I would already be standing at the front myself.”
“No, that’s not what I—”
“Brother, you have no understanding of wedge assault tactics, and you’ve never trained in formation with the household knights. Even if you go out there, you will only be a hindrance.”
“…”
No, honestly, something like a wedge assault… I wouldn’t even call it a tactic, you bastard.
As frustration made Hardin’s eyebrow twitch, Malion spoke again.
“Please have some awareness. You are the house’s Young Master. For now, do the Young Master’s duty.”
“…So, you’re saying my role is to just stand here and watch?”
“Think whatever you like. But…”
Shiiing.
Malion drew his sword and held it up to Hardin’s throat.
A peculiar glint of murderous intent flashed in his eyes.
“If you’re going to ignore Father’s order and go… then cut me down first.”
“…”
Damn it… this brat is stubborn.
Another sigh escaped him.
If it were up to him, he’d beat the Third Young Master bloody and storm out right now.
But if he did something like that before the real fighting even began…
“This place would fall into chaos.”
If discipline collapsed from the outset, it would demoralize those already in the field.
Then… the plan could fall apart in an instant.
“…Well, I’ll just wait a little.”
He only needed to wait for the right moment.
Hardin let out a long breath and sat down right where he stood.
“Fine. I’ll do as you say.”
“…You’ve made a wise choice.”
Shiiing.
Only then did Malion sheath his sword.