Chapter 469: That's the Extent of Your Capabilities (1)
Claude nodded after hearing Ghislain's orders.
"Understood. How should we divide the forces?"
The Northern Army could stop the enemy wherever they moved, thanks to the presence of Ghislain and Ereneth. However, this would leave other areas vulnerable, forcing them to divide their forces.
Ghislain pointed at the map and spoke.
"I’ll take 20,000 troops from the Mobile Corps and head toward the direction where the Supreme Commander had been holding the line. Claude, you’ll lead the rest. If necessary, you can divide the troops further."
Ghislain entrusted Ereneth and her close aides to Claude. Even without his presence, the forces left behind could adequately handle any of the units of the Delfine army.
Although the Delfine forces, had broken through the first line of defense, might split up to increase their mobility, Claude would take care of that.
"Claude, you must secure the path to the capital before the enemy does. Can you do it? We can’t just wait for the allied forces to arrive. The Ducal Family’s army is moving faster than they are."
"Understood. I’ll split our troops into a vanguard and a main force."
"Good. Everyone, follow Claude’s commands this time as well. For now, the Northern Army’s goal is to establish a defensive line near the capital. The allied forces will rejoin us soon."
Claude glanced at another part of the map and asked, "What about the Ducal Family’s troops advancing by detouring through the east? It’s beyond the Northern Army’s capacity to block them there as well."
It wasn’t impossible, but defending the eastern front would mean a significant reduction in troop size and the number of commanders leading them. That would put even the Northern Army at risk.
Ghislain looked at Claude and asked, "What’s the situation in that region?"
"The Eastern Army commander is dead, and the Royal forces are decimated. However, some lords and allied troops have regrouped and set up a defensive line."
"Then leave it alone. Someone else will step up to help."
"Someone else? Wait, don’t tell me…?"
"That’s right. Amelia won’t pass up a chance like this. She’s probably itching to claim all of the east for herself."
"Count Raypold’s skills were evident in the last war, but… the disparity in numbers is too great. The Delfine forces are not like the savages."
Not only were their soldiers superior, but they also had excellent commanders. Additionally, at least one extraordinary individual from the Salvation Church would likely be among their ranks.
Even with the remaining eastern forces allied with Raypold’s, the situation wouldn’t change significantly. It wouldn’t be easy for Amelia to hold them back.
Despite Claude’s concerns, Ghislain merely smirked.
"Hold them back? That woman couldn’t care less about that. She probably won’t even join forces with the lords’ armies."
"What? Then what will she do?"
"While others hold the line, she’ll harass the Delfine forces from behind."
"…Harass them?"
"Exactly. The strategy she used against the savages before wasn’t her forte. She had no choice in that situation. But Amelia despises direct, head-on confrontations. She absolutely loathes them."
"…Loathes them to that extent?"
"Yes. She’s so self-centered and calculating that she hates anything that might cause her losses. That’s why she prefers sneaky attacks from behind. She loves causing trouble for others while avoiding harm to herself."
It sounded like an insult, but it also seemed like a self-description. Ghislain narrowed his eyes as he saw Claude’s expression.
"What are you thinking?"
"…Nothing at all."
"Anyway, with Amelia harassing their rear, the remaining forces will hold out for a while."
It was a similar scenario to his previous life. Back then, the Mercenary King’s army had played the role of attacking the Ducal Family’s forces, and Amelia persistently harassed them alongside his forces.
Even Ghislain had been quite annoyed back then, failing to capture Amelia. This time, the target had shifted to the Salvation Church and the Ducal Family.
In the meantime, she would seize the opportunity to plant her flags everywhere. It wasn’t for nothing that she was called the "Witch of the Flags."
"So, let’s leave that side alone for now and focus on dealing with the two legions advancing toward the capital."
Frankly, Ghislain didn’t care whether the capital fell or not. He intended to eliminate the Ducal Family and Salvation Church’s forces regardless of the Kingdom’s fate.
However, he wanted to meet the King at least once and had no intention of letting the enemy achieve their goals unimpeded.
If he was going to kill them eventually, reducing their numbers now with the help of the Royal Faction would minimize his own side’s losses.
"Let’s move out immediately. Everyone, start marching again."
The Northern Army split into two groups under Ghislain's orders. Ghislain and the Mobile Corps headed for the west, while the remaining Northern forces moved eastward.
* * *
The Kingdom’s Supreme Commander, Marquis Maurice McQuarrie, was often dismissed by the nobility as a frivolous individual. His occasional displays of childish behavior and reliance on superstitions fueled such opinions.
Still, due to Maurice's violent temper, impulsive nature, and the authority granted by his rank as Supreme Commander, no one dared to openly disregard him in his presence.
Regardless, he possessed a measure of competence as the Supreme Commander.
"Alright! The divination this time also predicts our victory! It even mentions a benefactor appearing to aid us, so let’s all fight with renewed vigor!"
"Yeahhhh!"
Surprisingly, his superstitious practices proved highly effective at boosting the soldiers' morale.
Maurice's decision to personally descend to the southern front to take command also played a significant role in lifting the troops' spirits.
Unlike other nobles, Maurice did not shirk his duties. On the contrary, in times of crisis, he demonstrated exemplary leadership.
As a result, the army he led fought remarkably well. With reinforcements from some allied forces, their numbers were sufficient to hold their ground.
"Hold the line! If we endure today, we’ll secure victory!"
Maurice, unlike what one might expect from a Supreme Commander, shouted fervently from atop the fortress, personally directing the soldiers.
Encouraged by his passion, the Kingdom’s forces and their allies repelled the Delfine army's assault not once, but three times.
This was despite the presence of a high-ranking priest from the Salvation Church, often referred to as a "superhuman," among the enemy ranks.
Though Ghislain had only received reports of defeat, in truth, Maurice’s forces were performing admirably.
Count Fograin, who commanded the 3rd Legion of the Delfine army, twisted his long beard in frustration.
"Hmph, who would’ve thought the superstitious Marquis McQuarrie had such capabilities? Even without siege weapons, they’ve managed to hold out so effectively."
Like the 2nd Legion, the 3rd Legion had opted to forgo siege weapons to advance quickly.
They assumed that magic and the prowess of superhuman priests would suffice.
However, reality proved otherwise. The Kingdom’s forces were unexpectedly adept at countering magical assaults.
One of the accompanying mages reported, "The main forces of the Crimson Flame Tower, led by Tower Master Hubert, are present. They’re neutralizing our 6th-circle spells."
"Hmph, I see."
Although the fortress walls suffered significant damage due to incomplete magical suppression, the defenders held firm. This indicated that they, too, had a fair number of 6th-circle and 5th-circle mages.
Count Fograin turned to the high-ranking Salvation Church priest beside him, Viscountis.
"The resistance is fiercer than anticipated. We could conquer this place eventually, but it’s taking far too long."
"Ugh, I must apologize."
Though Viscountis scowled with displeasure, he offered an earnest apology.
He had charged the fortress several times, but each attempt was thwarted by royalist knights forming defensive formations to block him. In such a state, it was impossible to overwhelm the Kingdom’s and allied forces.
Count Fograin waved his hand dismissively, offering a wry smile.
"This is only an issue because we’re in a hurry to advance. Since there are no other options, I must ask you to exert yourself a bit more, my lord priest."
"...Understood."
Ultimately, this meant he had to lead the charge himself.
Viscountis repeatedly hurled himself at the gates, enduring severe injuries five times before retreating each time.
Once this fortress was breached, only the weak armies of minor lords lay beyond. Knowing this, Count Fograin drove his troops relentlessly, as if intent on exhausting every resource to seize victory.
"Yeahhhh! It’s fallen!"
The Delfine army suffered the loss of half their forces, but they finally captured the gates.
Maurice, Hubert, and some remaining commanders and soldiers had no choice but to retreat.
"Capture Marquis McQuarrie and the remnants immediately!"
Following Count Fograin’s orders, a pursuit unit was assembled. If rumors spread of the Kingdom’s Supreme Commander’s death, it would devastate the morale of the Royalist faction.
Naturally, the Delfine army couldn’t let such an opportunity slip away.
At the forefront of the pursuit was a seething Viscountis.
"I’ll tear him to shreds."
Having endured such hardship, he needed someone to blame, and Maurice, the source of this suffering, became his target.
Thundering hooves reverberated as Maurice fled with a grim expression. Beside him rode Hubert, the Tower Master of the Crimson Flame Tower.
The remaining troops numbered fewer than five hundred, many of whom were remnants from allied forces.
"To think we’d suffer such a crushing defeat."
Maurice bit his lip in frustration.
Although the Delfine army had suffered significant losses, they still retained a considerable force. Even if the remaining lords gathered their armies, they wouldn’t be able to stop them.
The fall of this fortress was a problem, but so were the other two routes available to the Delfine army besides the east.
While the Northern Army might fare better, the other forces of the Royalist Faction would struggle to halt the Delfine army. Their strength had become clear in battle.
"Ride faster! We must escape their pursuit!"
Despite his despair, Maurice spurred his horse forward. He needed to regroup the lords' armies and establish a defensive line.
Neighhh!
"Sir! Our horses can’t go any further! We need to rest!"
They had ridden nonstop all day, and the horses foamed at the mouth. Some had already collapsed along the way.
"Ugh... but we don’t have time for this."
The Delfine army had a superhuman among their ranks. He could catch up at any moment.
However, both the soldiers and the horses were exhausted, leaving no choice but to stop.
"We’ll rest for a short while just a very short while."
Without even enough time to properly fetch water, they simply dismounted and slumped to the ground.
Hubert, looking disheveled, spoke to Maurice.
"Sir, it’ll be fine. That Salvation Church priest was injured, wasn’t he?"
With countless knights and soldiers swarming him like they wanted to kill him, even a superhuman couldn’t avoid getting battered and bruised.
Without their superhuman, the pursuing forces wouldn’t be able to maintain their speed. Their horses would tire as well.
Maurice nodded weakly. His appearance was as unkempt as one could imagine.
"Let’s hope so. But I left the crone behind."
"...You mean that fortune-teller?"
"Yes. I don’t know if she’ll survive. She’s capable, so she might have escaped."
"Hmph."
Hubert coughed lightly and turned his head away. As a mage, he found fortune tellers utterly repugnant.
How absurd was it to bring a fortune teller to a battlefield and consult them for divinations? Yet strangely enough, the soldiers’ morale had inexplicably improved because of it.
Noticing Hubert’s discomfort, Maurice gave a self-deprecating laugh.
“I know what they all think of me. They must see me as a pathetic fool obsessed with superstition.”
“Ahem, no, not at all. It’s well-known that you, Your Excellency, dabble in fortune-telling as a hobby…”
“It’s not a hobby.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s not a hobby. I truly wanted to believe.”
Hubert scratched his shining head awkwardly.
“Well, isn’t it time to stop believing now? The fortune said a benefactor would appear in this battle, but there’s been no sign of anyone…”
“No, no. That’s not why I believe.”
Maurice placed both hands on Hubert’s shoulders, his expression sorrowful. There was something he needed to say, something he wanted to convey before he died.
With trembling eyes, he spoke.
“Even if everyone calls her a fraud, even if everyone tells me not to believe, even if they all mock me, I… I can’t stop believing.”
“Y-Your Excellency…”
“Because the crone told me she could help me find my lost child. That’s why. Even if no one else believes her, I must. I alone must believe in that old woman.”
Maurice bit his trembling lip several times.
“Because that’s the only way I can find my lost child. That’s why I believe in that fortune teller crone. And that’s…”
Before he could finish, a knight on watch rushed over, shouting urgently.
“Pursuers! There’s a superhuman leading them!”
A cloud of dust swirled in the distance, and at its forefront, someone was running faster than a galloping horse.
Chaang!
Maurice drew his sword and turned around, a bitter smile on his lips.
“That’s what it means to be a parent.”
“…”
Hubert couldn’t say a word. Until now, he had assumed Maurice was simply foolish for believing in superstitions.
But Maurice wasn’t foolish. He was just desperately clinging to hope, in whatever form he could find it.
Maurice glanced briefly at the sky before speaking again.
“And the soldiers who follow me they’re like my children too.”
Taking a deep breath, Maurice shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Run! Their target is me!”
“Your Excellency!”
The knights guarding him cried out in alarm, but Maurice stood firm and bellowed.
“Go! This is no place for you to die. You must live and achieve victory!”
“Your Excellency! We cannot leave you!”
“That’s an order! Escape and join the lords’ army! Protect this kingdom!”
Fwoosh!
Blue mana surged from Maurice’s sword, though it flickered faintly due to his exhaustion.
Still, as the head of a noble family, Maurice was a skilled high-ranking knight with mastery of advanced mana techniques.
He could at least hold the enemy off for a short while.
The knights and soldiers hesitated, unable to run away despite his orders.
The small black speck visible in the distance quickly grew until it was right in front of Maurice.
Kwooooom!
A cloud of dirt erupted as Viscountis appeared. His black robe was tattered, and patches of dried blood were smeared all over him.
“Marquis McQuarrie.”
Viscountis sneered cruelly. He had been delayed by this fool for days and suffered significant losses as a result.
Despite his reputation as a dullard, the kingdom’s Supreme Commander had proven formidable in battle. Given his abilities and status, Viscountis was determined to kill him here and now.
“I assume you’ve delivered your last words?”
“…”
Maurice’s lips twitched as he steadied his stance. Even if he died, he intended to land a decisive blow.
Just before the two clashed, someone came charging from Maurice’s right.
Thud! Thud! Boom!
Each step sounded like the ground itself was breaking apart. Naturally, everyone turned their heads toward the source of the sound.
Viscountis tilted his head, puzzled at the sight of the approaching figure.
“A woman? A priestess?”
A woman was running toward them, dressed in a white priestly robe and wielding a large mace in one hand.
But something seemed off as she drew closer.
“What the…? What is that…?”
At a distance, her size and the mace’s enormity weren’t apparent, but as she neared, her figure seemed anything but ordinary.
Thud! Boom! Thud!
The distance closed rapidly with each blink of an eye. Viscountis could tell immediately that this woman was no ordinary opponent.
He gathered his energy and shouted.
“Stop! Identify yourself!”
Bang!
Suddenly, the woman burst forward at incredible speed. As she closed in, Viscountis’ expression twisted in disbelief.
Her frame was massive, dwarfing most men. The mace she carried was larger than a human torso.
Crunch!
Her bulging arms swelled with veins as she swung the massive mace at Viscountis.
“You wench!”
Viscountis raised his arm to block, intending to counterattack after deflecting the strike…
KA-BOOOOM!
CRACK!
“Gah!”
With a single blow, Viscountis’s arm shattered, and he flew backward, spewing blood.
“Huff…”
The woman exhaled deeply, her fierce expression unwavering, and spoke.
“My name is Parniel, a devoted servant of the Goddess of War.”
It was then that she arrived in the Kingdom of Ritania a woman later renowned as the “Holy Maiden of War,” one of the Seven Strongest on the Continent.
Having introduced herself only after delivering a devastating blow, Parniel’s presence was overwhelming, and everyone around her held their breath.
Maurice, his mouth agape, slowly turned his head to look at Hubert.
When their eyes met, Maurice forced an awkward smile and spoke.
“See? Didn’t I tell you she was impressive?”
Hubert nodded silently.
A benefactor had indeed appeared.
That fortune teller wasn’t just any ordinary person with superstitious beliefs.