Battle of the Haksha Plains (3): The Grudge

"Since Franklurt has made his move, we can't simply sit by and watch." Wickhart-sama declared with a stern expression.

"I understand how you feel, but we've heard the enemy numbers at least 7,000. Even with the 700 I brought added to our forces, we'd barely reach 6,000. There are plenty of muddy areas where we'd get bogged down. And I hardly need to explain the danger of crossing the river..."

Captain Ryuzel persisted, but Wickhart-sama gave a small shake of his head.

"We can win. Our chance has come. I was just working out a plan for an assault."

"What chance?"

"One of the thugs loitering around here came to me and said, 'I want you to buy some information.' He said there had been a landslide on the mountain road from Golbel to Haksha. They're trapped on the other side of the river right now. If we strike them hard while they're shaken... we can win!"

"Information from a thug? You're going to advance based on something so uncertain?"

"Naturally, I checked it out. We confirmed that more than 1,000 enemy soldiers are stationed around the corridor. They appear to be clearing the rockfall. In other words, their attention is focused behind them. In fact, they've pulled troops farther to the rear than when they first took up position. We won't be spotted crossing now. Besides, since we have so few troops, they never imagined we'd force our way across and attack. What do you say we strike hard right here?"

Just hearing him out, it sounded like there might be a chance, but I knew instantly that this plan was no good.

First, the source of the information—the thug—was unreliable. General Wickhart said troops had gathered in the corridor, but since he had only said, "They appear to be clearing the rocks," he had not actually confirmed the rockfall.

Next, his plan for crossing the river was careless. Even if the enemy had withdrawn from visible positions, there was no way they had no one watching us. If we showed signs of movement, they would surely advance and strike while we were crossing.

And there was one thing only I knew: in history, after General Wickhart crossed, the river would turn violent and cut off his retreat. Yes, the one whose retreat would be cut off was General Wickhart.

In other words, it was a trap. Franklurt was luring General Wickhart in.

But had General Wickhart failed to notice? No—I had the feeling he did realize it and was deliberately looking away.

"Wickhart-sama, Captain Ryuzel is right. That information is suspicious after all. It wouldn't hurt to examine it more carefully before acting." When one of the younger unit commanders offered that advice, a veteran unit commander immediately objected. "No, if we waste time, the road may be repaired. Are you planning to let this opportunity pass us by?"

Watching them, I found myself thinking, Huh?

Normally, I would expect the hot-blooded younger officers to argue for advancing while the experienced commanders urged caution. But judging from their exchange, the younger commanders were the cautious ones, while the veterans were the hawkish ones.

So that's it. The veterans were deeply attached to the former knight commander, Naisol-sama. If they could defeat their archenemy, they were willing to look away from inconvenient information, no matter how suspicious it was.

If that was the case, it might be difficult to hold Wickhart-sama back from marching out. Wickhart-sama himself was probably hawkish, but if he did nothing now, the old guard might lose faith in him. Perhaps he had decided that they should cross the river and engage the enemy at least once, regardless of the outcome.

Looking back through the history of warfare, commanders have not infrequently made reckless advances to win the trust of their subordinates.

General Wickhart had been knight commander for only two years. Whatever his outward appearance of authority, perhaps he had not yet earned their trust in the truest sense.

Even so, I couldn't just stand by and watch Wickhart-sama and the others march into a death trap.

"Excuse me. May I say something as well?" I raised my hand.

"Go ahead." After Wickhart-sama gave me permission, I drew a small breath.

"As for that surprise attack, could we make it tomorrow instead?" My words caused all the commanders present to stare at me with puzzled expressions.

"What would delaying it by a day accomplish? What do you intend to do if the rockfall is cleared in the meantime?" An old general serving under General Wickhart voiced his objection, and the other generals nodded along.

"To begin with, if the rockfall can be cleared in less than a day, wouldn't that undermine the premise that Franklurt's army has been cut off from its retreat?"

"That's not..."

"Can you say that for certain? There really may have been a landslide, but if it was nothing serious, couldn't they be luring us in? Have you confirmed how large the rockfall is?"

"No... our scouts didn't get close enough to determine that."

"And what does waiting a day have to do with that?" General Wickhart prompted me to continue. At least he was willing to hear me out.

"Let's look at this from Franklurt's side. If this is Franklurt's trap, and we don't make a move for an entire day, wouldn't he show some sign of movement, believing his plan had failed? If it isn't a trap and their rear truly is blocked, some of their soldiers should still be working to clear it. In that case, a day's delay should make the enemy anxious. Wouldn't acting then be more certain?"

That was a lie. I knew the river would turn turbulent. If I could buy that much time, things would change. Once the river flooded, the crossing operation would obviously be scrapped, and, in hindsight, it would be true that crossing it would have cut off our retreat, so there shouldn't be much resentment.

Anyway, if I could string together any plausible excuse and buy time until tomorrow, the tide might turn. If the river grew turbulent and the two sides settled into a standoff, Rays-sama and the others might arrive in time—or Franklurt's army might withdraw.

General Wickhart folded his arms, knitted his brows, and gazed up at the ceiling.

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Franklurt's camp.

"Has the young punk still not made a move?"

"Yes. But it's only a matter of time."

Franklurt, distinguished by his luxuriant white beard, asked, and his aide answered. The bait seemed like a sound strategy, but because the two armies were facing off across a river, it was difficult to get information.

A little while ago, word arrived that reinforcements seemed to have come. There were about 1,000 soldiers, all cavalry, so they were probably an advance unit.

Their banner bore the insignia of the Tenth Knight Order—a troublesome opponent. Rays himself was probably still on his way, likely bringing word to the young punk Wickhart to exercise restraint. I wanted to settle this before Rays arrived.

"Shall I give them one more push?"

Franklurt rose with a grunt and ordered his aide, "Bring me that thing."