Chapter 33
Even in an era without telephones or wireless communication, rumors spread with astonishing speed. Especially if those rumors concerned war.
And the recent battle was no exception.
Mere days after Carolus sent his report to the Assembly, news of the victory spread throughout the Royal Capital.
"Extra! Extra! Our army has won a great victory in the Northern Region!!"
"His Excellency, the Vice-Chairman of the Supreme Council, has held the Front Line! They say the number of prisoners captured exceeds tens of thousands!!"
Even before Young Lady of Arshakh's forces began their propaganda campaign, the citizens were already reveling in the joy of victory.
Posters detailing the victory were plastered across the streets, and shops declared special discounts to celebrate the auspicious occasion.
Street musicians performed free concerts in the squares, and confetti rained down from the sky.
The three Front Lines, which had dragged on for ten years with no sign of resolution, finally saw a reversal of fortune in one of them. Everyone was experiencing a dopamine rush.
It wasn't a complete victory yet, but so what? They'd practically decimated half the Imperial Army.
Compared to the previous desperate attempts to hold the line, this was a far superior outcome. The exchange ratio was also reportedly incredibly high.
"Indeed, we made the right choice siding with His Excellency the Vice-Chairman."
"If we had continued to swagger like those old fools... *sigh*. Our heads would have been on the chopping block long ago."
"More than that, we wouldn't have risen to the position of Bishop. After all, the opportunity for promotion itself came thanks to His Excellency's support."
The Religious Community shared a similar sentiment.
The current leadership of the Goddess Sect was composed entirely of individuals handpicked by Carolus, his subordinates, and his comrades.
They were all followers judged to possess exceptional loyalty and cooperativeness.
Thanks to General Roytel deliberately setting the stage, they had followed the successful life path of riot → elimination of superiors → seizure of positions → acquisition of parliamentary seats.
How could they not rejoice in such a situation?
It was absolutely impossible.
Anyone with a shred of sense would at least feign tears of joy. That's how loyalty was demonstrated.
"What about officially praising His Excellency at the Denomination level?"
"Ah, that's going too far. Let's propose to the Assembly the creation of a temporary holiday or something. We need to demonstrate our loyalty and obedience to His Excellency."
To remain within the core of power. And to maintain their current influence.
The Priests, without a moment's hesitation, engaged in a competition of loyalty.
It was precisely the attitude Carolus desired from the clergy.
"Damn, how long has it been since he left, and he's already achieved victory...."
"He was already quite renowned, wasn't he? We should have expected him to achieve some kind of military success."
"Still, we never imagined he'd do it so spectacularly... If we had known, we should have volunteered to handle the situation ourselves."
On the other hand, the Blue Bloods couldn't help but lament.
In their attempt to undermine the damn traitor's authority, they had instead boosted his reputation.
Forcing Carolus to resolve the situation caused by his supposed misjudgment had been a blunder.
If they had handled it themselves...
Even if they hadn't achieved such a decisive victory, they wouldn't have empowered their political rival.
Those who hadn't considered taking action themselves regretted their judgment and beat their chests.
But what could they do? The deed was done.
"As things stand, let's prepare to appear before the Assembly. The First Estate and the Third Estate are bound to attack us using this as an excuse."
"*Sigh*! How did the noblemen of the great Ulanor end up like this...."
Since Carolus had shifted the blame for his blunder onto a public enemy and escaped responsibility, the backlash was inevitable.
To survive, they had no choice but to brace themselves and minimize the damage.
Thus, the Nobility of the Kingdom gritted their teeth and began preparations to counter the imminent political Offensive.
Hoping that one day, they would avenge this humiliation.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, the news wasn't confined to The Kingdom.
The Battle, after all, had been fought between two nations: The Kingdom and The Empire.
In fact, the United Empire was faster at sharing information.
While The Kingdom had to send messengers through the treacherous Snowfield, the Empire received direct reports from its retreating troops.
Within days, they had ascertained the detailed circumstances of the Battle.
"You say we suffered a major defeat on the Southern Front (Northern Front from the Kingdom's perspective)?"
"Yes. We've lost two Corps worth of troops."
General Sebastiaan de Leclerc, the commander in charge of the Imperial Army's Western Front, clicked his tongue.
It was difficult enough dealing with the enemy in front of them, but now their flank was exposed. This was a highly troublesome setback.
"Just last week, weren't you reporting that we were steadily pushing back the Kingdom's Army?"
"Indeed, I was."
"Explain to me why the tide has suddenly turned. In sufficient detail to satisfy me."
"That's--"
General Sebastiaan de Leclerc had his messengers thoroughly investigate what had happened on the Southern Front.
Everything, from the enemy suddenly engaging in open field combat during the assault on the Defense Line, the appearance of enemy reinforcements from seemingly nowhere, to the defeat at the hands of an enemy commander employing strange, never-before-seen tactics.
Most of the information was anecdotal, therefore its reliability was low, but they were still able to acquire enough information to be of some help.
"....I see. Good work, everyone. You're dismissed."
After dismissing the messengers, Leclerc asked his subordinate officers.
"The commander of the Kingdom's Army was said to be a man named Carolus von Roytel. Is it the same one we know?"
"We have to assume it's him. If they describe strange tactics, it can only be him."
"Damn it. That crazy bastard has returned, of all times."
Such vulgar language was unbefitting of a General from a noble marquis family.
However, no one pointed it out. They all felt the same.
Damn their reputation, the psychological impact of that name was so great that they couldn't control their surging emotions.
"The Kingdom has no shortage of generals. I've heard they currently have five or six in command. Couldn't they have sent just anyone? Why him, of all people?"
A whole 10 years, no, 11 years.
From the moment they crossed the border on the first day of the war to this day.
Carolus von Roytel had always been a nightmare for the Imperial Army.
As a lower-ranking officer, he had engaged in all sorts of small skirmishes, and as a general, he personally commanded numerous battles.
He always showcased all sorts of extraordinary and unconventional methods and tactics.
For example…
Triggering an Avalanche with Explosives to wipe them out.
Camouflage and Ambush with White Cloth.
Creating Black Powder Improvised Claymores.
And Disposable Wooden Barrel Shotguns Firing Gravel.
He would take things no one else had even conceived of and screw over the Imperial Army dozens of times.
"Do any of you have the confidence to defeat him?"
"I apologize, your Excellency. It's impossible."
"I will do my best if you command it, but frankly, it will be difficult. Unless we are given at least twice the number of troops..."
"I see. Damn him, anyway."
But was he weak in conventional warfare? That wasn't the case either.
Carolus was as proficient in orthodox tactics as he was in unconventional warfare.
More than a dozen Imperial Army generals had foolishly underestimated him, thinking he only used tricks, and were utterly defeated.
"We received intel that he had launched a Coup d'état and gone to the Capital. Why has he returned?"
Whether it was Defensive Warfare, Siege Warfare, direct Infantry Phalanx clashes, or the strategic interplay of Artillery and Mages.
In every aspect, even if not overwhelmingly dominant, Carolus von Roytel demonstrated abilities at least above average.
It was to the point where his nickname in the Empire was 'Mad Dog'.
Because he bit like a rabid dog and fought like a damn demon.
And now, that madman was said to be running rampant on the Snowfield. With a large number of his own troops, no less.
"He wouldn't just return after clearing the Southern Front. He'll definitely shift his attention elsewhere. Don't you agree?"
"The possibility is high. The cost of dispatching tens of thousands of troops is by no means cheap. He'll definitely try to achieve something more."
"Then the target...is obviously us."
The enemies here were already troublesome enough, and now a terrifying nightmare was added to the mix. Leclerc, momentarily dizzy, clutched his head.
"There's a considerable distance between the two Front Lines. Considering the travel Environment, even a rapid march would take ten days."
"We also need to account for the time it took for the messenger to arrive, your Excellency."
"Roughly a little over a week remaining, then."
There was still time.
Reassuring himself with these words, Leclerc looked at his officers and gave the order.
"Halt the current operation and pull the Army back. Quickly reinforce the Defense Line. We need to be prepared before he arrives."
"Yes, sir!"
They would be doomed if they foolishly went out to confront him. They needed to secure their rear with fortresses and Trench lines to have any chance of winning.
It still wouldn't be enough, but it was certainly better than doing nothing.
* * * * *
And not long after, our Carolus, arriving at the Western Front.
"Wow, these bastards are huddled up in fear, aren't they?"
Started calmly setting the entire Front Line ablaze.
Literally, not figuratively.