Chapter 60: Into the Battlefield
Three days after the Arkwright Army’s arrival, in the early morning, the Empire’s vanguard appeared on the eastern horizon of the Silva Plains.
Countless spearheads glittered in the sunlight.
The earth trembled beneath the hooves of heavy cavalry.
Their number—approximately five thousand.
A reconnaissance and probing force sent ahead of the main army.
“Enemy sighted! All forces, prepare for battle!”
A tense shout rose from the Kingdom Army’s camp.
Knights scrambled onto their horses, eager to reclaim their rusted pride.
Infantrymen tightened their trembling grips on their spears.
The time for decisive battle had finally come.
“Good! Forward, all units! Crush their vanguard!”
General Gustav drew his sword with fiery enthusiasm.
“Show those Imperial curs the bravery of the Bernstein Kingdom Knights!”
“Ooooh!!”
The knights roared.
Just as the Kingdom Army prepared to launch their traditional “glorious charge”—
“…Wait.”
A voice cold as ice cut straight through their fervor.
It belonged to Zenon, standing atop the hill at the command post.
From horseback, he observed the enemy formation through a spyglass, calmly analyzing their layout.
“What do you think you’re doing, Zenon-sama!?”
General Gustav barked.
“The enemy is right there! This is the time to strike!”
“It’s a trap.”
Zenon replied without lowering the spyglass.
“That vanguard is bait. The moment we bite, the ambushers hidden in the forests on both flanks will hit our sides. A classic—but effective—encirclement and annihilation formation.”
“…Ambushers!?”
The generals frantically turned toward the forests, but to the naked eye, there was nothing but swaying trees.
“What grounds do you have for such a claim!?”
“The birds.”
Zenon answered casually.
“In specific sections of that forest, not a single bird has flown. Don’t you think that’s strange?
It’s the clearest sign of a large force lying in wait.”
His near-superhuman powers of observation left the generals speechless.
While they saw only enemy banners and numbers, this young man had read even the natural movements of the battlefield.
“Then what do you suggest!? Sit here and wait, doing nothing!?”
Marshal Gerhardt demanded bitterly.
“Precisely.”
Everyone in the room froze.
“Let me repeat: we do not fight here.”
Zenon stepped to the map and explained his new strategy— one so unthinkably underhanded and ruthlessly logical that the knightly generals could hardly believe their ears.
Zenon’s Orders
“The Kingdom Army main force will remain here and fortify defenses. Under no circumstances are you to advance. Ignore all provocations.”
“The Arkwright Army will split into two groups.”
- First Unit — led by Hector:
Move under cover of night, circle far around the battlefield, and strike the enemy’s supply chain from behind. - Second Unit — led by Zenon and Gray:
Also circle around, destroy the road the enemy marched along.
Collapse bridges, block the path—completely sever the enemy’s retreat and reinforcement routes.
They would not fight.
They would not clash head-on.
They would hit the enemy’s weak points—supply and retreat—first.
This was not a “battle.”
It was outright logistical destruction.
A tactic found in no military manual the generals had ever known.
“T-This method—!”
General Gustav trembled with outrage.
“That’s not how warriors fight! That’s what bandits do! Cowardly and disgraceful!”
“Correct.”
Zenon admitted without hesitation.
“I care only for victory—the result. I do not choose my means. Call me a coward if you like.
Bringing back as many soldiers alive as possible—that is a commander’s greatest duty.”
The words carried a human sincerity he had rarely shown.
Of course, his true reasoning was cold and simple:
“Losing trained human resources is inefficient.”
But the Arkwright soldiers, hearing their commander say it aloud, felt something burn quietly within them.
The generals could say nothing more.
No matter how beautiful their knightly ideals—
they could not deny the correctness, or the weight, of Zenon’s words.
That Night
Under a moonless pitch-black sky,
the Arkwright Army began to move silently.
Cloth wrapped around horse hooves.
Weapons bound to prevent even the slightest clink.
They moved like a legion of ghosts melting into the darkness.
The Kingdom soldiers watched them disappear with complicated feelings.
Cowards.
And yet—a terrifyingly professional force with discipline and coordination they themselves could never hope to imitate.
Across the plains, only the Empire Army’s campfires flickered.
They still did not know—
That as they slept, two icy fangs were closing in from behind.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Inescapably.
The first act of Zenon’s merciless battlefield strategy had now begun.