Chapter 67: A Turning Point in the War
The overwhelming victory at the Silva Plains brought the Kingdom of Berstein a brief moment of joy.
However, Zenon did not allow himself even a shred of elation.
In his cold, rational assessment, this was nothing more than the opening act.
The Imperial Army’s main force—approximately thirty thousand—was still fully intact.
And their commander-in-chief, Marshal Gaius, was no reckless brute like Vargas.
He was a cunning strategist, feared even within the Empire as one of its greatest tactical minds.
“…The enemy will come, without fail.”
Zenon murmured as he spread out the latest tactical map in the main camp on the Silva Plains.
“But the same trick won’t work twice. They already know about the magic cannons and our tactics. Our next move must be more cautious—yet bolder than before.”
Just as he predicted, the Imperial Army’s movements changed entirely.
Even upon receiving news of Vargas’s annihilation, Marshal Gaius did not panic.
He immediately ordered a halt to the advance and began constructing a fortified defensive line around Black Eagle Fortress.
At the same time, he summoned large numbers of magicians and engineers from across the Empire to develop new weapons to counter Zenon’s magic cannons, as well as research new defensive magic circles.
The battle shifted from a mobile annihilation war to a static standoff.
Across the Silva Plains, both armies faced each other in a stalemate.
At a glance, it appeared to be a balanced situation.
But Zenon understood clearly:
The longer the war dragged on, the more disadvantaged Berstein would become, lacking the Empire’s resources and population.
If they did not decide the battle quickly, they would eventually be crushed by sheer numbers.
“…We’ll have to attack.”
Zenon quietly arrived at that conclusion.
But how?
How to break through a fortified enemy position with minimal casualties—
His mind raced, running through countless simulations.
And into this tense atmosphere arrived an uninvited guest.
The First Prince, Alphonse.
Accompanied by only a few attendants, he appeared before Zenon like a wandering spirit.
“…I was ordered by Father to serve under your command.”
Alphonse spoke in a low voice, choking down his humiliation.
“Tell me what you want me to do. Command me as you wish.”
There was no longer any hostility in his eyes— Only the hollow emptiness of someone who had lost everything.
Zenon glanced at him once.
Immediately, he began calculating the value of this new “piece” on the board.
(Prince Alphonse. High charisma, proven martial skill. But his mental state is unstable.
If I put him on the front lines, he might act recklessly. Too risky.)
“…That won’t be necessary.”
Zenon’s reply was mercilessly cold.
“There is nothing I need you to do. Feel free to observe the battle from the rear.”
“…What!?”
Alphonse’s face twisted in humiliation.
Ordered to serve under Zenon—Only to be told he was useless.
He had never felt such crushing helplessness.
It was practically a declaration that he had no worth on this battlefield.
He could only stand there, lips bitten tight, unable to move.
But the stalemate would not last for long.
A few days later, Zenon’s next move would dramatically shift the course of the war.
One clear afternoon, a strange object appeared high above the Imperial camp.
A massive balloon.
Crafted by artisans of the Arkwright territory from silk and lightweight wood, and lifted into the sky by magicians manipulating heat—
A reconnaissance balloon.
In the gondola, observers scanned the enemy with long-range telescopes.
“…What is that!?”
Imperial soldiers pointed at the sky in shock.
Marshal Gaius himself rushed out of his tent, staring at the unbelievable sight.
The enemy intended to expose every inch of their camp from the air.
“Archers! Mages! Shoot it down!”
Countless arrows and spells were fired upward—
But the balloon flew comfortably far beyond their range.
This meant the Berstein Army had achieved absolute control of the skies.
The balloon’s observations were transmitted via communication artifacts directly to Zenon’s headquarters in real time.
“…The center of their formation is heavily fortified. But the southern wing is still under construction. That’s the weak point.”
Zenon pointed at a precise location on the map.
He had identified the enemy’s most vulnerable position.
That night, he issued a decisive order:
“…At the hour of the rat, we launch an all-out attack on the enemy’s southern flank.”
The generals were stunned.
A night raid.
One of the riskiest tactics— with limited visibility and high potential for chaos.
“Zenon! Have you lost your mind!? A night attack is far too dangerous!”
Marshal Gerhardt protested.
But Zenon shook his head calmly.
“The risks have already been accounted for. And the potential gains exceed them.”
He had prepared another trump card:
Each Arkwright soldier received a small magical device—
A faintly glowing light stone, concealed behind their shields to distinguish allies in the dark.
Magicians were prepared to launch a massive sphere of light overhead, illuminating the battlefield as brightly as day.
Information.
Technology.
And meticulous preparation.
Zenon had taken a high-risk tactic and transformed it into near low-risk.
The generals could say nothing more.
This young commander’s mind was operating far beyond their conventional thinking.
And in a corner of the room, Prince Alphonse silently watched the meeting.
A storm of conflict swirled in his heart.
Zenon’s tactics still clashed fundamentally with his own chivalric ideals.
Yet their flawless logic and effectiveness were undeniable.
(…What am I doing here…)
He could only gnaw on his own helplessness.
His kingdom faced annihilation—
And all he could do was watch.
Was that acceptable?
As a prince?
As a knight?
In his once-empty eyes, a faint but unmistakable light began to appear.
The small spark of determination— to climb out of the abyss of despair.
The war had turned.
And the man who shattered the stalemate was again Zenon von Arkwright—a being beyond all common measure.
Berstein, once on the brink of defeat, now stood equal to—or greater than—the Empire.
But the true decisive battle was yet to come.
And within that battle, the fate of a single prince was also about to change dramatically.