Chapter 47: Silver-Tongued

“…Heh. What is it now?”

Even as Foil Carland sprang to his feet in a burst of indignation, his chair scraping sharply against the polished floor, General Newsbeck merely let out a soft, amused laugh. There was no tension in her posture, no sign of alarm—only a faint curl of her lips, as though she were indulging a child’s outburst.

“To begin with, a woman such as yourself has no place interfering in military affairs! You would do well to remember your position as a noble lady!”

“Ah… yes, quite right.”

“So you understand, then—!”

“Military matters are not a woman’s domain. Ideally, I would remain silent,” Newsbeck replied calmly, her voice light, almost conversational. Yet beneath that softness lay a blade. “Unfortunately… there is no one here who can produce results greater than mine.”

“…!”

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the chamber.

“It was the same on the New Continent. And in the west as well, was it not?” she continued, tilting her head ever so slightly, her gaze unwavering. “I hear that it was Brigadier General Willard—under my command—who restored the collapsing western army and carried it as far as a renewed counteroffensive.”

Since the outbreak of the war, the greatest success in the west had belonged to Noah.

And that was precisely why a boy who had only just come of age—one who had possessed no formal title before—had been abruptly granted the rank of brigadier general. Not the lieutenant generals gathered here. Not the full generals. Not even the man who now bore the immense responsibility of marshal.

“If I could truly believe that the army of the Kingdom of Runoa would achieve certain victory,” Newsbeck added with a faint, almost wistful sigh, “then perhaps I could step away from military affairs as well.”

“An insult! What you are saying now is an insult to everyone present here!”

“I am merely asking that proper weight be given to the eastern front—the only front that has achieved a clear and undeniable victory.”

Until then, Newsbeck had been facing Carland directly.

Now, she shifted her gaze—deliberately, unmistakably—toward the king.

“On the eastern front, we have liberated the majority of the former Poln Kingdom’s territory. We have occupied its former capital, Warmir, and have already established contact with the surviving members of the royal family. Furthermore, we have annihilated over one million troops of the Rosha Empire.”

“Oh?!”

The king leaned forward, unable to hide his interest. Clear achievements. Concrete numbers. Newsbeck presented them one after another, each more compelling than the last.

“We have also taken over one hundred thousand prisoners. I would very much like our diplomats to make effective use of them…”

“That many prisoners? Our diplomats will be delighted.”

“Yes. Such a victory was only possible because the Rosha Empire still lags behind in modernization. They do not even employ encryption in their communications—we can read every order they issue. Some of their frontline units are nothing more than human shields, sent forward without even firearms. The opportunity for victory lies in the east. If the newly trained units graduating from the military academy are assigned there, I can promise an even greater triumph.”

“Splendid!”

The vision Carland had been about to present for the western front—

It was utterly crushed beneath Newsbeck’s words.

Armed with overwhelming achievements from the east, she laid out a path to victory so clear, so tangible, that anyone could grasp it.

“Now then… if I recall correctly, the mobilized reserves have already been assigned to the west?”

“Yes. Those reserves alone will suffice.”

“In that case, assigning the new recruits to the east may be appropriate. Rewards will, of course, be necessary as well.”

“My gratitude, Your Majesty.”

“W-What!? Your Majesty!? That is—!?”

The shift came swiftly. Decisively.

Before his very eyes, while he—the marshal—was effectively sidelined, the allocation of troops was being rewritten.

Carland’s voice cracked with shock.

“Carland.”

Interrupting the king was, in itself, an act bordering on disrespect.

Carland, who had until now restrained himself out of deference to that very principle, found himself rebuked by the king’s measured voice.

“…Y-Yes.”

“I trust you. However, your earlier remark was unacceptable. To look down upon someone simply because she is a woman—that will not do.”

The king’s daughter, Emma, served freely and proudly as a soldier.

That was only possible because of the king’s progressive views. In a world still deeply rooted in male superiority, it was he who had issued the decree: that capable individuals were to be appointed regardless of gender.

And here, before such a king, Newsbeck had skillfully drawn from Carland words that reeked of prejudice.

“She has produced results. Then her opinions deserve to be heard.”

“However—”

“General Newsbeck, you as well. Your earlier provocation was inappropriate.”

“My sincerest apologies.”

The king adopted a stance of equal judgment.

Carland, however, still seemed far from convinced, his expression tight with restrained frustration. In contrast, Newsbeck offered her apology without the slightest hesitation, her tone smooth and untroubled.

“I am not particularly well-versed in military matters,” the king continued, his voice resonating through the chamber, “but I trust that you, my generals, will work together. The reserves shall go to the west. The new recruits shall go to the east. A fair division. Is that acceptable?”

His words carried weight.

Not a proposal.

A decision.

“…Understood.”

There were countless objections Carland wished to voice.

But he knew all too well that once the king had decided, his will would not waver. In the end, all he could do was bow his head.

(Well… that’s about how it goes.)

An overwhelmingly hostile environment.

Among all the generals gathered here, Newsbeck alone represented the eastern front. Half of those present commanded forces in the west.

And yet—even in such a setting—she had overturned what had originally been a foregone conclusion regarding troop allocation.

It was a remarkable victory.

(Now I can proudly face Brigadier General Willard… and show him exactly what I’ve accomplished.)

A faint, mischievous glint flickered in Newsbeck’s eyes.

At her core, she was not only a brilliant and calculating general—but also something of a madwoman, entirely serious in her outrageous schemes.

After all, she was already imagining how she might utterly overwhelm a certain fifteen-year-old boy—still in the throes of adolescence—with the sheer, unapologetic force of her womanly allure.