Chapter 51

Chapter 51
## Chapter 51

“Our primary objective of securing a victory has been met. It is time to pull back before our window closes.”

Lucian spoke with a heavy air of finality, signaling that he was not open to negotiation.

The Marquis and the surrounding noblemen gave silent nods of concurrence. None were foolish enough to ignore the risks of staying in enemy territory any longer.

“I agree. We will grant the troops twenty-four hours of rest and then commence the withdrawal.”

“Incorrect. We must depart this very instant.”

“Pardon? Is that not far too reckless? Look at the condition of our forces…”

Marquis Bernhardt’s expression twisted in confusion at Lucian’s demand. A vast portion of their ranks remained struck by paralysis, their limbs heavy and unresponsive. Proposing an immediate march instead of waiting for their recovery seemed like madness.

“Even if we move now, our progress will be glacial. The able-bodied men will be driven to exhaustion trying to carry those who cannot walk. Wouldn’t a day of recuperation serve us better?”

“If we were safe, I would grant them three days. But we do not have that luxury. The enemy’s hunting party will be on our heels shortly.”

“A hunting party? Our combined forces smashed the ambush, and the remnants of their army are barricaded inside Bodium Castle. What could we possibly fear? If anything, Krepelt is likely mourning their failure against the Empire.”

“Krepelt hasn’t secured their freedom just because the Empire tripped once.”

Earlier, Lucian had reasoned that a total Imperial defeat would trigger a chain reaction of rebellions across the vassal states, making it impossible to reclaim control. Conversely, the Marquis had maintained that the Empire held enough raw power to crush such uprisings repeatedly.

Lucian’s fundamental stance hadn’t shifted, but the danger lay in how Krepelt perceived the situation.

Given their blatant disregard for the Grand Accord, Krepelt likely shared Lucian’s view, yet there was always the risk of a desperate gamble.

“Krepelt will want to sever any path for an Imperial return. Even if they can’t win a long war, they will seek to buy time for other internal conflicts to ignite. For instance, by seizing a high-ranking heir to the throne as a hostage for political leverage.”

“…!”

The faces of the lords, including the Marquis, paled instantly.

The idea that they would attempt such a lunacy seemed extreme, but then they recalled the brutality of the recent assault. These were people who had already shredded international treaties and employed forbidden sorcerers; they were beyond the point of no return. Why would such desperate men fear the Emperor’s vengeance or the diplomatic fallout?

“Are you suggesting those Krepelt scum will send a detachment specifically to capture me?”

“It is a logical deduction, but the likelihood is high.”

“L-Lord Lucian! Is there no alternative?!”

Claude’s voice cracked with a tremor he couldn’t hide, his face drained of color. Lucian feigned deep thought for a second before answering.

“The most reliable path would be for the First Prince to depart the main body immediately, escorted by only a small, elite unit of his personal guard…”

“That is out of the question.”

“Marquis?”

Claude turned to Marquis Bernhardt, who had interjected for him, with a look of shock. The Marquis ignored the Prince and stared at Lucian with icy, calculating eyes.

“Even if it is for the First Prince’s safety, what would it look like if the Commander-in-Chief were the first to flee the field? The troops’ spirits would shatter, and His Highness’s standing would be permanently ruined!”

“There are moments when one must swallow their pride to survive.”

“I speak because this goes beyond pride. If we aren’t careful, certain opportunists will use this to challenge His Highness’s legitimacy and try to sabotage the line of succession!”

“….”

A heavy silence fell over the group at the Marquis’s blunt assessment. Claude, who had briefly considered Lucian’s escape plan, began to shiver, his complexion turning ghostly.

“The… the Marquis speaks the truth. I will not retreat in isolation.”

Lucian felt a surge of private contempt as he watched the trembling Claude. The man was paralyzed by the fear of death, yet his hunger for the crown was even stronger.

*Tsk. Things would have been far simpler if he had just bolted.*

It was a missed opportunity, but Lucian didn’t dwell on it. He discarded the first plan and offered his secondary strategy.

“Then we have but one choice. We must retreat at maximum speed before the pursuers arrive.”

“But the men who are still incapacitated…”

“If they cannot march, they must be carried. On a standard long-distance trek, rest is mandatory, but the border is only three days away. We must push the soldiers to their limits and move fast.”

In a cold military sense, abandoning the wounded would be the fastest route, but the Allied Forces were the cream of the crop from various noble houses. No lord would agree to leave their own kin and retainers behind. Unless Lucian wanted to become a social pariah, he couldn’t suggest it. Furthermore, he didn’t want the stain on his reputation that came with deserting allies in plain sight.

“It seems our course is set. If there are no further protests, I suggest we move out now.”

There were no more arguments. With Lucian leading the way, the Allied Forces began a frantic withdrawal, with healthy soldiers lugging their wounded comrades on their backs.

—

“What? You had them trapped, only to be overwhelmed by a rear-guard ambush? And Count Dominic was slain?”

“Yes. Those savages fixed the Count’s head to a spear and paraded it like a tribal prize…”

“Those absolute bastards!”

*Thud!*

Erich, the youthful sovereign of Krepelt, brought his fist down hard on the table. He had known retaliation was coming the moment he broke the Grand Accord. He understood that if he resorted to dirty tactics, his rivals would follow suit.

However, no amount of mental preparation could dull the sting of losing a devoted, high-ranking servant and hearing of the desecration of his remains.

“The enemy’s casualties… how extensive were they?”

Erich’s voice shook as he struggled to contain his fury. The knight’s gaze shifted nervously as he recounted the scene of their loss.

“There were more disabled than dead. Nearly half of their force collapsed under the magical backlash and remained immobile. The number of those still capable of fighting was also severely thinned by Count Dominic’s charge, so their combat effectiveness is likely halved.”

“Still, if they survived, they must be recovering.”

“The sorcerer claimed their muscles would remain useless for roughly two weeks. He noted that while they might manage a slow walk, they wouldn’t be able to run or engage in heavy combat.”

Erich’s eyes widened at this intelligence.

In essence, while they had lost the engagement, they had crippled the enemy’s mobility and forced them to carry dead weight. If one accounted for those killed by Dominic, a focused strike would be enough to wipe them out.

*If those idiots would just march on Bodium, I could slaughter them from the walls, but they won’t be that dense.*

Since the treaty was dead and the First Prince had been targeted, they would be fleeing for the border. Now, he had to give up his defensive advantage and hunt them down in the open field. If he could just secure the First Prince, the Emperor would be forced to sign off on Krepelt’s sovereignty.

“Wait, where is the mage who was with you? Did he fall?”

“I am unsure. He was supposed to wait for our signal, but he vanished after the rout. He simply disappeared.”

“He fled.”

The roaming mage had been hesitant even when Erich offered him a permanent royal position. Erich had always disliked the man’s mercenary greed, but to think he would vanish without even collecting his fee at the first sign of trouble.

*Does Krepelt look that weak even to a wandering sellsword? Is he so certain we will fall after one loss?*

Erich ground his teeth, fuming at the thought of Colin. There was no point chasing a shadow. Once Krepelt stood independent, that man would crawl back in regret. He would settle that score then.

“We move out! We will crush the Imperial remnants, take the First Prince, and seal our nation’s freedom!”

—

“I anticipated this, but we are moving at a snail’s pace.”

Raymond muttered as he watched the Allied Forces limping along. More than half the troops were dead weight, needing to be supported or hauled by others. The sheer volume of wounded made the pace agonizingly slow.

“We won’t make it in time at this rate. The enemy is going to catch us.”

“Are you concerned?”

“Specifically, I’m concerned they’ll order us to hold the rear. Are we going to be the ones stuck doing the dirty work again?”

Lucian let out a small laugh and shook his head.

“Relax, that won’t happen.”

“You say that, but we’re the only unit with our strength fully intact. What if the lords and the First Prince try to force it on you, Young Master?”

“I’ll just tell them no.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to refuse.”

“C-Can you even do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

Lucian shrugged at Raymond’s stunned face.

“It’s true that House Valdek taking the brunt of the assault would save the others. However, at this moment, no one has the courage to even suggest such a thing to me.”

Throughout this campaign, Lucian had been the only one providing sound counsel—from warnings about the treaty and the water supply to the retreat and the ambush predictions.

In the end, the command structure had ruined the mission by ignoring him. Aside from Cedric, who had his own hidden agenda, every single lord was complicit in the failure.

“After ignoring every piece of advice I gave, nearly getting slaughtered, and then being rescued by me, they want me to handle the cleanup? That’s absurd. Unless they want to make an enemy of House Valdek for generations, they won’t even dare to mention it.”

“But if we are overtaken, someone has to stay and buy time. Do you think anyone will actually volunteer?”

“Of course.”

And it would be a very distinguished and powerful noble at that.

Just as Lucian was about to elaborate with a smirk, the sound of shouting reached them.

“The Horsen River is ahead!”

“The border! We’ve reached the border!”

The landmark where they had performed their initial grand entrance came into view. Once they crossed that water, the pursuit would likely end. A wave of relief washed over the men, believing they had cheated death.

“P-Pursuit! Behind us!”

“The Krepelt forces are here!”

Suddenly, a scream of pure terror tore through the air from the back of the column. The relief vanished instantly as soldiers turned to see a nightmare. Though their numbers were modest, a fast-moving cavalry unit from Krepelt was thundering toward them at a terrifying pace.

“They’re still a distance away, but with that momentum, they’ll hit us before we can get across the river.”

“L-Lord Lucian.”

“What?”

Lucian turned a piercing glare toward a particularly tactless viscount who had called out. Wincing under the intensity of that look, the nobleman looked away, his request to have Lucian stop the charge dying in his throat. Since Lucian had already signaled his refusal, the viscount had no leverage.

Seeing Lucian’s cold stance, the eyes of the desperate lords shifted to the next logical candidate. The head of the most influential house after Valdek, and the one whose troops were still largely functional.

*Damn it all.*

Marquis Bernhardt clenched his jaw under the weight of their collective stares. “Buying time” was a polite euphemism for a suicide mission.

Yet, the Marquis found himself trapped. Unlike Lucian, who had emerged from the war as a strategic genius, the Marquis had a string of failures to his name.

*If I don’t salvage some shred of honor here, Valdek will keep me under his boot for years. My standing within the Noble Faction will evaporate.*

If he were willing to retire into obscurity, it wouldn’t matter, but for him, a loss of power was worse than death. It was better to gamble his life in a desperate stand to reclaim his reputation.

Steeling himself, the Marquis dropped to one knee and called out.

“Your Highness! I will hold the line against the enemy! In the meantime, please take your—”

“Hold a moment, Marquis. I believe that won’t be necessary.”

It was the Second Prince, Cedric, who interrupted the Marquis’s dramatic vow. Stepping forward, Cedric gestured toward the far bank of the Horsen River.

“Look across. Our reinforcements have arrived.”

“What? Reinforcements? What are you…!?”

The leadership of the Allied Forces went rigid as they looked where Cedric was pointing. Lucian’s eyes narrowed in sync with the other lords.

The approaching force was of a caliber no one had expected to see.

The Red Wing Knights.

The Emperor’s elite personal guard, renowned as the most formidable warriors in the Empire, were charging toward them.