—The Redant Fortress.
Its first wall had been seized, and Banseim's forces were arrayed before the fortress. Though the narrow terrain should have limited their formation, the Banseim army had arranged itself in lines that left the cannon emplacements clear.
Baim's commander, who held charge of the fortress, gritted his teeth at the sight.
"...Why?"
Every trap that had been laid was disarmed without exception, inflicting no damage on Banseim. Even the boulders positioned atop the cliff for dropping onto the enemy had shifted before Banseim's troops passed beneath them, dealing no harm whatsoever.
"Why are we losing?!"
In such confined terrain, a strategy of overwhelming force through sheer numbers was impossible. That meant Banseim should have been at a disadvantage. In truth, it was common knowledge in this world that the defender held the edge over the attacker.
Yet, facing the surging tide of Banseim's forces, the fortress had already suffered casualties amounting to half its garrison. On top of the dead and wounded came the merely injured. Even with surplus supplies at their disposal, they could barely slow the enemy down at all.
The quality of their equipment was not inferior to Banseim's — in fact, it was superior. When the first wall had been breached, the fortress had dispatched a relief force as well. But it had been routed by Banseim's knights.
They held the advantage in numbers. In equipment quality too, Baim was superior. And yet, they had lost. The deputy commander stepped forward to advise the commander.
"Commander, at this rate morale will only keep falling. We should move the wounded to the rear and send someone to request reinforcements."
"We've already done that! It's those merchants — they're dragging their feet, and that's why we're in this mess!"
The commander, clad in lavish armor, had once been the third son of a merchant family. He was large in stature. But having no talent for business and unable to help run the family trade, he had turned to soldiering in hopes of making something of himself independently. With the backing of his family's wealth, he had risen through the ranks, and was now appointed commander of Redant.
The commander had been elated at the prospect of commanding over fifty thousand troops. But reality was merciless.
A messenger burst into the conference room inside the fortress.
"Banseim's forces have breached the fortress! Both armies are clashing on the walls, but Banseim soldiers keep scaling up one after another — we can't hold them! Reinforcements! We need reinforcements!"
It seemed both sides were committing troops to close-quarters fighting in the narrow space atop the walls. But the Banseim soldiers were cutting down the fortress troops and pressing onward into the keep.
"Send the adventurers to deal with them!"
The messenger mumbled in frustration at those words.
"But... many of the adventurers have already been cut down. Others were assassinated inside the fortress, lost their leaders, and can't even move."
The moment the attack began, the mercenaries who had been hiding inside had sprung into action. They assassinated key adventurers and orchestrated events to swing the advantage toward Banseim.
"Assassinated...? Why? How did the enemy slip past our lines?!"
A battered messenger burst into the room, drenched in blood, gasping for breath.
"What is it! What happened?!"
The messenger tried to speak. But only a faint voice came out, as though he had no strength left. Growing impatient, the commander approached carelessly — and the messenger grinned. He threw his arms around the commander and drove a blade through a gap in his armor.
"Much obliged. I never expected the commander himself to come within reach."
Immediately after, a flood of men wearing Baim-side equipment poured into the room one after another.
"Tch, so the commander's head goes to this guy, huh? Well, I'll settle for something else."
The conference room inside the fortress was spacious, but it was still an enclosed space. The mercenaries had stormed into Baim's command post armed with short swords and shields. Meanwhile, the soldiers of the command post carried long weapons — swords and longswords.
"You lot — you betrayed us!"
The mercenaries heard those words, fell silent for an instant, and then burst out laughing.
"Betrayed? Not quite. The other side offered better terms. And we figured they'd win, so we switched. We were on their side from the start. You people were so soft you practically handed it to us. So now... die for our pay."
The top brass fought the mercenaries inside the conference room. The escort soldiers were surrounded and cut down one by one. The mercenaries took casualties too, but they hacked away without a moment's hesitation.
The deputy commander was stabbed by three mercenaries with short swords and pinned to the floor. Bleeding, his face ashen, the deputy commander looked up at the leader of the mercenaries before him.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing? Baim — the Guild will never forgive you for this!"
At those words, the mercenaries roared with laughter. When the deputy commander looked around, one of the mercenaries crouched down and leaned in close to his face.
"Now that's a scary thought. But here's the thing... the 'Guild' you're talking about — that's Baim's Guild, right? Did you really think they wouldn't lay a finger on us? Banseim came here to crush Baim for real, you know."
The deputy commander's eyes went wide.
"You mean — you actually understand! If Baim falls, the ones who suffer won't be us — it'll be you!"
The mercenary leader kicked the deputy commander flying.
"You're looking down on us and it's annoying as hell. We're not dogs of some merchant or the Guild. We only cooperated because business was going well. If we can't make money in Baim, we've got no choice but to go where we can. ...What, is he dead already?"
Losing interest in the deputy commander who had stopped making sounds, the mercenary told someone to contact Banseim.
"Hey, tell Banseim we've taken out the general. Our reward's gonna be an insane amount of money with this."
The mercenaries laughed. Ironic, really — the fortress-city of merchants and adventurers had been taken by adventurers themselves — by mercenaries.
——By the time Broa moved toward the fortress, everything was already over.
Bloodstains were everywhere inside the fortress. They must have fought fiercely, but even so, it had ended one-sidedly. Looking at the results alone, it was a complete victory for Banseim. With no significant damage on their side — and having seized a massive stockpile of Baim's supplies — Banseim's forces could now advance into Baim's urban areas without any worry.
When Broa entered the cleaned-up conference room, the generals who had already arrived were there. He offered his apologies.
"Sorry about being late. My bad."
One of the generals let Broa's relaxed attitude slide. He was probably in a good mood from the victory.
"General Broa was stationed at the First Wall, after all. Can't be helped that he was late. Now then, to continue the meeting—"
The supreme commander, a general, spoke up.
"We will continue our advance into Baim as planned. Furthermore, given the lords' requests, we've decided to procure supplies locally."
At those words, Broa thought to himself.
*People's greed truly knows no bounds. Just as I expected, it came to this.*
Among those present, the lords of baron rank and above each looked pleased at the words "local procurement."
"Even if there are supplies inside the fortress, we have an army of three hundred thousand, after all. Falling on Baim still feels uncertain."
A viscount made that shamelessly bald-faced remark, and an earld who had been silently folding his arms voiced his agreement.
"The soldiers are restless too. If we make them hold back here and they run wild, we won't be able to handle it."
A young baron eagerly raised his hand to volunteer.
"Then, we shall advance north from here."
Dissatisfied voices rose from the other lords.
"The north is supposed to be prosperous, isn't it? A baron's domain would be turned back. Let us handle it."
"How rude. Did you not see Baim's sorry excuse for soldiers? If we lost to the likes of them, it would be a disgrace to every lord here."
Laughter filled the conference room. Amid it all, Broa alone wore a grim expression. The lords were laughing, but what was about to unfold was anything but a laughing matter — it was plunder. Depending on how things went, some among them would burn villages to the ground and slaughter everyone in them.
The reason the lords were so enthusiastic was that they knew Baim had no lord and each village was prosperous. The villagers couldn't mount any organized resistance, and the adventurers they might have relied on were busy defending the cities. There was no conceivable way they could lose.
In truth, from what Broa had researched, it was a perfect hunting ground.
(Not enjoyable, that's a fact. But saying so won't stop any of this. Besides, Central really does intend to annihilate Baim. Speak out of turn, and I'll be the one punished.)
Broa didn't believe the world ran on noble sentiments either. But still, there was a part of him that couldn't accept it — and that too was a fact.
Then the commander-in-chief looked at Broa and spoke.
"Oh, by the way, General Broa. Your performance in the previous battle was splendid. I shall report to Central that your contributions were considerable. I have expectations for the subjugation of Baim as well."
Broa smiled.
"Not at all. I simply did what was within my ability. Other generals are far more deserving of praise than I—"
Just as he offered those modest words to flatter those around him, the conference room door opened. Standing there was Bread.
The contemptuous gazes of the surrounding generals, the knight-commander, and the lords all converged on Bread. The commander-in-chief clutched his head and exaggeratedly shook it from side to side.
"Absolutely pathetic. Not only did he push past everyone's objections and act on his own judgment, but he didn't even make it to the battlefield in time. What a far cry from General Broa."
Broa thought to himself.
(Stop, please. Lord Bread is glaring daggers at me right now. This guarantees he'll see me as his sworn enemy.)
Even Broa found it difficult to defend Bread, who had claimed he would take a detour and then charged out only to fail to reach the battlefield on time. About the only thing he could say was:
"Commander-in-chief, surely no one could have expected a fortress to be taken in such a short time. The other generals performed admirably in the siege. It hardly seems fair to blame Lord Bread alone. If anything, aren't all of us here equally responsible for taking it down too quickly?"
When Broa said that, the surrounding generals, order knights, and lords burst out laughing.
"Indeed. If we had known they were nothing but weak soldiers, the royal guard and elite units would have surely held back."
"They crossed treacherous mountain paths. It would have been cruel to give them the cold shoulder, wouldn't it? They must have taken some losses as well."
"That's right. It's not that we didn't arrive in time — we were simply too strong. There's no point blaming the Commander of the Royal Guard."
Amid the laughter around him, Bread glared at Broa even harder. Broa had hoped Bread might feel at least a shred of gratitude for deflecting the conversation. Then the Commander-in-Chief told Bread to take a seat. The only empty chair was the one farthest from the Commander-in-Chief's own.
"Now then, let's proceed as planned. Also, when splitting up the forces, make sure you keep a tight grip on the reins. We can't afford to let them run wild and lose control. Don't forget to gather at the rendezvous point before we advance as a whole."
When the Commander-in-Chief rose to his feet, the meeting was over. The lords and generals stood up and filed out of the conference room — every single one of them glancing at Bread as they went.
"Impressive of him to even show up to the meeting."
"If it were me, I'd be too ashamed to even take my own life."
"Well, he's one of Ceres's favorites. That alone is enough to make him Commander of the Royal Guard. It'd be unreasonable to expect actual competence on top of that."
Broa happened to be the last to leave the conference room. As he passed by Bread:
"…A privileged fool of a general, born into nothing but his name. Don't let one little achievement go to your head."
Right after that, Bread shot to his feet and shoved past Broa to storm out of the room first. Broa let out a sigh.
"No matter what I do, he'll hate me. Honestly, why am I always stuck in such a troublesome position?"
Broa shrugged his shoulders and was the last to leave the conference room.
Watching it all from outside was a certain baronet —.
—Bread was in his private quarters inside the fortress, kicking his belongings across the room.
"All of them! Every single one of them! This isn't my fault! The guides and the mercenaries dragged their feet — that's why we were late! If not for that, we would have — no, I would have!"
The furniture in the room had been smashed to pieces. Bread showed no sign of calming his rage. He was simply rampaging until he exhausted himself.
Then came a knock at Bread's door.
"Who is it?!"
The door opened, and standing before the room were the two baronets. From Bread's perspective, they were nobodies. The soldiers they'd brought numbered no more than one or two hundred. Not worth bothering with — he didn't even offer a greeting.
"What do you want? I'm busy!"
The pair of baronets. One of them was the baronet who had promised Adele his cooperation.
"…There is something I would like to bring to the attention of the Captain of the Royal Guard. I've been wrestling with whom it would be best to approach—"
What was handed over was a letter. Bread snatched it and checked its contents. As he read on, he gradually gripped the letter with both hands, the corners of his mouth curling upward.
The letter was still unsealed — no one had read it yet. And these two baronets had shown it to Bread.
"This is… a letter of collusion, isn't it."
What it contained was a request for cooperation from one of Lyle's people, a certain Adele. The letter spoke of a past connection and asked for the promised assistance.
Bread looked at the two baronets.
"Judging by the contents of this letter, it seems the two of you already have a secret agreement?"
One of the baronets — the one who had pressed unreasonable demands on Adele — explained the situation.
"Betray a military force of three hundred thousand Banseim and side with what amounts to a minor faction under Lyle? We're not quite that foolish."
The other baronet, who had long-standing ties to Adele's family, also spoke up.
"We've already distributed similar letters to a number of Knight Baron households. Well, there were benefits on our end when we cooperated before. But looking ahead, there's no question which side we should take. That said, given that we've cooperated in the past, we'd like to ask the Captain of the Royal Guard to put in a good word with Central on our behalf."
Bread assumed they had switched sides from Lyle's faction to his own. He listened to what they had to say.
"Very well. I'll put in a good word for you. And of course, you'll be cooperating with me going forward?"
The two baronets nodded.
"Of course. However—"
"However?"
As the two baronets braced themselves to hear what Bread had to say, they began to lay out Rael's plans.
"There may also be those who pretend to be traitors and hand over letters. Rael's lot use thoroughly dirty tactics. We wished to offer you this warning."
Bread had thought it would be something like that. But at the same time, he couldn't help but think it was entirely plausible. The two had handed over the letter before breaking the seal. He could afford to trust them to some degree.
"So the moment someone takes this matter to another person, they're confirmed as a traitor. Understood. We'll handle it. As for this letter—I'd like you to continue exchanging them with us going forward."
The baronets looked puzzled.
"Continue?"
A plan surfaced in Bread's mind. It was one that would drag Rael's forces out and crush them in an encirclement. Looking at the two baronets who couldn't grasp what he was thinking, he quietly mocked them.
*(They can't even come up with a strategy like this?)*
"Yes, that's right. It's an important operation, after all. I'll need your cooperation as well. Also, have you told anyone else about this?"
The two shook their heads. Then they brought up Broa's name.
"I don't care for that general called Broa. Well, the other generals are much the same. However, I believe the Captain of the Royal Guard would understand the value of this letter. He executed the mountain-crossing maneuver—a strategy no one else would choose. It didn't arrive in time, but that was only because Baim fell far too quickly. Under normal circumstances, we would have created an opportunity for a pincer attack, and the Captain of the Royal Guard's achievement would have stood above everyone else's in the eyes of all."
Pleased, Bread nodded with a smile.
"Then, I'll have the reply prepared on our end. When a letter arrives, please inform me immediately."
And just like that, the battle between Bread and Rael became something that could not be avoided—.