WeTried Translations x Flame Comics
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 142: The Rebellion of the Three Counts (2)
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* * *
Almost every route from the Vernina Mountains to Saint Matilene was effectively in Jean Beltua’s grasp.
Apart from a handful of lords considered unwavering royalists, every estate dependent on the trade routes would gladly submit to Jean Beltua.
Even those royalists could not be trusted to remain loyal to the royal family in the current situation.
“Eugene.”
“Brother Ivan!! How are you already here...?”
“You need to learn how to ride again.”
Ivan caught up with the group that had left ahead of him and scanned their surroundings. At this pace, they would never be able to shake off pursuers.
Even he, who could hardly be called a skilled rider, had caught up to these greenhorns without much difficulty. The group looked exhausted after climbing through the night and crossing the battlefield, but the real battlefield was only beginning now.
“There are two options.”
“What?”
“You split up and each head for Saint Matilene. Then at least one of you will certainly make it. In that case...”
“I’ll die.”
“Probably.”
Ivan nodded at Oscar’s words. Oscar would be the person the three grand counts most wanted dead at this moment.
“You can’t do that!”
“Yeah! How can we abandon a friend?!”
Isabelle and Aesidis immediately shouted in protest. Ivan nodded quietly.
If Oscar died here, they would lose any justification for taking command of the capital’s forces and attempting to defend it. Without the authority of the Duke of Etakrikh, everyone present was effectively an outsider.
“Or we could wave a different lure. Elphihara.”
“Me?! I-I-I’m the lure?!”
“No. I am.”
“Huh...?”
Ivan pulled out a map and tossed it to Elphihara. It was a military map directly acquired by the Counterintelligence Command.
Elphihara looked it over, then quietly asked, “I know I’m an elf, but is it really wise to hand an elf a military map...?”
“The Privy Council has probably already secured maps of Tilles’s military routes. It isn’t such a valuable secret.”
“...I’ll pretend I believe you. So what do you need me to do?”
“We need to create a spell.”
Ivan rode closer to Elphihara and placed a finger on the map in her hands.
“This map’s scale is imprecise. Use it only as a reference, but follow my instructions and move exactly as I say. Can you do that?”
“You want me to calculate the distance we travel as we go?”
“Exactly.”
“That isn’t a difficult spell.”
Starting from one corner of the map, Ivan began drawing a crooked line. It bent at times, then curved gently at others.
“From Pierrecourt, head northwest at 120 degrees for two kilometers. Then take the twenty-seventh road on the right and go another five kilometers toward Rocheval. When you find the railway, don’t stop. Cross it and travel nine kilometers toward Tiribuille...”
Ivan’s explanation flowed smoothly, kind and clear, as though he were retracing a route he had always known.
Even if asked to describe their own hometowns that way, none of them could have done it. The group stared blankly at Ivan.
“...Then travel nine kilometers with the Rosanne-Sobard road on your left. Once you reach the southern boulevard of Saint Matilene, ride at full speed for the royal palace. Understand?”
“Nine kilometers from Rosanne to Sobard... Yes. Yes, I remember it all.”
“This time, scouting will be your responsibility alone. If you take a wrong turn, everyone dies. Can you do it?”
“If I say I can’t, you won’t make me?”
“We’ll choose another option, and Oscar will die instead.”
“Wow. Look at this guy threatening people.”
Elphihara grumbled, twitching her ears.
“Fine. Grikenkos have good memories by nature, you know.”
“I know.”
Your father was the same. Ivan snorted and ruffled Elphihara’s hair.
“...?!”
“!!!”
Everyone in the group stared at Ivan in shock. Even Elphihara was so startled that her ears stood straight up.
Ivan met their gazes, then turned away and redirected his horse.
“What about you, mister?!”
“The lure.”
“Isn’t that... Isn’t that too dangerous?”
“My odds of survival are better if I’m the one in danger.”
“Urgh...”
Clop, clop. Ivan’s horse moved away in the opposite direction. Isabelle shouted after him.
“Just you wait! Seriously! We’ll catch up soon enough, and then you won’t be able to say things like that again!”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Wait! Sir Yermof! Do you have any advice for us once we reach Saint Matilene?”
“If you believe something must be done, do it without hesitation.”
Like the Hero Party.
His voice scattered on the wind. Ivan gradually disappeared at a fork in the mountain road.
The group watched his retreating figure for a moment, then spurred their horses onward. They still had a long way to go, and Saint Matilene did not have much time left.
Too many lives were at stake to fail now, to give up now.
It was time to act like the Hero Party.
* * *
A good agent never planned an operation around a single objective. An operation on a particular front consisted of a legion’s grand strategy, essential objectives, and supporting goals to achieve them.
That was why Ivan urged his horse onward as he watched his surroundings.
Countless spies were spread throughout these mountains. No matter where the group went, it would be difficult for them to escape the enemy’s notice, especially with such a conspicuous combination.
Then what he needed to do was simple. Minimize the pressure focused on those kids.
That was why he had planned their route himself. If they broke through in a straight line, pursuers would certainly follow them. Instead, he sent them along the borders of estates belonging to firm royalists, or lords who did not obey Count Jean Beltua.
That way, Count Jean Beltua could not dare deploy a large force without justification. That would be enough. They should be able to handle a small pursuit force.
They had to be able to.
He could not personally step in and look after them in every situation.
“Hang on a little longer.”
Ivan patted his overheated horse’s neck, lowered his body, and stared straight ahead.
To minimize the pressure on the Hero Party, he needed to draw the counts’ attention elsewhere.
He had to become more troublesome than the Hero Party, more troublesome than Gilles Ver’s legitimate eldest son.
And he had grasped their grand strategy at just the right moment. He also understood the objectives necessary to accomplish it. With those two pieces of information and his understanding of the military map, it was not difficult to infer the outline of their tactics and supporting objectives.
It was close to reverse engineering. If the goal was clear and the resources at hand were known, what would he do? By thinking that way, he could estimate the range of their actions.
Then he could understand what they wanted most right now.
And a trained agent had to be able to do what the enemy hated most. Destroy their most desired objective, make himself impossible to ignore, and force them to react.
In Krasilov, the lure bit the prey.
* * *
‘There are three main routes the demonfolk vanguard can take to cross the Vernini Mountains and invade.’
To pass through the Eastern Front, they could not form a force larger than a single echelon. Anything larger was unsuitable for covert infiltration, and Tauruses, the core of the enemy force, were beasts with extremely high caloric needs.
If they intended to rely solely on plunder for supplies, their total number could not exceed two thousand.
If they divided a force of that size, then even if a god of strategy descended upon them, they would not be able to cross more than a few estates. They would reach their offensive culmination point too quickly.
Demonfolk worshipped strength alone. That also meant that if the command staff was not nearby, they could not properly control individual soldiers who acted however they pleased.
They would have to enter as a single warband. A formation that large could not erase its tracks.
‘When they raid and burn the surrounding estates, Count Guillaume saves them and wins the royalists’ support.’
He would ride that operation. Faster than them, smarter than them. He would imitate their operation and seize what they wanted one step ahead of them.
Save estates from the demonfolk threat. Win the royalists’ support and gather the minimum military force.
There were three major things he could gain from that.
First, he could ruin Count Guillaume’s plan.
Second, he could strike Count Etouan’s legion from the rear.
Third, by raising troops near Count Jean Beltua’s territory, he could tie down both the count’s legion and his attention.
He could chip away at the plans of all three grand counts from the outside.
‘Keep the number of destroyed estates at fifteen or fewer.’
At the same time, he could complete Eugene’s quest. If the demonfolk guerrilla offensive proceeded as planned, Count Guillaume would not move until at least seven estates had gone up in flames.
A good agent never planned an operation around only one objective.
‘I’ve done this before.’
There was no difficulty in doing something twice after experiencing it once.
In the end, all he had to do was crush the demonfolk vanguard and stir up estates that could become allies.
It was nothing more than a string of simple tasks, no different from the Annihilation Unit’s regular work.
* * *
Ivan ran his hand over the haphazardly broken trees and churned-up ground, then dusted it off.
He had spent two days checking every predicted route the demonfolk could take, and his horse had already collapsed from exhaustion.
Ivan took out a Nutrient Bar and chewed it into small bites. The smell was familiar, and so were the surroundings.
The rancid stench of demonfolk hung thick in the air nearby.
He had spent two days searching the Vernini Mountains for traces of demonfolk. This was the final predicted infiltration point.
“Two days.”
The operation must have begun alongside the dragons’ arrival, so by his calculations, he was about two days behind them.
If an infiltration force made up entirely of Tauruses had successfully begun invading unarmed estates, how many villages would have burned in two days?
That could be calculated quantitatively.
‘Five.’
If they targeted farming villages with between one hundred and five hundred households, they would have burned at least five villages to feed a warband of that size.
Tauruses were carnivorous beasts.
They ate humans. Happily.
Ivan had seen it before. Back then, it had been a common sight.
Keeping his mouth shut, he gripped his pistol and began descending the mountain.
* * *
Footnotes:
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