Chapter : 88
The situation had turned around. They had to end the war before the weapons arrived.
Battles raged without a break, day or night. There was no time to properly relieve hunger, nor the luxury of washing faces stained with blood and sweat.
It was only a brief pause when a skilled general died, but the Crotians relentlessly launched their attacks again. Another knight had died, and the only remaining officers were the adjutant, Sir Gray, and one surviving knight.
“No matter what happens, don’t break formation! Lead the enemy towards the cliff from each direction!”
“The enemy has moved out of the expected range!”
“Where are the soldiers who were on standby for emergencies?”
“The enemy has broken through our defense lines!”
“Don’t retreat!”
In this dire situation, someone shouted loudly and charged toward the enemies without hesitation.
“Charge!”
“Raaahhh!”
It was none other than Greg. He appeared quietly, like a beam of light in the pitch-black darkness that had blinded them. Just as he had once swept the battlefield, Curtis, locking eyes with Greg, roared once again.
“Attack! Don’t give them a chance to flee! Drive them to the cliff and leave no one alive!”
At Curtis’s shout, soldiers formed into five groups, charging relentlessly, defending and counterattacking.
Instead of leading from the front like Curtis, Greg skillfully and cleverly led the other three groups.
They eventually secured another great victory after their triumph in the gorge.
The battle continued after that. Though Greg alone was enough to hold the line, the casualties gradually increased as they kept facing the relentless enemy. Soldiers started losing hope. There was nothing left to turn the tide of war.
“How many casualties today?”
“Twenty in total. Fifteen dead and five severely wounded.”
Curtis wiped his face with one hand at the adjutant’s report. Looking at the results, it was a significant achievement. It was close to a miracle that they had survived for four months in this war without being completely wiped out.
After all, the enemy consisted of well-trained regular soldiers, while their own side, except for the knights, were drafted soldiers with regular jobs.
“How many soldiers are left?”
“About 150.”
“…So, about half are left. How about the enemy?”
“Not precise, but according to scouts, they still have their forces intact.”
Despite all their efforts, the overwhelming difference in numbers was undeniable.
“Go out and check the situation. Also, bring Greg here.”
“Understood.”
The adjutant bowed and left the tent. Not long after, Greg arrived.
“You called for me.”
“Come in.”
With Curtis’s permission, Greg walked into the tent. Curtis was seated, his elbows resting on the map spread across the desk, hands clasped together.
“Have you checked the rations?”
“Yes.”
“How is it?”
“We’re severely lacking. If this continues, we’ll run out in about a week.”
As Greg had mentioned earlier, the weather had been unfavorable, with rain pouring down suddenly, making it difficult to hunt to replenish supplies.
“We can’t reduce the rations we’re distributing. Morale is already low, and cutting food would make it worse.”
Curtis sighed briefly and stared at the enemy’s and their own troops on the map.
Hope that had briefly flared after the victory in the gorge was gradually fading, overshadowed by the prolonged war, dwindling supplies, and reducing manpower. Though they had avoided being at a disadvantage thanks to Greg’s arrival, the future seemed uncertain.
‘Always remember that I’m by your side. Don’t forget that I’m waiting.’
Roxana’s letter flashed through Curtis’s mind. He had promised to return, but it might be difficult.
Without a word, Greg sat in an empty chair beside Curtis.
“Curtis, do you know why I came back?”
The polite tone he had used earlier disappeared. It was a signal that they were back to being close friends. Curtis looked up at him instead of answering.
“Roxana told me the night she released me. ‘If you truly care about Curtis, survive now.'”
“…”
“It’s strange. The woman who had once kidnapped and tried to kill me told me without hesitation, ‘You need to survive.’ Even with a blade to my neck, she accepted it calmly. She even asked about my family before I died. She said she had a duty to know and remember everything.”
Greg chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.
“Eventually, I gave in. I knew what would happen, but I still went through with it, gave up my honor, everything, for you. To help you when you need me.”
“…That happened.”
No matter how much Curtis had asked, Roxana had never told him what happened, how she convinced him. This was the first time Curtis was hearing the truth from Greg, and he relaxed his jaw.
“She seemed so fragile, but in reality, she was as strong as the roots of a tree. Curtis, such a remarkable woman is waiting for you.”
Greg smiled and added, “No matter what happens, no matter what you have to do, you need to come back alive, don’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Curtis nodded and stood up from his seat, releasing his clasped hands. His strength returned, and his will hardened. He moved the pieces on the map with a determined face.
“I’ll explain the plan tomorrow.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Greg called over the soldier standing guard outside the tent.
“Send for Sir Gray and Sir Roxler. We need to hold a strategy meeting.”
The battle raged on without end. But just as their supplies were nearly exhausted, a miracle occurred.
It started with a long procession of carts. The soldiers on guard noticed the lead cart driver handing something to them, which was immediately passed to Curtis. The sender was none other than the socialite, Baroness Philomena.
[To those bravely fighting in the field, I humbly send my support. You are always in my prayers. May you return safely. Below is a list of noblewomen who have contributed to this cause.]
Written in elegant, neat handwriting, the letter included a list of three pages of supporters.
The soldiers knelt on the dirt ground, tearfully offering thanks.
“We’re alive! We’re going to live!”
“Thank you, Heaven!”
“Thank you! We won’t starve to death!”
Curtis read down the list of names and paused at the last one, gently closing his eyes.
Roxana.
It was written simply without a title, but that was enough. Now he understood what had moved Baroness Philomena.
“Disperse! Treat the wounded and leave only the food handlers!”
At Sir Gray’s command, the soldiers quickly scattered to their positions. Meanwhile, Greg, who had ordered someone to count the food, approached Curtis.
“Thank goodness, sir. With this, we can rest for a while. The soldiers seem to have regained some hope.”
It had been a grim situation, with even some deserters. Curtis had executed all the deserters without hesitation when they begged for their lives.
“Please, have mercy! I beg you…”
“Any soldier who deserts the battlefield will be executed without question according to military law.”
“Sir, please… no!”
Despite all the ongoing battles, Curtis’s face remained expressionless, but the constant desertions and drop in morale had taken a toll. Even the messenger carrying news of Roxana had gone missing, possibly eaten by a hawk.
Greg sighed in relief, inwardly.
“I’m glad. You did well, Greg.”
Curtis placed a hand on Greg’s shoulder just as a soldier, inspecting the wagons piled high with dried meat, milk, and wheat, shouted.
“Look at this!”
“What’s going on?”
As Curtis approached, the soldier reported with a troubled look on his face.
“This last cart… I’m not sure what it is, but it doesn’t look like food.”
“It’s a key ingredient for gunpowder.”
There was no way Baroness Philomena could have sent this.
“Roxana must have sent it.”
The powder, recently produced in a distant country, was not widely used yet. Curtis, recognizing it, clenched his fists tightly.
“Sir, if that’s the case…”
“Perhaps we can defeat Crotians’ weaponry.”
Just as Greg began to speak, the adjutant rushed in, breathless.
“Bad news!”
“Bad news?”
“The scouts just reported that Crotians’ weapons are almost here! They may launch an attack tonight!”
At that moment, something dropped on Curtis’s cheek.
“This is…”
As Curtis recognized it, his face twisted. Dark clouds were gathering overhead. The gunpowder would be useless if it got wet.
He had to act before the rain started pouring.
“We need to assess the situation ourselves. Guide me.”
Curtis released his grip on the powder and moved with a fierce look in his eyes.
The scout’s report was true.
The enemy had positioned their weaponry in their camp, preparing for battle. Curtis and Greg lay on the mountainside, carefully observing the enemy forces below.
“That thing, if it attacks us with boulders, we won’t be able to withstand it.”
Greg whispered in a low voice. Curtis nodded without saying anything, deep in thought.
“What are we going to do?”
“Greg, do you remember? The saying we always used when we were mercenaries?”
Greg paused, recalling the words.
“The best defense is…”
Suddenly, Greg stopped, his ash-gray eyes turned dark, and the corners of his eyes lifted with a smile.
“Attack.”
