Ch.14The Burgundian War of Succession (4)

“Nevers is just ahead! This is everyone’s chance for promotion, so prepare well!”

“Yes, sir!”

Marquis Marche, who leads a portion of the Carolingian Kingdom’s army—an extermination force in name only—boosts the morale of his marching soldiers by shouting.

It’s rare to find a nobleman who speaks as roughly and directly as Marquis Marche.

For the Marquis, who grew up among knights and soldiers and maintained an unpretentious demeanor, such behavior doesn’t even approach the boundaries of impropriety.

‘Burgundy… Burgundy.’

While outwardly he maintains a hearty laugh and relaxed attitude, inwardly he feels quite different.

For Marquis Marche, the Duchy of Burgundy represents his family’s nightmare and the source of all troubles.

He became the Marquis of Marche at the mere age of ten. This happened because his grandfather and father were literally massacred by Philippe de Burgundy, the previous Duke of Burgundy.

Even between enemy states, nobles typically don’t kill each other.

With so few nobles to begin with, everyone becomes related after just a few generations of separation. Besides, capturing nobles alive for ransom is more profitable than killing them. It’s also better for post-war settlements.

‘…A cursed name.’

But that madman wasn’t someone who followed common sense.

After becoming a count at age ten, for fifteen long years, his mother served as regent, taking all power from him and leaving him unable to do anything.

The Marquis’s manner of speech developed during this period—excluded from politics, all he could do was play soldier games with the troops and knights.

‘Finally.’

Five years ago, I showed my mother proper respect by purging her, and finally ascended as the true Marquis.

Since then, I’ve been sharpening my blade, waiting for the moment of revenge… I never expected the opportunity would come so quickly.

I’ll do to them exactly what they did back then.

……….

“…What?”

Shortly after crossing the river into Burgundian territory, the scout I had sent returned with information so surprising I could hardly believe my ears.

“They’re not holed up in their castle but came out to fight?”

“Yes… I observed about 3,000 troops stationed in the plains to the south. They’re all lightly armored, with clear visibility all around and no visible ambushes.”

What confidence is this?

True, Burgundy has a strong military tradition despite its size. The veterans who fought in the wars 20-30 years ago must still be alive.

But… isn’t this a bit much? We have 40,000 men, with 7,000 in heavy armor.

“3,000… 3,000…”

Intelligence previously gathered indicated that the Count of Nevers’ army numbered about 5,000. So 2,000 are missing.

Also, given that the Count of Nevers rejected our proposal, he must have made some deal with Dijon’s bastard.

From what we know, the Duke of Burgundy’s army at full mobilization would be around 15,000… If we assume the Count of Nevers and the bastard have joined forces, their reserves would be 17,000, excluding the 3,000 stationed to the south.

Tsk… I told them to tread carefully since harsh treatment might push them to the other side, but those fools…

“Shouldn’t Nevers be to the east?”

“Yes.”

Ignoring them might be a good choice.

It might make my back itch a bit, but the likelihood of them engaging in a fair fight isn’t high. If we change our march direction southward, those bastards would certainly flee.

Chasing 3,000 with an army of 40,000 is quite difficult. Perhaps the best approach is to detach a small force to block them.

“And if we continue south, don’t we reach marshlands?”

“Yes, that’s what the maps indicate.”

Who would fall for such an obvious trap?

Honestly, it’s almost insulting how blatantly they’re underestimating us.

“It seems best to select 4,000 men with a ratio of 6:1:2 for light infantry, light cavalry, and archers to confront them.”

“Hmm… Marche’s opinion seems sound.”

Still, to be safe, we shouldn’t deploy heavy armor.

Cavalry is essential for the army, but light infantry can maintain combat effectiveness even in mud.

Fortunately, the General-in-Chief agreed with my opinion.

……….

“…They keep growing in number?”

What are they thinking?

The force that was 3,000 just hours ago has swelled to 10,000. The detachment we sent ahead has been pushed back by Burgundian surprise attacks, retreating far enough to be visible to the naked eye.

“They’re challenging us—shouldn’t we respond?”

“Indeed, they’re disrespecting us!”

“Hmm…”

The Count of Nevers’ army was only 5,000, yet 5,000 more have appeared. This must be the work of Dijon’s bastard.

I thought they had reached some agreement, but seeing it directly… it’s laughable.

“10,000 is quite unsuitable for hit-and-run tactics.”

The concern that made us hesitate to engage—the difficulty of pursuit—has been resolved.

Even if they retreat into the marsh, it’s fine. We can pull back our vulnerable heavy infantry, and we still outnumber them significantly.

No, rather…

“…We could push them into the marsh.”

If we encircle them from the west and east after the north, their only retreat would be south into the marshlands.

If we drive the disorderly retreating enemy into the marsh… good.

“General, the enemy is likely trying to lure us into the marsh.”

“Indeed.”

“What if we turn that against them?”

The General-in-Chief gave me a look requesting explanation, so I outlined my strategy for all to see.

Divide our army into three, attack simultaneously from west, north, and east to force the enemy to retreat south into the marshlands, then annihilate them as they struggle in the mud.

Even the ambitious nobles who dislike others gaining prominence wore sour expressions after hearing my plan. Probably because they realized how good it was.

“But dividing the army into three risks being defeated in detail, doesn’t it?”

The General-in-Chief, true to his age, was very cautious. Heh, really.

“However, the enemy force to the south is 10,000, and their remaining reserves at most would be another 10,000. Even if their reserves surprise our divided forces, we still outnumber them with 13,000, and the open terrain gives us good visibility to respond to surprises.”

“Hmm… that’s true.”

After further explanation, the General-in-Chief finally agreed with my opinion.

Before battle, the Carolingian army split into three prongs like a trident. Now it’s time to tear Burgundy apart with this trident.

……….

“…What the hell are those bastards doing?”

The bait worked, and they’ve changed their march direction southward, which is good. But… why divide into three?

Could it be just to control our retreat direction?

If our stationed 10,000 rush forward to join with the reserves, we’ll have 20,000—they’d lose their numerical advantage!

“Well… I don’t think they were such fools thirty years ago… Perhaps since Philippe killed them all, these young ones haven’t inherited the knowledge?”

“Huh? Killed them all?”

As I stood in the command post, dumbfounded by the scout’s report, General Arras beside me uttered a name I couldn’t ignore.

Philippe—my grandfather’s name.

“Yes, indeed. During the war with Carolingia, Duke Philippe executed all the capable nobles among the enemy captives.”

“…What?”

“He said killing such men would bring more future benefit than keeping them alive for ransom… At the time it gave me a headache, but now I understand Duke Philippe’s wisdom.”

…He truly didn’t care about diplomacy.

In war, only commoners shed blood; noble commanders merely play human chess using soldiers as pieces. This pattern continued until nuclear weapons appeared.

My grandfather must have found that distasteful.

Imagine the shock and outrage of opponents when they lost a mere chess game only to be executed!

But…

“…He truly was remarkable.”

“I think so too.”

Thanks to him, things are easier for us now.

Thank you, Grandfather!

“Should we change our strategy? Perhaps attack one division at a time?”

“No, while the details might change slightly, we shouldn’t alter the main framework.”

“Oh?”

“No matter how foolish their command is, they won’t ignore the importance of scouts. When our 10,000 start moving north, they’ll receive reports immediately and regroup. We might completely devour one division before they regroup, but we’d take casualties, and those damaged forces would struggle against the other two intact divisions.”

Arras has extensive battlefield experience, so he’s probably right. But still…

“The enemy has split into three, if we think a bit more…”

At my words, Arras closed his eyes and shook his head slightly.

“We’ve already gained significant advantage—instead of facing 40,000, we now face 13,000, and we know their caliber.”

“That’s… true.”

Arras is right. Let’s secure what we can definitely gain.

If we try to grab more, we might lose what’s already in our hands.

“Fine, let’s stick to the plan. Tell the 10,000 to pretend they’re trying to retreat eastward, fail, and then turn south. And tell my little uncle that he can get a new ducal robe made, so it doesn’t matter if he rolls in the mud.”

My uncle, who’s always wanted to be a duke, must be beside himself with joy just to wear the outfit.

…Why are you looking at me like that?

“Sigh.”

Arras let out a small sigh and relayed only the first part of my message to the courier, omitting the latter part.

Deliberately omitting orders in front of a superior? That’s insubordination— I’m sorry.

As if reading my thoughts, Arras glared at me even more intensely.

“Well then, I’ll be off. Miss Chloe, please keep His Highness in check.”

“Yes, thank you. You must return alive.”

In contrast, he gives Chloe the kindest smile imaginable.

Such gender discrimination, how sad.