Chapter 57: Overture of War 1

“Wh…What should we do, Lord Chancellor?”

“Umm…”

In response to the servant’s grave report, Anhalt’s expression was shrouded in a heavy shadow.

Although the news was sudden and most unwelcome, he recognized the need to assess the situation rationally.

‘If this information proves true, it is already too late to take countermeasures now. In that case…’

After a brief moment of contemplation, Anhalt first inquired about the most crucial aspect.

“What of the others present? Were they…”

“Yes, fortunately they managed to escape unharmed. They are likely en route here as we speak, though their arrival may be delayed.”

“…Phew…”

Exhaling a sigh of relief at the servant’s report, Anhalt lowered his voice and cautiously asked:

“Who else is currently aware of this matter?”

“Pardon? Ah… Yes. For now, only myself and the soldier who brought the report. He was instructed to inform you first, Lord Chancellor.”

“…I see… That, at least, is fortunate.”

Anhalt nodded slowly, prompting the servant to inquire tentatively:

“Then, should we not inform His Highness immediately? While the news will no doubt be a shock, we must apprise him and formulate a strategy as soon as possible.”

“No, we must not under any circumstances.”

“Wh…What?”

Taken aback by Anhalt’s unexpected response, the servant’s expression betrayed bewilderment.

Grasping his shoulders firmly, Anhalt spoke with grim resolve:

“Listen carefully. From this moment onward, the information you conveyed must never leave these walls. Not only others, but His Highness must also remain unaware. And the soldier who brought the report – dismiss him immediately.”

“But… But why…?”

“This is an order. Absolute secrecy is paramount. If word of this spreads outside these walls, we shall all face the direst consequences. Engrave this in your mind.”

“Y…Yes… I… I understand… Lord Chancellor.”

Responding with a trembling voice, acknowledging the gravity of the situation conveyed by Anhalt’s chilling tone, the servant departed to carry out his instructions.

And as he observed the servant’s retreating figure, Anhalt let out a heavy sigh laden with anguish.

‘How… How could this have happened? I never imagined I would be so thoroughly outmaneuvered…’

This sudden, calamitous turn of events was the worst possible scenario for Anhalt and Prince Friedrich.

And, objectively speaking, it was the consequence of Anhalt gravely underestimating the power wielded by the Emperor in Vienna.

However, rather than acknowledging and publicizing this fact, Anhalt resolved to conceal it to the utmost.

‘The impact of this is undoubtedly severe… But opportunities still remain. And to seize them, I must first bring matters here to a conclusive resolution.’

What had occurred was done; the immediate priority was addressing the looming crisis at hand.

Although the outcome differed considerably from Anhalt’s expectations, leaving much to be desired, the war had to be won first. Only then could he contemplate the next steps.

‘Under these circumstances… Whether I like it or not, I have no choice but to place my trust in Count Turen. While his capabilities are formidable… I am nonetheless loath to entrust our fate to another…’

By nature, Anhalt was a man who placed faith in none but himself.

And this trait had only intensified after achieving the grand accomplishment of forging the heretical alliance.

Yet, the present situation left him no alternative.

Regardless of his feelings or disposition, the decision had already been made, leaving no room for delay or reconsideration.

‘Is there no other way? I truly cannot abide by the current circumstances…’

Consumed by such misgivings, he set out to meet with his lord, Prince Friedrich.

Despite the pragmatic reasons and his intellectual acknowledgment that this was the correct course, Anhalt sought any possible means to alter the situation, however slight.

“Very well… I shall now explain the battle strategy outlined by Supreme Commander Count Turen.”

With a map of the Imperium laid out before us, I began detailing our intended operations in this war as my father’s aide and Supreme Commander.

“Our fundamental strategic direction is to strike while the enemy is weakened. As you can see, the Emperor’s forces have departed from Vienna and are marching northward towards our position.”

Alongside these words, I traced a line on the map between Vienna, the Emperor’s point of origin, and our location in Bohemia.

“This distance spans three hundred kilometers. Considering the intervening mountains and rivers, it is by no means a short journey. After such an arduous march, their troops will undoubtedly be fatigued and weary.”

“Umm…”

“A valid point, indeed.”

While a mere three hundred kilometers could be traversed in half a day by modern means such as automobiles or trains, the swiftest mode of transportation in this era remained horses.

Moreover, the bulk of the marching forces consisted of infantry troops traveling on foot.

Even accounting for periodic rests, accumulating weariness after such a distance would be inevitable – although admittedly less so for the mages.

Additionally, the Emperor’s army was not a standing force permanently stationed in Vienna but rather an assembled contingent drawn from the lords under his command.

Naturally, the distance they had already traveled from their respective domains to Vienna had to be factored in, compounding their fatigue to an extent that could not be disregarded.

For those facing an unfavorable battle, exploiting such vulnerabilities was only sensible.

“Our assault must be swift and decisive. If we allow them time to recover their vigor, the advantage will shift against us. I propose we strike at dawn on the day of their arrival.”

My words did not elicit significant objections from the nobles, nor from Anhalt, who had been expected to voice considerable dissent.

Lacking genuine military expertise himself, and in his currently precarious position, Anhalt was hardly in a situation to nitpick obstinately.

‘By now, he has likely received the news… In the original work, that was the catalyst for his already wavering command to unravel completely, leading to an utter rout.’

While he had initially enforced strict secrecy among those aware of the situation, that detail was inconsequential to me, given my foreknowledge from the original work.

With Anhalt meekly subdued, I proceeded to assign detailed attack routes to the nobles and their respective forces. Turning to Prince Friedrich, with whom I had cultivated a rapport, I cautiously inquired:

“Now, regarding your forces from the Palatinate, how would you prefer to proceed?”

“Umm… Well…”

Friedrich glanced tentatively at Anhalt before responding to my query.

Although still visibly unsettled, Anhalt managed to compose himself and replied:

“Our Palatinate troops shall participate in the surprise attack alongside Bohemia’s forces. I shall inform you of our assigned direction at a later juncture.”

“Very well, proceed as you deem appropriate. Given our limited time, I would appreciate your prompt response.”

Truthfully, it would have been more efficient for us, with our familiarity with the local terrain, to determine their optimal deployment.

However, such a decision represented their final vestige of pride, which could not be easily relinquished.

Acquiescing to this formality, I concluded the strategy meeting – or rather, the ‘presentation of Count Turen’s battle plans’.

Immediately afterward, I exchanged a cautious glance with my father, who had been observing me intently throughout.

His expression carried a mixture of admiration and a hint of bitterness.

In response, I offered a faint, wry smile.