episode_0003

The next day, when I headed to the mock battle arena beside the Military Research Department building as promised, I was met with an unexpected crowd.

There stood my awkwardly smiling liege, Margrave Albert of Ruticia, the promised protagonist of the day, Imperial Princess Charlotte, and what was clearly a group of eighteen or so people waiting with them.

“Good day, Baron Hebel. I hope you’ve been well?”

“Thanks to you… But who are these people?”

“Well, you see. Some people expressed interest in watching, so I brought them along… Though I didn’t get your permission first. Is that alright?”

“I don’t mind spectators, but…”

I briefly glanced at the still-gathering crowd and noticed they all wore the same emblem on their coats—the insignia of the Military Research Department.

Just as I was wondering what kind of wind had blown them here, an older-looking man stepped forward from the crowd.

“Baron Hebel?”

His long, brown hair billowed like a lion’s mane, and a thick, dignified beard covered his chin. A deep scar ran across the back of his extended hand.

I knew this man.

Professor Gerhard von Wiesbaden of the Military Research Department. Once a renowned general of the Imperial Army, he had risen from commoner status to nobility through his achievements.

His name appeared in the chronicles I had read—a seasoned commander with decades of military service who, after retirement, became the backbone of the Academy’s Military Research Department.

Startled by this unexpected encounter, I quickly greeted him.

“You may address me casually, Professor Wiesbaden. I am Werner von Hebel.”

“I’ve heard about you. I look forward to today’s match.”

“Y-yes…”

His unexpectedly polite tone surprised me, but in my dazed state, I glanced at the Princess and the Margrave for cues.

What exactly is he looking forward to?

“Now then, let’s head inside.”

Soon, under the professor’s guidance, the students rose and swarmed in. Still bewildered, I lagged slightly behind and managed to get the full story from His Lordship the Margrave.

“Huh? The Princess called them here?”

“Right as the lecture was ending, she suddenly announced that she had arranged a friendly match and invited anyone who wanted to watch.”

“Even if that’s the case, why is the professor here?”

“How should I know? He just naturally followed along.”

My suspicion that the Princess had orchestrated this grew stronger when we were led not to the standard student arena but to the upper-level facility reserved for Military Research Department students.

Upon opening the doors, the sight before me was nothing like the cramped recreational space used by regular students.

I suppose hobbies and research are different. The lecture hall was equipped with proper spectator seating and dedicated screens, leaving me momentarily speechless.

But what shocked me even more was the Princess’s declaration.

“Today’s friendly match will be special—with Professor Wiesbaden’s permission, Baron Hebel, though not a department student, will be granted the same extensive privileges as one!”

“…I appreciate the kindness, but has this ever been done before?”

Professor Wiesbaden answered in her stead.

“There have been a few cases for particularly promising students.”

Promising students? Only after hearing his confident assertion—despite never having seen me before—did I finally understand why the professor had said, “I look forward to today.”

The Princess must have told him everything.

The standard mock battles for general students are limited to rigid, pre-set scenarios.

So, as someone who wanted a proper, engaging match, the Princess must have gone out of her way to arrange this.

“Still, even if it’s a friendly match, wouldn’t it be dull without stakes? Don’t you think so, Baron Hebel? As a History Department student, you wouldn’t gain any practical credits from this. Should we set some conditions?”

“With all due respect, I doubt I possess anything worthy of satisfying Her Highness.”

At my response, the Princess pressed her lips together and smiled.

“I’m not asking for anything grand. How about this—each of us grants the other one simple favor?”

“And what makes you think I have anything to offer?”

“Oh? Shouldn’t that be something you say after winning?”

“Fair point.”

The Princess grinned confidently.

Just how good is she? I couldn’t fathom her confidence, given that she had lost to our Margrave once, even if by luck.

But seeing her self-assured smile made it hard to argue. I wasn’t keen on antagonizing the Princess either, so I settled for a polite remark.

“I’ll look forward to it, then.”

“Then I wish you luck.”

With a flutter of her hand, the Princess, who had been acting uncharacteristically playful, turned away with dignified steps.

As the other students whispered among themselves while watching us, I averted my gaze and approached my assigned crystal screen under the professor’s direction.

“Now then, we shall commence the friendly mock battle between Her Noble Highness, Princess Charlotte Laura von Ahenmetis, and Baron Werner von Hebel. Please configure your settings… and declare when ready.”

Soon, a list of options appeared on my screen.

First, the races.

Humans of the central regions, beastfolk of the north, elves of the west, orcs and centaurs of the east, giants and dwarves of the mountain ranges, nomadic goblins…

Countless choices that would never be available to general students, along with an extensive array of unit types for each, floated before my eyes.

For someone unfamiliar, just deciding on army composition could take hours.

“Well, this should do.”

But I, Werner von Hebel, still retained memories of my past life—though the name had long faded—including my experience with games.

Combined with the historical knowledge I had gained in this world, I had a rough idea of how each race fought and what tactics they employed.

All I had to do now was adapt that knowledge to this medieval-style, otherworldly virtual reality game.

Recalling my conversation with the Margrave after parting with the Princess last night, I swiftly completed the input.

A short “Hoh.” of admiration escaped the professor as he reviewed my setup.

Once deployment was finalized, the crystal screen flashed, and with the starting declaration, my consciousness was pulled into the magically constructed virtual space.

The sensation of my body suddenly growing heavy, as though clad in armor despite wearing plain clothes, was something one had to get used to in these mock battles.

Though only my consciousness had entered, the environment was designed to simulate reality.

From the spectator seats, I would appear as a heavily armored dwarf astride a small horse amidst similarly equipped dwarven troops.

Now, to assess the terrain and deployment.

It would’ve been nice to have a minimap like in the ToXWar series I’d played, but unfortunately, the Schponheim-made mock battle system, designed to replicate real command situations, lacked such features.

One had to rely solely on their own senses to judge the enemy’s strength and issue orders.

Fortunately, the randomly generated battlefield was an ordinary open plain with gentle hills, patches of grass, and some wetlands—nothing too treacherous.

My side had a slight elevation advantage.

Meanwhile, the Imperial Army chosen by the Princess was arrayed as follows:

Archers at the front, spear-wielding infantry behind them, and cavalry held in reserve at the rear and flanks.

A textbook formation—soften the enemy with arrows, disrupt their lines with infantry, then deliver the finishing blow with heavily armored knights led by cavalry.

Her forces were divided into three groups, mirroring my own dwarf army’s three-pronged deployment.

Numbers? Roughly 2,000 on each side—the maximum manageable at this friendly match level while maintaining unit quality.

“Dwarves? The complete opposite of the centaurs this time, I see?”

The Princess sent a message through the mock battle system, observing my setup.

As she said, I had chosen dwarves—short-legged, inevitably slow, and lacking mobility.

Unlike centaurs, they primarily inhabited mountainous regions, carving cities into cliffs.

Even the tallest stood only half as high as a human, but they compensated with immense strength, endurance, and stamina.

This forced me into a completely different strategy from the swarm tactics that had overwhelmed her before.

“Well, naturally? Since I’m the one who proposed this, I should make the first move, no?”

When I didn’t respond, she declared her intent and aggressively advanced her Imperial troops.

In response, I issued my orders.

“Frontline infantry, form a shield wall and hold. Do not move until the enemy is upon you.”

Soon, as expected, the Imperial Army positioned itself, and their archers at the front began raining arrows from the foot of the hill.

The Empire’s heartland lacked suitable wood for bows, so their longbowmen couldn’t match the precision of other regions’ or races’ elite ranged units.

Still, merely having archers was a significant tactical advantage. If they could harass and whittle down the enemy, they were doing their job.

But I knew their attacks would be nearly meaningless.

Thunk, thunk-thunk-thunk—!

The sharp sounds of arrows striking the dwarven shield wall echoed, but the expected screams were conspicuously absent.

Dwarves were already small. Being half a human’s height meant half the target area.

Moreover, their ability to fully armor themselves with half the resources was a key advantage.

With their natural strength allowing them to overlap rectangular shields into a solid wall, most arrows simply bounced off or embedded harmlessly.

“Well, this much was expected.”

Among all the races recorded in this world’s histories, dwarves and their tactics boasted the sturdiest defenses.

Without elven magic archers, arrows alone would have limited effect.

And given our prior conversations, the Princess likely knew this. If she was aware of centaur tactics, she’d certainly know the Empire’s closer neighbors, the dwarves.

As if confirming my thoughts, her forces didn’t stop at volleys. Simultaneously, she advanced her spear infantry toward my dwarven lines.

Clearly, her plan was to pin the dwarves with arrows while her infantry moved in.

Dwarves, for all their defensive strength and brute force, struggled with projectile weapons due to their physiology.

Their short arms made throwing anything less effective than humans—no matter their strength, they couldn’t match the centrifugal force of a human’s longer limbs.

Bows and crossbows were the same.

Both required a full draw for proper power, but dwarves, with their short arms and stature, couldn’t manage it.

Of course, dwarves throughout history hadn’t just stood idle until their ammunition ran out.

Naturally, they had their own solutions.

So the next moment, as the Imperial spearmen closed in confidently, I deployed what I had prepared in the rear.

“Ballista chariots, forward.”

The mechanical devices dwarves had invented to compensate for their weaknesses.

If I recalled correctly, in my past life’s history, they were called carroballistae—early field artillery.

Modified versions of human ballistae, miniaturized and mounted on chariots pulled by the large mountain goats they bred.

“Ballista chariots, take position at designated points and fire on the approaching infantry as soon as ready.”

Soon, the goat-drawn chariots advanced, their mechanisms aimed at the Princess’s charging spearmen.

“Fire.”

At my command, the dwarves cheered as the ballistae loosed, the sharp twang of released tension followed by screams as Imperial soldiers fell.

But it was too early to relax.

“Keep firing!”

Limited by points, I only had four ballistae.

No matter how much they fired, taking down five or six per volley was the best they could manage.

Their true purpose was to delay the enemy infantry’s advance and startle the Princess.

I needed more time for my real stratagem to take effect.

But the Princess, unlike our flustered Margrave (no offense), reacted swiftly.

She immediately pushed her archers further forward and began showering the ballistae with arrows instead of the infantry.

Fwip-fwip-fwip-fwip—THUD!

Arrows landed near my feet, and one of the chariot’s goats, caught in the barrage, collapsed pitifully.