episode_0011

From the very first impression, it was clear that the professor in charge of our mock battle training was no ordinary person.

Gaunt cheeks with patchy black-brown and white stubble. Deep-set wrinkles around the mouth and naturally sharp, piercing eyes. Short hair that made no effort to conceal the pronounced furrows etched into his forehead.

But what left a stronger impression than the appearance of “Professor Claudio Montecuccoli” was his booming voice and unique demeanor.

“As I said during the first lecture, I won’t care about your status during this class! Because within these walls, you are nothing more than mere students!”

Professor Montecuccoli shouted, reiterating his point as he faced the replacement student who had just joined in the third week.

“Outside, your status will be respected! But at least within this lecture, you are students, so act like students. Remember this once more—you are here to learn the art of war, not to idle around playing board games. Understood?!”

I recalled the evaluation our Frontier Count had shared about this professor just yesterday. He had said the man was incredibly strict…

“Understood.”

“Good! As you’ve been informed, this lecture conducted a trial exam for half the students last week. Today, the remaining half will take their turn. Those who haven’t gone yet, come forward and draw lots! Those with matching numbers will face each other!”

According to the guidelines I’d heard, this lecture was structured so that half the students would engage in practical exercises each week, while the other half observed, evaluated, or reviewed the professor’s feedback.

And after completing the basic tutorials, it seemed I had joined as a replacement just in time for the performance evaluation stage.

‘Number two, huh…’

With twenty-four students, including me, attending the practical lecture, splitting them in half and forming groups would make six pairs.

And who would my opponent be?

“Those who drew number two!”

What followed was a voice I knew all too well—a high-pitched, unmistakably familiar female tone.

“Wow…”

It wasn’t impossible, given the small class size, but what were the odds it’d be her right away?

“Me.”

“Wow! How nice to see you! What a coincidence, right?”

Her lips, curled in a smile as she approached, twitched faintly—no, that wasn’t my imagination.

Yeah, yeah. After what she said yesterday, she must be thrilled to get a chance for payback so soon.

As I watched her visibly delighted expression, I suddenly noticed something off about her today.

“You’ve tied your hair up high today.”

Unlike yesterday, her hair was now pinned up high. At my remark, she replied nonchalantly, “Ah, this? My maid did it today. The usual lady-in-waiting was busy.”

So that was it. Though, for something supposedly casual, the styling seemed oddly elaborate.

As I turned away, my curiosity satisfied, I spotted our Frontier Count comfortably seated among the observers.

Too engrossed in conversation with those around him, he didn’t notice my gaze. His sociable nature seemed to naturally draw people in.

‘Well, he was never short on acquaintances.’

In stark contrast, I hadn’t even managed to strike up a conversation with most of them. The one to break me out of my thoughts was Professor Montecuccoli’s booming voice.

“Alright! All pairs are set! Prepare in advance and step forward when called! Like last time, the order will also be decided by lot!”

Prepare what, exactly…? I hadn’t had much time to think of strategies.

‘Maybe I’ll figure it out while watching the others?’

I was curious how the others would handle their matches anyway.

Fortunately, the professor drew number five first, buying me some time.

Among the spectators, one pair of eyes watched more intently than the rest—the Imperial Princess, who had deliberately taken the seat beside me, finally spoke.

“You know, after the Frontier Count of Ruticia beat me last time, using centaurs became quite the trend?”

“That’s… rather embarrassing for me to hear.”

A half-baked rush strategy I’d casually suggested had become a trend among the elite? Well, I suppose it must’ve been shocking.

Sure enough, in the fifth match, someone had brought an army of centaurs.

An orc, to be precise. Given that orcs in this world typically lived in rugged terrain, his understanding of the uneven hills designated as the battlefield seemed impressively high.

After ambushing part of his forces at the base of the hills, he lured the enemy in slowly before crushing them with a cavalry charge the moment they took the bait.

His execution was far cleaner than anything I’d haphazardly suggested.

‘He’s better than me…’

But contrary to my thoughts, our Imperial Princess had this to say:

“Hmph. Impressive. But the original should be even better, right?”

“I’m hardly the original…”

“Then the propagator, perhaps?”

“I didn’t propagate anything either.”

As we exchanged these trivial remarks, the matches passed by quicker than expected.

Next up were numbers one, six, four, and three—naturally leaving us for last.

Then, Her Highness the Princess leaned in and whispered:

“That man on the right now—not as interesting as the Baron, but still quite entertaining.”

Following her gaze, I saw a man dressed as if in mourning, his appearance dark and gloomy, stepping forward.

‘His name was… Johann Beltstein, wasn’t it?’

I think I’d seen him in the previous Introduction to Tactics lecture. We might’ve even exchanged greetings.

And his opponent in the mock battle was another confident man riding the trend—fielding an army of centaurs.

Judging by appearances alone, he seemed like a southern noble who’d sneer, “Hah! Daring to challenge me? A pup who doesn’t know to fear the tiger!”

But Johann Beltstein displayed bizarre cunning.

Against the centaurs, he opted to expend resources on a large number of wagons.

He arranged them into a defensive wall outside his camp, then used crossbows and arrows to pick off the lightly armed centaur skirmishers from within.

‘A Wagenburg…?’

A wagon fortress.

Literally, a tactic of encircling wagons to form a makeshift stronghold and using them as defensive barriers.

It wasn’t particularly special in this world, as it was often used as a stopgap measure. Even in my past life, wagon fort tactics against nomadic tribes had plenty of historical precedent.

For instance, the Han Dynasty’s “War Chariots” (武剛車) used against the Xiongnu.

Still, I couldn’t help but be impressed by how meticulously he executed it. A careless deployment could’ve led to encirclement and defeat, yet his formation was flawlessly tight.

‘Why does it feel like everyone’s better than me…?’

Just as I began doubting where the Princess’s confidence in me came from, the match ended in Johann Beltstein’s overwhelming victory.

Only Professor Montecuccoli seemed displeased, shouting:

“Then, last up! Next! Werner! Charlotte! Take your positions and prepare!”

And so, it was finally our turn.

“Yes!”

Bouncing to her feet, she shot me a glance before heading to her spot with that same smile.

While she confidently strode to her position, I was still racking my brain over what to do.

And as soon as I took my place and began setting up… I could feel an unusually intense gaze fixed on me.

Sure, most eyes were on the Princess, but a few—our Frontier Count, Johann Beltstein, and others—were staring holes into me.

“Don’t expect too much…”

Aside from His Excellency, I had no idea why they were so intrigued.

Well, since I’d set the bait, I might as well try to live up to the expectations.

With that thought, I selected an option and began summoning centaurs.

The battlefield chosen for the two of us was, unlike last time’s mock battle, a plain with relatively few undulations.

There were dense forests scattered about, and to the north—Princess Charlotte’s side—lay a sizable lake.

Meanwhile, a wide river flowed from the south toward the lake, its breadth making it difficult to cross by swimming.

“Hmm…”

Mounted on her horse, adjusting to the familiar weight of her armor, Princess Charlotte surveyed the field. For some reason, she felt an odd mix of emotions seeing Werner bring the very centaurs she’d wanted him to.

She’d nudged him in that direction, but she hadn’t actually expected him to comply.

“…………Hehehe.”

A chance to repay her first proper defeat just one day after declaring him her rival—it was impossible not to feel exhilarated.

Moreover, unlike last time, where Baron Hebel had held the advantageous terrain, this battlefield was relatively fair for both sides.

The river and lake might’ve seemed like obstacles, but for Charlotte fielding Imperial heavy cavalry and Werner’s centaur skirmishers, the inability to maneuver freely was an equal handicap.

No, if anything, it was Werner who was at a disadvantage.

In a composition where close combat had to be avoided at all costs, forests and rivers restricting movement were far from ideal.

The only open area was the left bank of the river—where Charlotte had already deployed her forces.

And to facilitate cavalry maneuvers, Werner would have no choice but to reveal himself nearby as well.

Just as Charlotte predicted, the centaurs made first contact via the spacious left bank, an open plain free of obstacles.

‘Here they come.’

Countless centaurs nocked their bows and advanced, showering her with arrows in place of greetings.

But what Charlotte witnessed next left her utterly bewildered.

“……Huh?”

The centaur archers boldly charged forward, raised their bows at an unusually high angle, and fired—toward a spot well beyond effective range.

Shooting from such a distance was nothing but a waste of arrows. In a situation where every shot counted, this was sheer recklessness.

Yet, depending on the opponent, such antics could be infuriating.

Because those arrows, fired from so far away, still managed to land uncomfortably close to Charlotte—despite her heavily armored infantry and cavalry.

“……?”

Is this a joke?

The thought flashed through Charlotte’s mind—and who could blame her?