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12. The Penrose Brothers

The Penrose Territory.

A man who was once a commoner but was recognized for his skill by the former Duke Grace, earning him the title of baron.

And an exceptional knight who took the surname “Penrose” after the name of the territory.

After his death, his two sons succeeded him as lords of the territory.

A lavish chamber surrounded by towering, sturdy walls.

The elder brother, Lionel Penrose, rugged and manly with a thick, unkempt beard.

Built like a brawny barbarian, he was a man said to have inherited his father’s valor and prowess.

“That damn brat from Grace…!!”

He puffed out his massive muscles, seething with rage.

Not everyone in the Redmain lands sided with Grace.

Thanks to a letter from a certain figure who had attended the noble council, they had caught wind of Grace’s surprise attack.

Lionel Penrose’s anger stemmed from a simple reason.

The audacity of challenging his army—one that he prided as nearly matching his father’s skill.

And worse, attempting a reckless surprise attack after a grueling winter march without proper preparation.

On top of that, their excuse? Invading just to grant a title to some country bumpkin commoner?

Furious enough to hurl the stew he had been eating, Lionel bellowed.

“Do they take me for a fool…!! Prepare the troops at once!!”

“Brother, just shut up and sit down.”

The man trying to restrain his hot-tempered elder sibling.

Unlike his brutish-looking brother, this man bore the refined appearance of a noble gentleman—Eliorod Penrose, Lionel’s younger brother.

“There’s no need to fight, is there? Just keep the commoners inside the walls and hold out. That alone guarantees victory.

With winter nearly over, they won’t have much supply to sustain a siege.”

“Ugh….”

Lionel clenched his jaw and exhaled sharply at his brother’s words.

True to the wisdom he inherited from their father, he was no fool.

The letter delivered in secret from the Grace Duchy indicated their army would arrive within three days.

Eliorod judged there was no urgent need to engage.

But Lionel, as if trying to persuade his brother, spoke again.

“Doesn’t it grate on you? That little upstart from a ducal house bought with money looks down on us—!?”

“It is certainly irritating.”

He nodded in agreement with his brother’s words.

“But times have changed. Wars aren’t fought with just a handful of knights anymore… They’ll surely bring ordinary soldiers too.

We don’t know how many or what kind of strong fighters are among them.”

“Don’t you trust me? I’ll win.”

“Lionel….”

Eliorod sighed in frustration at his brother’s overconfidence.

He drummed his fingers on the table, deep in thought.

“First, without any spies of our own, nobles willingly fed us information.

That suggests the Grace family hasn’t yet extended its influence over the entire Redmain region.

In fact, some factions might even be hoping for Erica Grace to lose….”

“Then if we win, we can carve out a place for ourselves, huh? Haha, teach those bastards who looked down on us as mere barons a lesson!!”

Lionel, for once, made a surprisingly reasonable point.

But his brother remained skeptical.

“On the flip side, this is a battle Erica Grace absolutely cannot afford to lose.

She’ll undoubtedly bring her best forces. That’s why she’s pushing through a winter march to launch this surprise attack.”

“So there’s still a chance we can win?!”

“Don’t underestimate Erica Grace. She might be young, but she’s formidable.

Let me say it again—hold out in a siege.”

Eliorod, giving Erica due credit, insisted on a defensive strategy.

To Lionel, this passive approach was maddening.

A victory here would be their chance to rise as recognized warlords in Redmain.

“Think again. The winter march means ordinary soldiers will be fatigued, thinning their numbers.

With both of us leading the charge, we can crush them.”

“And if we lose, we’ll be wiped from history.

Hold out in the siege, survive, and wait for another opportunity.”

“Tch—! And then what? When other territories invade, Penrose will just serve as meat shields?”

Redmain was situated in the central-right region of the Frontier Empire.

Its rugged mountains and poorly maintained roads meant any invasion force would have to pass through Penrose.

If an era of warlords arose, they’d be reduced to mere buffers and cannon fodder.

Naturally, the ambitious brothers had no desire for such a fate.

That’s why they had refused the Graces’ offer of vassalage.

“Huh? Little brother, this is our chance! We’re the sons of a man esteemed purely for his skill!”

“No matter what you say, I choose the siege. My stance won’t change.”

“Damn stubborn brat.”

And so, the brothers remained divided.

Still, as formidable warriors commanding their own forces, they avoided outright conflict.

Had they been adventurers, both would’ve easily ranked as A-class.

Thus, the two brothers waited—each holding to their own convictions—for Grace’s army to arrive in seven days.

―――――――――――――――――――

“So this was why they planned a winter advance….”

A river wider than the Han.

Crossing by boat or building a bridge would’ve taken days longer.

But the frigid weather had frozen it solid, allowing cavalry and foot soldiers to traverse it swiftly, saving precious time.

Thanks to that, the expected seven-day march was cut short to five.

If Erica, riding beside me, had factored even this into launching the war…

I’d be tempted to praise her with the saying, “Geniuses differ from mediocrity, even with gaps in knowledge.”

Unlike wars in Han, Zhong, or Il, fought primarily by knightly retinues,

She understood the critical importance of logistics in large-scale warfare and precisely calculated distances.

The decisiveness to commit most of her forces for a swift resolution.

And the boldness to immediately act on the daunting choice of war.

Truly, she lived up to her reputation as the monster who, despite her youth, had ousted the former lords of Grace to seize power.

As I absentmindedly stared at Erica’s profile—bored and blank-faced atop her horse—Vivian, riding beside me, nudged me with her elbow.

“What, you got a thing for her?”

“Me?”

“Yeah! You’ve been staring at her like a lovesick fool….”

“Haha… No, I was just thinking, ‘True geniuses really are different.’”

At my words, she sighed with visible relief.

Then, with an uneasy frown, she leaned in as if to warn me.

Almost as if she didn’t want me getting too close to Erica.

“Right? But if you’re thinking straight, you’d do better to back off. Her temper’s downright vicious.”

“I see….”

“Plus, she’s short and flat-chested, y’know? Big-hearted women come with big chests.

Look at me—these plump bundles of virtue.”

Vivian proudly hefted her ample bosom for emphasis.

Having spent 45 years across two lives as a virgin, this was too much stimulation—I averted my gaze.

“So yeah, compared to my shriveled-up sis—”

“Logistics Officer.”

“Eep…! Sis, you called?”

Vivian flinched at Erica’s sudden interjection from ahead.

“We’ve arrived. Penrose.”

At her words, I craned my neck to look.

Beyond a river wider than the Han, past mountains stripped bare by the cold, lay our destination.

A towering fortress and the sprawling plains where its people lived.

But something felt off.

For such a sizable settlement, remarkably few people were visible…

“Were there always this few villagers here?”

“Tch… Someone leaked our plans.”

“Leaked?”

“Yeah. Don’t know who, but it’s got to be one of the petty nobles.”

Erica gnawed at her thumbnail, seething.

Still, she forced calm upon seeing that not all civilians had evacuated yet.

“The evacuation isn’t complete.

That means the leak didn’t come from someone on the march—it was someone at the council where we decided on this war…

We estimated seven days assuming the river wouldn’t be frozen.

The fact that villagers are still inside and defenses aren’t fully set means the leak happened during planning.”

In an instant, Erica pieced together the situation, gritting her teeth in frustration.

Arms crossed, she observed the still-unprepared village from her saddle.

I cautiously ventured a question.

“Should we retreat, then?”

“No. I already sent the observers ahead.”

For a moment, I was puzzled by the term “observers,” but a bright voice behind me made me forget it.

Vivian—tall, busty, with vibrant features and a ponytail like a sporty older sister—patted my back roughly.

“A man with balls thinks of retreat already?!”

“Vivian.”

“Yeah, sis! Need me for something?”

“Yeah… Execute the Mountain Bombardment.”

At Erica’s icy words, Vivian immediately dropped into a push-up position.

Though hers was slightly unusual—hands clasped behind her back, balancing on her head.

As Vivian trembled under the punishment, Erica growled:

“Don’t pretend you don’t know why, Logistics Officer.”

“I don’t!”

For a moment, recalling army brutality, I almost intervened—but…

“Really? You didn’t think this was just you throwing a tantrum because your ‘bundles of virtue’ deflated?”

…Seems Vivian needs more time face-down.