After the Imperial forces returned to Rochelle from their battle around Lake Apitelo…

"The enemy forces near Triel have retreated."

"...Good. Maintain a defensive stance for a few more days, then fall back to Triel to reorganize."

"I will relay that order."

"Hm."

With the 20,000 troops of the Kingdom’s army withdrawing from Triel, the Dragonia Empire was declared the victor of the entire campaign.

Yet, the Imperial forces, despite their major victory, were not satisfied to rest on their laurels.

"...What do you think?"

"The soldiers are weary from the long march, but their morale is sky-high. It would be a waste to stop here."

"Agreed. The Kingdom’s army is inferior to us in numbers, morale, and quality. We should seize Aniak, Saint-Toir, and Montpieu before they can establish defensive lines."

"Hm..."

Viktor and Friedrich both urged for an aggressive push to capture the Kingdom’s remaining strongholds.

"The enemy hasn’t even fully regrouped after their retreat. Their total forces barely reach 40,000 now. With only 20,000 in Aniak, and having already suffered defeat, they won’t be difficult to overcome."

"If we secure these three locations, the Kingdom of Brotan, driven beyond the Crejon Mountains, won’t be able to threaten the Empire again. We need to move swiftly before they can deploy reinforcements."

"If that’s your position... so be it. But you’ll both be responsible for the consequences."

"Of course."

With each reinforcing the other’s arguments, Viktor and Friedrich succeeded in persuading Gerhardt, who agreed to the plan under the condition that they assume full command responsibility.

Once they confirmed that the Kingdom’s reinforcements were minimal, the Imperial forces took four days to regroup and resupply before…

"March to Saint-Toir!"

Under the leadership of Viktor and Friedrich, they launched a full assault on the last strongholds defending the Kingdom of Brotan’s homeland.

---

Three weeks after the conclusion of the battle at Lake Apitelo, in the royal court of the Kingdom of Brotan…

"Duke Clavier! Is the conscription not yet underway?"

Just weeks ago, the young King Guillaume II had led a successful campaign, seizing vast plains from the Kingdom of Kaen, his spirit high. But the moment he heard news of his army’s defeat by the Imperial forces, he ordered an immediate mobilization.

"Your Majesty, we are already near the limits of our previous conscription. We need more time..."

Antoine Clavier, the kingdom’s chancellor, tried to calm the king, citing the need for additional preparation.

"Time, time, time! That blasted ‘time’!"

Frustrated with Antoine’s constant delays, Guillaume leapt from his throne.

"You worthless fools! The kingdom is in crisis, and you’re all doing nothing!"

The 90,000 soldiers they’d initially mustered had nearly exhausted the nation’s resources, making further conscription difficult. But Guillaume, oblivious to such concerns, swung his scepter at the bowed nobles in a fit of irritation.

The nobles, having frequently witnessed the king’s violent tendencies, shrank back, fearing the scepter might strike them next.

"Gaston, Bébys... they were the real problem. Ninety thousand! And yet they still lost?"

"..."

"I crushed the Kingdom of Kaen’s forces with just 40,000!"

Guillaume’s brutal personality was well known across the kingdom, as he had personally whipped a general after losing to the Kaen Kingdom. No one dared challenge his angry words, even when he publicly blamed Bébys and Gaston, who had once been respected figures but were now dead or captured.

"I should have led them myself! If I had, the Imperial dogs would have been pushed beyond the river by now!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

"Indeed! Those commanders may have been famous, but they couldn’t match Your Majesty’s courage!"

"Their incompetence is a crime in itself! They deserve severe punishment!"

It was Guillaume who had ordered Bébys, Gaston, and Auguste to lead the campaign prematurely, yet the nobles ignored this, choosing instead to sacrifice the disgraced commanders to appease him.

"Exactly! Quite right!"

Pleased with the nobles’ submissive flattery, Guillaume nodded in satisfaction.

After defeating their long-standing rival, the Kingdom of Kaen, Guillaume felt that any failures by incompetent border nobles couldn’t tarnish his reputation.

"How many Imperial troops are we facing? Was it around 50,000?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"We still have around 50,000 of our own, so at the very least, we should be able to hold them off."

However, Guillaume was still unaware of the Empire’s true strength, as Kingdom officers like Gaspar and Gerard had minimized their losses in their reports, fearing his wrath.

"Are we still gathering more troops?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Once the reinforcements are assembled, I shall lead them into battle personally. I will accept no objections!"

"..."

Antoine, who stood by, felt uneasy at the young king’s fervor, but upon seeing the fire in Guillaume’s eyes, he simply bowed, conceding to the king’s resolve.

Then—

*Bang, bang, bang!*

Urgent knocks echoed through the chamber before the door burst open.

"Y-Your Majesty! Urgent news!"

A messenger, panting heavily, threw himself at Guillaume’s feet.

"Ah, has an Imperial envoy arrived? It’s about time we discussed terms for handling the prisoners."

"..."

"Speak."

Having seen messengers arrive in a panic over trivial matters, Guillaume was unaffected, thinking the situation routine. But Antoine closed his eyes, sensing that this might be a true catastrophe.

"Saint-Toir has..."

"Yes? What of Saint-Toir?"

"Saint-Toir has fallen to the Imperial forces!"

"Fallen?"

The sudden news that Saint-Toir, the stronghold defending the southern route of the Crejon Mountains and the banks of the Vildorne River, had fallen took Guillaume aback, but he quickly recovered.

"If it’s only Saint-Toir, then we’re still fine. Once reinforcements are ready, we’ll recapture it by attacking from both flanks with the Montpieu forces, correct?"

As long as Montpieu held, he believed that retaking Saint-Toir through the single route across the Crejon Mountains—the Grit Gorge—would be straightforward.

"..."

He spoke casually, glancing at the nobles. However, Antoine, sensing there was more to come, remained silent.

"Why are you all..."

"Your Majesty!"

Before Guillaume could finish, another messenger rushed in and knelt beside the first.

"...Speak! What now?"

"Montpieu has fallen to the Empire! General Gaspar Perrin died fighting to the last man!"

The messenger delivered the grim news the moment he was allowed to speak.

"Montpieu too? Didn’t we still have comparable numbers to the enemy?"

"I-I... don’t know the details..."

Unable to comprehend how they could lose two key positions with over 50,000 soldiers, Guillaume lashed out at the messenger, who trembled in fear.

"Ugh..."

Instead of pressing the messenger further, he turned to the nobles for a solution.

"Even so, Fort Pirot guards the opposite end of Grit Gorge. It will be difficult for the enemy to use it."

"Hm... It’s unfortunate that we cannot leverage Saint-Toir, but there’s no other option."

And just days later, before the meeting concluded—

*Bang, bang!*

"Your Majesty!"

Count Auguste Etoile, who was supposed to defend Aniak, burst into the chamber, looking even more worn than the previous messengers. With his hair disheveled and armor in tatters, he collapsed to his knees in the center of the hall.

"Count Etoile, what are you..."

"Your Majesty, we lost Aniak to a general named Viktor! Please send reinforcements immediately!"

Ignoring the nobles’ shock, Auguste lifted his head, reporting his defeat before Guillaume could even grant him permission to speak.

"...What? Viktor? Do we know this name?"

One of the nobles standing nearby stepped forward to answer the king, who was unfamiliar with the name.

"He is a general who led the Kingdom of Rus’s forces in the Northern War. A young commander in his twenties, renowned for his skill..."

"Twenties?"

Guillaume raised his voice upon learning that the man who had defeated his forces was in his twenties.

Even Guillaume, who faced skepticism from older generals when trying to command troops, was already over thirty.

"Are you serious? Our mighty army, defeated by a mere youth barely in his twenties?"

"...Yes."

In his eyes, Viktor, still in his late twenties, appeared to be an inexperienced upstart.

"Not only defeated, but he took all three strongholds?"

"That is correct! The Empire’s forces..."

"How many soldiers do we have left?"

"...Around eight thousand..."

*Shing.*

Enraged by the news that Aniak, Montpieu, and Saint-Toir—the three strongholds guarding the Kingdom’s western border—had fallen, leaving only a fraction of their troops, Guillaume immediately drew his sword.

"With such a grievous failure, you dare return alive?"

"Ahhh!"

"Your Majesty! Please, no!"

"Your life shall be the price for your treachery!"

"Spare me, please!"

With Guillaume swinging his sword in a rage, Antoine and the nobles desperately tried to hold him back, while Auguste scrambled to find a place to hide. The chamber quickly descended into chaos.

After several minutes of mayhem, Guillaume finally regained his composure and returned to his throne.

"...I won’t take your life just yet, but don’t

 think you will escape punishment."

"..."

"Duke Clavier, what are your thoughts?"

Guillaume sighed as he looked at the trembling Auguste, then reluctantly addressed Antoine.

"..."

"Duke Clavier?"

"For now, we cannot consider a truce. With the Empire controlling our main strongholds, if we end the war now, Brotan will suffer near-collapse."

Rising to his feet, Antoine, faced with the dire situation, did his best to offer a solution.

"...Hmm."

"Although the Empire has the upper hand, their numbers aren’t overwhelming. We should focus on defense to exhaust their momentum while continuing conscription. Fortunately, the Kingdom of Ildemar has shown favorable interest. If we enlist their support, it will buy us time."

"Specifically?"

"We may need to offer them the upper Vildorne River region, but with Ildemar’s cooperation, along with troops from the border with Kaen, we should be able to hold off the Empire."

"..."

Guillaume felt anger at the idea of conceding territory, but he wisely took a moment to scan the faces of the nobles seated around him.

Most of the nobles kept their heads bowed, but some looked to Antoine with hopeful expressions.

"..."

Suppressing his anger, Guillaume relented.

Antoine had governed Brotan as chancellor long before Guillaume took the throne. The risk of reprimanding him for proposing a pragmatic plan was far different from scolding Auguste for military failure.

Even with his high spirits, Guillaume knew he couldn’t treat Antoine as he did the other nobles.

"...Deploy our forces to defensive positions, focusing on Fort Pirot. Redirect the troops from the Kaen border to reinforce the defenses upon arrival, and send envoys to Ildemar."

"Understood."

Although dissatisfied, he ordered the plan according to Antoine’s advice.

"Thank you for Your Majesty’s wise decision. As time passes, the Empire may show weaknesses, and opportunities will arise."

Antoine, grateful for the king’s consideration, bowed deeply.

"...Indeed."

However, Guillaume’s thoughts diverged from Antoine’s expectations. Displeased by Antoine’s influence among the nobles, he acknowledged the advice outwardly while pondering his own ambitions for the “opportunity” Antoine had hinted at.