An Age of Comparing Who's Worse

Once they left the meeting room, Huthier and the others' faces darkened. Clearly, none of them had much taste for Lieutenant General Jarrett's grandiose talk.

They had not shown it during the meeting only because they were insignificant. The other man was a lieutenant general, while the highest-ranking officer in the Austrian delegation was merely a lieutenant colonel.

Moreover, the rebel leadership clearly trusted the British more. Publicly questioning him would accomplish nothing but offend people.

Back at the camp, the most outspoken of them, Major Potiorek, could no longer hold back. "Tell me, could that fellow have taken French money and deliberately...?"

Lieutenant Colonel Huthier cut him off. "Impossible! He is, after all, a lieutenant general of the empire where the sun never sets. No matter what, he would not betray his country for a bit of money.

"Besides, Lieutenant General Jarrett is not entirely without merit. At the very least, he is more reliable than those people in the rebel high command."

Merit?

Unfortunately, Huthier truly could not find any. Lieutenant General Jarrett's military deployment had not the slightest flaw in theory.

He had calculated everything—except the rebels' ability to carry out orders.

The previous ambush had also been sound in theory. It had failed only because the rebels' combat effectiveness was utterly abysmal.

Since there was no point comparing strengths, they could only compare who was worse. Lieutenant General Jarrett might be somewhat rigid, and his bureaucratic style might be rather heavy-handed, but he was still more dependable than the rebel leadership's motley crowd.

Major Potiorek shook his head. "I'm afraid he is only marginally better. Jarrett's combat experience is limited to suppressing colonial rebellions, not instigating them."

There was no helping it. Britain had not fought a war in many years. Its most recent major war