The Chaotic Front Lines

"I don't know, sir!"

"I really don't know!"

"Commander, please stop asking!"

"Please!"

The middle-aged military clerk wept and pleaded.

The loss of military supplies was a grave crime. If it were investigated, everyone responsible would lose their heads.

In theory, now that this had happened, he should have been eager to atone for his crime through meritorious service.

But the embezzlement of military supplies was never something ordinary people could pull off. A group of powerful figures at court were implicated as well.

If he stubbornly refused to talk, he alone would die.

Once he opened his mouth, not only would he die, but his wife, children, and entire family would be finished too.

"Hmm, perhaps."

"But remember this: I was never in the storeroom."

"If anyone asks about the supplies in the future, all you need to say is that the quartermaster took the account books, and only he knows the details!"

Seeing the clerk break down, Victor knew he could not keep questioning him.

So many supplies had vanished without a trace. The powerful figures involved were not people he could afford to provoke.

If the man could not withstand the pressure and named a bunch of important people, things would be difficult to resolve.

Knowing what the bureaucrats were like, he had no desire to return home only to be declared "possessed by a demon."

"What are you standing around for?"

"Hurry up and find some men to carry this stuff!"

"Take all the armor. I'm forming a heavy infantry company.

"And don't waste the bows and crossbows. I'm still short an archer battalion, and these are just what I need to fill it out.

..."

Seeing that his personal guards had yet to react, Victor immediately gave his orders.

Replacement armies were third-line forces hastily thrown together for temporary service. Their soldiers brought their own weapons, and many carried wooden spears just to make up the numbers.

Taking such a force onto the battlefield would be utterly reckless with his own life.

"My lord, using military supplies without authorization will..."

Preston could not help reminding him.

As captain of the personal guard, his prospects and fate for the rest of his life were closely tied to Victor's. He did not want things to go wrong halfway.

"Nonsense!"

"I was never even here. How could I have broken the rules?"

Victor rebuked him irritably.

His subordinate was so inflexible that he could not understand the twists and turns of officialdom, leaving Victor at a loss.

The weapons and equipment in the storeroom had all been intended for the Northern Frontier Corps.

Under the regulations, the Third Replacement Army, as the force transporting the supplies, had no authority to use these strategic supplies.

Even in an emergency that made it necessary to use them, written approval from the commander was required.

The situation was unusual now. No one even knew where Duke Alvin had gone, so it was naturally impossible to ask him for approval.

Even if he could apply for approval, Victor would not have done so.

He was only the acting army commander, appointed to take the blame.

Once the empire discovered such a massive shortfall in military supplies, he would almost certainly lose his head.

Compared with the shortfall in military supplies, the charge of diverting them in an emergency was considerably lighter.

"Ah!"

Preston, belatedly realizing what was going on, cried out. He understood at once that he had done something stupid.

He had been so preoccupied with imperial military discipline that he had overlooked the reality of the situation.

So many generals had fled, so something had clearly happened at the front.

The enemy could attack at any moment. If he did not hurry and find a way to strengthen their forces, he would be reckless with his own life.

Even if the empire held them accountable afterward, that was something to worry about only after they got back alive.

"Stop standing around and carry out your orders. Remember to send someone to tell all the generals to come collect equipment!"

Victor continued issuing orders.

A problem involving one person was an accident; a problem involving a group was a flaw in the system.

As long as the generals all stuck to the same story, there would be room to maneuver.

The sun sank in the west, and the evening breeze set a tattered military banner flapping incessantly.

The defeated soldiers of the Northern Frontier Corps sat directly on the ground, gnawing on coarse rations. No one dared light a fire for fear the cooking smoke would draw their pursuers.

"Marshal, please eat something!"

Seeing that the commander had not said a word, West approached with half a piece of dry bread and urged him to eat.

"I can't eat."

Duke Alvin spoke slowly.

A moment of hot-bloodedness had cost the empire its northern frontier elites. He did not know how he could go back and answer for it.

"Marshal, you weren't the one who doomed the soldiers. These chaotic times were!"

West said, against his conscience.

The Tuwu people were notorious for disregarding the rules. Bringing chivalry onto the battlefield was simply courting death.

"If it wasn't me, who else could it be?"

"When fighting deep in enemy territory, we should have been cautious to begin with. What did an undead scourge in enemy territory have to do with the empire?"

"I stupidly sent troops to help the Golden Horde Khanate suppress the undead scourge and gave the enemy an opening. I'm a laughingstock in the annals of military history!"

As he spoke, tears streamed down Duke Alvin's face.

Undead creatures were universally reviled on the Pannosia Continent. As a devout follower of the Holy Church, he had long since had the extermination of undead creatures ingrained in his bones.

He had simply forgotten that the circumstances were wrong, and he had never imagined that, to set a trap for him, the Golden Horde Khanate would sacrifice an entire great tribe of hundreds of thousands.

Faced with an undead army that filled the land and sky, he had immediately ordered his troops to encircle and destroy it. The battle had barely ended when the enemy's main force attacked.

If he had chosen to turn a blind eye, the spreading undead scourge would have become a nightmare for the grasslands.

Without losing a single soldier, he could have let the enemy reap what it had sown.

Unfortunately, for all the things in the world, there was no medicine for regret.

"Marshal, please eat something first!"

After a moment's hesitation, West spoke in a low voice.

He wanted to comfort him, but had no idea where to begin.

Before the troops had been sent out, the army's senior generals had opposed it as one. Duke Alvin had launched "Operation Plow the Court" entirely against their wishes.

The crushing defeat on the battlefield had also been caused by Duke Alvin's incompetent command. No matter how one looked at it, he bore primary responsibility.

"Has the retreat order been passed down to every unit?"

After accepting the bread, Duke Alvin asked the question.

A campaign into the great grasslands required auxiliaries as well as combat troops.

The hundred-thousand-strong Northern Frontier Corps had fought on the front lines, while the auxiliaries responsible for logistics were no fewer in number.

Although these auxiliaries had little fighting strength, they were still young and able-bodied workers.

If they were all lost on the battlefield, the empire's losses would be even greater.

In the northern frontier provinces in particular, there would likely be mourning in every household.

"The retreat order has been issued, but the grasslanders are everywhere. I don't know whether it can reach the units at the front."

West answered with some unease.

The order had been issued, but it had not been sent out, because there were not enough messengers.

It sounded like a joke, but that was precisely the Northern Frontier Corps' current situation.

The units' formations had long since been thrown into disarray, and the enemy was in close pursuit. There was simply no time to reorganize the troops.

Messengers were a specialized military role. They needed not only superb horsemanship, but also an exceptional ability to find their way.

The vast grasslands looked like an expanse of green, and ordinary people had trouble even telling which direction they were going.

"Alas!"

"I hope they can withdraw in time!"