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Around that time, there was a heated discussion raging on the Arcadia side as well. Not only was defeat becoming increasingly likely, but their legion commander had even been taken captive. Continuing the war was now impossible. The question was, where would they find a new legion commander to carry on, and who would take responsibility for this situation - of course, the one at the center of it all was...
"How do you intend to do to take responsibility, Carl!"
Carl flinched. Frank and Ignatz stood on either side of him, supporting him, but their expressions were grim. It was an outcome they had seen coming.
"Weren't you the one who left an opening through which the enemy invaded? If you hadn't moved, the legion commander wouldn't have been killed, isn't that right?"
Carl would have liked to say "No," but he had no grounds to refute it. It was true that if Carl and his men hadn't moved, Anatole would have been allowed through. But the result was that they had fallen for the feint, and it was undeniably William's - and by extension, Carl's century's - decision to let the "Black Wolf" through to the legion commander.
"Then why didn't you either defeat Anatole or stop the 'Black Wolf' yourself?"
Anselm's statement. The century captain, Carl, was silent, his mouth shut tight. As a nobleman and a military commander, Anselm was superior to him.
"I'm sure the others were the same. They couldn't keep up with the suddenly changing Nederkus army and many were broken through. If that weren't the case, we wouldn't be in this situation now. It's fine to look for faults, but we might end up digging our own graves. Rather, shouldn't we be considering how to fight tomorrow?"
Anselm's words were utterly reasonable. But the speech trailed off. They all knew the reality - that they were now cornered.
"The arrangements for a new legion commander have already been made. Losing this position is unacceptable for Arcadia. At the very least, we must strive to maintain it as a neutral buffer zone as before. If we lose further, all of us present here will need to be prepared for some kind of reckoning."
The highest-ranking century captain, Gilbert, spoke up. His words caused the room to fall silent once more, with only the flickering of the candles breaking the stillness.
"...Carl von Taylor."
"Yesh!"
At Gilbert's sudden shout, Carl responded with a startled, high-pitched voice.
"How is that man doing?"
"That man." Even as he asked, Gilbert clearly knew who Carl was referring to.
"William, the captain of the 10th century, is currently resting. Was there something you needed from him?"
Hearing Carl's words, Gilbert's expression soured. Carl shuddered, but Gilbert had no particular issues with Carl himself. Rather, it was the man behind him that he was focused on.
"We'll adjourn for now. All of you, rest well. We'll continue this discussion first thing in the morning. Anselm, Gregor, and Carl remain here. Dismissed."
Gilbert tersely dismissed the gathering. The other century captains shuffled out of the room. The only ones left were Gilbert, Anselm, Gregor, and Carl.
"Bring the 10th company captain, Taylor. You two don't need to return."
Frank and Ignatz stiffened and stood at attention. They bowed deeply and took their leave.
"What are you planning, Gilbert?"
Gregor questioned. In this situation, it wasn't clear why Gilbert would summon William. This group alone wouldn't be for a reprimand, as the responsibility lay with their superior officer, Carl. And the strategy had been conceived by Carl himself. Gregor couldn't understand the reason for calling in the sword, William, to seek his wisdom in this gathering.
"It's time to end this ridiculous charade. Now we're in a situation where we have to borrow the insights of a man like him."
Gilbert's face was filled with disdain.
༺༻
William, summoned to the gathering, had bandages soaked in blood all over his body. There was none of his usual composure, and occasional pained sounds could be heard as he gritted his teeth. He embodied the state of being utterly battered, showing how recklessly he had fought in today's battle.
"Do you understand why you were summoned?"
William, with vacant eyes, opened his mouth slightly.
"Is it to condemn me for allowing the enemy through?"
Hearing this, Gilbert pointed his sword at him. None of the others present - Anselm, Gregor, or Carl - could react with such speed. Only William stared at it calmly.
"Don't spout such nonsense. I'm already in a foul mood as it is. My hand may slip."
Gilbert turned his gaze to Carl.
"Taylor. If you lie to me, I'll destroy your family. Now answer this - has this man been the one controlling you in the shadows all this time? Both in terms of military might and tactics... has he been manipulating everything?"
Carl tried to look at William, but before he could,
"Carl von Taylor! If you are a noble of any standing, don't go peeking at the commoner's expression! I'm asking you. Is it true or not? Answer me."
Gilbert's reprimand came flying. Neither Carl nor William could afford to move rashly in this situation.
Carl bowed his head. It was now impossible to keep deceiving any further. Gregor was the only one who still didn't fully understand, but Anselm was waiting calmly for Carl's response.
More than anything, Carl's conscience could no longer bear it. He felt like he was stealing William's achievements, greedily sucking up the sweet juices, and their friendship had become horribly distorted. Even at this point, Carl still wanted to be William's friend, on equal terms. So—
"...Yes, that's right. Everything was planned by William. I only used his ideas."
Carl murmured, his face downcast.
"W-What!?"
Gregor was the only one surprised. Anselm remained silent and unmoving.
"I'm not trying to condemn you for that. Don't misunderstand. This is just confirmation, Taylor."
Gilbert turned his attention back to William.
"Bribing the higher-ups, manipulating Taylor, and pushing your own agenda. You really went to great lengths. No wonder I can't bring myself to like you. Even if you were a nobleman, I would have disliked you."
Gilbert sank into a chair.
"You sit too. We'll start the war council from here. Your evil ingenuity is better than nothing."
This surprised William as well. Undoubtedly, Gilbert had a deep-seated dislike for him, hating him like a venomous snake. Yet, Gilbert was now seeking William's opinion, acknowledging his abilities and allowing him to speak up in this gathering.
"I'd like to discuss the tactics for the battles to come. Does anyone have any proposals?"
No one raised their hand. In fact, if they had any ideas, they would have already proposed them earlier. Not only Gregor but even Anselm seemed to have no clear plan in mind. Of course, Gilbert was also at a loss. He had some ideas, but nothing particularly outstanding.
"...Let me confirm one thing."
William spoke up for the first time in this kind of setting, without going through Carl.
"Go ahead."
Gilbert gave him permission.
"Even if you have a winning strategy to propose, it won't mean anything if there's no one capable of executing it, right? Do you have anyone in mind?"
William looked around at Gilbert, Anselm, Gregor, and then Carl.
"Of course not, right? If there were such people, or if there were such a strategy, this gathering wouldn't exist, and I wouldn't be here. Am I wrong?"
William finally understood the position he was in. That's how 'the Black Wolf' had obtained his pawns. By piling up losses and creating a decisive crisis, he claimed to be the only one who could save them. If 'the Black Mercenary Company' had been functioning properly, they could have fought against Nederkus' tactics to some extent. But the Black Wolf had not chosen that path. He had taken a more effective and self-serving course of action.
The pain had already disappeared. Exhilaration prevailed. Just the thought of the 'power' he might gain from this made him tremble.
"The fact that I'm here... If I can prepare a winning strategy, would you be willing to entrust me with full authority under that premise?"
At this, Gregor stood up and glared at him. The enveloping atmosphere was heavy, yet dully shining. Gregor was also a formidable warrior and, above all, a nobleman.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself, commoner."
The heavy words struck William. But for William, Gregor's words no longer held any meaning. After all—
"Then, why don't you come up with a winning strategy? Count Thunder."
"Wha—!?"
A piercing remark. And there were no more words after that. The oppressive atmosphere dissipated.
"Entrusting full authority to a common ten-man captain is a bit too much, don't you all agree?"
Gregor still sought consent from the others. Carl, and even Gilbert, remained silent. As for Anselm—
"I'm willing to bet on the 'White Mask'. Of course, that's just my personal opinion. Feel free to disregard it."
Gregor was stunned by his friend's response. He turned his eyes to Gilbert, his last hope. Gilbert disliked William. Surely he wouldn't let such nonsense pass.
"Let's hear the strategy first. If it's convincing... the new legion commander can be a figurehead. You'll be the one in charge. And if we lose, you die, of course. We who put you in charge will die as well."
"B-But that's just ridiculous. Dying is not something so simple!"
As Gregor was shocked, Anselm spoke up again.
"This battlefield is on the scale of the Great War since Laconia. And unlike Laconia, Alvus has fertile soil and is a trade hub. If we cooperate in establishing a bridgehead for that city, beheading may be unavoidable. Gregor, we have only two choices: die sitting here, or bet our lives on the White Mask."
Anselm, usually taciturn, spoke eloquently. Gregor had nothing left to say. No matter what Gregor argued, Anselm had clearly declared his support for the White Mask. Carl was already a puppet. At this point, they had secured half the votes in this gathering.
"It seems Kruger has backed you. Then whether to entrust you with full authority is up to me. Well then, let's have you teach us this so-called winning strategy."
No matter how much Gregor took a negative stance, as long as they could convince Gilbert numerically, William's opinion would prevail. Of course, if the strategy was not convincing enough to sway Gilbert, Anselm would likely withdraw his support as well.
Well, this is where the reversal begins. For now, run wild in the mountains, you mountain dog. From tomorrow onwards... this will become my battlefield.
William smirked beneath his mask. Truly unbeatable strategies did not exist in this world. But strategies that might win certainly abounded. And the ability to present such strategies as if they were guaranteed to win, the acting prowess - this was William's true forte. He had effortlessly deceived the world, and now a former slave stood in this place. Compared to that miracle, a reversal from here on would be nothing.
"Then, let me present—"
He had a plan. He could produce countless of them. His long years of being suppressed, buried in the books of the world, had all been for this day.
༺༻
Compared to yesterday, which was a crossroads of fate, the battlefield today had taken on a more relaxed air. No, the 'Black Wolves' had launched a swift and fierce attack, but the Arcadia side had managed to fend them off skillfully. With the defenses so firmly fortified, the attackers could hardly move recklessly.
"Geez, what a heavy formation this is. The whole army is to focus on defense, defense, defense."
Volf flopped down on the ground in a helpless gesture. Next to him, the young corps commander, who had replaced Anatole, regarded the scene with a suspicious eye.
"This is such a boring battle, isn't it? But well, it's the right call."
A single decisive move is a double-edged sword. If it succeeds, it's great, but if it fails, it will create a large opening. The option of staunch defense is not bad. In fact, it may be the best course of action, depending on the enemy's objective.
"But, you know... the overall movement has gotten a lot better, hasn't it? Or rather, too good? Shifting from an all-out offensive to an ironclad defense - usually, something would falter a bit when the tactics change this much."
But there was no wavering. The degree of understanding of the overall tactics, which had been present even when they were on the attack yesterday, meant that the shakiness born from that difference was not evident today. Despite such a drastic tactical shift, the overall movement had actually improved significantly, and the fluidity of the defensive posture had increased.
Can't find any openings. The few that are visible are clearly just bait. Even if you go through there, the terrain doesn't offer much advantage, and it's just a minor dead end... which would naturally result in being surrounded and crushed.
A deployment utilizing terrain that had not been seen until yesterday. Fully committed to defense, the key positions were firmly secured, making it difficult to determine where to attack. And in this state of indecision, Volf found himself lacking the motivation to take the initiative.
Most of all, the dramatically increased overall fluidity and coordination. Could it be that they did the same thing I did?
The battlefield had tilted greatly due to the intervention of the 'Black Mercenary Band' yesterday. Through a slight idea of Volf's, the Nederkus Army had transformed into a sort of ersatz Black Mercenary Band.
The key was this: the Black Mercenary Band members all understood Volf's movements to a certain degree and could act in accordance with Volf's tactics. By placing one or two of these individuals in each unit, in a command-like position, they had transformed the Nederkus Army.
If that's the case, the enemy commander is quite sharp. And there's only one such guy.
Volf concluded that the Arcadia Army had done the same thing. Otherwise, it would be inexplicable how they were executing such meticulous and fluid tactics so effortlessly. The Arcadia Army had changed. And because of that, Volf's plans would also have to change. Even if he pressed on forcefully, no openings would arise. In fact, if he overextended, he might be the one who gets worn down and crushed by a counterattack.
"Well, well, this is getting interesting, isn't it, White Mask?"
Volf began devising his strategies. None of them had the power of a single devastating blow, but a series of carefully crafted plans that would gradually chip away at the enemy. He would pry it open with time and patience. This kind of difficult situation was precisely where a tactician could truly shine, Volf thought.
༺༻
William was surveying the battlefield on the map. The soldiers were the pieces, and the units were the aggregation of those pieces - another piece in itself. And the entire army, when viewed as a whole, including the terrain, was yet another piece. But William didn't need to see that far ahead. Even if he did, he wouldn't have the influence to affect it.
"Uwayne, move upwards, huh."
There were three special pieces on the Nederkus side. One of them was Uwayne.
"This piece can be moved freely. This move will instantly counterattack."
William moved another piece he had in hand and placed it targeting Uwayne. This move was as planned. In a mountain battle, control of the 'high ground' must be the top priority. It was not difficult to predict that the 'Lion General' would come attacking there. But William had already made a move to seal that off.
"There, I've sealed it. The only other scary pieces left are the Mountain Wolf himself and the 'Wailing Spear'. Anatole is not in a state to fight for the next day or two. And the Mountain Wolf wouldn't recklessly attack in this situation where the advantages have been neutralized. But if he does, I'd be grateful."
The 'high ground' is secured. William did not consider the other vice-commander, Nika, to be important. Nika's individual combat prowess was on par with Gregor, but this was war, not a one-on-one duel. If they fought from a distance, Nika would not be a formidable opponent.
In fact, on today's battlefield, Nika's strengths had not been displayed at all. This was one of the strategies William had communicated (through Gilberto) - to maintain a defensive posture against the vice-commander Nika as well. Retreat and fight, fight from a distance, don't attack, don't get close. This was the core of the strategy.
"Just fight according to the manual. No more, no less is needed."
The manual and procedures William had created were distributed to each hundred-man squad leader. This was the key to unifying the Arcadia Army's movements. The manual concisely laid out the required movements, thought processes, fighting styles, and even withdrawal techniques, breaking them down as much as possible. This gave the deployed units the underlying principles and created a coordinated system. From the overall perspective, when their movements faithfully followed the manual, the army's actions appeared highly unified.
"You don't need a sword to kill a hero. A single arrow is enough."
The manual also included instructions on the weapons to be used. This was a common directive across the army - to use long-range weapons. Spears instead of swords, bows instead of spears. The longer the range, the better. If the goal was to not attack, this was the ultimate truth. In the open terrain, the bow's performance would be reduced, but its range advantage would still remain.
"The rest is the terrain. Establish a position in a good location. And don't move from there. If you fight with an awareness of the range, even against heroes, they won't easily fall. And even if they do fall -"
William surveyed the overall map.
"There are plenty of replacements. Alright, let's go for a mud wrestling match, Mountain Wolf."
He wouldn't implement any outrageous, eccentric strategies. Even if he did, the enemy was the enemy. He shouldn't expect them to neatly fall into his trap. He mustn't think that way. The opponent was the Black Wolves, on par with himself. He would implement his strategies accordingly.
"I will win because I am meant to win. That's who I am."
The man who had sworn to keep on winning now bared his fangs.
William had created the manual and procedures, transforming the army into an extension of himself. Likewise, Volf had used the subordinates he had meticulously nurtured as an extension of himself. Though the methods differed, the two had arrived at the same mindset - the ultimate goal being for the entire army to become an embodiment of oneself. For these two, who believed themselves to be superior, the key lay in how much they could bring others closer to themselves.
Currently, the two have played their best available moves. Hence the stalemate. From here on, it would be a battle of the best moves, a battle of wits. Whichever side slipped up would lose, but it was unlikely that either would make a mistake. So it would come down to the strength of the pieces, and the various external factors the two now faced.
In the current situation, William and Volf were on par tactically.