Chapter 31 - The Advance of Vanguard Captain Gotthart (Part One)
A cold, damp wind blew up the mountainside.
Gotthart Volkrantz, the vanguard captain of the Kingdom's Army, readjusted the collar of his greatcoat while on horseback.
They had departed at dawn from a small post town slightly away from the foot of the Dragonwing Mountains, and it was now past midday.
The winding mountain pass continued as if it would never end.
While it was still mid-autumn at the foot of the mountains, the surrounding landscape was already close to that of winter.
It felt as though a season had advanced during their ascent up the pass.
The trees had completely shed their leaves, and the fallen leaves piled on the road and slopes made a dry, rustling sound in the wind.
The sun, which had begun to tilt, cast weak rays of light through the clouds covering the mountaintop.
The chill after sunset would likely be even more severe than at the foot, and frost would surely fall by morning.
Gotthart reflected on the path they had taken so far and envisioned the journey ahead.
It had been about ten days since they left the Royal Capital to come here. During that march, the army of 3,300—nearly 4,000 if including logistics and other non-combatants—had decreased by more than 100 men.
They hadn't been attacked by an enemy. The march itself was wearing down the vanguard under his command.
For travelers heading down the Mares Road from the Royal Capital, this mountain pass leading to Alas Pass was the greatest and final obstacle.
Of course, this was no different for an army moving on foot.
Gotthart had to be prepared for further attrition among the soldiers who were already exhausted from the long journey.
Normally, to prevent such occurrences, the number of troops leaving the Royal Capital would be kept to a minimum, and the unit would gradually increase along the way.
This time, the sudden deployment and the chaos within the Government Administration had delayed the preparations that would usually be possible.
Gotthart felt anxiety, but he was not permitted to show it.
The anxiety shown by a commander is quickly transmitted to subordinates, and if that happens, it invites unnecessary confusion, lowering morale and attention—in other words, falling into a vicious cycle.
—Even so.
Gotthart thought as he looked up at the zigzagging road.
It was a stroke of good luck that the pass hadn't been seized by the Marquess's army.
If not for the defection of the knight from the Marquess's territory, and the information that knight brought, the pass would likely have fallen into enemy hands via a surprise attack.
Alas Pass was a long distance from the foot—from the nearest town.
The road was steep and winding, and since horse-drawn wagons could not pass except for very small ones, they inevitably had to bring many pack animals for the march.
It took four days from the time he was appointed Knight Commander in the Royal Capital until departure, and about ten more days from departure to this point.
During that time, several report letters had been delivered from Redan.
The Viscount Redan, who had dropped the bridge quickly—faster than instructions from the Royal Capital could arrive—seemed to be confronting the Marquess's army on the banks of the Red River.
Although he was pushing back the soldiers attempting to cross the river, he seemed forced into a difficult battle, perhaps due to the difference in numbers.
Since he was even conducting mobilizations from surrounding territories that were not normally performed, numbers were indeed the problem.
The end of every report was almost the same.
'Please send reinforcements urgently.'
Their scheduled arrival had been communicated before leaving the Royal Capital, but he likely couldn't help but write it anyway.
The report received yesterday was the same.
It described the war situation, stated the actions taken by his own army, and detailed the losses.
And then, the usual sentence.
—Please send reinforcements urgently.
Since it was a confrontation across a river, the losses were by no means large. However, that was from the perspective of someone commanding the direct territory's army or the Royal Guard.
From the perspective of the Viscount's personal forces, which were not large to begin with, it must be a loss that could not be ignored.
Each time, he replied with the date they were expected to arrive, telling them to hold out by any means until then.
And because of that, he had been rushing the march of his subordinate soldiers so that the date would not be delayed.
If the Viscount's army, who were redeeming each day with their own blood, were to learn of a delay in the arrival of reinforcements, it could lead to a collapse of morale.
The soldiers, exhaling white breath, silently climbed the mountain pass with their heads slightly downcast.
Eventually, from the front of the column, the order for a short break was given.
Some put down the loads they carried on their backs, while others took water from their canteens.
Everyone huddled together with few words, savoring the moment of rest.
However, they couldn't stay like that forever.
Bodies that generated enough heat to sweat while walking would cool down immediately upon stopping. The cold, moisture-laden wind would mercilessly strip away that heat.
In a march during this season, especially one crossing mountains, there was no middle ground between being hot or cold.
—At this rate, how many stragglers will there be today?
Watching his subordinate soldiers try to somehow lighten the degree of fatigue that deepened as they climbed, Gotthart readjusted the collar of his greatcoat once more.
They were already inside the Dragonwing Mountains. It was different from the plains where a town would be found after a short walk. Tonight, and probably tomorrow as well, would be spent camping.
Since they couldn't just leave the stragglers behind, he had to assign someone who could still move to them.
While it was a necessary measure, it meant further reducing his already worn-down unit.
Gotthart looked up at the heights of the Dragonwing Mountains where the road continued.
The path ahead of the winding road was covered in thick, milky-white fog, and the ridgeline was invisible.
That sight, with no visibility ahead, couldn't help but seem to Gotthart like an omen of something waiting further on.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※
Good news was brought just as preparations for the camp began.
Gotthart had designated a flat, open area that spread out like a plateau in the middle of the mountain pass as tonight's campsite.
"Captain!"
One of the knights ran up, exhaling white breath.
"Don't be in such a rush. What is it?"
While responding as magnanimously as possible, Gotthart looked toward where the knight had come from—the uphill path leading to the pass.
A single horseman. Thinking it might be a messenger, he returned his gaze to the knight who had come close.
"It's a messenger from Redan, Captain."
"Bring him here immediately."
The knight, who left quickly, exchanged some words with the messenger who was still mounted, and the messenger was seen dismounting.
The two returned at a fast pace.
"I am a messenger from the Viscount's army,"
the messenger said, kneeling on one knee and bowing his head before Gotthart.
"Please stand.
I am Volkrantz, the captain of the Royal Guard Vanguard.
Thank you for your hard work in this bad weather. What is your business?"
The messenger, who stood up after a bow, answered in a clear tone.
"Yes, we have one logistics unit from the Viscount's army waiting on the other side of the pass.
It consists of only four wagons and pack animals, however."
"Is that the Viscount's consideration?"
"Yes. He said that crossing Alas Pass at this time of year is harsh, and since you are coming, he wished to provide as much support as possible."
"I accept it gratefully.
Please convey my regards to the Viscount."
To the messenger who stood up saying "Yes," Gotthart spoke once more.
"Forgive me, but I would like to ask. How much further to the pass?
Since the ridgeline cannot be seen due to the fog, the soldiers are unsure how much further they must walk."
"It should be about one koku (T/N: approx. 2 hours) at a normal marching pace.
The logistics unit is waiting further down, about half a koku past that."
Watching the messenger run off, Gotthart spoke to the knight.
"Did you hear that?"
"Yes.
If there are wagons beyond the pass—"
The advantage was immeasurable.
They could avoid making the soldiers who were about to fall behind walk any further.
They wouldn't have to use more soldiers to carry them to a safe place.
And the distance was a journey of one and a half koku. If the end was in sight, the morale of the soldiers would change.
"Everyone, listen!"
Gotthart raised his voice.
"Viscount Redan has sent a logistics unit—wagons and pack animals—beyond the pass!
Tomorrow morning after the camp, we will depart immediately, join the logistics sent by the Viscount, and head for Redan!
It's one more koku to the pass, and we join the logistics half a koku beyond that! You only have a little further to walk while carrying heavy loads!"
A stir arose, with shouts of "Oh!"
The expressions of the soldiers, which had been stagnant with fatigue, visibly brightened.
It was exactly the reaction Gotthart had expected when he conveyed the situation, thinking that if the end was in sight, things would change.
"Everyone has walked well to get here.
This is the final obstacle—and by tomorrow morning, the remaining distance is only one koku!
After that, we go down the pass, and the day after tomorrow, you can rest your bodies in Redan!"
Gotthart did not stop the buzzing that spread among the soldiers.
Even if it was idle chatter—something never welcomed in the army—if accurate and desirable information was spreading, there was no reason to dare stop it.
Marching for over 10 days and having only a little over 100 in attrition should be considered quite excellent.