Chapter 279 - Episode 272: Planting Doubt
Count Anton Shuvalov is a great noble who ranks third in the northwestern faction of the Kingdom of Rhodeberg, following Marquis Bechtolsheim and Count Marcel.
His territory is located at the southeastern edge of the kingdom's northwestern region, bordering the central and southwestern parts of the kingdom. Because it is a strategic hub for distribution connecting the northwest to the center and the northwest to the southwest, it has flourished through commerce and boasted great wealth.
And currently, the Shuvalov County bears the role of preventing enemies from passing through the center of the kingdom to invade the northwest.
Since the enemy's invasion in the central part of the kingdom has reached the outskirts of the royal capital, Lichthagen, the enemy had been attempting to infiltrate small units into the northern part of the kingdom from there. The Rhodeberg Kingdom side was also infiltrating small units into the south to conduct guerrilla warfare; it seemed both nations were thinking along the same lines.
Count Shuvalov is at an age where he could already be called an old man. He sent his eldest son to the central army for the recapture of the royal capital, entrusting him with the territorial army and conscripts, while he himself remained in his territory to prevent the invasion of small enemy units.
For someone who daily engages in skirmishes with merchants attempting to break through checkpoints, preventing enemies from entering the northwest through forests and mountains off the main roads is not particularly difficult, even if the opponents are trained guerrilla units.
"Your Excellency Shuvalov. These are the units of the Republic of Betumia army that were discovered and captured this time."
"Good work, Platoon Leader. The number is... about ten people, I see."
Count Shuvalov, having arrived at the foot of a mountain near the border of the noble territories in the central part of the kingdom, answered the territorial army soldier while stepping down from his carriage.
Having received a report that another enemy unit attempting to infiltrate from the center to the northwest had been discovered and that the territorial army units remaining for territory defense had captured all of them, Count Shuvalov had visited the scene in person as the lord.
It took about half a day by carriage from the county capital to the site of the battle. By the time Count Shuvalov arrived, the numbness in the bodies of the Betumia soldiers who had consumed "Angel's Honey" had already subsided.
"As per your instructions, we have provided thorough medical treatment and meals to the captured Betumia soldiers."
"Very well... then, shall we speak with them?"
Count Shuvalov, accompanied by his escort of the territorial army Guard, approached the Betumia soldiers who were eating bread, cheese, dried meat, and soup provided by the territorial army soldiers.
Those whose hands had become useless held bread between their raised knees and brought their mouths to it. Those who still had paralysis in their faces poured only the broth of the soup into their mouths. Those who had paralysis in two or more parts of their body were fed by others. The Betumia soldiers, who were engaged in such a dining scene, stopped eating and turned toward the direction of the clearly high-ranking person walking toward them.
"I am the head of the House of Count Shuvalov, who governs this land, Count Anton Shuvalov."
"...I am the captain of this unit."
A Betumia soldier, who seemed to have paralysis remaining in both legs, performed a Betumia-style salute by raising his right hand diagonally in front of his forehead while remaining seated.
"I see. Are you enjoying your meal?"
"Y-yes... um, why do you provide such hospitality to us, your enemies? To even have our wounds treated... from your perspective, we must be invaders."
To the bewildered captain, Count Shuvalov wore an expression like that of a kindly grandfather.
"We possess pride as nobles of the kingdom. Even if they are enemies, we do not kill those who have lost the will and power to fight."
"...I am grateful."
When the captain spoke, the other Betumia soldiers also bowed their heads respectively.
"By the way, the paralysis in your bodies will remain for a long time to come. There will be many inconveniences in your future lives, but this was a measure to return you without killing you, so please bear with it... and, when you return to the main force of the Republic of Betumia army, please be very careful. Regarding your allied forces."
"Huh? Allied forces, you say?"
"That is right... this is information brought by the reports of our reconnaissance units, but it seems that some units of the Republic of Betumia army are secretly killing Betumia soldiers who have paralysis remaining in their bodies."
"What!? T-that's..."
To the captain, who was shocked to hear that allies were killing allies, Count Shuvalov directed a pitying expression.
"Presumably, to reduce the burden of caring for wounded soldiers while transporting them to the rear or back to the home country, they have resorted to such atrocious acts. Whether it is the arbitrary decision of some officers or an order from higher up, I do not know... but from your perspective, it must be a serious matter."
As he spoke, Count Shuvalov signaled to a subordinate beside him with his hand. Then, an old two-horse cargo carriage was brought forward.
"You may use this cargo carriage to return. Since you can use both hands, you should be able to hold the reins."
"Could you really go this far for us?"
"It is no matter. You likely did not come to this land of your own free will. Sent to a foreign land for the convenience of officers and politicians, returning with disabled bodies. Trembling in fear of being erased as useless... it is truly a pitiful story. As a proud noble of the kingdom, this is the least mercy I can grant you."
To Count Shuvalov, who spoke while still wearing an expression like a kindly grandfather, the captain bowed his head with eyes moist with tears.
"If you wish to return to your home country alive, you should be careful not to encounter other small units until you merge with a large unit. For one cannot know which unit is exterminating the wounded. If it is a large unit, there are the eyes of many soldiers, so the Betumia officers will not kill the wounded openly."
"Yes, I shall do so. For everything from start to finish, I have received such mercy, I do not know how to thank you..."
"It is fine. Go carefully. You can simply say you stole this carriage from a farming village... farewell."
Count Shuvalov had the territorial army soldiers help the Betumia soldiers board the cargo carriage, had the captain sit on the driver's seat and hold the reins, and watched as they departed.
"...Your Excellency, is it true that the upper echelons of the Republic of Betumia army are killing wounded soldiers? Did Your Excellency come all this way to speak with the enemy soldiers just to make that spread among the Betumia soldiers?"
Asked by the territorial army Platoon Leader, Count Shuvalov answered in a gentle voice while still facing forward.
"No, it is a fabrication. The Republic of Betumia army surely would not want to increase the dead in vain and incur the resentment of their citizens. No matter how they are, they would not do something like killing the wounded... but, those Betumia soldiers likely believed it."
Glancing at the Platoon Leader whose eyes widened in surprise, Count Shuvalov continued.
"To them, it is merely a story told by a noble of an enemy nation. There is no evidence. But people believe the stories they want to believe. If those Betumia soldiers convince themselves that they were used by their motherland and will be killed once their utility is gone, there could be nothing more convenient for us. It would be even better if they spread that to other Betumia soldiers."
Watching the cargo carriage grow smaller as it ran toward the highway leading to the central part of the kingdom, Count Shuvalov narrowed his eyes.
"Let us hope they can merge with the main force safely. If so, my benevolence will be rewarded."
To someone who did not know the circumstances watching from the side, it was merely a kind scene of an old man worrying about the well-being of the injured.