Chapter 288 - Episode 281: A Heavy Price
The time was mid-March. The place was the former lord's manor in Laden, the territory of Count Kivileft.
Inside this luxurious building, which now served as the headquarters for the Betumia Republic Army, General Charles Hamilton was receiving a visit from Member of Parliament Dickens, a political advisor.
"General Hamilton! Following the last time, what is the meaning of this report!? This, this... what a disaster!"
What Member Dickens slammed down in front of Charles was a report on the war situation and losses intended for the home country.
"We haven't even controlled half of the Kingdom of Rhodeberg yet, and the death toll has already exceeded eight thousand! Furthermore, there are over fifty thousand wounded... and over ninety percent of them are losses due to that particular poison!"
Charles looked back in silence at Member Dickens, who was taking the trouble to explain things politely. Since Charles himself had written the report, he knew the casualty numbers well without being told.
"They say those paralyzed by the poison will remain paralyzed for decades! To have so many people with aftereffects in Betumian society... why is the enemy using such a poison!"
"...You will have to ask the enemy that."
"Kh!"
Given a perfectly obvious answer, Member Dickens choked on his words and glared at Charles with a bitter expression.
It is only natural that it would come to this, Charles thought to himself.
As a result of being ordered to execute a reckless invasion plan, he had been forced into a three-front war—invading the center, east, and west of the Kingdom of Rhodeberg simultaneously—rather than a two-front operation.
Consequently, the military strength was dispersed, and by the end of winter, they had failed to take both the royal capital, Lichthagen, and the capital of the Marquis Bittenfeld territory in the southeast. The only reason they managed to take the Marquis Galdwin territory in the southwest was simply because the front-line commander, Grand Army Commander Foster, displayed talent and was blessed with luck.
Things became even more miserable after the end of winter. Grand Army Commander Foster's advance finally stopped, blocked by fierce enemy resistance; the royal capital siege units in the center engaged a large enemy force; and in the southeast, they finally failed to make the capital of the Marquis Bittenfeld territory fall, and in order to balance the invasion plan, they advanced further north and stagnated there as well. No military achievements were made, and only the number of casualties increased.
However, there was one point—the poison used by the enemy—that was completely unexpected even for Charles. It increased the burden on his side through the care and transport of paralyzed wounded, and it even paralyzed the supply plans. Most likely, by forcing Betumian society to shoulder a massive number of people with aftereffects, they aimed to diminish national strength and further lower the morale of the citizens.
It was surprising that there was someone in the Kingdom of Rhodeberg capable of devising such a cunning tactic.
"Do you understand how much I have been scolded by Prime Minister Fildrack, how painful it is for me, to have to report such dire news over and over again!? The home country strongly questions whether we can obtain profits commensurate with the losses of this war! Because the repatriated wounded soldiers are speaking ill of the war as they please, an atmosphere of war-weariness has already begun to spread among the citizens! All of this is—"
"Urgent report!"
"Don't interrupt me while I'm speaking!"
A messenger soldier rushed in, and Member Dickens raised his voice in a shout.
"No, it's fine. Report."
Ignoring Member Dickens, Charles gave an order to the messenger, who had frozen up after being shouted at in an unexpected manner.
"...I shall report. Communication has just arrived from the headquarters of the Western Invasion Army. According to that, the Kingdom of Lancel has led a large army to annihilate the border blockade units and has begun an invasion into the Betumia Republic Army's controlled areas in the southwest."
"Nggaaaaah! Why the hell are you bringing such news at a time like thisaaaaah!"
Having been reprimanded for an absurd reason, the messenger looked bewildered, his gaze wavering between Member Dickens and Charles. Charles let out a small sigh, barely audible over the member's tantrum, and spoke.
"Tell them to retreat the Western Invasion force led by Grand Army Commander Foster and solidify the defenses of Count Ahatz's territory. Tell them maintaining the port is the highest priority. You may go."
Member Dickens widened his eyes at Charles, who had dismissed the messenger.
"General Hamilton! Does that mean you are stopping the Western invasion!? The Western battlefield has suffered particularly large damages! Are you saying you'll make the losses so far go to waste!?"
"If the Kingdom of Lancel's army takes the port of Count Ahatz's territory, the retreat path for everyone in the Western Invasion Army will be cut off. If that happens, the damages will become even more immense. Do you wish to deliver even more dire news to the home country than you are now?"
"~~~!"
Letting out a strange animal-like shriek rather than words, Member Dickens held his head and screamed for about ten seconds, after which, perhaps satisfied, he turned back to Charles while breathing heavily.
"...General, I want you to prepare a government high-speed ship immediately."
A high-speed ship was a dedicated vessel of the Betumia government, designed with an emphasis on speed and equipped with large magic tools that generated tailwinds. With this, the trip between the Kingdom of Rhodeberg and the Betumia Republic, which normally took about two weeks one way, could be shortened to ten days round trip, depending on the weather.
"However, the high-speed ship is scheduled to depart in two days. If we suddenly insert an unscheduled departure, the transport plan will be greatly disrupted. Should we not prioritize the departure of transport ships now and send as many wounded as possible back to the home country?"
The one who reacted to Member Dickens' request was not Charles, but the adjutant standing beside him.
"What is the meaning of a mere officer talking back to me, a political advisor! If I put in a word with the home country, I could have your family imprisoned!?"
"!"
The adjutant gasped at the blatant threat. Charles narrowed his eyes and glared at Member Dickens, but the man, with blood rushing to his head, did not notice.
"Informing the government of the situation as quickly as possible is the priority right now! As for the wounded, they can just be left rolling around wherever! For that matter, if you just killed off the incompetent soldiers who get in the way of my work—"
"I understand. Let us make the departure preparations for the high-speed ship the highest priority. I will have it completed by the afternoon, so please wait a while until then."
The momentum of the shouting was cut short by Charles' words, and Member Dickens froze for a few seconds. When his eyes met Charles', he flinched at the intensity and let his gaze wander.
"...Very well. Please, be as quick as possible."
Answering only that, Member Dickens left the room. After the sound of his footsteps faded, the adjutant spoke.
"Is this alright? The decision-making power regarding military matters, including transport, lies with Your Excellency Hamilton. There is no need to listen to such selfish behavior..."
"It's fine. It is true that the repatriation of wounded soldiers to the home country will be delayed... but in the end, this will likely save more soldiers."
Unable to grasp the meaning of Charles' words, the adjutant showed a puzzled expression.
"In my prediction, this war will end soon—with our country's defeat."
Charles had a long association with the members of the Wealth-Building Faction, especially with the current Prime Minister, Member Fildrack. Regrettably, he knew the values and personalities of that man and his aides well. Charles believed those people would soon decide to cut their losses.
Most likely, he himself would return to the home country and be forced to shoulder all the responsibility for the defeat. And he would pay the price for having overlooked the rampage of the Wealth-Building Faction out of self-preservation while holding this position.
Predicting that no good fate awaited him, Charles nevertheless smiled faintly.
.....
At the port of Laden in Count Kivileft's territory, there stood several giant warehouses that had once been owned by a great merchant guild based in Laden.
These warehouses, which had been seized by the Betumia Republic Army, had now turned into waiting areas for the wounded awaiting repatriation to the home country.
However, the situation inside was miserable. Most of the wounded had been hit by the poison the enemy called 'Angel's Nectar' and suffered aftereffects in their bodies; they were all people who struggled not only with eating but even with relieving themselves.
Because there were more wounded than expected, everyone was packed like sardines and laid out inside the warehouses, and the soldiers acting as caregivers could not be called sufficient. Most of them had not been able to bathe or even have their bodies wiped for days, and there were even those who had been left for hours, leaking urine and feces where they lay.
Inside the warehouses, where a suffocating stench and a gloomy atmosphere drifted, the words exchanged by the wounded were also dark.
"...Hey, did you hear? The story that the enemy only targets common soldiers, and all the officers and generals can return home unscathed."
"Of course I've heard it. Plenty of guys were talking about it. Something about how officers and generals have many acquaintances among Betumian politicians, so the enemy lets them go."
"Look around. The wounded are all common soldiers, and there isn't a single big shot here. That story is probably true."
In reality, there were a fair number of wounded officers and generals, but they were laid out in a different place from the common soldiers; the volunteer soldiers, who were ignorant of military affairs, did not know this.
"Damn it... why do we have to go through this, while only those guys get to keep their healthy bodies... are they saying anyone who isn't a politician's relative doesn't matter?"
"The story that the enemy was weak and it would be an easy win was a huge lie too. Those politicians just kept feeding us citizens nothing but lies."
"To end up... with a body like this... even if I go back to my country, how am I supposed to feed my wife and kids..."
"I was supposed to get land as a reward for military service and marry my fiancée when I returned home... I'll probably be dumped."
"You're still better off... I can't even... cry... uuh, uuuu~"
Several people leaked complaints, and those whose faces had become paralyzed began to cry in earnest. Triggered by this, those around them also shed tears, and the atmosphere became even heavier.
"...I heard an even worse story. A rumor that the big shots think people with aftereffects like us are a nuisance, and they're killing us instead of repatriating us to the home country."
"What!?"
"Hey now, that's a lie, right..."
The wounded were shocked by the emergence of such a shocking story.
"It's true. I heard a rumor that someone saw a few wounded being killed and dumped in the forest during transport. The reason we haven't been killed is because there are so many other soldiers' eyes. If we had encountered the assassin squad before reaching here... we'd probably be dead too."
"Hey, I heard that rumor too!"
A man lying a bit further away joined the conversation. Because of the distance, his voice became a bit louder, and because of that, even more wounded heard the conversation.
"Something about how the General's direct unit is going around killing the wounded to reduce their number and make transport easier."
"Hey, the General's direct unit..."
"I heard that unit has a lot of politicians' relatives and children assigned to it through connections."
"Damn it! Even here, it's the politicians' relatives!"
"Moreover, I heard that unit is laughing while tormenting and killing the wounded. Like cutting off limbs while they're still alive, or beating them until they can't move and leaving them to be eaten by monsters..."
Because the rumor had passed through several narrators, it had grown massive fins and scales, enveloping the wounded in fear and hatred.
"...Those politicians. What 'for the sake of the country.' What 'for our prosperity'!"
"They just spoke pretty words and used us!"
"Those guys are nothing but lies. Everything that happened to us is all their fault!"
In this waiting area. And inside the carriages and ships during transport. The wounded, who had nothing else to do, talked among themselves, expanding their imaginations while searching for an enemy to hate.