The Rural Officer Who Was Once a General

Part 1, Chapter 26

On the battlefield between the Southern Empire and the Kingdom of Baister, a massive war involving over fifty thousand troops from both sides was unfolding.

It was a fierce battle fought in a rugged mountain range, and the blood spilled onto the ground was by no means small in amount.

The Empire had 10,000 troops, while the Kingdom had 40,000.

The outcome seemed obvious given the overwhelming difference in numbers, but a single individual was somehow closing that gap and holding the frontline together.

“What!?”

The Supreme Commander of this frontline, and the very person keeping it intact—one of the Empire's only ten Hundred Generals—Terbior Notson, shouted.

Bang!

As he slammed his fist down in a fit of rage, the sturdy wooden table collapsed, scattering a few documents into the air before they fell to the ground.

"Those central bastards still haven't sent reinforcements?"

“Th-that is… The conflict with Hecate has intensified, so they say it’s difficult to divert troops from other borders…”

“Hecate? Hecate!? Those bastards only pick on countries weaker than them. When it comes to us, all they do is whine! And what? They can’t send us troops?”

“B-but Silver-Haired Commander strongly insisted…”

“Huh? That bastard Edspur kicked up a fuss again? That damn silver-tongued bookworm! That guy’s never even stood on a proper battlefield, so why does he flap his tongue so much!?”

“E-even so, he’s still a fellow Grand General…”

“Shut it! Ugh, if I had my way, I’d go bash his skull in right now…”

Terbior clutched his head in frustration.

It wasn’t like he didn’t understand Edspur’s reasoning.

He was probably trying to send a message that they wouldn’t cave in to Hecate’s bluff—essentially telling them to shut up.

That might’ve been effective diplomatically, and it could prevent other countries from testing the waters too.

‘But things are urgent here too, damn it!’

He had been holding the line by personally cutting down enemy commanders and throwing their forces into disarray.

Even that wasn’t working anymore—they were gradually being pushed back.

And in the midst of all that, he was supposed to leave his post to persuade the central command?

Ridiculous. The news of their annihilation would probably arrive before he even entered the audience chamber.

To make things worse, the only person in the Empire who had both military and administrative experience was pulling troops away instead of helping him—it was enough to drive him mad.

“So, what is it, Jang Guwoon?”

His aide carefully lifted the flap of the command tent and peeked in.

“We… have a distinguished guest. A-ah, truly a most honored guest, sir.”

“Huh?”

Terbior narrowed his eyes and glared at the aide.

He could guess who might show up at a time like this.

Probably some clueless civil official from the Central coming to offer empty words of encouragement, or a local lord showing off by bringing a few conscripts.

Terbior thought it’d at least be helpful if it were the latter—maybe they’d add a few more soldiers to his side—so he told the aide to bring the guest in.

“Bring them in.”

As he gathered the fallen documents, Terbior asked the aide,

"So, who has come?"

“I-it’s His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince!”

“Huh?”

Terbior slowly raised his head.

Hair more golden than ingots, and sky-blue eyes like the edges of clouds reflected in a glass window—those alone made the guest’s identity unmistakably clear.

“Y-Your Highness?”

For the first time, a flicker of confusion appeared on Terbior’s face.

The Crown Prince, Raa, smiled at Terbior.

“Hm? What’s wrong, General? I’m not somewhere I shouldn’t be, am I?”

Terbior curled the tip of his tongue and bit it between his front teeth to force his twisted expression back into place.

“Surely, it’s not unreasonable to say that no one would expect Your Highness to visit a dying frontline. I truly did not imagine you would come to such a wretched and filthy place without even a word of notice.”

As he said this, Terbior gestured to his aide.

“Bring whatever we can serve—tea or wine, whatever we’ve got. Make sure it’s the best we have.”

The best tea here was a bitter green tea, and the finest wine had gone musty even before it was uncorked, thanks to poor storage conditions—but that was hardly the prince’s fault, considering he came knowing all of this.

When the bitter green tea—flavored as best they could by mixing in the last scraps of honey and sugar—and a halfway-decent wine one of the thousand-man commanders had secretly buried underground arrived with some shriveled fruit, Terbior sat down with Prince Raa, flanked by two of his officers.

Before the formal conversation began, Terbior leaned slightly toward his adjutants and whispered, his lips barely moving.

‘Yanma, didn’t you say we were out of honey? Did you find a beehive on a cliff or something?’

‘How can you compare the general to His Highness the Crown Prince? That’s disloyalty.’

‘You said we didn’t have any, you bastard.’

‘When His Highness the Crown Prince arrives, even what we don’t have might miraculously appear.’

‘You’re dead later, you hear me?’

Meanwhile, the prince was mixing tea and wine in his cup and drinking it.

What peculiar taste.

Maybe he simply couldn’t stomach cheap tea or wine by themselves.

As Raa bit into a dried apple that had shriveled to half its size, Terbior whispered again.

‘And why the hell did you bury the wine? I heard it was underground. Are you nuts?’

‘Do you even understand how the vanguard feels, always charging in first against those Baister bastards? Even just this little morale boost helps our men fight harder.’

‘Wait a minute—our men? You didn’t bury more, did you?’

‘Ahem…’

‘After he dies, you’re next, you bastard.’

Terbior took a sip of the wine, which, for once, actually tasted like grapes, then turned his attention to Raa.

“Your Highness, may I ask you a question?”

“By all means.”

“Why have you come to such a disadvantageous battlefield? As you can see, the hospitality we can offer is worse than a city diner, and this is a place full of threats to your safety.”

“Hmm, I think the General just explained the reason for my presence quite well.”

“……”

Raa replied without losing his smile. Terbior didn’t respond immediately, instead thinking it over.

‘Would the Crown Prince really have a reason to come here?’

When dealing with people—of any kind—it was vital to determine whether they were rational.

A fool might act inefficiently, and a madman would behave outside of reason, making them impossible to predict.

But based on his conduct and reputation, Raa was neither an irrational idiot nor a madman.

In that case, he had a reason—an advantage to gain.

Then what was there on this frontline?

‘Military merit, local public sentiment, and… me.’

It might seem a little conceited, but the title of Grand General wasn’t something even royalty could dismiss lightly.

“If you’ve come to hold this line in order to gain achievements or win public favor, I suggest you leave at once.”

Terbior watched Raa’s expression as he continued.

“Holding this line is already a struggle. We’re certain to be pushed back soon. You might gain a hollow reputation like ‘He tried to hold out even in dire straits,’ but with Imperial authority still unstable, it’s just as likely you’ll be blamed for incompetence or made to shoulder the failure of this front. And that’s assuming you make it back alive. If you’re captured as a prisoner …”

Terbior soon fell silent.

Raa shook his head slightly, maintaining his smiling expression.

That must mean military merit and public sentiment weren’t his goals.

“Th-then…”

Terbior spoke again, very cautiously.

“Is it because of me?”

“Heh.”

Raa shook his head with an even brighter smile.

“Kgh!”

“Pff, haha…!”

The two thousand-man commanders stifled their laughter, failing to completely hold it back.

‘Those bastards are dead before the day’s over.’

“Hmm, then this humble officer’s limited insight finds it hard to guess the intent of the rightful heir to the Empire.”

As he wiped the cold sweat running down his now-flushed cheeks, Terbior admitted defeat.

‘Please, just say it outright…’

“Heh.”

The crown prince smiled even wider and slowly opened his mouth.

With that pure smile, he looked like he could’ve been a teenager.

“If I’m in a place this dangerous and neglected, wouldn’t His Majesty be compelled to send military support or whatever else is needed?”

“…Are you using your own life as a sort of hostage?”

The Emperor surely wouldn’t want the current crown prince to die.

They had only just begun stabilizing the royal succession, and if something happened to Raa, there’d undoubtedly be bloodshed—both politically and literally.

Besides, the troops sent to Hecate were deployed more for the sake of appearances. If supporting the crown prince became a more valid justification, it would be enough to redeploy those forces.

“It’s a guaranteed success, isn’t it? This is why I didn’t go out of my way to cut off our dear siblings’ lifelines.”

“…Remarkable.”

‘So he orchestrated this entire scenario on purpose.’

The biggest thing gained here would be the enormous political signal: that the Emperor supported the crown prince enough to pull troops away from Hecate for him.

If that happened, many powerful figures would rush to join Raa’s camp to align themselves with the next emperor.

And the rest would naturally follow.

Military merit? Turning the tide of a losing battle would certainly earn him that.

Public sentiment too. Not just locally—if they paid a few silver coins to the bards to spread tales of how the Emperor would do anything for the Crown Prince, the entire Empire would come to accept Raa as the rightful successor.

And finally, Raa had won the heart and loyalty of Terbior himself.

All of this was achieved when he was only 25 years old—a miracle accomplished by a young man not so different in age from Fade.

***

“Urgh!”

Tervier—no, Fade—woke to a searing pain rising from his thigh.

“Ah, Commander!”

Karun yelled, his head blocking most of Fade’s view.

“Ugh, what happened…?”

“Commander—no, Centurion—you suddenly went berserk, slicing through those Khan bastards like a madman, then staggered, so I dragged you into the trap and we fled!”

“Heh. I must’ve made quite a sight.”

‘Damn it, did I black out while swinging my sword? Guess the fatigue really built up.’

He took a deep breath, in and out, and his thoughts quickly fell into order.

‘Anyway, looks like the operation was a success.’

With simultaneous hits to their rear and center, the Khanate would now be forced to consider a long-term campaign—something they hadn’t planned for.

Of course, they might chase them into this trap-laden area to try and finish things off, but with Tryaev’s unit stationed here, that would be a gamble. And Rakula, still holding the numerical advantage, had no need to take such a risk.

They couldn't recklessly push forward without knowing whether another strike force would hit their flanks again.

No, their morale was likely shattered. They’d need time to regroup.

Grit.

Fade clenched his teeth, recalling the sensation of flying through that dream.

‘Your Majesty Raa, your vengeance has only just begun.’

He’d landed a blow. Now Rakula would surely act.

So Fade had to prepare.

“Heh, just wait. It’s only getting started.”

He looked up at the sky and smiled.

It was a faint smile, one that couldn’t come close to the bright one Raa always wore.

‘Damn, still can’t pull off a face like that.’

As Fade drifted into sentiment, Karun came over holding a shovel and shouted.

“Commander! I buried a few bottles of wine around here, y’know? Want one?”

“……”

Hmm. Come to think of it, I forgot to deal with those little bastards.

“You can die in their place.”

“Huh?”

“Get over here!”

Fade threw off the thick cloth covering him and leapt to his feet.