＊＊＊
Since the south side of the hill was where the fighting had been fiercest, we moved to the east, away from the field of corpses. The militia and newly recruited soldiers had begun looting the Raul army’s armor, weapons, and various other accoutrements—evidently this was common practice in this world—and letting them continue would as good as ensure that they’d be too distracted to listen to my commands.
Even so, we ended up with only about half of the emperor’s host—about a thousand—and I knew for certain that we hadn’t lost that many during the fighting. It disappointed me that so many would ignore orders in favor of looting, but this was the reality of my personal force. Depressing, really.
That aside, we set about herding the remaining soldiers into formation. My lords’ armies were afield, pursuing Raul’s routing forces as far as possible. In the meantime, I had to think about our next moves.
“So they continued to fight even after the death of their general...” muttered Deputy General Bourgault-Ducoudray, who’d come down from the hill.
We’d left our damaged cannons where they were. There wasn’t time to rebuild our fortifications, so I would decide whether to do that later or abandon them entirely.
“According to the prisoners of war in our custody, it seems the self-proclaimed duke did not hold command over this battle to begin with,” Count Palatine Vodedt explained. “However, there are multiple conflicting testimonies regarding who did. It will take some time to ascertain the truth.”
“Very well,” I acknowledged.
It seemed the Raul soldiers hadn’t realized that the false duke had perished during the battle. No wonder they hadn’t broken into a rout until we’d charged them. That suggested their actual commander had been at the front lines and possessed more charisma than their lord—at least enough to maintain an orderly retreat, for as long as that had lasted. Ideally, we’d eliminate that person during the pursuit. Otherwise, if he escaped back into the Raul territories, it could mean a spot of trouble down the line.
“What of our losses?” I asked.
“Unknown. The numbers are too large.”
Evidently, the amount of death on both sides had made pinning down exact figures too difficult for anything short of a full postbattle accounting. My lords’ armies in particular had suffered heavy losses, to the point that if they chased too far during the pursuit, there was a chance the enemy could actually turn around and crush them. I’d sent runners to call them back the moment we’d confirmed the false duke’s death.
We had significant numbers of injured as well, who I was having transported to Reydra. With the departure of the Raul army, the city was once again under our control. The viscount who’d governed it had apparently fled, convinced that he wouldn’t receive my leniency a second time.
As I was thinking about how I needed to draft up a plan to pacify the Raul territories, Timona approached. “Your Majesty, I have brought the three individuals you requested.”
“Let them in.”
Three people stepped into the tent we’d hastily erected, joining those of us who were already present: myself, Timona, Count Palatine Vodedt, Balthazar, Salomon de Barbetorte, and Deputy General Bourgault-Ducoudray. I had summoned everyone I could for the makeshift audience I was about to hold.
The three newcomers knelt as soon as they entered. “It is an honor to finally be in your presence, Your Majesty,” began one. “I am Anselm le Van-Dozran.”
“We will speak with you last,” I said bluntly.
The sole woman of the trio was the next to speak. She wore full plate armor, although she had removed the full-faced helmet. “My deepest apologies, Your Majesty, for intruding upon your presence in such ill-suited attire.”
“We do not mind.” I wanted to show her she was in my good graces, so I played things up a bit. “Speak frankly, brave warrior. Raise your head and give your name.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I am Charlotte de Darrieux, eldest daughter of... Of the criminal, Joseph de Darrieux.”
Joseph de Darrieux was the Count Nunmeidt, who we currently had under lock and key in the imperial capital. We’d already delivered his sentence: life imprisonment.
“And you are most welcome!” I said. “The child bears no guilt for the crime of the parent. We express our sympathies for your long years of patience and tolerance. Know that your efforts will be rewarded.”
In the brief lead-up before this audience, I’d gotten an update on Charlotte’s affairs. In her capacity as the count’s eldest daughter, she had crushed the Raul nobility who’d invaded her lands and made double time to Chelán Hill. However, recognizing partway that her forces would not make it in time, she left them behind, riding ahead with only a small contingent of cavalry. Then, when she had come to understand Marquess Dozran’s intentions, she rode toward his army rather than Raul’s.
Apparently, that had proven to be the final straw on the camel’s back that spurred Marquess Dozran into committing to a side. His force had attacked the Raul army shortly afterward—around the same time as our charge down the hill.
“Your Majesty speaks far too highly of me,” Charlotte de Darrieux demurred.
I turned to the man beside her, whose head was still bowed. “And you, what is your name?”
He was equipped lightly, relatively speaking, in a set of leather armor, and lifted his head upon hearing my question. However, Charlotte de Darrieux was the one who spoke.
“I beg forgiveness for the oversight, Your Majesty. He is—”
For her to speak up like that knowing it would be considered rude had to mean the man wasn’t of a status that would allow him to speak in front of the emperor.
“It’s fine,” I interrupted. “He shall have our express permission. Speak.”
We lived in an age where any old wannabe whose predecessors had purchased a title called themselves knights and strutted around like they were nobility. I preferred straightforward honesty any day of the week.
“It is an honor, Your Majesty,” said the transmigrator who’d once worn a butler’s garb. “My name is Reiz Krommler.”