Yugrian Army, Northwest Command Border Defense Outpost...
In the largest room within a small outpost roughly five kilometers to the west of the ruins, a war council was underway, with the grim expressions of those gathered making it seem as though war had actually broken out within Yugria’s borders.
“By all rights, he should be at his limit by this point, physically and mentally... He should have been begging you for leniency, not demanding you make things even harder! I understand why they’re calling him a living anomaly now... And the rest of them all supported his ridiculous proposition too! There’s a fine line between being foolhardy and merely being foolish,” Tim muttered, shaking his head. The veteran scout had seen a lot of strange and unbelievable things in his time, but none had been more incomprehensible than what he’d witnessed earlier that morning.
Godolphen chuckled. “Such recklessness is the very definition of youth, Tim. Caution comes with age, as does forgetfulness. But time is of the essence!” he exclaimed, turning to address the room at large. “As you may now realize, the reason I’ve decided to increase the number of enemy forces for Class A’s final scenario is because they—and more specifically, Allen Rovene himself—have requested so. The boy seems to believe that three Trouverean companies will not pose much of a threat... There is no need for restraint. Am I understood?”
A middle-aged knight—who, prior to the war council, had been slated to lead the overall attack—glowered at this. “Won’t... Won’t pose much of a threat?! That shameless little pervert is too arrogant for his own good! I’ll kill him myself, do you hear me?! There won’t be enough of him left to bury by the time I’m done with him!” A vein throbbed in his forehead. The man served as a battalion commander within Marquess Trouvere’s private army, and coincidentally, was also related to one of the Class A students. His name was Maxim Achilles. Following Godolphen’s command to strengthen their forces, he was now joined by two other battle-hardened battalion commanders, both of whom were frowning alongside Godolphen and Tim as they examined Vesta’s sketch.
“As you can see, in addition to the ruins here, they appear to have established three more strongholds, thereby forming an overall diamond shape... What do you make of it, Tim?”
“It’s incredible, Sage. From a tactical perspective, each stronghold is close enough to the others to provide assistance if required, but not close enough to invite a simultaneous attack... If we capture only a single stronghold, they could retake it with ease if we’re not careful. By doing so, they’ve also made it necessary for us to divide our forces. We can’t simply move from one stronghold to the next as a single unit, only for them to recapture each stronghold from behind. We’d be chasing each other around in circles.” Tim sighed, shaking his head. “Unlike the ruins, the other strongholds haven’t been established in open areas. They’ve picked spots where they can utilize the natural terrain to their advantage, making it easier for them to defend and a whole lot harder for us to attack. Take this stronghold, for instance,” he said, jabbing at the paper. “If actual invaders came through here, they’d have to take every stronghold first, or they’d end up stuck in the Melmarshes fighting a battle on both sides. I struggle to think of a single way this design could be improved. Honestly, I still can’t quite believe it... You gave them seventy-two hours to reinforce a single stronghold, and they went and designed an entire fortress compound instead! That Vesta kid is a lot bolder than he looks. Actually, all of them have been keeping me on my toes ever since they got here. You must be very proud of your students, Sage.”
Godolphen smiled warmly. “Alas, I can claim very little credit for it. They teach themselves far more than I teach them... I daresay I was far more surprised than you to discover Vesta von Stocklode’s talent for tactical design.” He paused for a moment. “Allen Rovene... I cannot help but recall what Satwa once said about the boy—that his greatest strength is his ability to see and acknowledge the beauty in others, and to encourage them to nurture it in doing so.” He paused for another moment, eyes glazed over as though lost in thought, before addressing the three battalion commanders. “Now then, how would you suggest we approach our young foes?”
The leftmost commander—a red-haired woman named Elan—raised her hand. “Realistically, we could easily overwhelm them with a simultaneous assault on all four strongholds. We’d be dividing our forces, but we’d still outnumber them a hundred-to-one. However...” She frowned. “It feels like a trap, and regardless, there’s no need to rush. I suggest we adhere to standard mountain warfare tactics and begin our assault at the highest stronghold, which in this case would be the ruins. It’s the only one of their strongholds with any structural stability, and there’s ample space for us to leave a detachment to defend it afterward. Once we take the ruins, they’ll be left with only hastily built structures to defend—and from our new base in the ruins, we’ll be able to reach all of them with ease.”
Godolphen narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded. “Yes, that does seem to be the safest option. Of course, being able to reach the other strongholds with ease will mean that they can reach us just as easily should we find ourselves on the defensive side... But with such disparity in numbers, I think we can overlook that risk. If they do choose to attack us, though foolish such a choice would be, it would merely make our task all the more simple.”
“Let me lead the charge! I’m gonna teach that brat a lesson he’ll never forget!” Maxim growled, punctuating his demand by pounding the scabbard of his longsword against the stone floor.
“Very well, Maxim,” Godolphen replied, regarding the man with a steely gaze. “But Stella is among our opponents. Keep in mind I won’t tolerate any leniency on your part, even if she is your niece.”
“Leniency? I’ve been training her in combat since she could walk! I’ve never gone easy on her, not once! I sure as hell ain’t gonna start now!”
At this point, the third commander—a man with grayish-blue hair named Jipro—chimed in. “Honestly, the only kind of counterattack I could see them even attempting would be something like a raid on our supply lines. Obviously, we’re not going to be transporting many supplies, but our messengers will be using those routes too. Being Academy students, I hope they have more sense than to bother with such unimaginative subterfuge, but I’ll have two of my companies stationed along the routes just to be cautious. It’s a little excessive considering our opponent is just twenty kids, even if they are the strongest kids in the kingdom...” He shrugged. “But we’ve got the forces to spare, and they wouldn’t dare attack one of our messengers when there’s a whole company nearby.”
Though he hid it well, on the inside Jipro was seething, as were the other commanders. For years they’d honed their craft on the field of battle, only to find themselves on the brink of being tactically outmaneuvered by a bunch of inexperienced twelve-year-olds. Strategic intelligence wasn’t the only thing they’d needed to become the commanders they were today, though. They’d also needed composure and discretion, and the wisdom to not let arrogance cloud their thinking.
Tim surveyed the three commanders, with their rigid postures reflecting a determination just as unyielding, and found himself convinced: The final scenario was now well and truly beyond Class 1-A’s ability to overcome.