Chapter 158 – The Young Lady (10)
[Chapter 8 – Section 4] Charge! Charge!
War is fundamentally different from board games like chess or shogi, where equal forces face off.
Human psychology plays an overwhelmingly large role,
“F-fire!”
“The warehouses are burning?!”
“Who the hell—?!”
And can even turn a guaranteed victory upside down.
“You actually did something right.”
By the time I returned to the main camp, the fire had already spread uncontrollably.
I can eavesdrop from far away, but unlike my senior, I don’t have the ability to peek into people’s inner thoughts.
So,
“Long live the young lady!”
“Glory to Her Ladyship!”
“Victory be yours!”
The old man in charge of overall supply management and his accomplices had set the warehouses ablaze without anyone noticing until the very last second.
If I had spent the entire day eavesdropping like a spy, I might have stopped it beforehand—but I was focused on mounted archery practice. By the time I noticed, I was already too far away.
Bwooooo~!
Bwooo~!
Under the pretext of putting out the fire in the supply warehouses, a full retreat order was issued to the troops who had been fighting so well.
“Hah! What a complete shitshow!”
In a situation where we were pushing the duchy back, turning our backs to them was the same as begging them to stick lances and arrows in our spines.
And this wasn’t even a deliberate feint to lure the enemy into a trap!
(We’re going to lose.)
“…No choice, then.”
I had tried to intervene as little as possible, but if the duchy wins this war, the Ranuvel patient will become insufferably arrogant, making persuasion much harder.
That would be a problem.
This was a world I chose because it looked like it would be very easy. If it suddenly becomes difficult, I’ll feel like I’ve been scammed.
And there’s no refund or return policy.
“Count Amolang…!”
“Count! The warehouses are on fire…!”
“The full retreat order has been issued…!”
As the situation changed dramatically and continued to deteriorate in real time, every soldier in the allied force understood what was happening.
Whether the son of a farmer, the son-in-law of a fisherman, the grandson of a merchant, the older brother of a dancer, a noble young master, or a groom-to-be…
Even without prior experience or training in war, they understood it clearly.
(They’re finally moving.)
“There is no retreat! The order is wrong! Don’t fall for it! Fight!”
My shout rang out louder than the trumpets signaling retreat.
A cheat only possible because my physical abilities far exceed the limits of ordinary humans.
“Count Amolang!”
“Count Amolang!”
The soldiers looked at me pitifully, like orphaned chicks.
I could feel their intense desire to survive and return safely to their hometowns.
“Shout! Let them know you’re still alive! Let them know we can win!”
“Ooooh!”
“Waaaaah!”
I learned this back in the romance fantasy <I Became the Youngest Daughter of a Count’s Family> while waging conquest wars: in this era, the commander with the loudest voice wins.
Tactics? Terrain? Strategy?
All good. But if they can’t be properly and quickly conveyed to the soldiers carrying them out, they’re useless.
“Fight…!”
“Fight—!”
My voice reached every corner of the battlefield, drowning out the retreat order. The soldiers who had hesitated to turn their backs on the enemy now charged forward again.
Overwhelming numerical superiority.
The duchy’s advantage lay in superior equipment and abundant supplies. But slightly better weapons don’t multiply combat power two or three times over.
Of course, if they invested decades of training like the knight order, the difference would be clear—but most of the duchy’s soldiers were civilians who had only recently picked up weapons. In terms of mental state and skill level, there was little gap between them and the allied forces.
And most decisively,
Twang—
“Block it! For our beloved young lady, offer your lives— Gah?!”
Thud!
I exist.
“This is a war caused by the greedy young lady! Defeated soldiers of the duchy—drop your weapons and surrender…!”
My booming voice rang out, causing confusion among the duchy’s soldiers.
Defeated duchy.
They hadn’t been defeated yet, but all they could see were their surroundings. With their field commanders felled by my arrows, the chain of command collapsed. Only desperate screams and curses filled the air in that terrible environment…
Clang! Clatter! Crash!
“Surrender!”
“We surrender…”
“Surrendering!”
Most of the duchy’s soldiers were also young. They had grown up under brainwashing-like education from their parents and the duchy, but they weren’t fanatical enough about the young lady to throw their lives away in a losing war.
Moreover,
“Charge! Do not stop! There is no home to return to—our homes are burning! Today, we feast and drink in the duchy!”
“Waaaaah!”
“Waaa!”
The first day of the war ended in a draw—both sides’ knight orders had been fairly annihilated!
The old men of the allied forces probably had no such intention, but they had unintentionally created the perfect “back-to-the-wall” formation—with nowhere left to retreat.
Wisps of smoke~
Crimson flames and thick black smoke rising from our own main camp.
Anyone who wasn’t a complete fool could clearly understand: retreat meant death.
So the allied soldiers—who now knew retreat would kill them—charged forward to survive.
The duchy’s soldiers, who wouldn’t die even if they lost.
The allied soldiers, who would surely starve to death if they lost.
The very mindset going into battle couldn’t help but be completely different.
“Charge! The duchy’s vaunted Second Cavalry Division has already been annihilated by this Count!”
“Oooooh!”
“Count Amolang…!”
“The hero has come!”
The Second Cavalry Division—overhyped to an absurd degree through propaganda.
It might have been intended to boost morale that had dropped due to numerical inferiority, but once the cavalry unit used in the propaganda was wiped out, hope turned into even greater despair.
Twang—
“Don’t believe it! It’s the enemy’s trick— Gah?!”
Thud! Thump!
I went around personally gifting arrows to every duchy commander who tried to refute my words.
“……”
“……”
It didn’t take long before the duchy’s knights and squad leaders realized that speaking meant death. They clamped their mouths shut and fell silent.
Clang! Clatter!
And then they dropped their weapons and surrendered.
“Waaaaah!”
“Waaa!”
The tide of battle, which had begun to tilt thanks to my incitement, widened the gap more and more as time passed.
One surrender encouraged another…
The vicious cycle repeated, and the duchy’s army collapsed like a sandcastle.
“Excellent!”
It was a shame I didn’t get to accumulate much real combat experience in chivalry.
(Hmm. There’s real power in your voice.)
I’m quite good at talking, aren’t I?
(…That’s not what I meant. Do you really think war is so simple that the side with the loudest voice always wins?)
From the moment the knight orders were annihilated, the war had already been tilted in the allied forces’ favor!
The moment the duchy’s knight order—which accounted for a very large portion of their military power—was crushed by me, the overall balance of the war began to shift.
Of course, the allied knight order had also been fairly annihilated, but from the beginning, they had received almost no support, so expectations and their actual weight had been extremely low. Bluntly speaking, the allied forces’ main strength was cheap infantry that could be fully equipped with just one lance per man.
(I’m speaking in a mystical sense.)
Hmm?
(Your voice seems to exert a physical influence on this world. Should I say it resonates with the soldiers’ hearts through sound waves…?)
Oh! How scientific of you, Blood God who has mastered the mystic arts.
(There is order and rules even in sorcery. If there weren’t, it would be called omnipotence, not sorcery.)
“…Charge!”
I shouted once more.
“Waaaaah!”
“Waaa!”
As if in response, the allied soldiers surged forward like a flood, pushing into the duchy’s camp and planting their flags.
Flutter~!
“Hmm…”
It does seem like what my sorcery-master senior said might be true…?
Riding this momentum, I decided to settle the issue I had been putting off.
“Seize the traitors who set fire to the warehouses!”
“Yes, Count!”
The elderly command staff—who had panicked because their orders were no longer being followed—were dragged forward one after another.
“Let go of me this instant!”
“What is the meaning of this!”
“Count! How dare you…!”
Not all of them were accomplices. So some might feel wronged. But I wanted to cleanly clean house before they could cause any more trouble or stab me in the back.
‘It’s a shame.’
They too could be seen as victims of the world-setting.
But in order to freely deal with the young lady, I needed to become the supreme commander of the allied forces. And to become supreme commander, I needed absolute support from the army. The existing command staff would have made that impossible even if they had simply acted with common sense—so I hadn’t treated them.
Should we call it inducing crime?
(Successor. Are you seriously going to insist you’re not a villain but a shaman after this?)
Senior. I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?
(Have you heard of aiding and abetting?)
Haha!
Without clear evidence, aiding and abetting doesn’t hold up either.
“Ahh! Oh no! Because of these traitors, we’re short on supplies! It pains me, but we don’t have the resources to send them back to the homeland. Tie them to the stakes and burn them.”
“Count Amolang…!”
“Young lady! Young lady~!”
“Let go! Let go of me!”
At the mention of being burned alive, the old men thrashed wildly, but they couldn’t overpower the sturdy soldiers.
The execution pyres were prepared in no time…
“I am— No, nooo~?!”
“Count! Even in death I curse— Aaaaah…!”
“Young lady! Young lady~! Kuaaaaah!”
Crackle! Roar!
I liberated those poor souls from the shackles of the world-setting!
(Do you really believe souls exist?)
I’m a shaman, aren’t I?
No matter how much of a science believer I may be, I have a profession that requires me to believe in the existence of souls.
“Waaaaah!”
“Waaaaah!”
Even as people were burned alive, the watching soldiers cheered.
This is the medieval era.
Romance fantasy novels often depict the Middle Ages in an extremely romantic light, but that’s nothing more than a “fantasy” stripped of realistic historical accuracy to suit the readers’ tastes.
“Count Amolang!”
“Report.”
“What should we do with the prisoners?”
“Separate them to avoid friction, but treat them without discrimination. Anyone who disobeys this order will be hanged.”
“…Yes, sir.”
“You look displeased. I understand. They are the enemies who killed your comrades. But remember—this is not a war of conquest. It is a holy crusade.”
“Ah!”
“We are in the midst of a sacred fight. Our ultimate goal is to liberate the people of the duchy, who have been reduced to playthings for the greedy young lady…!”
“I will keep that in mind, Count!”
“Hmm.”
I wanted to deny what my sorcery-master senior said, but it was becoming more and more convincing.
The power of voice.
It felt as though my voice—my flesh and blood—was also being imbued with “my world.” The concentration was faint, like air, but still present.
(The existence of it is what matters.)
Right.
(The stronger you grow, the stronger the power of the world becomes. In the past, your voice never carried this level of persuasiveness.)
“Growth…”
(Is the witch bothering you?)
Of course she is.
The witch, Ranuvela.
I couldn’t even begin to guess how powerful her “world” must be—she had entered and exited the dreams of patients long before I ever did.
(If she can reshape terrain with mere will, she is likely stronger than you.)
“Ugh…”
I had experienced it in Nam Hae-soo’s dream.
While conversing with the witch, the ground suddenly vanished without warning, nearly hanging me!
It posed no physical threat, but the mental shock was immense. It felt like being warned by a god.
“We camp here tonight.”
“Yes, Count!”
The duchy occupies fertile, blessed land, but it is an extremely small nation.
Reorganization?
I guarantee that the only remaining forces in the duchy are the gatekeepers and city guards protecting the beautiful central castle, plus the royal guard who obey only the young lady’s commands.
“Free things are always right. Throw open the duchy’s granaries and hold a festival! Tonight, rest without a single worry.”
“Ooooh! Yes, Count Amolang!”
I’m curious how the Ranuvel patient will react upon hearing of our victory.
I’ll rest well tonight and peek into her mind with my perception around tomorrow evening when we reach the duchy’s capital.
“Count.”
A knight entered the command tent, now refilled with young faces.
“What is it?”
“A person from the duchy has arrived.”
“Ah, an envoy to surrender?”
“No, sir.”
“Then?”
“He… introduces himself as the young lady’s 38th man and requests a one-on-one duel with Count Amolang.”
“……”
38th? Isn’t that even farther removed than a mere lover?
“Tell him I’m not free enough to deal with some insignificant brat. If he wants a duel with this Count, he should at least be one of the young lady’s five favorite fingers.”
“Yes, Count!”
Time passed quickly—so absurd that I couldn’t even laugh.
“Count Amolang!”
“What now?”
“A knight who calls himself the young lady’s 38th man…”
“Is requesting a duel with me?”
“Yes.”
“……”
The absurdity was so great that even a hollow laugh wouldn’t come out. Time flew by.
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TL Note:
The novel is fully completed (231 chapters)
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