“What… was that?”

The New Rule is supposed to be on its last legs, Thille a city waiting for its inevitable capture. The battlefield is supposed to be theirs from the outset, their rapid advance only a sign for their eventual victory. It should’ve been quick, with even some reserves being urban warfare specialists, waiting for their moment to enter the city.

Yet what is this? Their armies are completely overwhelmed by reinforcements that came out of nowhere, their formations collapsing before they can even react. A complete counterattack, ferocious, sudden, and deadly all at once, the Confederation completely ensnared in the trap.

The Confederation’s war council sits nervously in the chamber, silently looking at the displays before them as they witness their military domination collapsing before their eyes. At the head of them all, Nasition calmly rests his face on his hand, concealing his anger within. This is no minor setback. The Confederation had devoted much of its finest troops to the battle, and even with such strength, they are being defeated by a limping faction led by a young teenager?

“We’ve completely lost now,” a general laments.

“To allow our rival to fight back like this…” another grits his teeth. “What happened to us?”

“Is this to be the beginning of the end, after a decade and a half of struggles?” a third says.

“We can always retreat to the headquarters,” a fourth suggests. “But with nowhere to properly act as cover…”

“We’ll eventually lose sooner or later, won’t we?” a fifth finishes. “Is there not some way we can form a miracle?”

The distress is clear. These generals, used to winning victory after victory against the smaller factions, have only now encountered something remotely close to a crisis. Their defeatism is especially worrying, already considering retreat while they still have a large amount of reserves intact. Well, that is somewhat expected for Nasition. They have not served him since the beginning of his rule, after all. Unlike Tevlaia.

Perhaps it wasn’t wise to wipe out the Battalion. They had shown no signs of rebellion, instead obeying his every command no matter how ridiculous or absurd it was. Tevlaia, although frequently clashing with him, had never failed him in open battle or covert missions. For the price of his paranoia, he has just willingly annihilated the finest of his troops, all to preserve his power.

“Do we have any armies nearby?” he asks. “There are airfields in the vicinity which we can evacuate our aircraft to, but they will certainly not be enough to assist in holding our forward bases.”

“Well, there are the eleventh and sixth armies,” the fourth general says. “They’re already spread thin, though.”

“And what happens when they reinforce us? All of a sudden, we create a gaping hole in our lines for the enemy to freely cross,” the first general adds. “Is that not asking for our defeat elsewhere?”

“Our offensive against Thille is already a lost cause, isn’t it?” the third emphasizes. “If only we had properly done our reconnaissance beforehand…”

“And whose fault is that?” the fifth raises her voice. “I had advised for an in-depth reconnaissance mission weeks earlier, and in our hurry, you dismissed—”

“You did not say that.”

“Yes, I did! And look where we are now. Our armies spread thin over an increasingly long border, suffering a critical defeat just when we are about to grasp our victory. I won’t be surprised if, in a few months, we are back at the Pass!”

“Enough.” Nasition raises his hand, silencing his subordinates. “The past has already happened. We may be on our path to defeat, but we haven’t lost yet. General Unaira, you said the eleventh and sixth are available?”

“Yes,” the fourth answers. “It’ll take approximately a day or two to reroute to Thille, though.”

“Contact General Lexial and tell him to arrive at our base by next morning. The eleventh, under your direct command, should be able to reroute now.”

“That is—”

“Impossible? Lexial has his way to please me. He isn’t the brightest of us, but certainly the most optimistic.” His eyes raise from the displays, looking directly at each of the five generals for a moment. “Far more useful to me than the pessimism we have in this room.”

“Your attitude is different since the battle of the Pass, Common Leader,” the second notes. “You usually prioritize preserving troops and preparation even over the occupation of a strategic position. What’s prompting you to act like this now?”

“Some battles are not allowed to be lost,” Nasition replies. “This one in particular.”

Avalel should not be a competent strategist or tactician. Compared to him, a seasoned soldier and leader for decades, the young boy has under his belt barely a year of experience. Even if his combat prowess is much to be in awe of, Avalel is unfit to become the leader of a de facto nation. Then how… How did he anticipate the fervent advance of the Confederation, betting his forces on the fact that Nasition himself had neglected to gather ample intelligence? The sacrifice of fresh recruits to lure the Confederation inwards is not something a sane being would do, being only a tactic used by the most pragmatic, manipulative, and cruel commanders. And for a boy seventeen years of age to execute such an act without a hint of suspicion from the soldiers sent to their deaths… When did he even learn that?

How did Avalel even pull such miracles and feats as if they are nothing but gimmicks?

“Order our soldiers to retreat to the headquarters,” he says, his mind still preoccupied with Avalel. “Halve the soldiers’ rations and we should have enough food to last a month. A perimeter shall be formed, halting the enemy advance—”

“How are we supposed to build a perimeter in so little time?” the third questions. “The enemy won’t wait for us to finish our preparations before they attack. If the situation requires, we can always use the voidal cannon to wipe out enemy forces.”

“We dig in. Let nature be our shield,” Nasition answers. “It’s a crude delaying tactic, but it should last us long enough before reinforcements arrive. There should be an ample amount of shovels in the engineering unit for a rough trench system before the enemy reaches the headquarters. As for the voidal cannon, I do not want to deliberately sacrifice most, if not all of our soldiers and civilian wellbeing just for a convenient victory.”

“But—”

“I will not allow any sort of pessimism from this point forth,” Nasition firmly states. “Not when we are so close to victory, when there is still a good chance to snatch it back. The enemy should’ve exhausted their available troops in the area while we still have a large number nearby.”

“If only we hadn’t made such a stupid mistake earlier on…” the fifth mutters.

“Do not say that again,” Nasition says, glaring fiercely at his subordinate. “Focus on the battle, and victory is assured. After the victory, I’ll reconsider demoting you for your words earlier.”

“I’ll take my leave now, Common Leader,” Unaira says as she stands. “General Lexial is to be quickly notified.”

“Go,” Nasition says. “Contact the other commanders as well. The fate of the battle still lay in our hands. As for the others, begin protocol for a siege.”

Without another word, the other four return their gazes to the displays, furiously contacting local commanders and informing them of the change in tactics. This is at least one thing Nasition appreciates of his direct subordinates: their quickness to act upon his orders once a firm decision has been given. Unlike Tevlaia or other Battalion members, these generals do not possess a particularly rebellious nature yet still have some competency in their command.

“All engineering units, begin digging at the specified locations on your displays!”

“Prioritize heightened positions to artillery pieces!”

“All aircraft, avoid engaging in combat with the enemy until within headquarter anti-aircraft range.”

“Bury the bottom half of our armored units with the extra dirt! All armored divisions, you are to temporarily be under the command of General Lur!”

“Retreating units, dismount and destroy all remaining vehicles and artillery pieces! Give the enemy as much trouble as you can without firing a shot!”

He sighs. The battle is just beginning, isn’t it?

“How’s the situation?” Avalel asks in his comms.

“Enemy aircraft are retreating in disarray.”

“We haven’t met a single shot from enemy soldiers yet.”

“Armored divisions are still advancing at speed. No sign of the enemy yet.”

“Batteries are still pushing forward, but we are ready to fire at any moment.”

The voices of four generals are clear, reporting as if this is just a reconnaissance mission. A stark contrast to the panicked screams of the recruits. He does not even need to specify their names and they have already answered confidently to his question. Not that he knows their names. He never bothered to ask, assuming they are just replaceable soldiers waiting for their time to die. Perhaps he has underestimated the professionalism of the New Rule’s military commanders due to the previous defeats.

“Stay in formation and have frequent contact with each other,” he says. “I doubt the Confederation will fall easily to a mere barrage.” This almost seems too easy and simple. Although at a great material and personnel cost, Thille itself is untouched, the Confederation now retreating almost at a pace as fast as they have attacked. He scoffs. If not for the Assembly’s incompetence and the existence of a voidal cannon, they might’ve been able to win at the Pass as well.

Compared to the small, archaic battles from a thousand years ago, these large confrontations are merely a result of stupidity rather than the genius of a certain side’s commander. He had wondered whether the leaders of this time had made innovations to battle tactics, but other than the introduction of advanced technology, at its core, things remain the same. What a disappointment.

“I’d like at least two armored battalions to advance ahead and cut off the enemy’s retreat,” he adds. “As soon as you encounter the enemy, do not let them get away. Given the assumption that they used our infrastructure to advance quickly onto the capital, it should be easy to estimate where they are going.” He looks at a map display of the area. The lack of an indication of the Confederation headquarters is slightly worrying, but it should only be a small problem. Once cut off, the enemy will have no choice but to concentrate and defend at a certain point. Where they are is where the headquarters is, or so he believes.

“The order has been relayed to the fifth and tenth battalions,” the general in charge of the armor branch replies. “I’ve also requested the two commanders to connect to your comms.”

“Alright,” Avalel answers.

It’s slightly appalling how small the New Rule’s military has become after their defeat at the Pass. Avalel expected reinforcements to be available from other regions. Instead, those regions, still oblivious to his coup d’etat, assumed he was just a general. His young voice did not help him convince the regional commanders at all. There is still some solace from that fact, however. He does not know of the loyalty the regions possess to Thille itself, and at this stage of the war, a sudden insurrection is certainly unfavorable for the already unstable state of the New Rule.

He has experienced a similar sort of thing back then, after all.

He wonders how such a weak-minded government managed to keep the faction alive, nevermind being the second-most powerful faction on the continent.

“Enemy structures reported, our leader,” the fifth battalion commander says. “The soldier says it looks like a camp… Maybe it’s their base?”

“Keep a close distance but avoid combat for now,” Avalel responds. “I do not want an early engagement, especially given our limited number of forces.” What irony, considering he had sacrificed so many earlier.

“Understood.”

He looks at the map display. Judging from the area of bombardment, the New Rule’s main vanguard is approaching an area of lesser damage, perhaps even holding remnants of enemy forces, while the fifth and tenth armored battalions have already advanced further ahead If he were some other commander, he would’ve urged his troops to go further, to catch the enemy in their retreat. However, with no reinforcements to be expected, caution is imperative. Although still sacrificial pawns in his view, he must exert more care in how he deals with them. If he can simply surround the enemy and bombard them into submission, then all the better.

“Slow down,” he commands. “Reform the ranks and begin scouting for enemy units. Once the location for the headquarters is confirmed, begin the encirclement.”

It’s been a while since he had last noticed an enemy force. Has the bombardment worked too well in his favor? A retreat is certainly favorable, but the annihilation or capitulation of the enemy force is far stronger as a morale booster for him to rebuild the New Rule under his control.

Slowly, data begins to flow in, particularly from aerial reconnaissance. The lack of Confederation aerial presence is definitely positive news, but for one not familiar with the tactics of aerial combat, Avalel is perplexed as to the reason for this situation. Well, not that it’s harming his forces at the moment.

The so-called enemy headquarters from the reports is really “just” a large camp with well-defended posts. Well, large is an understatement. Despite hundreds of buildings being marked down on the map display, it is but a fraction of the camp’s true size. From the scale, it won’t be surprising if the entire camp roughly occupies the space of a town or small city. Extremely far from ideal if he chooses to encircle the enemy.

“This size…” a general says. “Just how many did the Confederation devote to destroying Thille?”

“Is an encirclement even possible?” another asks.

Avalel ponders for a moment. This is far more enormous than he expected. Perhaps the enemy is only waiting for them, encamped in a better position. Even if he expends all the shells of the artillery batteries, it is difficult to cause significant damage to the entire camp.

There is still much to learn on the tactics of warfare, he realizes.

“Forget the encirclement or even a slow advance,” he says. “Concentrate our forces and bombardments to strike at the middle, with the fifth and tenth battalions attacking the flanks. We will simply tear through the enemy lines before they can properly regroup. Let this be a victory engraved into the annals of history!”

Two leaders, two tacticians, strategists of different ages. One bearing the burden of a revolution on his back, the other taken over by an ancient ideal. One with the experience of decades of conflict, the other a newcomer not yet having lived a year on the battlefield. One leading his people through political excellence, the other waving the banner of victory with unparalleled individual might.

Both are victims of the corrupting force known as power.