Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Chapter 73

The motivation behind the Holy Knight’s urgency to send his descendant to the front lines was evident: he craved military glory.

He fervently desired for his offspring to gain renown on the battlefield, emulating the already established fame of the “Black Prince” belonging to the Duchy of Saxony. The primary plan consisted of elevating the status of his countly lineage in the eyes of the entire empire.

After all, Philip represented the only male and the legitimate successor of the Count’s house. For this reason, it was fundamental that he assume a leadership role, even if only nominally, supporting his progenitor’s authority until reaching the maturity necessary to inherit the title in a dignified manner.

That was the original project.

“Is it not said that the offspring of a great man often does not inherit his virtues?”

“It is evident that not even the Holy Knight himself managed to straighten out his own son!”

“Well, everything indicates that the glory days of the Brandenburg lineage have come to an end.”

“And to think of the level of the successor of Saxony! Certainly, fate is capricious.”

No matter how much effort he put into camouflaging his heir’s deficiencies, reality ended up imposing itself. The murmurs among the aristocrats did not cease regarding the young man, whom they viewed as a hedonist with no aptitude for swordplay and highly prone to worldly pleasures instead of the martial arts.

Without the possession and use of the Holy Sword, the decline of the Brandenburg dynasty was imminent. The resounding failure suffered during the Black and White Tournament ended up validating the court rumors, transforming the family decadence into a certainty for all. Behind the Count’s back, the contempt for his son was mixed with excessive praise for the Saxon heir, that repudiated “Black Prince.”

Faced with this scenario, it was crucial to demonstrate the opposite. His son had to reap a triumph of such magnitude that it would silence the mockery toward the future Count once and for all. Even the Holy Knight found himself trapped by the weight of the “Black Prince’s” reputation, dealing with his own internal complexes.

The Loire River functioned as the natural dividing line between the territory of the self-proclaimed “Kingdom of New Britannia,” located in the northern region, and the “Imperial Territory,” situated toward the south.

For the emancipation troops to regain control of the capital, it was indispensable that they cross the Loire viaducts and invade the soil controlled by the empire.

Facing this threat, the Imperial High Command fragmented its main contingent of 40,000 combatants, delegating approximately 20,000 troops under the guardianship of the spendthrift Count Philip at the strategic bastion of “Bellefort,” with the specific mission of guarding the bridge crossing.

“Your only task is to keep yourself on the sidelines.”

That recommendation kept resonating constantly in his mind. To remain stationed there without intervening at all.

“Do not attempt any maneuvers.”

Despite the immense power that the Saint possessed, it was considered an impossible task to capture a fortification guarded by such a quantity of soldiers. However, if the insurgents could not break the defenses of that fort, their aspirations of recovering the capital would remain buried.

Philip’s null military capabilities lacked importance in that strategic design. The bet did not lie in the young man’s abilities, but in the structural solidity of Bellefort.

There were plenty of reasons for it to be considered an impregnable bulwark.

With the position secured, the story about the “countly heir who resisted the onslaught of the insurgents with bravery” would be crafted and publicized by his father, the Holy Knight.

The corners of the empire would be flooded with narratives of Philip’s warlike exploits!

It was a desperate maneuver by his progenitor to safeguard his own honor, that of his lineage, and that of his incompetent son.

On the other hand, the circumstances surrounding Dale were far from ideal.

He had been entrusted with the leadership of barely a thousand combatants, a group composed of his 500 men from the Black Armor Company along with another 500 imperial soldiers, sending him to an area completely apart from the core of the confrontation.

Basically, that represented a demotion in every sense.

The Holy Knight of Brandenburg had pulled his political strings to neutralize any possibility of the “Black Prince” obtaining a leading role in the campaign. A highly mean and calculated move.

“What did you say? That inept person was left in charge of the defense of Bellefort?”

“That is correct, that is the official directive.”

It did not take long for the report to spread that the Holy Knight had placed Philip at the head of the key defensive bastion, Bellefort.

“Truly amazing.”

Dale let out an ironic laugh at the ridiculousness of the matter.

The Holy Knight’s pretensions were extremely easy to decipher. His goal was to magnify the supposed virtues of Philip by repelling the insurgents, thereby succeeding in increasing the value of his family name’s stocks.

Meanwhile, the “Black Prince” would remain relegated to a corner of the border, completely with his hands tied.

“Each person looks out solely for their own benefits.”

Deep down, none of those present harbored doubts about the empire’s final victory. Even though Saint Aurelia had chained victories that seemed like miracles, a simple skirmish won did not determine the outcome of the entire campaign. The empire possessed a power that did not admit underestimations.

Therefore, the imperial officers concentrated their energies on calculating what portion of the victory spoils they would manage to claim.

“This is truly lamentable.”

Internal power struggles were, at times, much more fierce than the confrontations against the emancipation side.

“Sir Yones.”

“At your orders, my lord!”

“Would you be interested in participating in a bet with me?”

Dale’s relaxed attitude caused Sir Yones to observe him with evident bewilderment.

“A bet, my lord?”

“In how many days do you estimate that Bellefort will end up surrendering?”

Sir Yones held his breath, visibly shocked by Dale’s proposition.

“With all due respect, my lord, the plaza has a garrison of twenty thousand imperial troops.”

And that contingent included specialists in mystical arts capable of nullifying the opponents’ magical attacks.

“Do you understand the reason why the gifted are given that qualification?”

“The truth is that I do not know.”

“They possess a divine quality, a perception of hidden realities that the common mortal will never reach to glimpse.”

Was his lord preparing to boast of his own abilities?

“Looking at it from that perspective, Prince Philip qualifies perfectly as an outlier.”

It turned out he was not referring to himself.

“If that is so, should we not remain calm regarding the position?”

“Not at all, I mean that he is an outlier when it comes to reaping failures.”

“……”

Sir Yones was plunged into complete mutism.

“How could we common soldiers decipher the mental processes of such a particular mind?”

Dale continued commenting on the matter with total detachment, as if it had no relation to him.

“The virtue of an individual with that condition lies in making viable that which seems impossible…”

Being realistic, under Dale’s perspective, achieving the fall of Bellefort constituted a practically unrealizable feat.

However, an individual with such gifts manages to make the unfeasible happen. In that particular aspect, Dale held full certainty about Philip’s destructive capabilities.

“The Holy Knight is incapable of dimensioning the true scope of Prince Philip’s actions.”

Added Dale to his analysis.

“Then, what is your forecast on the days the fort will resist?”

“I calculate it will resist a whole week.”

“For my part, I maintain that it will fall in three days.”

Upon reaching the third day, in the vicinity of the Bellefort fort.

“The insurgents are initiating the retreat!”

After containing the offensive deployed by the independence hosts of Britannia, Philip experienced an intense wave of pride.

The defense of the position had been a resounding success. They were before a definitive triumph.

“It was I, Philip of Brandenburg, who consolidated this victory!”

The merit did not belong to the successor of Saxony, but exclusively to Philip!

He began to project in his mind the chronicles of bravery that would resonate in the confines of the empire, emulating the old exploits of the “Black Prince.” ──The young heir of the countly house who stood up with bravery and protected the fort against the rebels!

A colossal achievement that would be immortalized in the songs of the imperial population. The opening chapter of his own heroic legend.

“No, this is insufficient.”

However, he considered that it was not enough to decorate the introduction of an epic destined to endure in the collective memory of the empire.

“My great chronicle cannot be inaugurated with such a modest triumph.”

He evoked again the figure of the young successor of Saxony, considered the greatest prodigy of the empire, mentally reviewing the enormous quantity of battles that he had tilted in his favor.

Consequently, Philip’s triumph required greater spectacularity, a much more imposing and majestic display.

A feat of epic proportions that would not be overshadowed by the prestige of the “Black Prince.” A demonstration of strength so forceful that it would rival directly with the talent of the greatest prodigy of the imperial territory.

“Prevent them from consolidating their retreat!”

With that determination, Philip exclaimed with force.

“Prepare the marching columns! Activate the drawbridge mechanisms and initiate the pursuit!”

“However, Prince Philip!”

“Silence! How dare you question the directives of the future leader of the countly house!”

A member belonging to the Order of Saint Magdalene tried to make him see reason, but, just as Dale had anticipated, the ordinary troops lacked the preparation to assimilate the decisions of the “genius Philip.”

“Any individual who breaks my provisions will be executed immediately!”

Sentenced Philip at the top of his lungs.

“Organize the ranks for the advance! We will exterminate the insurgents in their flight!”

All with the firm purpose of breaking definitively the chains of the oppressive “shadow of the Black Prince” and securing an unquestionable glory.

“March behind me!”

Philip of Brandenburg.

“The beginning of my supremacy starts at this instant!”

The great narrative of this character barely traced its first lines.

A week later, the defensive bastion of Bellefort ended up succumbing and Philip fell into enemy hands.

That geographic obstacle that guarded the border between the Kingdom of Britannia and the Imperial Territory, considered an impenetrable military edifice, was surpassed with extreme ease by the independence forces without registering significant casualties.

The entirety of the imperial defenders was put to the sword, while the officer in charge of the plaza, Philip, ended up confined by the Britannia emancipation troops, remaining reduced to a valuable piece of exchange to demand a payment for his release.

After all, the strategy that consisted of wearing down the British independence army by forcing it into a prolonged war of attrition at Bellefort, while the bulk of the forces commanded by the Holy Knight executed a flanking maneuver, was completely ruined.

The planning oriented to pulverizing the Britannia insurrection had disintegrated completely.

Subsequent to the loss of Fort Bell.

The Britannia independence groups initiated a sweeping offensive crossing the line of the Loire River.

Their course was set toward the imperial stronghold that formerly served as the royal seat of the old British kingdom, Reims, a point where the high commands of the empire had congregated again in an emergency.

Except for one: the disgraced member of high society, who now remained under the custody of the opposing side.

“Well, it becomes evident that the axiom ‘like father, like son’ lacks validity on this occasion,” stated Dale with a marked tone of irony, after his return from that unjustified strategic isolation.

“Not satisfied with failing in the preservation of the five hundred members of the Order of Saint Magdalene…”

He continued launching darts toward the Holy Knight, evidencing a total lack of reserve when expressing himself within a visibly fractured military structure.

“He provoked the extermination of a garrison that bordered on 20,000 imperial combatants.”

“…… Clearly.”

“It is usually said that defeat has its science, but this outcome exceeds the limits of any ordinary clumsiness.”

The Holy Knight pressed his lips with such intensity that the skin ended up yielding, showing traces of blood.

“I feel curiosity to know the opinions that the inhabitants of the Empire will manifest before such a catastrophe signed by Prince Philip.”

A debacle of monumental proportions, undoubtedly. An indelible affront to the prestige of an aristocratic house, condemned to be remembered with shame by future generations.

The vital fluid emanated from the Saint Knight’s mouth, reflecting the immense effort he was making to contain the desire to grasp his holy sword.

The future of those individuals incapable of distancing themselves from the influence projected by Dale resulted to be extremely deplorable, not to say more.

“Merely to clear up doubts, what was the exact process that derived in the loss of the fort?”

“A few moments after registering the first armed clashes…”

Lady Scarlet intervened to give continuity to the explanation that Dale had initiated.

“Prince Philip ordered the deployment of the bulk of the garrison to hunt down an opponent that simulated retreating, all after having frustrated the initial assault on the walls.”

“Really? He left the fortress undefended by sending the main contingent to the outside?”

“Effectively, that was the development of the events.”

“Under those conditions, it was inevitable that they would fall into an ambush and result in being massacred.”

“Ah, an impeccable deduction, as is usual in you, Prince Dale.”

Lady Scarlet outlined a smile filled with coldness, treating the severe defeat as an event alien to her direct interests. She also pursued her own ends on the board of this campaign.

“Subsequently, the Britannia combatants wore the attire of the fallen imperial soldiers and, using the figure of the captured Prince Philip as a safe-conduct, took control of the facilities without needing to fire a single arrow.”

Simulating a glorious return after having cleared the area of the retreating enemy.

“So they were granted entry without resistance?”

“Everything points to things happening that way.”

“……”

“I understand that they proclaimed their supposed triumph with overflowing security and pride.”

Solely with the purpose of preserving his own physical integrity. The marks of tension on the Saint Knight’s face became evident again at the account.

In this way, the defensive position yielded and Philip went on to be a hostage. The considered-unimpregnable Fort Bell ended up under enemy control practically without casualties for the attackers.

One could reach to recognize the brilliance in the tactical design employed by the Britannia soldiers, although the fact of falling into such a rudimentary stratagem resulted to be completely unjustifiable.

“I have run out of arguments.”

A few weeks after the imperial legions had disembarked on the island territory of Britannia, half of the contingent composed of 40,000 men had been wiped off the map, while the bastion and the crucial Loire River crossing were now under the control of the insurgents.

The determinations taken by Philip managed to alter the course of the warlike operations drastically, revealing a truly out-of-the-ordinary impact.

And boy, it was.

“Our possibilities have vanished,” sentenced Dale, maintaining an attitude of total detachment before the prevailing crisis.

Chapter 73