Translator: Cinder Translations
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Following the fall of the Blackstone Pass, a remorseful Catherine adamantly declined the position of supreme commander, believing the role should go to a veteran more familiar with the kingdom's northern regions.
Thus, the position naturally fell to Schroeder, who had previously served as the commander of Watchers' Fortress and later held a high-ranking military post in Alden, earning widespread support.
After discussions, the Alden army decided to first reclaim Agate Fortress, southeast of Silver Moon Castle, forming a strategic pincer movement before the orc forces could fully establish themselves.
The combined allied forces, numbering nearly 20,000 troops, began advancing eastward, signaling a counteroffensive against the orcs.
Agate Fortress, a mid-sized city, was defended by two orc battalions and a small number of human traitors who had defected to them, according to intelligence.
Unfortunately, the initial assault on the fortress was unsuccessful.
The attacking force consisted primarily of troops recently withdrawn from the Blackstone Pass, something Schroeder had anticipated. His true intention was to test the orcs' defensive capabilities.
However, as the first wave of soldiers retreated for a brief respite, the outnumbered orcs daringly opened the city gates, launching a cavalry charge against the retreating human forces.
The battlefield descended into chaos. Fleeing soldiers disrupted the advance of the capital's cavalry reinforcements, further complicating the situation.
Enraged, Schroeder immediately called off the operation.
The series of previous defeats had clearly cast a heavy shadow on the morale of these routed soldiers.
He knew that without restoring strict military discipline, any further actions would be futile.
"Form up!" "Stand in line!"
Under the relentless shouts and whip lashes of Alden's soldiers, the disordered masses quickly lined up in neat ranks.
Standing on a high platform, Schroeder glared sternly at the troops below. His eyes blazed like a dragon's maw, threatening to erupt with fury at any moment.
This battalion from Maple Leaf Territory of the Blackstone Pass was supposed to cover the retreat but had fled at the first sight of the orc cavalry, bearing primary responsibility for the failed siege.
While other units had suffered varying degrees of casualties, this battalion had somehow emerged unscathed—a glaring anomaly.
Their lord had gone missing in earlier battles, leaving command to a knight now standing among the ranks under Schroeder's orders.
"Your conduct on the battlefield has brought shame upon all of Aldor!"
Schroeder roared like an enraged lion.
"Now, begin counting off from the first soldier. Every tenth man, step forward!"
No one dared defy his orders. Soldiers began counting aloud in sequence, and, as instructed, every tenth soldier was either voluntarily or forcibly pulled from the ranks—including the knight commanding the unit.
A full hundred soldiers stood in a line under the watchful eyes of the entire Alden army, who had been assembled to witness the scene. Quiet murmurs spread as they speculated on how Schroeder would punish these men.
Would it be a whipping? Or branding them with a mark of shame?
The selected hundred grew visibly uneasy. Some had already sensed the impending doom.
"What are you planning, Schroeder? You have no authority to do this! We have our own lord!" protested the knight in charge.
"Aim!"
At Schroeder's command, Alden's soldiers raised their guns.
Everyone was already familiar with these weapons, which the Alden troops carried daily.
A collective gasp of fear erupted from the crowd, none expecting the old knight to act so ruthlessly.
"No!"
"Father in Heaven, save us!"
The targeted men panicked, pleading for mercy. Some tried to flee back into the ranks.
The knight screamed in desperation, "I demand to see Lady Catherine! I demand to see Lady Catherine!"
But Schroeder gave him no chance. "Fire!"
"Schroeder, I curse you... Ah!"
A deafening volley of gunfire filled the air, and the field was soon shrouded in thick white smoke.
An entire row of bodies lay crumpled on the ground, their blood and brains splattered across the earth.
The horrifying scene stunned all the onlookers.
A hundred men had been executed—not by orc weapons, but by their own side.
The troops gazed at Schroeder on the high platform. The once-dignified old knight now seemed like a demon incarnate.
The remaining 900 soldiers from Maple Leaf Territory were petrified, standing trembling in place.
Alden soldiers stood on high alert, weapons ready, prepared to annihilate them at a word from Schroeder.
"You cowards, listen carefully! I can tolerate defeats—they are a natural part of warfare," Schroeder said coldly.
"But I will not tolerate defeats caused by disobedience, especially those resulting from abandoning comrades and fleeing without resistance. I should have executed you all, but in the name of the merciful Father, I will give you one last chance."
"I am forming a new unit—the Penal Battalion. All cowards will be assigned to it and tasked with the most dangerous missions. The only way to leave the Penal Battalion is by taking the enemy's life—or losing your own."
Everyone present held their breath, silently absorbing Schroeder's words.
Even soldiers from other territories dared not make a sound, realizing his speech wasn't just aimed at the guilty.
Now, an even greater shadow than the orc army loomed over them.
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"Honorable Warchief, please have a drink."
In the lavish hall of a castle, Duke Dusan Bradley of the Bradley family respectfully offered a cup of wine to Abal.
The duke's hand hung awkwardly in the air—Abal didn't take the cup.
A palpable sense of awkwardness filled the room, and the duke's face revealed clear discomfort.
Only then did Abal finally take the cup.
"Dear Duke, I was momentarily lost in thought, pondering our next moves. I trust you won't mind," the warchief said with a hearty laugh, prompting the orc commanders in the room to burst into laughter as well, filling the hall with noise.
Meanwhile, members of the Bradley family looked visibly displeased.
"Ah, of course. Your Excellency is always so diligent and focused on strategy. I greatly admire that," Duke Bradley replied with a forced smile, pretending not to mind the earlier slight.
He had no choice but to endure such humiliation.
In recent battles, he had personally witnessed the orc army's might.
What he had hoped for was an ally. Instead, he now found himself facing a dominant force subtly taking the reins.
This left the duke in a deep quandary.
(End of the Chapter)
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