Chapter 7: Sacrifice the Plum Tree to Preserve the Peach Tree (part 3)

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Slightly before that, there was an uproar in Georg Carmine's castle over the

sudden surprise attack. There were many different rumors flying back and forth in

the castle.

Had Castor Vargas betrayed them?

Had the king and Castor Vargas been colluding behind the scenes?

No, wasn't the one who had plotted all this, in fact, Excel Walter, that capable

woman and veteran of many battles?

...That was how it went, with various theories bandied about, but no one guessed

the truth: that Souma had pulled a trick that had let him defeat the Air Force in a

single day.

The ones who made the most noise about these events were the ones who had

exhausted their personal troops in the battle against the fortress yesterday and who

had been removed from the front line today, the corrupt nobles who had been

resting in Randel Castle. As soon as they found out that the large explosion had been

due to an aerial bombardment by the Air Force, they rushed to the governmental

affairs office, where Georg Carmine was doing the work of governing despite the

ongoing situation.

"Duke Carmine! What are you doing, taking things so easily during this crisis?!"

one of them exclaimed.

"The Air Force has betrayed us! We must come up with a plan of action at once!"

"Give us your orders, please! What are we to do?"

As the nobles worked themselves into a frenzy and shouted all manner of verbal

abuse at him, Georg's wolf-headed lieutenant, Beowulf, who was here at this very

moment to report on the bombing, furrowed his brow in anger. He was about to

draw the sword at his hip to respond to the affront, but...

"Beowulf," Georg addressed him.

"Yes, sir!" He stood at attention.

Georg asked him in a calm tone, "What is the extent of the damage from the aerial

bombardment just now?"

"Sir," he said. "The bombardment on the castle only blasted away a portion of the

roof and towers. Fortunately, there were few casualties. However, we've lost every

one of the anti-air repeating bolt throwers on the castle walls. The soldiers assigned

to guard the walls are in a state of panic and confusion."

"I see..."

Georg showed no sign of a change in his expression at Beowulf's report, but the

nobles who were listening went ghastly pale. The loss of the anti-air repeating bolt

throwers meant the loss of any ability to oppose the wyvern cavalry. The Army now

had no means to stop the Air Force's bombardment. In other words, even if they

attempted to hold out inside the castle, they would be one-sidedly bombed to death.

Georg stroked the beard that had merged with his mane. "In short, everyone in

this castle is now their hostage."

"Yes, sir. That would appear to be the case."

When he heard Beowulf's response, the corners of Georg's mouth rose as he said,

"Then this battle is our loss."

He accepted his defeat so easily that the corrupt nobles did not understand what

he had said for a moment.

They had lost.

The moment they managed to process that, their faces all turned red or blue and

they rounded on Georg.

"Wh-What are you saying, Duke Carmine?! We've not lost yet!"

"Indeed! The army is still practically unharmed! There is ample opportunity to

turn things around!"

"If we have no anti-air repeating bolt throwers, we need only retreat to a city that

has them! Let's plan our comeback and face the king and the Forbidden Army there!"

"...You would have me abandon Randel?" Georg said with a tone of exasperation

as he looked at the nobles who were saying they would resist to the last. "What is a

ruler if he casts aside his subjects? If a lord flees and deserts his people, surely the

people of another city will never accept him."

"What are you saying?!" one of the nobles exclaimed. "Subjects are those who

have no choice but to obey the victor! Even if they're discontented for a time, so long

as you win in the end, they will yield to you on their own!"

"Indeed! Platitudes are only worth something if we live! First, we must think of a

way to survive!" another cried.

As he listened to the nobles who, even now, were only concerned with their own

well-being, Georg let out a sigh.

"In the end, the only ones you fear for are yourselves. Ah, but now I recall, you

people were like that from the beginning. Honestly... in the short time since we last

fought a foreign enemy, I never would have expected our roots to rot so badly. As I

thought, in order for the new buds to flourish, first the rotting leaves and branches

must be cleared away."

"Duke Carmine? What are you saying...?"

The nobles were bewildered by the sudden change in Georg's demeanor.

Georg paid them no heed, ordering his lieutenant, "Beowulf. Do it as we planned."

"...Yes, sir," Beowulf said.

When Beowulf raised his right hand, suddenly soldiers rushed into the room,

swords drawn, and surrounded the nobles. With twenty to thirty soldiers holding

them at sword point, the nobles who were unable to move finally realized they'd

been deceived by Georg. They were stripped of their weapons and forced into slave

collars one after another.

"What is the meaning of this, Duke Carmine?!" one of them exclaimed.

"You wouldn't, Duke Carmine! Do you mean to turn over our heads to beg the

king to spare your own?!" another one screamed.

"Th-This isn't fair!" a third one shouted.

"Curse you! This is dirty, Georg Carmine!"

When he heard the nobles still talking like that, Georg sighed once more in

disappointment. "I take offense at the suggestion that I am anything like you people.

...Take them away."

The bound nobles were led out of the room by the soldiers.

Some tried to resist, but having already been forced into slave collars, their

master Beowulf merely willed for the collars to constrict, knocking them

unconscious.

Even once the door was closed and they were out of sight, they could still be

heard cursing Georg foully from the corridor. After a little while, those voices faded

and at last Georg returned to his seat. Then, exhaling deeply, he asked Beowulf a

question.

"What has become of their personal troops and the Zemish mercenaries?"

"Sir, they are being detained by our forces as we speak."

Hearing Beowulf's response, Georg nodded in satisfaction. Then, as if casting off

the stern mask he had worn all this time, a gentle smile came to his face.

"I have done as I sought to. Now, I have no regrets in this world."

In contrast to Georg, who looked bright and cheerful, Beowulf bore a look of

agony.

When he thought of what he had to do now, it must have weighed on him heavily.

Georg understood how Beowulf felt, so he gave the order as calmly as he could.

"Now then, Beowulf. Could I ask that you do the same for me?"

"...Yes, sir." He showed a moment's hesitation, but Beowulf wrapped a slave collar

around Georg's neck, as well.

Even though he was receiving a death collar that would force him into absolute

subservience to his new master, Georg wore a calm expression, like he might when

asking his wife to adjust the fancy bow-tie he intended to wear to a wedding

reception. With the slave collar wrapped around his neck, Georg now gave his final

order as General of the Army.

"Dispatch a messenger to deliver our surrender to the Forbidden Army and place

yourself at His Majesty's command. All of the men and officers, with the exception of

the corrupt nobles and their troops, acted only under my orders. I bear

responsibility for all their crimes. From here on... I leave things to you and Glaive. Do

I make myself understood?"

"...Yes, sir. I will do so at once." Beowulf saluted him and left the room.

After watching him go, Georg opened the bottom drawer of the office desk.

Inside was a bottle of wine from the year Princess Liscia had been born. It had

been given to him by the former king, Albert, with the request, "No matter what

should happen, I want you to protect my daughter." He had held onto it dearly ever

since that day.

After Liscia's graduation from the officers' academy, during the time when he had

kept her at his side, he had often told her, "On the day of your wedding, I intend to

drink myself into a stupor with this wine" with a laugh.

Her marriage... huh, he thought. Not being able to see the princess on her wedding

day is my one regret, but if I think of this as the greatest wedding gift anyone could

offer, it doesn't feel so bad. As for this wine... I will have to ask someone to see that it

makes its way to that young king. Though, as he is the man who stole the princess from

me, I am somewhat loath to do it.

With a self-mocking laugh, he imagined Souma and Liscia standing next to each

other on their wedding day.

Will the king himself enter this castle, I wonder? I would dearly like to meet him in

person and to talk just once.

That was Georg's wish, but what came instead was a messenger.

"Reporting! King Souma did not enter Randel and has already departed leading

the Forbidden Army to the west!"

...was what his report said.

Then, right after that, he also reported that orders had arrived saying, "Once the

army is reorganized under Beowulf and Glaive Magna, they are to follow after the

Forbidden Army at once."

When he received that report, Georg's eyes went wide for a moment.

"If you are to be a great tree blocking my path, I will step over you."

He recalled Souma's face when the young king had said those words. And so,

Georg understood at once. "Gya ha ha! I see, so that was it! The king was looking to

land a big fish of his own!"

Suddenly understanding everything, he let out a hearty laugh.

"I see! I've been used as a stepping stone! Was this the king's plan? Or was it the

Black-robed Prime Minister? Regardless, it was brilliant, young ones! This is the

dawn of a new generation! My time has now ended. Now, my king, my princess!

Hand in hand, step over this old tree and be on your way! Glory to the new buds, and

glory to Elfrieden!"

As he witnessed the end of his own era, Georg blessed it with all his heart.

"Sacrifice the Plum Tree to Preserve the Peach Tree."

That was the stratagem that Georg had followed, achieving the greater victory by

sacrificing himself.