What Do You Wish For With Murky Eyes: Record of Highserk War - Chapter 5

“Lord Youth, it seems that the Highserk Imperial Army gathered in the city of Sarria has begun to move.”

“Ah, so they’ve moved.”

Responding to one of his vassals, Duke Youth Myard nodded slowly. The room was bustling with people coming and going, and on the map spread out before him, pieces were being arranged one after another.

Youth had already sent requests for reinforcements from the suzerain kingdom, Ferrius, through magical devices. Fast horses were dispatched to local villages and cities to begin mobilizing militia forces.

“It seems that Sir Winston of Ferrius is personally leading the troops.”

“They seem to be taking this seriously. Ferrius as well.”

Winston Ferrius, the younger brother of the Ferrius King, had practical combat experience, earning him considerable trust from the king. Youth was convinced that if Winston was in command, Ferrius had no intention of relinquishing Myard. Furthermore, he suspected that Ferrius intended to settle the score with the bothersome Highserk army.

As Youth looked out of the window of the room, he saw fast horses passing through the gate with neighs.

“Five years since the last war, it feels long but surprisingly short.”

Amid persistent opposing opinions, Youth had implemented scorched-earth tactics, abandoning the former Kingdom of Kanoa. He was accused of selling his soul to monsters or losing his sanity. He endured the unbearable and tolerated the intolerable, fortified border forts, and trained his soldiers. The suzerain kingdom, Ferrius, subjected him to humiliating treatment repeatedly.

All of this was for this moment. Even so, Youth understood that the border forts could only buy time. The Highserk Empire, which had survived the crucible of war, was a specialized war state, with even farmers being well-versed in combat.

Youth, who had been directly involved, was one of those who had severely underestimated the Highserk Empire. The mainstream view, dismissing it as a country that had declined due to continuous wars, was proven wrong. Despite losing physical strength, they were like a hungry wolf with sharpened fangs and claws. Youth had literally tasted the cost of underestimating them through pain. That’s why he wielded his authority and prepared for five years.

“Do we not need to move the units near Lake Celta?”

A vassal pointed to the piece representing the units stationed by the lake on the map.

Myard borders a huge lake that faces the borders of three neighboring countries, excluding Highserk, and also has a well-organized naval force. In terms of manpower, it’s close to 700, but using sailors on land would only waste skilled soldiers. Youth had no intention of moving them.

“Sailors are only half as effective in land battles. No need to move them.”

Moreover, the preparation for that huge lake was essential. It was connected to Craist and Liberitoa, and above all, it was there. The first time Youth saw it, he felt like his legs were going to give out in embarrassment. Hearing the name Celta, Youth recalled one of the reports that he had pushed to the back of his mind.

“I believe… the Kingdom of Craist had requested cooperation from Celta’s navy against it.”

“Yes, it seems they need a guide in the waters… unfortunate timing for them.”

A proper navy wouldn’t stand a chance against it. Youth understood why the Kingdom of Craist, which had the largest navy on the massive lake, sought cooperation with Myard. In these international circumstances, it wouldn’t hurt to owe a favor. That’s what Youth thought.

“Cooperate to a reasonable extent.”

Switching gears, Youth listened to the incoming reports. Even with the most optimistic view, the chances of interception at the border forts were slim. Sending troops now risked being picked off one by one before reinforcements could gather from various places, and Ferrius Kingdom’s reinforcements wouldn’t arrive in time.

In such a scenario, the decisive battlefield would naturally be limited. Considering logistics and the burden on the troops, Youth eyed the map for the most defensively suitable location. The chosen place was the Rilef Plain, a plain located in front of the capital, Aidenburg, with the two highest hills within it.

“Prepare a venue and let Gerald and his subordinates organize a grand ball.”

The gathered Highserk Imperial Army overflowed not only into the training grounds set up in the fortress but also into nearby open spaces and main streets.

The arrival of the Liguria Battalion, a higher-ranking organization of the Duwei squad to which Walm belongs, was early. With rich combat experience against the Liberitoa Commercial Federation, it had earned an honorable position in the training grounds as a battalion under the command of the Front Army Commander.

While it might seem like a glorified battalion from the side, Walm had resigned himself to the fact that it was more like a principal’s speech. The Three Idiots seemed to have enjoyed the night extravagantly, showing signs of sleep deprivation and alcohol-induced blueness on their faces. It was to be expected. Under direct sunlight and with the reflected heat from the ground, it was only a matter of time before the armor heated up, making them uncomfortable.

If this were a battlefield, Walm might have muttered a complaint or two, but it was a pre-campaign ceremony before the Myard siege. Making such a blunder would easily lead to unwanted consequences. The fully equipped soldiers, in formation, looked up at the platform where the commander would ascend, without averting their gazes. The attention was comparable to that of an idol.

The decorations adorning the stage are weapons forged of flesh and blood, nine battalions – 18,00 soldiers trained in death. On the elevated platform taking center stage, a man stood. Although it was from a distance, the white hair, seasoned with age, stood out. His body was of average build, but there was an indescribable sense of pressure. In his eyes, confidence and intelligence based on experience were evident. The moment the man appeared, all sound disappeared. The man slowly opened his mouth and began to speak.

“Thank you for gathering. I am Gerald Berger, leading the Myard Front Army.”

A war god of the Highserk Empire, who had participated in every major war for 30 years from the era of small nations and achieved victory. Renowned as the demon of Highserk by the surrounding countries, Gerald Berger. Although the ongoing wars around Highserk have been belittled as petty skirmishes by the Alenard Forest Alliance, the Galmud Archipelago, the Maylis Republic, and the three unyielding major nations, it is said that no one dares to mock Gerald Berger.

“Veterans who have achieved victories in minor conflicts with Myard, fierce warriors who have instructed the upstarts of Liberitoa in the art of war, and strong individuals who daily slaughter demons in the magic territories have gathered here in the city of Sarria. You all are the embodiment of the martial strength of our empire.”

Due to magical tools, the resonating sound echoed not only in the training grounds but also through the surrounding streets and open spaces. It reached not only the Highserk Empire’s army but also the residents of the city of Sarria, who leaned out of windows or gathered in the main street to listen to the speech.

“As you all know, it has been five years since the old Kingdom of Kanoa fell into the sweet words of the Kingdom of Ferrius and initiated a war against our country. Have your lives returned to the pre-war days after the war ended?”

Gerald paused for two breaths before continuing.

“The answer is no. It is because the traitorous Duke of Myard and the Kingdom of Ferrius betrayed the old Kingdom of Kanoa. Even without me saying it, you, the battalion of Sarria citizens, should know well what they did. But today, I will say it deliberately. When they found themselves in a disadvantageous situation, they abandoned more than half of their compatriots, burned fields and homes, and plundered the people’s source of sustenance, destroying both food and livestock.”

The typical scorched-earth tactics repeated throughout history were also being carried out in the old Kingdom of Kanoa. The Myard troops and the Ferrius Kingdom army retreated, burning not only military facilities but also residences, fields, and forests, plundering food and resources, and retreating to a predetermined defensive line.

While victory seemed certain for the Highserk Empire, it was challenging to transport supplies deep into enemy territory, necessitating reliance on local procurement. Although the Highserk Empire had established a rear transport line, combining rivers and warehouses, in its own territory, the shortage of magic bags and wagons for logistical support in enemy territory made further advancement impossible.

For Ferrius Myard, the plan was to draw in the Highserk Empire, which had failed in local procurement, and repel them. However, the failure to disrupt the prepared rear communication line for transporting supplies prevented the collapse of the army. Additionally, in the occupied territory of the former Kingdom of Kanoa in the east, they provided enough food to prevent starvation but still induce hunger, gradually rebuilding the occupied land over five years.

The Kingdom of Ferrius and Duke Myard were not mere bystanders. Despite dispatching their forces multiple times to reclaim their territory, the Highserk Empire’s superior transportation capabilities exceeded expectations, preventing its collapse and ensuring victory. Attempts were made, such as causing soldiers’ defection and rebellions in the cities, but they failed to gain the people’s understanding.

“With the elite forces in the city of Sarria, we will put an end to the five-year war with them. Fear not, trample the enemy. Everything you desire is within the Myard territory. You will tell Myard and Ferrius who they have waged war against. Death to them!”

“““Death to them!”””

Upon Gerald Berger striking the podium, the training ground erupted as soldiers responded. They raised their voices while stamping on the ground, lifting their spears. Some clashed shields and swords. Walm also joined in, adapting to the atmosphere. While there might be some who followed the crowd, it seemed like more than half were genuinely enveloped in the fervor.

The morale of the troops had been maximized through the speech. The seasoned commander was adept at stirring up the people, truly a remarkable figure born from a military state and the struggles of war.

The intensity of the people seemed to shake the entire city. The Highserk Empire’s assertion of militarism had an overbearing aspect, and while they engaged in defensive wars more often, it could still be considered aggressive. Not everything seemed right, but the seemingly endless wars might come to an end once Myard and Ferrius matters settled. Even though aware of being swayed, Walm felt the budding of expectations for something to change.

With the echoes of the speech lingering in various parts of the unit, the movement began. Bloodthirsty soldiers, excited warhorses, all began to move as a unified entity. The curtain was about to rise on the Myard campaign.