Chapter 281 - Chapter Nineteen: Prisoner of War Camp ②
It seems the front lines have reached a stalemate.
Apparently, scouts like Paul-san and his group, along with the bandits, have been hiding their presence and attacking the enemy's reinforcements—their forward positions and supply units—from the sky and the forest almost every night. As a result, Engrio hasn't been able to launch a full-scale offensive. That said, I heard that the southern half of the Sertorian border fortress was seized, and perhaps due to fierce hand-to-hand combat, new prisoners were brought in by the dozens. Beowulf came again this time. It seems Bonnie is doing well too.
This time, the prisoners were mostly severe cases, including some who were missing an arm or a leg.
Soldiers who had lost limbs were sent in the middle of the night as emergency patients after only having the bleeding stopped.
After all, it's summer; their wounds have already begun to rot. There were even those whose bones were protruding from the cloths applied to them.
Based on the diagnosis of the Headmistress and the Priestess, it was decided that it would be better to amputate to a certain extent, so we had the giant old man cut them with a saw. The patients seemed to be asleep thanks to the powerful sleeping medicine the Priestess brought, but the work involved the Headmistress and me pinning down their legs and arms so they wouldn't move. Since there were four of them, it turned into quite the heavy labor.
Not only the Priestess but also the ghosts came out, and since we were all consulting together saying "do this" or "do that," the old man was terrified. However, he seemed to get fired up after being scolded by a ghost who said, "You're the one who's alive, so pull yourself together!"
After the treatment was successfully finished, we all toasted and got excited. We also gave alcohol to all the other prisoners and had them drink in their cells. It was a special treat—one barrel of Finis liquor.
"Did you guys come all the way from Finis?"
"You bet. Though we look like this, we were renowned warriors when we were alive."
"How did you get here? Did you fly through the sky after all?"
"Well, that's just how it is, since we're ghosts. We can do various things that living people can't."
"Heh—"
Before I knew it, the giant old man and the ghosts had become friends. The ghosts also seemed to have taken a liking to the old man, who had risen from a serf to a knight. They were getting excited telling stories of the battles they had participated in during their own lives, though I don't know what era they were from.
"So that means you two were enemies when you were alive."
Of the three ghosts, two lived in the same era and apparently fought many times. No matter how you look at it, they're just like wild Orcs.
"Yeah. This guy was quite stubborn, and in the end, he didn't die on the battlefield but died of old age."
"What are you saying? You're the one who ended up dying in a double kill with someone other than me. I even went to visit your grave, you know."
"Now that you mention it, that's right. I completely forgot. I give you my thanks."
They were sharing the Finis liquor while laughing together, "Gahaha."
"I'm amazed you're drinking together like this."
The old man was exasperated.
"What are you saying? The battle and what comes after are separate."
"Umu. We fought with all our might; once the victory is decided, we praise each other's courage."
"Is that that 'chivalry' stuff? I'm a former serf, so that kind of thing doesn't really click with me."
"Fool!" the ghosts shouted. The old man was startled too.
"What does social status have to do with it! You fight fair and square, exhausting your strength and skill. After the battle, you praise the brave, regardless of whether they are friend or foe. That is the warrior's code. To swear loyalty to one's lord and never betray them, to protect those who cannot fight like children and the elderly, and to protect the village and the graves of one's ancestors. That is a warrior. It's not just about mindlessly killing each other."
They were glowing with a bakin, bakin sound.
"I-I do protect my ancestors' graves. And I've never laid a hand on children or the elderly. I've even helped enemy wounded before. I ended up here after being beaten by that Beowulf person Jeanne knows, but I properly thanked them for saving my life and praised their strength. I've sworn loyalty to His Majesty and the Margrave who promoted me from a serf, and I've never betrayed them."
Hohoh.
According to Beowulf, he was strong as an ogre while fighting, but it seems he's kind at heart.
"Umu. That is good. In that case, you are a true warrior who possesses the warrior's code. In modern terms, you're a knight who understands chivalry."
"Here, drink," they said, offering him liquor.
"Is that so? That's good. Thank you."
He laughed with the same friendly smile he had when Beowulf first brought him in.
As expected, even the Headmistress can't regrow lost limbs, so after about a week, the three from the workshop who had been staying at the guard station came. They were going to make prosthetic hands and legs. Since the material was wood, the prisoners dragged the wood cut by the guards to the camp.
"Hey, don't make such a gloomy face, let me see. I'll make it so you can walk properly."
Matilda, who as usual wore clothes with the shoulders cut out so her chest was practically bouncing, sat down heavily in front of a prisoner and was looking at the leg of a soldier who had lost one from the knee down. The surrounding prisoners were stealing glances at the gaps in her clothes, but she didn't care.
The wound had closed, but the pain seemed severe. The prisoner instinctively tried to pull his leg back when she reached out, grimacing in pain, but he seemed to feel at ease and left himself to her, perhaps reassured by the delicate movement of her fingers that handled his aching leg gently, contrary to her rough, big-brother-like words.
"I'll make it so there's as little pain as possible when you walk. You won't be able to run, but as long as you're alive, you'll manage somehow. First, make sure you heal your injury well."
Having finished measuring the lengths for the four of them, she stood up and patted the prisoner's shoulder, then went to the old man (her father) to show him the numbers she had written down.
"Heh, you even make prosthetic hands and legs?"
The giant old man, who was still being treated as a wounded soldier, spoke to me.
"Yes. Since they've recovered from a state where it wouldn't have been strange for them to die, we have to at least make it so they can do farm work."
"There's no guarantee that the Sertorian soldiers captured by our side are receiving the same treatment."
"It will be fine. Priests are doing it over there as well. There might be a difference in degree, but they should be treating them with devotion."
"Is that that 'coexistence and co-prosperity' thing?"
"Yes. Coexistence and co-prosperity."
"Hmph," the old man grunted, crossing his arms.
Harris-sama apparently used this phrase many times to persuade the churches of both countries. Because they rejected war, the church refused to treat those injured in war. However, he said that the Goddess provides salvation to everyone, regardless of the intentions of humans who talk about enemies and allies. He argued that this was the very essence of the doctrine.
"But you know. If they return to Engrio in an exchange, they'll just return to duty and kill Sertorian soldiers again."
"Yes. I know. I think it's a sad thing. But even so, I don't think it's right to abandon the wounded Engrio soldiers in front of me."
"I see. Priest Jeanne, you also have a knight's heart. As expected of someone who was actually knighted."
"How do you know about that?"
When did that story get out? This is not good. I hope I'm not being used as gossip fodder all over the place.
"I heard it from the ghosts. It's quite impressive."
"Please don't tell anyone. If people think I'm going around saying that myself, I'll get scolded by the church."
I have to make sure the ghosts keep their mouths shut too; I can't stand them spreading every little thing they hear.
In the end, the giant old man was fixed as a support staff member for when emergency patients came and rough treatment was needed. He stopped being afraid of ghosts, and he's strong. Because he has guts, he doesn't flinch even when cutting legs or hands with a saw. Since he's a knight, he also has influence over the soldiers. I had him act as the leader for the prisoner side of the camp, but one day, a renowned noble finally arrived.
"Though I may look like this, I am a legitimate land-owning noble and a knight. Therefore, I demand appropriate treatment."
He was acting pompous, much like the mustache under his straight nose.
"I'm Catherine, the Bishop. Nice to meet you."
"When you say Bishop Catherine of Sertoria, do you mean that Catherine-sama?"
As expected of the Headmistress. Her name is well-known.
"I don't know if I'm that one or not. Also, as you know, Sertoria only has royalty and commoners. If you want treatment different from the other prisoners, I'll have you stay in your own private room and provide a servant to do your bidding."
"U-Umu. I am grateful."
The Headmistress, having confirmed the response of the noble who was bewildered by the unexpected answer, snapped her fingers, and Fiona emerged through the wall.
"Wha—!"
She stepped in front of the noble, who instinctively backed up two or three steps, and gave a greeting for the first time while keeping her head down.
"My name is Fiona."
She raised her face, which was done up in scary-style makeup, and gave a fufufu laugh while licking her lips.
I wonder who on earth taught her that...
The noble, seeing that face, widened his eyes and recoiled.
"We don't have that much money, so we employ ghosts who don't require labor costs. Since it might be inconvenient with only a woman, I'll provide one more man as well."
The ghost that emerged from the wall in accordance with the Headmistress's words was dressed as he was when he died in battle. He wore a blood-stained checkered pattern and was pierced by many arrows. Furthermore, he had no head above his neck... He was holding his blood-smeared head in his left hand.
"U-Ugh..."
Just like that, he collapsed to the floor, foaming at the mouth.
"He fainted."
The giant old man crossed his arms, wondering what to do, while the prisoners clapped their hands and laughed loudly.
"How was that! Everyone!"
"Nice one! Pops! That was the best!"
The ghost thrust his right hand up, and the prisoners cheered.
When did this kind of relationship develop...
"If we can make this guy faint, a feast with everyone with a gift of barrel liquor. If we can't, a one-week ban on alcohol for everyone. The result is my win. What do you think, Bishop Catherine?"
"It can't be helped. Today is special."
The ghost, holding his own head high, was rejoicing along with the prisoners.
It seems the Headmistress set this up.
"Headmistress, didn't you know he would faint? Haven't you been giving Fiona all sorts of ideas?"
She's looking away!
The noble had exposed a disgraceful, unsightly state far too unseemly for a military man—fainting with foam at the mouth in front of low-ranking soldiers.
When he regained consciousness and looked around, the fact that the prisoners all looked down at once also seemed to sting.
"There's something I want to ask you."
The Headmistress was there. He was told that if he lied, she would set the ghosts on him, and he became teary-eyed.
He became completely docile and told us about the war situation that everyone wanted to know.
"It was just when we thought we had almost conquered the Sertorian fortress on the border. Medioland declared war on our country, and an urgent report came in that fifteen thousand Medioland troops and five thousand Sertorian Central Army troops who had passed through Medioland territory—twenty thousand in total—had invaded from the hilly area spreading west of the mountains in northern Engrio."
The combined armies of both countries advanced as if driving a wedge between eastern and central Engrio, then left five thousand for defense in that area while fifteen thousand turned west. They invaded the territory of Margrave Mortimer, which had been left with only a few garrison soldiers. Furthermore, even the Morandine army announced a break with Engrio. They are gathering troops at the border with Engrio, and it seems five thousand troops from Finis and Northern Gram are with them as well.
Engrio was completely isolated.
The Margrave, whose own territory was attacked, left slightly less than two thousand infantry as a deterrent at the positions near the border and withdrew everything else. Attacking them from behind were about six hundred Paratroop Jaegers. Beowulf secretly told me about this part.
The Sertorian Magic Corps had perfected a method of embedding [Favorable Wind] magic circles into the bottom of one-masted wooden boats that could carry about ten people and be transported by wagon, making them float in the air. The idea I had mentioned when I was cornered by Eleanor-sama before had been realized.
Their size is about the same as a medium-sized bowl, and because it's the minimum size that can use [Camouflage] and [Magic Reflection] magic, they can disappear. They don't have the power to cross mountains, but they can move at the same speed as a bowl at a height greater than ordinary trees. They are equipped with six magic circles and use two at a time, so they can continue flying for a total of six hours.
They prepared sixty of those ships and used wind magic to advance along the border highway all at once.
Once they caught up with the Engrio army, they flew over their heads and attacked with bows and arrows from the upper diagonal left and right front of the retreating enemy to pin them down. The enemy must have thought they were being attacked from within the forest.
At the same time, the Eastern Plains Corps moved south along the highway and captured the enemy positions. They are continuing the pursuit as we speak.
The noble captured this time was the person who had been entrusted with the defense of the position.
"Your Excellency, is the Margrave safe?"
The prisoners, starting with the giant old man, were leaning forward. Their side's forward positions had been captured. It was only natural to think that the Margrave was not safe either.
"He is safe, of course. Do you think that man would be taken down so easily?"
"T-That's true, isn't it?"
They all returned to their original postures, seemingly relieved for the moment. He seems to have an unexpected amount of popularity.
That said, there is no certainty. I hope the prisoners don't think of a mass breakout... In that case, they would likely end up in combat with the hunter guards and the self-defense force, resulting in losses for both sides. Especially the unarmed prisoners might be slaughtered.
"It's fine. Rest assured. If King Seldic or the Margrave were slain, word would be sent to this camp immediately. That's because it would affect your future as well. And, unfortunately for the Kingdom of Sertoria, it seems both of them are safe."
Cheers rose from the prisoners; the giant old man and the noble hugged each other in joy.
According to Beowulf, who brought the noble, around the time the report of the Medioland army's invasion reached the Sertorian side, cavalry led by a person thought to be the Margrave withdrew early. The order of advance was apparently cavalry, then light infantry, then heavy infantry.
The Paratroop Jaegers could have caught up with the light infantry at best. If soldiers who had taken off their armor were mounted and proceeding at a gallop, they couldn't be caught unless the bowls were made faster.
"It seems the Margrave knew the key to this battle well."
"The key?"
When I asked back at the Headmistress's words, the prisoners all fell silent at once and strained their ears.
"In short, it's Medioland. If King Seldic's direct forces invaded Regnentes and the Margrave's army invaded Sertoria, they wouldn't be able to lead a unified army, so Engrio wouldn't be able to defeat the Medioland army led by the King of Medioland or Crown Prince James. The Margrave limited his attacks so that he could withdraw at any time in preparation for when Medioland invaded Engrio. As a result, it took time to capture the fortresses."
The Headmistress's speculation was that if they had invaded while ignoring losses, they would have captured the border fortresses early and arrived at Nakanohara much sooner.
With King Seldic in the Regnentes basin and the Margrave near Nakanohara, if they could have somehow blocked the Engrio-side exit of the forest highway...
Perhaps the isolated Engrio army would have been annihilated...
I could hear the sound of the noble and the giant old man swallowing hard.
"But the Margrave understood that danger well. That's why he had prepared his stance so he could withdraw to his own territory at any time. I heard that he had conserved most of the soldiers who came from the continent. If the continental soldiers were turned to defense, Medioland's will to fight would also dull."
The prisoners let out sighs of relief, and voices of joy rose, saying, "As expected of the Margrave."
"But why did Medioland invade at this timing? Based on Bishop Catherine's story, couldn't they have taken a bit more time? In fact, they shouldn't have been able to grasp the movements of the Medioland army and the Sertorian Central Army."
The giant old man asked the Headmistress, but she shook her head. She probably didn't know that much.
"Perhaps there was some circumstance that made the Medioland army have to hurry? We had heard that ten thousand Medioland troops had been annihilated. If that was false information, they had to invade before a report that they were actually safe reached here."
I see. As expected of someone entrusted with being the commander of a position's defense, even if it was just to buy time.
"Your Excellency, could it be that the war situation in Regnentes, where His Majesty invaded, is also having an effect?"
The giant old man called out to the noble.
"Umu. Perhaps that land has once again become blood-soaked for both friend and foe. The same goes for the invasion of Sertoria, but for our country, advancing north does not bring very good results."
The noble, as befitting a high-ranking noble of Engrio, offered a prayer not to the Goddess, but to the god he worshipped.