The huge, circular conference room was so silent that one could hear the dropping of a needle. The officers had set aside the work in their hands. To them, the Chief of Staff of the Narcissus Knight Regiment, namely General Laurier Nedgabel Andrew, was undoubtedly the person with the most right to speak.
Oscar could not help but glance at his father beside him who had not uttered a single word. He was sensitive enough to feel the change in the atmosphere. Could it be that his father was not the one with the highest authority among the Narcissus knights?
On the outset, his doubt did not make any sense as no one could go against Duke Andrew's absolute leadership sovereignty, whoever it might be. However, in certain aspects, this doubt was not without its justification. In terms of the assurance of policies as well as the management of the territories and army, Marshal Dortmund Andrew Nedgabel was undeniably more outstanding compared to all the other Dukes of Andrew in all of history. However, when it came to war, this Commander-in-chief would have had no choice but to stand aside, considering the fact that even his second son was about to surpass him in terms of the abilities in commanding armies and employing war strategies.
Everyone had their own strong points and similarly, shortcomings were evident as well. Duke Andrew's gift in politics determined his future path while on the contrary, his mediocre abilities in military affairs determined that this Commander-in-chief could be nothing more than a leader to the Narcissus knights' morale.
The Narcissus knight regiment's Chief of Staff, General Laurier Nedgabel Andrew rapidly skimmed through the war summary in his hands once. Within a blink of an eye, he had already flung the documents aside. Oscar even suspected whether the man genuinely went through the contents of the documents.
"Fellow officers, please pay attention!" The Chief of Staff had spoken, "The latest war strategy analysis indicates that the Persians are following their old tricks and are using a three-point assault to break through."
"The first to be attacked are here, here and here." Laurier, using a quill pen dipped in red ink, marked out the three garrison areas on the map. "These three locations are respectively the Peigerdom defensive line protected by the Traisen Front, the Buchwald Front's desert border area, and path area of the Niro Grassland protected by the Mistral Front. As for the Birboehm Front, as soon as they received the warning call, they dispatched all their scout squads first thing. In the end, they discovered that this area," The Chief of Staff exclaimed, drawing a circle on a specific location on the map, "is very close to the border of Aragon Fortress. At least nine of the Persian's corps have assembled there! However, these tens thousand men do not plan to launch an attack."
The distinguished Chief of Staff took a quick glance at the Duke beside him; this Marshal did not seem to have an opinion. He continued on, "Our current problem is that the Persian's battle array for the three-point assault has come into form, but we are unclear as to where they will conduct their breakthrough. Although they have assembled a massive military force at the border of Birboehm, I have nevertheless noticed everyone's expressions and none of you are even startled, that is to say, the Persian military strength is still within our capacity to curb."
"But!" General Laurier added, "But I think the Persians would definitely not let us do as we please, at least for now we are still unclear about the intention of their attacks."
"For example here," the Chief of Staff indicated one of the red circles on the map. "Birboehm Front, Aragon Fortress, and the surrounding areas. Our men in the advisory department have quite an interesting presumption. Presuming that the assembled Persians are only part of a diversionary force of the actual offense, where, then, will they launch the actual attack?"
"Your distinguished Chief of Staff!" One of the Major General from among the officers crowded around the table, raised his hand.
"Permission to speak."
"Your distinguished Chief of Staff, according to the latest battle report, the four Fronts at the front have ascertained that the Persians taking part in the military offense are of the two huge tribes, Mirzai and Mogadishu. These two old wolves have once again joined hands! However, there is still another matter worth noting." The Major Colonel officer passed a battle report to his colleagues next to him, which is then passed to the Chief of Staff.
"According to the report from the Commander of the Traisen Front defending the Piegerdom defensive line, these two old wolves have made many errors in their coordination, seen in the assaults within half a day. I have a reason to believe that the troops attacking this defensive line are phony armies put together by those old wolves, that is to say, the most vicious of the wolf packs have been well concealed!"
The Chief of Staff finished reading the battle report swiftly. "Indeed! Little General Mortus' suggestion is very reasonable. The Mirzai and Mogadishu, these two large tribes are indeed known for their violence. Such obvious errors should not exist in the strategic coordination of their armed forces. However, this still does not indicate that the true location to which they launch the breakthrough is Traisen."
"Yes!" Dortmund finally voiced out, "If Mirzai and Mogadishu are old wolves, then that lad Figg is a crazed dog!"
The officers burst into laughter. They were aware that the Marshal always could not stand his second son.
The Duke also broke into laughter, "If it is a direct attack, that crazed dog Figg will not leave any opportunities whatsoever for the wolf pack. Instead, he will even bite those wild wolves until they are black and blue all over, this I believe he can achieve."
"That's right!" The Chief of Advisor, General Laurier, affirmed the Marshal's opinion. "Figg should still be on the way, hurrying back to the Front's Command Center. However, the Traisen Front's Second in Command, General Ziyad, is well known for his prudence, meaning that before General Figg returns to his Military Command Center, the Traisen Front will unlikely have any large movements."
Oscar really could not bear it any longer, "Generals, everyone has said so much that even I, an outsider, can understand the current situation. So generals, how are we to approach this battle? You seem to keep holding off this most specific topic."
The officers on the scene laughed quietly. Oscar momentarily could not make heads and tails of it but Oscar knew that he must have said something wrong.
"Little lad, before you speak next time, bear in mind to ask for permission to speak," Duke Andrew was the first to correct his son's mistake. "Your question is still best answered by our distinguished Chief of Staff, he's most clear regarding it."
The Chief of Staff of the Narcissus knights gave the lad's shoulder a heavy pat, "Oscar! I can see that you have a very strong craving for battle, but you should know that the army is like a chiming clock; it is an exceedingly refined instrument. If this instrument wishes to operate normally, then each of the individual components of this instrument has to play their roles. This is the Strategy Command Center and as Staff officers, we can play our roles by analyzing the intelligence about our enemies for the front army, as well as expanding our strategies and tactics based on the overall impression. As for how we are going to approach this battle, that is the responsibility of another component!"
"Which component is that?" Oscar asked, still carrying some doubts.
"Idiot!" Duke Andrew knocked his young son on the head, right in front of the entire body of officers, "Obviously it is the unit at the front lines who are in charge of assault, do you even have to ask?"
Oscar rubbed the top of his head and cried in pain. He now understood that he was out of place here. The only way to counteract the officer's impression of him being silly was to put on a facade of a child,
When His Royal Highness the Prince came out from the Strategy Command Center, it was already 2 in the afternoon. He paced aimlessly along the wide corridors of Shanvelor Palace. Failing to break away from the surveillance of the guards of the United Army, he felt extremely stressed out over it.
Without knowing how Oscar suddenly realized the corridor's path had come to a dead end. Moreover, he was rather familiar with this place for he had visited it this morning. Looking at the huge ancient fir doors, and again at the family totem engraving on the top of the door, this was his family armory, handed down from generation to generation.
Oscar knocked on the door, he suddenly felt like checking in on Grandfather Logiartes who was guarding this place. Before that, he had already found out from his father and brother that the old grandfather Logiartes was Andrew family's well-known war hero. At the age of 64, he had even led an army to march towards the Persians and launched an attack! Oscar knew that this was a senior who was worth his respect and revere.
"Why are you here again?" The old Logiartes yet used a peculiar accent when he opened the door.
"I came to apologize to you! Uhh... For what happened this morning. I evidently offended you greatly in terms of manners. I now apologize to you, I hope you can forgive my impertinence."
The old Logiartes eyed the stocky little chubby boy up and down, "Very well, considering that your skills with the machete are still commendable! Quickly, come with me inside!" After saying this, the old man stepped aside.
"Thank you….." Oscar entered the armory, but he was immediately stunned by the spectacle before him!
"Oh god! Oh god!" The youngster was practically gasping in awe subconsciously. He saw countless weapons and armors, stacked layers upon layers in the warehouse. Each blade was glinting with an icy cold radiance and all the armors were, in contrast, giving off a metallic glimmer.
"These are... There are all the weapons that our ancestors used before? Oscar stroked a piece and inspected another; he was reluctant to let go of them.
"Yes!" Old Logiartes already closed the huge doors. "Every weapon represents a segment of an epic. These are the only evidence of the family's four-hundred-year life of war."
"Yes... Yes!" Oscar's eyes emanated beams of excitement. He took out an old-fashioned model of a knight's heavy sword. This sword had succinct lines, its fuller carved with the pattern of a six-winged angel.
"Andrew Haila!" The youth bellowed loudly while lifting the sword high up into the air, "Grandfather Logiartes, at long last I understand what it feels like for the family to brandish a sword and attack! It's... It's like answering a call from the ancient times; nothing feels more intense than when I thrust this sword forwards!"
"Then take it along with you, this is a fine sword that has already been passed down for four generations. Its weight makes it unsuited to be carried; you could hang it at the side of the saddle!"
"Can I really take it away?" Oscar gazed at Grandfather Logiartes in incredulity
"Of course!" Logiartes finally broke into a kind smile. He already conceded that this teen was a qualified child of Andrew. Moreover, this teen also seemed to possess something that Andrew lacked.
"Little Fatty, you must remember its name. With the identity of a God-chosen warrior, accept this sword with the name of 'Shazari'."
Oscar perceived that Grandfather Logiartes seemed to be performing some kind of sword-bestowing ritual, "What... What should I do?"
The old man sliced across the youngster's palm and a drop of blood trickled down from the point of the sword, "Andrew Haila! The sixth generation elder chairman of the family, Logiartes Andrew blessed Shazari and Oscar Andrew Morisette."
"Thank you, Grandfather Logiartes!"
Old Logiartes once again beamed. Although he did not have an attractive smile, nevertheless the youngster still felt a hint of warmth.
"Young lad, follow me; take a look at what I have prepared for you! You should know that just for you, I have already destroyed six armors."
Oscar's feelings once again surged up, "Do you mean to say that you've even prepared an armor for me?"
"Of course!" The old man shot a disapproving look at the teen; he had always seen the wild boy's figure with disdain. "That boy Figg said that if a child of Andrew does not even have an armor, then people would ridicule him, so much so that our entire family will become a laughing stock because of you!"
Oscar grimaced inconspicuously, knowing that the matter was not that serious. this old man was merely finding an excuse for he was not adept at conveying his concern and care.
"How is it? Surprised, aren't you?" Old Logiartes looked at the youngster's dazed expression in satisfaction.
"This is my armor?" Oscar gulped. Before him was a battle armor with alternating black and red. This armor had an ancient Narcissus pattern depicted on it. The spaulder and cowter even had black edges, as frightening as blades, protruding out. The cover of the helm was a figure of a vivid, life-like tiger head and it was connected to a visor made out of a certain kind of unknown black metal. Each side of the visor even had a black fang! Although the patterns on the helm and cuirass did not match, the three black pointed corners of the tiger head and the pointed corner of the gauntlets were precisely congruent.
"You had to destroy six armors to put this together?" Oscar found it a little hard to believe.
"Of course, or where else would I find an armor that fits your figure so perfectly?"
"Grandfather Logiartes! I really don't know how to thank you!" Oscar rushed forwards and embraced the wizened old man.
"No need to thank me, my little chubby boy, just kill a few more Persians on the battlefield and that would be the best repayment!" The old man ruffled the youngster's huge head.
"Yes! Of course, I will! Don't you worry! But do you have any means of allowing me to appear on the battlefield? You know, aside from being a child of Andrew, I also have another title, when the united army protects and guards me, it's as if they are defending against a thief!"
Old Logiartes wrinkled his eyebrows, "Chubby little boy, you're a little too much! You actually drew attention to me?"
Oscar gave an unconcerned laugh, "Grandfather, when you were my age, you were already the General of a whole army of tens of thousands! As for me, I don't even know how the Persians look like; don't you think it's time for me to explore the world?"
The youngster's flattery had left old Logiartes feeling complacent. Indeed, this child was almost an adult. If the situation was as he said, then letting him get a glimpse of the Persians might not be a bad thing.
"Ah... You little suck-up of a fatty. Come here, this will be our secret!" Old Logiartes finally decided to help the youngster.
"Sure, Grandfather Logiartes! This will be our secret!" The youngster laughed joyfully; it seemed as if he could already hear the blow of the horn coming from the battlefield!
The hour was close to evening; the sun was setting over the western horizon. Its glow, bright as flames, spilled over the land of Andrew. The smoke from the fire beacons far in the distant mountains slowly drifted off with the mountain breeze, yet the warning still persisted. Despite the noise of the festive celebration traveling far off from the city, there were no signs of travelers on the roads outside the city, only the occasional knights who flitted to and fro as if they were lightning or flying.
On a high mesa in the west of the city of Andrew Haila, about more than ten kilometers from the city gates, the Division Commander of the Red Lion Division had led the whole army to gather here. They were waiting in consternation for the Highest Commanding Officer, who was on his way. That Royal Highness Prince appeared to have forgotten about them. If he was unable to make it due to the United Army authorities questioning him regarding this army that was not listed in the battle sequence, then this dream of theirs that was still in the making would surely be left unfulfilled.
"General, take a look!" The officer pointed to a strip of dust and dirt being turned over upwards; that was obviously a knight who was galloping at high speed.
Murat used his hand to block the sunlight. Squinting, he saw that that was a knight dressed in peculiar armor that was approaching their party rapidly
Oscar made his way up the little hillside quickly. His Raytheon reluctantly came to a halt under the reins cutting into it. He was just getting started; it seemed following this little master will undeniably lead to a fate of obesity.
"General Murat, where are my knights?" Oscar allowed the excited Raytheon to jump and hop among the party.
Murat took in a breath. Where did this little prince obtain such frightening equipment?
This Major General guided his horse and stepped aside, behind him was the renowned Narcissus Red Tiger Assault Division. This division's bravery and speed in the assault were known widely as Andrew.
"The Red Tiger Division has finished assembling. Please inspect, Direct Commanding Officer."
Oscar led his horse to stand on a higher ground, "My knights!" The youngster bellowed loudly.
"My knights, this is my first time entering the battlefield, but I believe that this is not your first! So I need to witness your name for bravery and viciousness. I know that my direct Division is Andrew family's most well-known hero division; I want to know that you are my most loyal group of soldiers!"
"Andrew Haila!" The knights cried loudly.
"My command! Target: Traisen Front's front lines! Let us attack!" Upon saying this, Oscar raised the Red Tiger war flag up high.
Murat signaled the Military Bugle Division to sound the bugle horn of war. The next moment, the Red Tigers set off. Initially, there was one row, and then there was an army, followed by the entire cavalry phalanx of three thousand soldiers. They had twenty-five men in a row, with their blood-red cloaks dancing in the wind, they marched mightily towards the burning Eastern lands; there at this moment, darkness had already descended and there at this very moment, an intense battle was ongoing!
Nighttime had finally descended over the lands of the Andrew family. From the most Eastern national border all the way to the border of the Empire's boundary stone, darkness had completely shrouded this rich land, which continuously produced heroes and blood.
At that moment, the Traisen Front had already exhausted their last disposable military strength. All the combat troops had already arrived at their predetermined positions and the unit that was confronting the Persians had already begun planning for the next day's attack.
Werksan, a city situated deep in the middle area of the Traisen Front's defensive line, was the Narcissus' Eastern region's largest city with merely a population of a hundred thousand. However, the battle reserves were as many as twenty thousand men.
Werksan's city defense layout was based entirely on the designs of a stronghold. This huge city only had two city gates, located on the east and west respectively. Although the height of the city walls was far from that of Andrew Haila's, if you stood beneath the city and gazed upwards, you would still have to hold on to the hat you were wearing.
The number of times the Persians attacked this city was beyond calculation as each time the Persians visited, they would plunge this huge city into an ocean of fire. The data and records that had once been kept could only serve as combustibles. Thanks to the second son of the Andrew family's victorious march at that time; the Persians have regarded the capture of this city as a way to take revenge for the past. However, Figg Andrew Tibotty, whose own family members also referred to him as the crazed dog, naturally would not allow these dark brown colored pagans to get what they wished for. So up until today, not one of the huge tribes of the Persians at the border had been spared of suffering or deception as a result of Figg. Hence, considering the past achievements of this General of Andrew, even the Persians put together a saying, "a true God's doctrine and radiance can move all the people of the world, only the crazed dog of the Andrew family is an exception."
It was 8 o'clock at night, General Figg, after switching 8 horses, finally hurried back to his Front. When he arrived at Werksan's city gates, the city that was plunged into darkness and silence, suddenly came alive under the sound of gunfire. In each of its corners, it appeared as if none of the crowds were moving.
Figg rode his horse into the city. The soldiers and city residents who swarmed forth to greet him had the inner gate surrounded. The crowd did not produce a single sound. When the greatest assault expert in the history of the Andrew family passed through the streets, the military and civilians who turned up before him would kneel on their own accord; only through this could they express their respect and even belief for this General!
To the Traisen region's soldiers and civilians, General Figg was indeed like a type of religion. They believed that as long as Traisen had Figg, wars were no longer wars; rather just General Figg conducting a game of cat and mouse on a sand tray.
Werksan's city hall, the four-story-high, pillbox-styled building was the Military Command Center of the Traisen Front. "Attention!" Following the word of command of the Deputy Commander of the Traisen Front, General Ziyat, all the flag bearers of the Military Command Center arranged themselves into neat lines at the plaza in front of city hall.
"Inviting Commander Figg Andrew Tibotty to take the Commander flag!"
Figg sighed. He and General Ziyat formed the perfect combination. One of them was good at attacking and another was a dedicated defender. Although the coordination between them could even be said to be flawless, at times, Figg nevertheless felt extremely fed up with his companion's prudence and carefulness.
"I say, Ziyat, I don't want to have to face this sort of stuff each time I return; is it not just a handing-over ceremony?" Figg voiced his complaint loudly. Regardless, he still took the Commander flag that represented the right to command the troops.
"General, welcome back," Ziyat responded to the Commander's resentment with a straight face.
"Okay! Lighten up, will you!" Figg jumped off his horse. He stepped forward, resting his arm on his old friend's shoulder. "Hey, let me tell you a piece of good news, just this noon, Tracey and I officially got married. My journey in search of romance has finally reached an end!"
Ziyat, whose face seemingly lacked emotion, finally turned a little rosy. "Attention! For General Figg's wed..."
"Enough!" Figg covered his old friend's mouth in annoyance, "I say Ziyat, did some water get into your brain? Should this kind of matter be spoken of here? Do you even want my knights to dance like never before?"
Figg tugged Ziyat by the hand and led him into the city hall. There were still a lot of matters waiting for him to settle at his Command Center!
"Okay! My knights, omit the salutes, hurry up and tell me what has happened!" Figg sat down in the seat located at the very heart of the command post.
"Look, this is the current situation of the war preparation." Ziyat handed over a piece of document to Figg.
Figg roughly scanned through it. He felt that the problem was not really serious, but his mind just could not calm down, it was as if... it was as if something was out of place somewhere. However, he failed to discover it from the war preparation report.
"The three-point assault had a little breakthrough, why do the Persians have no progress over so many years?" Figg, who felt that he ultimately did not gain anything, placed down the battle report dispiritedly.
"General," one of the young officers requested permission to speak.
"Go ahead, Riley," Figg nodded towards the staff officer named Riley.
"The Persians are en route to attack and deploying their armed forces, and these have been repeatedly verified by each of the war units. Look, this is the report."
Figg took it over, "Ah... The right flank is the Mirzai tribe's cluster of infantries. They used four divisions to attack Celie and Wellington Fortress of the Piegerdom defensive line. Hehe, may they not be smashed by rocks! Ah... The Mogadishu's have deployed four Cavalry Divisions and two Cavalry Brigades at the left flank? Are these numbers accurate?"
Colonel Riley nodded solemnly, "Yes General, completely accurate! The military scout squad has already walked over every corner throughout the length of the battlefield and the messages they sent back completely match the battle situation passed on by the unit at the front."
"Oh..." Figg perked up. Just a moment ago he was still in the excitement of his newlywed; it seemed that he had to put aside all his miscellaneous thoughts! The attack by the Mirzai and Mogadishu was definitely not normal. If the military strengths that were attacking the other fronts were taken into account, then this two huge tribes practically already made a general mobilization!
"Six cavalry divisions appeared on the left flank?" Figg placed the candlestick onto the garrison area on the map that was spread out over the table. He carefully compared each location mentioned in the report, marking them out with a red feather pen.
"There is no movement from the central cluster, and this was observed from the outer borders of the battlefield?" Figg mulled over it. This was not right, the two strongest, huge tribes, to his surprise, had yet to dispatch their central cluster after half a day of battle.
"How is our defensive line?" Figg lifted his head up from the map.
A few of the Military Staff officer in the Command Center stood up. Each of them reported pertaining to the garrison area of which they were in charge.
Figg started to carefully compare them. "The preliminaries managed to contain the enemy's attack stance, there were no dangerous circumstances arising in the defense of the fortress, and the enemies losing close to half of their divisions in an afternoon's attack." Figg felt that something was even more off!
"The cavalry unit on the enemy's left flank launched two surprise attacks at the region of the plains to the south of the battlefield. My soldiers dispatched nine divisions to conduct a surround and intercept. By nightfall, the battlefield finally settled down."
Figg signaled to Ziyat, "Tell me the specifics."
Ziyat took out his colt rod. This tiny horsewhip was no longer a suitable baton. The Traisen Front's second in command started to point here and there on the map.
"The three divisions of the Cavalry's First Army stopped two of the Mogadishu's roving cavalry divisions at the southern part of the Piegerdom defensive lines and surrounding areas of Deruli Fortress; the three divisions of the third army broke into an intense fight with two of the of the mixed brigade surrounding the area of the riverbank at the southern defensive line's Neliger valley. The third army did not appear to have a lot of advantage at the beginning of the battle and they suffered a great loss."
"Which two brigades did the Mogadishu dispatch? I haven't seen the report." Figg fixed his attention on to the Neliger Valley area.
"I apologize, General, I am still not clear!"
"What did you say?" Figg raised his eyebrows. When he was in a fight, he was not fond of sparing them any honor, "My second in command, you are saying that in a situation of battling it out for half the day and suffering such a great loss, we still do not know which bone we are gnawing at?"
Ziyat nodded indecently, "General, please listen to my explanation, I have dispatched three additional military scout groups for General Leo Rustang of the Third Army, but the opponents do not have a war flag, nor do they use any military unit numbers to shout orders during the attack, so..."
"That's enough!" Figg waved his hand, "Ask Leo to be more alert, I certainly do not want this to be the end for him. Furthermore, command the general reserves that have assembled at the rear of the battle lines to draw close to Neliger Valley. Take note! Draw close slowly! Although it may cause Leo to undergo a little more suffering, at the very least it will allow us to avoid stepping into the traps set by the Persians."
"Yes, I feel that the two mixed brigades of the Mogadishu are highly suspicious, they may well be the Great King of Mogadishu's private armed forces, as in the center cluster of the Persians, the Mirzai and Mogadishu have both raised the Commander flag of their two Great Kings."
"Mmm, yes, there is this possibility!" Figg nodded in agreement, "but do you think there is a need to carry out a defensive battle at Neliger Valley? Although this is the gateway of the southern plains, even if it is breached, it will not have a huge impact on the overall war. Our stronghold at the southern lines can completely counteract their attack and this has already been proven over the past few hundred years! Don't tell me that no one told this to the Great King?"
Ziyat nodded his head, "lastly, another thing worth mentioning is the second army led by General Hyman Kuperman. Right around evening, General Hyman launched a bold surprise attack; they have broken up two of the enemy divisions during twilight. According to General Hyman's hawk eagle's air message, he is hunting down one of the divisions."
Following Ziyat's explanation and his previous understanding of each of his war units, Figg had already completed his battlefield operation on the map, "My knights, take a look! This should be more concrete."
The Staff officers in the Command Center circled. A vast picture was spread out before them. About more than ten red, fiery arrows were scattered on the vast battlefield at the southern defensive lines. They were like a vicious beast, opening its ferocious mouth.
"Can anyone tell me where the problem lies?" Figg spread out his hands.
"General," a young staff officer stood out.
"Little Griffith, please speak!" Figg looked at his youngest war Staff officer subordinate and smiled. He always felt that this young lad would become a remarkable high-ranking military officer, given some experience.
"General, fellow staff officers, has everyone noticed? We are already stabilized on the battle lines, yet over here..." Little Griffith pointed to a land of territory on the map, "Our general's red arrows have already crossed over the Median line, and this has formed a vacuum of armed forces at the area from the Front's headquarters to the southern war zone."
All the officers came to an apprehension from the situational appearance on the battlefield. Although the defensive lines were tentatively stable, a vacuum zone of armed forces that should not be present had nevertheless appeared at the rear of the Front. Coincidentally, this zone lied outside all the red arrows on the map.
"And this is not the worst problem yet," The little Colonel Griffith continued on, "the Persians still have no movement from the central cluster; if they were to suddenly advance towards the middle section of the defensive line, then our reserve squadron will have to rush over there. If they were to advance towards the south, then a need arises to command the First Army and the combined reserve squadron to retaliate, and just like this, on the premise of being unable to put to use our mobile cavalry unit at each stronghold, the two mixed enemy squadrons may be able to break through the Third army's defense. However, if we mobilized the mobile cavalry units at each stronghold, then the central cluster of the Persians would instead choose to execute an annihilation at the strongholds which defensive strengths have been cut. So..."
"So the worst case scenario is that we now already have no more soldiers to dispatch!" Figg took over from little Colonel Griffith's speech. He looked at the young Staff, satisfied.
The faces of all the officers present turned pale. Of course, All the three armies under the Front had already gone into the battlefield. Other than the reserve squadron and the mixed brigade directly under the second son of the Andrew family, they had no more soldiers to dispatch from Werksan all the way to the southern war zone! To have no soldiers right when the Persians were about to launch their attack? This predicament would be devastating!
"Report!"
All the officers glanced towards the direction of the door. A communications official was seen standing in the doorway and on his shoulder perched a hawk eagle covered in wounds. It was probably an emergency battle report from the front lines; this communications official even saved the time of placing the hawk eagle back into its next!
"Reporting General, an emergency report from the Commander of the Front under the Cavalry's Third Army, Leo Rustang!"
"Proceed!" Figg had already risen from his seat.
"The enemy troops before us have already broken through my army's defense line and defeated the first Division of my army. The one launching the surprise attack was not the two mixed brigades, instead, it was the Mogadishu's main cavalry army hidden at the rear of the battle lines!"
The shouts of the crowd of officers at the scene rendered an uproar, much like a frying pan. Only Figg, Ziyat and the young little Griffith, with a synchronized understanding.
"What was to come has finally arrived!"