Misfortune 131

Chapter 131

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***

"Are you out of your mind? You want to engage in combat while the Admiral is absent?"

Voltaire snapped accusingly. But Roan remained unflappable.

"If necessary, we can and must do so. Isn't that precisely why the Admiral entrusted full authority to you, Brigadier  General, while he is away?"

"That doesn't mean we should act arbitrarily, disregarding the Admiral's orders. Our orders were to prepare for battle, not to engage in one."

"But an opportunity like this, with Dalos so careless, won't come again. If we miss this chance, Brunois will suffer even greater losses. We need your decision before that happens, Brigadier General."

There was a compelling force in that voice, which sounded urgent at first glance, that made one listen.

Perhaps that was why. Voltaire, having calmed his excitement, slowly rubbed his chin as if deep in thought.

"Even so, we can't move the fleet rashly."

Though his displeasure was still palpable, the fact he began seriously considering the proposal was a positive sign.

"Of course. They may be a rabble, but they hold the numerical advantage. That's precisely why we must not let this opportunity slip."

True to its history of dreaming of maritime domination through privateers, Dalos had once again mobilized all manner of pirates. Their fleet, totaling 300 ships, was twice the size of Brunois’s.

However, Brunois’s fleet of over 150 ships was composed entirely of regular forces. In contrast, Dalos's regular fleet numbered only 100 ships.

Purely in terms of firepower, it was difficult to predict who would prevail in a direct confrontation. That also meant significant casualties were inevitable for either side.

If the battle dragged on, Brunois, at a numerical disadvantage, would find victory even less assured.

"Do you have some clever plan?"

Voltaire finally asked. It was the question Roan had been waiting for all along.

Taking a short breath, Roan revealed the ambition he had harbored even before entering this room.

"We infiltrate a specially selected reconnaissance ship into Dalos' supply base and simultaneously set fire to the ammunition depots and food storage facilities on the base's outskirts."

"Fire?"

"Yes. During winter, supply lines are their lifeline. Upon learning of the fires, they'll mobilize all forces to minimize damage. And at that very moment..."

Roan pointed at the map spread across the desk. It was the coastline opposite the location of the Dalos supply base.

"...our main fleet advances along the western coast."

"So we're deploying a decoy operation."

"Exactly. We strike while their defenses are weakened, sinking enemy ships with our cannons and disrupting their formation at its roots. If successful, we won't just turn the tide—we'll seize the advantage in one decisive blow."

"Sounds plausible enough on paper, but..."

Instead of being swayed by Roan's confident tone, Voltaire expressed his skepticism with a displeased look.

"As you know, such a surprise operation means risking our lives. Of course, every soldier is prepared to die, but walking straight into a death trap is another matter entirely."

Voltaire's eyes flashed sharply.

"It's not enough to infiltrate enemy lines covertly; we must also set fires precisely timed to our advance. A single moment's miscalculation spells failure. But what if we succeed only to find our retreat blocked? We could literally die like dogs. Who would you send on such a mission?"

The plan itself seemed plausible. Stabbing the enemy in the back was a tactic that had worked reliably from ancient times to the present.

But executing that plan was another matter entirely. That was precisely why, despite knowing how effective it was, there were almost no historical examples of it actually being carried out.

"I will go myself."

"………………What?"

Voltaire leapt from his seat as if he couldn't believe his ears. His reaction was more intense than when he'd learned of the First Prince's rebellion.

"What did you just say?"

"I will take responsibility and complete the operation."

"Colonel Barthez!"

As if he couldn't bear to hear more, Voltaire called out loudly, halting him.

"Have you forgotten your position? Should anything happen to me, you become the commander. How can you so casually suggest abandoning your post!"

"This operation can only succeed if I go. And if you command the fleet to seize the western coast, Brunois will surely win."

"Listen, Colonel Barthez!"

"Let me assure you, this is no reckless endeavor. We've already made contact with our infiltrator, who has mapped the supply base's layout and troop deployments. Based on shift schedules and guard patterns, we've secured our approach routes."

Roan spoke without the slightest hesitation, as if he'd been waiting for this moment, smoothly laying out the meticulously prepared plan. Faced with such thorough preparation, Voltaire couldn't help but stare in astonishment once more.

"When on earth did you...?"

"Having considered every variable, the only thing left is precise execution. And that is something only I can do."

Instead of addressing Voltaire's question directly, Roan emphasized his point once more.

Voltaire let out a hollow laugh, as if utterly dumbfounded.

"You... you were preparing for this even before the Admiral contacted you?"

Roan didn't bother denying it.

Even before arriving at Orbon, he had been contemplating both victory and death. It was no different from seeking a place to die.

If he could sacrifice his life to solidify Brunois’s victory, he desired nothing more.

But finding a place to die on the battlefield, where anything could happen at any moment, was far from easy. In a way, it was a rather extravagant endeavor.

Therefore, he had meticulously prepared, considering every possible variation of the plan.

Among them, this operation was the most effective yet the least likely to succeed. It was also the means that had easily persuaded Commander-in-Chief Cuern.

But without Admiral Lasser's approval, it remained impossible, so he had long since discarded it.

Then, a series of unexpected events unfolded, finally granting him the opportunity.

To Roan, it felt like heaven's last chance. That was why he had to accomplish it no matter what.

"You seem a bit changed, somehow."

At that moment, Brigadier general Voltaire grumbled in a voice tinged with faint reproach.

"I thought reckless operations like this weren't your style. Even if you swore allegiance to Her Highness the Princess, aren't you being a bit too eager to earn military merit?"

It was as if he were being treated like a dog wagging its tail to curry favor with its master.

Despite the insult, Roan didn't react. It wasn't entirely wrong. It just wasn't directed at the princess.

"Good heavens, what can one do? No matter how you shake him, he won't budge an inch."

Finally, unable to break his stubbornness, Voltaire let out a sigh so deep it seemed to make the ground sink.

"Fine. If you're that confident, then do it. But not a single drop of precious blood must be spilled during the operation."

"Of course."

Roan answered Voltaire's warning to return alive as if he'd been waiting for it.

No precious blood would be spilled. Only the blood that must be spilled would be spilled.

He would make it so.

Roan's blue eyes, steeled with resolve, glowed fiercely.

***

After the strategy meeting, Roan left Voltaire's cabin and headed for the deck.

Stepping outside, the sky had already turned red before his eyes. He squinted but couldn't tear his gaze away from the sun, now low in the sky.

It was that sky—the one that always reminded him of her, the one that had defeated him time and again.

That color. That light. It was impossible to erase her from his mind, even as he deeply savored the taste of defeat. That was why he could only stare at it blankly, just as he was doing now.

"Colonel."

Then, someone called out to him.

Roan turned his head without hesitation, as if he hadn't been staring at the sky at all. His aide, Silber, had approached him.

"Did you have a good conversation with the Brigadier General?"

Silber, who had been waiting for Roan, asked casually. He nodded without a word.

"Yes. The operation will proceed without incident."

Silber had already been briefed on the operation before Roan sought out Brigadier General Voltaire. He had even taken charge of various preparations beforehand, following Roan's instructions.

Therefore, Silber showed no sign of bewilderment, merely nodding with a resolute expression.

"The reconnaissance ship?"

"It has completed necessary preparations and is standing by, ready to depart at any moment."

"The operation commences at sunset. Prepare accordingly."

"Understood."

Roan silently watched Silber's retreating back as he marched forward without a word, true to his role as a loyal subordinate.

"Hey, Colonel."

A tone far too presumptuous for addressing a superior called out to him.

Roan turned his head toward the sound. Kais was approaching him, wearing a light smile.

"Another letter has arrived, I hear."