Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 71: Strategies (1)

The man's presence was commanding, but quiet.

Not loud like Sera.

Not casual like Fausten.

Just efficient.

He walked straight to the front, set down a thick collection of scrolls, and then finally looked up.

"I am Instructor Verrian."

His voice was even, steady.

"I do not care about your backgrounds. I do not care about your names. I do not care about the titles you will inherit."

A pause.

Then, he smiled.

"But I do care about how quickly you will lose a war if you act like idiots."

Lindarion felt a flicker of interest.

'Oh, he looks amusing at least..'

This guy might actually be worth listening to.

Cassian let out a soft laugh, clearly impressed.

Several nobles, however, did not look amused.

Verrian ignored them.

Instead, he lifted a hand and gestured toward the massive maps hanging behind him.

"Today, we will begin by discussing the fundamentals of warfare. Territory. Movement. Logistics."

His gaze swept the class.

"You all think strategy is about outsmarting your enemy. And you're right. But if you don't understand the battlefield itself?"

His lips curled into a sharp smirk.

"Then you won't even make it that far."

Lindarion leaned back slightly, considering.

'This class will probably teach information that will be one of the most important ones in the future.'

Of course, fighting was also important. But without tactics and proper plans you are as good as dead on a battlefield.

Instructor Verrian stood before the class, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room like he was already evaluating them.

He was a man who had clearly seen war firsthand.

Not just studied it.

Tall and broad-shouldered, but not bulky—his frame was built for endurance rather than raw strength. His silver-threaded navy robes were neatly pressed, but practical, the kind that wouldn't get in the way if things turned violent.

A thin scar cut across the bridge of his nose, a reminder of a past battle, and his dark brown hair was streaked with strands of gray, giving him an air of experience rather than age.

But his eyes?

They were the kind of eyes that saw everything.

The class was silent as Verrian took a step forward, his boots tapping against the polished floor.

"As I have said, I am Instructor Verrian. Engrave that in your minds."

His voice carried a quiet authority, the kind that made people listen without needing to shout.

"I have served as a military strategist for twenty-three years. I have commanded troops in battle, planned defenses against enemy invasions, and studied wars far older than any of you."

His gaze lingered on some of the more arrogant nobles, a flicker of amusement crossing his face before he continued.

"And again, as I said, I do not care about your lineage. Your titles. Or what your family name means outside this room."

The tension shifted.

A few students sat up straighter, some clearly uncomfortable.

Lindarion?

Perfectly relaxed, since he didn't care about the families of others either.

Verrian's smirk widened slightly, as if noticing.

"Here, you are all the same. Because on the battlefield, no one cares what bloodline you come from."

He turned, gesturing toward the massive maps lining the walls.

"What they care about—"

He tapped one of the maps, the inked lines showing a detailed war campaign from decades ago.

"—is whether you know how to win.. If you don't then you are basically useless or just be used as a meat shield."

Verrian turned back to the class, crossing his arms. As some of the students chuckled at his comment.

"Let's begin with a simple question. This is fairly easy and a common situation."

He pointed to the map behind him—a region divided into two opposing forces, one clearly larger than the other.

"You are the general of the smaller army. Your forces are outnumbered three to one. The enemy has cut off your supply lines and controls the high ground."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"How do you win this encounter?"

A moment of silence.

Then—

Vivienne raised her arm instantly as she smiled.

Verrian nodded toward her. "Speak."

She sat up straight, her uniform perfectly flowing around her body.

"We should retreat and fortify our position elsewhere," she said confidently. "Engaging in battle would be foolish."

Verrian's face did not change.

"Retreating means abandoning territory. That's not a victory."

Her expression faltered.

Another hand shot up.

A different student—it was Elara.

"An all-out assault," she said. "Hit them hard and fast before they can reinforce."

Verrian smirked.

"And if their numbers overwhelm you in the first wave?"

She hesitated as her smile wavered completely.

Verrian didn't wait for an answer.

His eyes scanned the room, searching for the right mind.

Then—

He found Lindarion.

"You."

Lindarion leaned back slightly, arms crossed.

He had already worked out three different solutions in his head before Verrian had finished the question.

But he wasn't about to rush into the first answer.

Instead, he tilted his head.

"Are there forests in the area?"

A few students blinked.

Verrian's smirk widened.

"Yes," he said, intrigued. "Dense forests along the northern pass."

Lindarion nodded.

"Then we don't fight them head-on."

Now, the class was listening.

"We move our forces into the forests," Lindarion continued. "We use the terrain to our advantage. The enemy has the high ground, but they also have supply lines. If they've cut off ours, that means they have supply routes of their own."

Verrian's eyes gleamed.

Lindarion met his gaze.

"We burn them."

A low murmur spread through the students.

Verrian tapped his fingers against his arm. "Go on."

Lindarion's tone was calm, measured.

"They have more numbers. More supplies. But they also have more people to feed, more soldiers to equip. If we can't cut them down directly, we force them to starve."

He gestured to the map.

"We send small units to harass their supply lines—burn their food stores, attack their messengers. Keep them moving. Make them desperate."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Then, when their morale is low—we choose the battlefield. Somewhere narrow. Somewhere their numbers don't matter."

He shrugged.

"By the time we fight, they'll be exhausted, hungry, and demoralized. And then we finish them."

The class was silent.

For the first time, Verrian actually grinned.

"Well, well." He chuckled. "Looks like someone here actually thinks."

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

'I just played lots of strategic video games…'

Lindarion simply shrugged.

"It's just common sense."

Cassian muttered under his breath, "That is not common sense…."

Verrian turned back to the map. "That, class, is how you win a battle you weren't supposed to win."

His gaze flicked back to Lindarion.

"Sunblade, was it?"

Lindarion nodded once.

Verrian's smirk remained.

"I'll be expecting more from you."

Lindarion sighed as his smile faded.

'I just set more expectations for myself didn't I?'

Another professor who wanted to test him.

Luneth, seated beside him, finally spoke.

"You're good at this."

Lindarion exhaled. "A little."

Verrian turned back to the board. "Alright. Next scenario. Let's see if anyone else in this room actually has a brain."

Lindarion smirked slightly.

A few nobles shifted uncomfortably.

Vivienne simply raised an eyebrow as she muttered quietly. "Not surprising."

Lindarion rolled his eyes.

'Of course she'd say that.'

Cassian nudged his arm. "Y-You could've at least hesitated before answering. Let them pretend they had a chance."

Lindarion smirked. "That wouldn't be fun."

Cassian sighed.

Verrian straightened, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Now that we've established that charging into battle blindly is a good way to die—let's move on."

He gestured toward a different map, this one depicting a coastal fortress.

"New scenario. You are defending this city. The enemy has a fleet twice the size of yours, heavily armed, with siege weapons capable of tearing through your walls."

A pause.

"What's your move?"

This time, students hesitated.

A few scribbled notes.

Others glanced at each other, waiting for someone else to speak first.

Vivienne was the first to break the silence again.

"We sink their ships before they reach the shore."

Verrian gave her a half-amused glance. "With what?"

Vivienne's lips curved slightly. "Traps. We place barriers in the water—hidden structures designed to break their hulls. If we can't match them in numbers, we force them to come to us in pieces."

Lindarion tilted his head.

'That isn't a bad answer.'

But it wasn't perfect.

Verrian nodded. "Clever. But what if they expect that? What if they send smaller vessels first to test for traps?"

Vivienne's smirk didn't waver. "Then we set up decoys. Give them false weaknesses to exploit. Let them waste time thinking they've outplayed us."

Lindarion had to admit—she was good.

Cassian whispered, "I think you're the only one who could actually argue with her."

Lindarion exhaled.

'Fine, we'll play the game then.'

He sat forward slightly, his eyes flicking over the map as he completely analyzed it.

Hundreds of game scenarios played in his head as he remembered all the conquering games he played before.

Honestly, Vivienne's plan was solid, but it was too dependent on the enemy playing into their hands.

Lindarion wasn't the type to gamble.

He was the type to make sure he won at the very least.