"Do you know what happens to people who submit false military intelligence?"

Aurier grabbed the scout by the throat, veins bulging across his forehead.

One hundred thousand?

What kind of concept was one hundred thousand?

If given a month or two, drawing troops from different places or conscripting men across the various territories, then for an empire of this size, an army of one hundred thousand would not be anything especially surprising.

But the problem was... during this entire stretch of time, Aurier had been watching the troop movements of every Imperial force with absolute intensity. His grasp of when those armies could arrive as reinforcements was measured down to the hour. He was certain the Empire’s main forces could not possibly reach this battlefield for at least another twelve days. Before that, at most, only some lightly equipped small detachments could arrive, nowhere near enough to shake the overall situation.

So where had these one hundred thousand reinforcements come from?

Had they fallen out of the sky?

"You dare deceive me? Speak—who sent you!"

Aurier lifted the scout little by little off the ground, raging like a beast about to devour someone. As a prince of the Kingdom and the strongest contender for that future throne, though he had not yet truly inherited it, Aurier already believed himself to possess the majesty of a king.

And what did kings hate most?

Deception and betrayal.

"I... I didn’t..."

The scout’s legs kicked helplessly in the air, his face already swollen dark red from suffocation.

"This came... from the Belrand direction... I... I was only passing it on..."

Trembling, the scout held out the intelligence report in his hand to Aurier. The fire in Aurier’s eyes only grew stronger. In order to deceive him, these traitors had even ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) forged a complete set of false evidence? They had even made the intelligence itself look so convinc—

Hm? Wait. This seemed to be real.

Though half-maddened by rage, Aurier still reacted quickly the moment he saw the report. The encrypted crest stamped on it carried a specific magical signature that outsiders could never forge. And anything marked with that kind of encrypted emblem was, without exception, intelligence of major importance to the entire war.

"Give it here!"

Aurier snatched the report, then flung aside this useless idiot who had been too stupid to hand over the letter immediately.

The intelligence report slowly unfolded, and when Aurier finished reading it in full, his eyes widened again, like a dead fish flopping on a chopping block.

"There really are one hundred thousand?"

The report had not come from Belrand itself, but from one of the Kingdom’s secret intelligence points outside Belrand.

After that foolish plan involving the sacrifice of his Seventeenth Brother Milne had failed, the Kingdom’s underground intelligence apparatus in Belrand had suffered a devastating blow.

That mysterious chief of the Empire’s intelligence agency had been vicious beyond words. In a very short time, Belrand had practically become a vacuum zone for Kingdom intelligence personnel. Re-infiltration would still take time, so for now, all intelligence regarding Belrand was being obtained through third-party channels and inevitably came with delays.

But the report before his eyes was firsthand intelligence with no delay at all.

Precisely because of that, Aurier could clearly smell the urgency between the lines.

"An army of one hundred thousand... led by Muen Campbell... advancing toward the Empire’s Notasia Line... damn it!"

As he read, Aurier suddenly exploded in fury and ripped the report to pieces.

"Where the hell did one hundred thousand come from? Where the hell did it come from? Did Muen Campbell fucking give birth to them himself?"

If Muen Campbell really did arrive within five days leading an army of one hundred thousand, and the Notasia Line received that support, then what was there left to attack? There would be no way to break through in the short term.

And the Empire would then be able to hold out smoothly until all of its reinforcements arrived. At that point, the ones in danger would be them—the army that had pushed deep into Imperial territory.

"Please calm yourself, Your Highness."

Kaepel suddenly stepped forward from the side. He bent down, picked up a few torn pieces of the report from the ground, skimmed them, and spoke quickly.

"At present, it does seem true that Muen Campbell is bringing one hundred thousand men to reinforce the front. But one hundred thousand and one hundred thousand can still be very different things."

"Oh? And what do you mean by that?" Aurier suddenly calmed down and asked with narrowed eyes.

"In only a few days, even if the Goddess herself descended to help him, Muen Campbell could not possibly piece together an army of one hundred thousand out of thin air. But if he forcibly drafted one hundred thousand ordinary civilians to fill the numbers..."

Kaepel paused, then continued, "I think that would not be hard to do, if he were ruthless enough. Don’t forget—Belrand is the largest city on the continent. It has millions of inhabitants."

"Forcibly draft... civilians?"

A bright light flashed through Aurier’s eyes. It was as if Kaepel’s words had suddenly opened every blocked joint in his thinking, and in an instant everything became clear.

"Yes. You’re right. If those one hundred thousand aren’t really an army, but forcibly conscripted civilians, then everything makes sense."

Because of the intelligence vacuum he had just mentioned, he could not get a detailed picture of Belrand’s current situation, so he had failed to think of that possibility right away.

But if that was the case...

"Then there’s nothing to be afraid of. One hundred thousand ordinary civilians—no logistics, no equipment, no training. And with such a rushed forced march, who knows how many of them will die on the road before they even get here? They’re nothing but a mob. What could they possibly do? They’ll have no effect whatsoever on our plan."

At that, Aurier could not help sneering.

"It seems the Empire has really reached the end of its rope. To resort to a useless trick like this—one that accomplishes nothing and will only stir public resentment. That Muen Campbell is an utter fool too."

In recent years, the name Muen Campbell had gradually become famous across the continent, but most of it had been gossip of one kind or another—boy genius, duke’s son, and so on. There had been very little real intelligence about his temperament or character.

And now it seemed that if he would forcibly conscript one hundred thousand civilians in just three days, then Muen Campbell was clearly a ruthless and vicious man. No wonder Milne had been utterly crushed by him.

"Even so, we still have to be careful."

Kaepel reminded him, "Your Highness, I think that army must still be investigated. Better safe than sorry."

"Of course!"

Aurier clasped both hands behind his back and paced a few steps from side to side.

"How could I possibly make that kind of mistake? As an outstanding commander, what I value most... is intelligence!"

Guesswork was guesswork in the end. Everything still had to be confirmed with one’s own eyes.

The reason Aurier had made it this far—had come to stand so close to that throne—was because he possessed caution in one hand and wisdom in the other.

His caution and wisdom ensured that he never made mistakes.

Even if his conclusions were ten times out of ten perfectly reasonable, he would still verify them.

"Pass on my order. Have our hidden assets around Belrand conduct a thorough investigation. Tell them to spare no cost and uncover the true nature of this army at all costs!"

"Please rest assured, Your Highness."

Kaepel quickly pressed a hand to his chest in acknowledgment.

"One of our hidden assets near Belrand is a veteran intelligence officer who has fought through countless battles and broken out alive from the Empire’s encirclement and extermination campaigns. He is as experienced as they come. The real intelligence will be sent back very soon."

...

...

"My lord Polos, orders from above."

In a dim room, a slovenly man covered in beard and looking utterly devoid of spirit sat at a broken wooden table, chewing bit by bit on dried fish from a small fishing village somewhere in the Empire’s East Viter Territory while washing it down with cheap wine.

There was nothing particularly special about the flavor of the dried fish. It carried the same bitter-salty taste all dried fish did, and especially when paired with this kind of cheap wine, that bitterness and salt tangled with the sour astringency of the alcohol to create a flavor foul enough to make even a beggar who had been starving for three days retch.

And yet the man ate with obvious enjoyment. Only after finishing the entire plate of dried fish did he lift his head and look with heavy black-rimmed eyes at the young man across from him, who was covering his nose in disgust at the stench.

"What orders?"

"It’s about the major incident in Belrand not long ago."

The young man had spent a very long time forcing himself not to throw up in the rotting-fish stench filling the room.

He placed a black letter in front of the man.

"The one hundred-thousand-man army that suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the Empire?"

Polos did not even glance at the envelope, as though he already knew the contents without needing to open it.

"Probably."

Seeing that Polos still had not moved, the young man lost his nerve first. He tore open the black envelope himself and quickly scanned it.

"It says we’re to investigate the true nature of those one hundred thousand men and determine whether they’re ordinary civilians forcibly conscripted by that duke’s son of the Empire, Muen Campbell."

"Heh... ordinary civilians..."

Polos suddenly let out a laugh.

"Y-you... what are you laughing at?"

That strange laugh from Polos made the young man’s scalp prickle. He hunched his shoulders nervously.

"..."

Polos shook his head without answering, then went back to his earlier half-drowsy state, sipping from his cup now and then.

Just when the young man’s mind had filled so completely with confusion that he could no longer hold back and was about to interrupt him with another question...

A tremor suddenly ran through the surroundings.

"Th-this is an earthquake?"

The young man was a newcomer who had only been assigned to this hidden post after most of the people here had died, so he had little experience in many things. A little disturbance was enough to scare him badly.

But Polos remained just as calm as before. He glanced at the red wine swaying inside the bottle, silently calculated something, and finally rose to his feet.

"About time. Let’s go."

"Huh? Go where?"

"To complete the mission."

Polos led the young man through a twisting route. The path grew narrower and narrower until, in the end, they were crawling through a cramped tunnel.

After who knew how long, Polos pushed open the wooden panel above them, and finally a sliver of light fell across their pale faces.

"A hidden hatch?"

The young man sounded genuinely delighted.

"It was prepared in advance? As expected of our most experienced Black Falcon!"

"Shh... quiet!"

Polos did not fully open the hatch. He only exposed a slit large enough for the two of them to observe through. Wild grass had grown thick over the opening, concealing their traces. But through the chaotic blades of grass, the young man still clearly saw the terrifying scene in the distance.

An iron dragon was cutting across the open plain.

Their steps were perfectly aligned. Their momentum shook the heavens. Countless banners were planted across the hills and fields. The murderous aura seemed to pierce through space itself and strike directly into the souls of all who watched.

The young man shuddered. At last he understood that the tremor he had mistaken for an earthquake had merely been the sound of that army’s marching steps.

"What exactly were the orders from above?" Polos asked, somehow producing another small dried fish from who knew where and lazily chewing on it.

"The exact orders? Ah... let me see..."

The young man unfolded the black letter again.

"It says we’re to launch an attack and test the reality of the army."

"Launch an attack? Do you think that’s feasible?"

Polos sneered and pointed at the army in the distance.

The young man immediately shook his head.

What kind of joke was that? The two of them were tiny shrimp. Going to attack an army that terrifying on sight—how was that any different from an egg striking a rock... no, from an egg striking a diamond?

"Do you know what I relied on to survive until now under the Empire’s intelligence agency’s pursuit?" Polos suddenly asked again.

The young man shook his head once more.

"Experience! The people above are talking out of their asses. They want us to investigate by means that are basically no different from suicide. But for me, that’s completely unnecessary!"

He straightened his chest, and a deep, dangerous air spread from him—that fierce presence belonging to the famous Black Falcon, the man who had escaped alive from multiple Imperial extermination campaigns.

"And my incredibly rich experience tells me one thing very clearly..."

Black Falcon pointed at the murderous army in the distance, already seeming to be covered by a haze of blood, and said with absolute certainty,

"The people above are full of shit. In this one-hundred-thousand-man army... there are no ordinary civilians. Every last one of them is elite."