“Please give me a response, Lord Ezekiel.”
The princess’s words sounded like a sincere plea, but Zeke was not fooled. She was using the momentum she had built to force an agreement right here.
Zeke remained composed, but he could sense the escorts behind him beginning to feel the pressure. Irisen had it the worst, but even Zelkara and David seemed uncomfortable under the increasingly intense gazes directed at them from all sides.
Honestly, he could not blame them. The atmosphere had grown more tense than ever before. Now that the interests of the entire group were at stake, it felt as though a single wrong word could immediately lead to open hostility. If it came to that, it could not only derail the entire campaign, but even leaving unharmed would no longer be guaranteed.
Finally, Zeke stopped drumming his armrest and opened his mouth.
“I refuse.”
Immediately, he felt the pressure from all sides increase, but Zeke did not react. No amount of mana, aura, or hostile stares from these people was enough to make him so much as flinch.
The princess’s expression remained unchanged despite the refusal, the smile never leaving her lips. “Would you be so kind as to tell me the reason?”
Zeke leaned forward, his eyes locked onto hers. “The reason?” he asked in a slow, deliberate tone. “That would be rather difficult. After all, there is so much wrong with your proposal that I do not even know where to begin.”
The princess’s smile remained intact, but her eyes sharpened. “Please educate us, young lord.”
Once again, her voice carried a hidden barb.
By telling him to “educate” them, she subtly implied that he considered himself superior to everyone present in matters of strategy, despite this being his first campaign. Naturally, such a remark would not sit well with these veterans.
Even so, Zeke did not bother to correct her implication. He raised a single finger and began in a lecturing tone, as though addressing a child.
“First, I do not trust you. Not as a person, not as a commander, and certainly not as a strategist. Frankly, I believe the plan you suggested is the worst possible course of action for us.”
Before the princess could open her mouth to respond, he raised a second finger.
“Second, you speak of handing over people as if they were tools. These are soldiers you are talking about, people who have bled for this country, and yet you asked me to ‘hand them over’ as though they had no will of their own.”
As he said this, he turned to Irisen at his side. “The choice of whom you serve is yours alone. Remember that."
He straightened another finger.
“Third, if you received thousands of new troops now, it would take weeks, perhaps even months, for such a newly assembled force to become battle-ready. Should the rest of us twiddle our thumbs and wait for you? Or do you intend to throw them into the meat grinder without any preparation? I honestly do not know which of those would be worse.”
Another finger straightened. Then another, and yet another.
The gazes of the leaders watching him shifted from cold glares to mild surprise, and then to thoughtful expressions as he continued. Zeke paid them no attention, airing all his grievances. He made sure to mix personal barbs into each point. The most effective way to criticize someone openly was not to attack them directly, but to tear apart their actions and reasoning.
Gradually, he saw the princess’s smile falter, her eyes turning icy.
But Zeke had no intention of stopping. Only after listing ten reasons did his barrage of criticism finally stop. He looked down at his hands, all fingers extended, and let out a deep sigh.
“See?” he said in a troubled voice. “I told you it would be difficult. I have already run out of fingers, and there is still so much more I want to say.”
“That is quite enough,” the princess said coldly. “And while I admit that you have a sharp tongue, all you have truly done is point out potential flaws in my plan. But destroying is always easier than creating. If you are really so confident, then why do you not suggest a plan of your own? Let's see whether it holds up to scrutiny any better.”
Contrary to her expectation, Zeke nodded easily, as if he had been waiting for her to ask. In truth, he had. One of the reasons he had so ruthlessly exposed the flaws in her plan was to build his credibility as a strategist. Though it was not his preferred approach to elevate himself by putting others down, in a pinch it remained an effective method.
“I suggest we do the opposite,” he said calmly. “Instead of combining our forces, I believe we should scatter them as much as possible.”
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The room fell silent, the pause broken only when the elven representative, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke. “What is your reason for suggesting this?”
Her tone lacked the sharp edge it carried earlier. She had clearly been influenced by his display of strategic insight. And now, even though he was opposing her plan, she no longer felt confident dismissing him outright.
“It may seem contradictory at first glance,” Zeke explained slowly, “but in my opinion, the larger the force, the less likely it is that we can achieve victory. That holds true even if we vastly outnumber our enemies.”
His words sounded absurd, but no one present was foolish enough to speak without thinking first. That, at least, was a good sign.
“Let me ask you a question,” Zeke continued. “By combining our forces and multiplying our numbers, would we be able to increase our combat power to the same degree?”
Heads began to shake almost immediately. The leaders did not even need to think about it. This was common knowledge.
Even if two forces chose to cooperate wholeheartedly, there would always be friction, redundancies, and incompatibilities. More importantly, an army led by multiple commanders would never truly function as a single cohesive unit.
“...And that is exactly where the problem lies,” Zeke said once he saw that everyone agreed on this point. “The strategy of pooling our forces is based on the false belief that we can overpower the Legion by outnumbering them.”
That was all Zeke planned to say.
Silence followed. Then, one by one, shock appeared on the faces of the leaders. With just that much, the sharper minds were already beginning to grasp the trap the Legion had laid.
It was not that surprising, really. In essence, it was a simple scheme:
The Legion had concentrated its forces, baiting their enemies into doing the same. Under normal circumstances, that would have been the correct response. But that only held true if one ignored the unique nature of the Ehrenlegion.
With their mental network and on-site commanders, there was no friction between newly integrated units. For them, doubling their numbers truly meant doubling their strength. It was like adding another limb to the same organism, rather than trying to fuse two separate bodies.
In practice, this meant that a tightly knit troop of elite mercenaries might be able to face an equal number of Ehrenlegion soldiers. But two such elite troops working together would be utterly crushed by an equal number of Legion enemies.
And what if they combined three, four, or five such troops? The outcome was obvious. The word massacre might as well have been invented for such a scene.
Put simply, it was the difference between a group of brawlers and a unit of organized soldiers. While a brawler might stand a chance in a one-on-one fight, the more soldiers were integrated into a formation, the smaller those chances became.
Zeke did not need to spell it out any further. The people present were either sharp enough to reach the conclusion themselves or had someone beside them who would. If they were not, they would never have survived long enough to sit at this table.
It did not take long for every representative to adopt a serious expression as they looked at him, the hastily arranged alliances from minutes earlier all but forgotten.
“Please explain your plan,” The elven representative finally said. Her leisurely demeanor had grown noticeably more serious.
Zeke nodded. “I propose that instead of playing to their strength, we play to ours.”
“Enough with the riddles,” Odyr growled. “Speak plainly.”
Zeke sighed. “The Legion is strong because they are united and standardized, while we are disjointed and disorganized. In nine out of ten scenarios, that puts us at a disadvantage. However, there is one case in which we can turn this to our benefit.”
Everyone leaned forward, listening intently.
“We need to make use of our chaotic nature to the fullest,” Zeke said at last. “There are certain things our diverse units can do better than the Legion.”
He pointed to the man seated beside him, Kernt Ossyrian, leader of the Bone Mages of Valour. “You outshine the Legion in defensive battles. If you were to lay siege to a fort, you could likely tie down a much larger force without suffering excessive losses. Am I right?”
The man nodded slowly. He did not seem inclined to speak more than necessary.
Zeke’s finger moved to the next person, Loyd Cairnwyc, leader of the shapeshifters. “Your troops are ill-suited for open battles, so attaching you to a larger force would be a waste. On the other hand, infiltrating deep into enemy territory and disrupting their logistics would be well within your capabilities. You could probably tie down at least twice your number in troops simply by threatening their backlines, could you not?”
“That would be simple,” Loyd replied, a glint in his eyes. He clearly appreciated Zeke’s assessment after having been largely dismissed by the other leaders so far, Odyr in particular.
Next, Zeke pointed at Karas Skarn, leader of the Summoners. “Your forces excel in explosive power and versatility, but you cannot sustain prolonged engagements. That makes you ideal skirmishers and ambushers, striking swiftly and retreating before the enemy can respond.”
One by one, he addressed the leaders, laying bare his understanding of their specialties and outlining where each would be most effective. His plan was far more detailed than the elves’ simple proposal of fighting together. In truth, this level of insight was only possible because of Zeke’s prior knowledge of these factions, as well as the information he had gathered by arriving early and observing them over the past few days.
This time, he held nothing back. If he wanted to convince them that this was the best approach, he first had to prove that he understood exactly who they were and what they excelled at. After all, placing trust in a strategist who did not know his troops was nearly impossible.
The longer he spoke, the more convinced the others became. None of the leaders had been enthusiastic about merging forces in the first place. They had simply assumed it was their only option after the Empire had done the same. Faced with a plan that so precisely played to their strengths, they would have been fools to reject it.
At last, his finger came to rest on Ryn Greymarch, the mercenary force to which the princess herself belonged. His expression tightened into a frown, and he hesitated.
The princess smiled, sensing weakness. “What? Cat got your tongue?”
Zeke shook his head slowly before answering. “Honestly, your only real advantages are your familiarity with the land and the influence you retain over the locals due to the presence of a princess. But in my view, that is not enough to form an effective unit, especially one as large as the force you are leading.” His voice trailed off.
“What is it you are trying to say, exactly?”
It was the princess who spoke again, not the nominal leader seated on the throne, making it clear where the true authority of their faction lay.
Zeke clicked his tongue. “You truly want me to say it? Very well. I believe it would be best if you voluntarily disbanded your forces and distributed your people among the rest of us.” A faint smile touched his lips.
“That is, of course, if you care about the greater good of the people.”