Without radar, communication interception, surveillance satellites, or long-range strike weapons like missiles, it felt as though the march of the 1st Division of the Tuscany Imperial Army was just an extended stroll.
Of course, for the soldiers, non-commissioned officers, and junior officers trudging along in armor and carrying weapons nearby, it must have been sheer torture.
But as a senior officer, comfortably riding a horse, I couldn’t help but feel relaxed.
Now, however, it felt like all the energy I saved during the march was being drained in this meeting.
“General, our supply staff has successfully extended the enemy's supply lines. I suggest we request the Supreme Commander to deploy cavalry and strike their supply convoys.”
“The enemy isn’t stupid enough to ignore the importance of their supply lines.”
“In that case, Colonel, do you have a better plan?”
Had I graduated from Korea’s Army Academy or even completed ROTC properly, I might have had plenty to contribute here.
Even though my real combat experience wouldn’t hold a candle to these seasoned field-grade officers, strategies based on military history and the hard-earned lessons of countless soldiers would surely have been helpful.
However, I was just someone who majored in Western History. My knowledge of military tactics was practically nonexistent.
And when you know nothing, keeping quiet is usually your safest bet.
I was already juggling the roles of noble and merchant, drawing all sorts of insults behind my back and unintentionally making political enemies. For someone who wasn’t even a soldier to speak up here? That would be tantamount to suicide.
“They say pretty people die young, right?”
So, I simply sat there, giving the impression of attentively listening to everyone’s opinions without siding with anyone.
Baron Ducat lightly tapped the table and spoke.
“Understanding the enemy supply route, the attached escorts, and their defensive measures is, of course, important. If we can pinpoint weak spots, we should strike. I’ll authorize a light cavalry unit for reconnaissance. Major Forne, take 20 light cavalrymen and scout the area now. Avoid engagement with the enemy unless it’s purely for self-defense.”
Major Forne, who was seated at the far end of the table, briskly got up and left.
In this era, nobles—or more accurately, officers—often saw war as an exciting opportunity for advancement.
Maybe he was one of those types.
“Until the First World War, war did have a certain romantic allure.”
Especially during the era of line infantry, where phrases like “After you, my good man” and “No, after you” were often exchanged, and soldiers genuinely offered their enemies the honor of the first strike.
Back then, there were even rules against targeting high-ranking officers when shooting. Hence, officers deliberately wore flashy uniforms to stand out.
“Quartermaster, is there any issue with our 1st Division’s food transport?”
“From the reports I’ve received, everything seems fine so far.”
My job was to establish and maintain supply lines, but the actual transportation of food fell under the jurisdiction of the military’s logistics command, which oversaw all provisions for the imperial forces.
However, if those fools in logistics screwed up and supplies were cut off, it would ultimately be my responsibility. I had to stay vigilant.
“Good to hear there are no issues.”
“However, I anticipate difficulties for both enemy and allied forces in securing provisions locally. With that in mind, I plan to request additional rations of preserved food.”
Long-lasting foods like salted meat, hardtack, and flour were not particularly favored by soldiers.
So, I did my utmost to supply fresh meat and vegetables whenever possible.
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We herded livestock like cattle, pigs, and chickens in large groups, while vegetables were delivered in smaller, frequent batches.
Though the vegetables weren’t as fresh as one might hope, they arrived slightly wilted, not entirely lifeless.
“Avoiding a situation where we rely solely on preserved food is key.”
“Good, it seems there are no major problems for now. Let’s wrap up today’s meeting and proceed to dinner.”
The soldiers and non-commissioned officers would be eating meals prepared by cooks under the supervision of professional chefs, thanks to the cook system I implemented.
But officers, even in the field, dined on luxurious meals prepared by top-tier chefs.
“After all, our division has chefs from Restaurant Rothschild. Need I say more?”
I finished a meal so decadent that I almost felt guilty eating it and started heading back to my tent.
“I can’t bring Chris, Chloe, or Erica to the battlefield, and being alone, it doesn’t seem appropriate to get involved with anyone here.”
Of course, by now, both soldiers and officers, regardless of rank, might be enjoying the various “services” I had arranged for them.
In our empire, such services were considered essential for any marching army.
“After all, there’s nothing as important as relieving stress during war.”
At any rate, I just wanted to get some rest.
On my way back to my tent, I passed by a battalion just starting their meal.
Curious to see the impact my food arrangements were having on the frontlines, I paused to observe.
“This is even better than what I get at home. If my wife could make food half this good, I’d have no complaints.”
“Wow, I already finished mine. Hey, Private Alle, if you’re not going to eat that—”
“Sergeant, I’m starving to death over here. I’m not leaving even a crumb.”
The Quartermaster General had told me that laughter was rare on the battlefield.
The reason was simple—everyone was about to head into war, killing and dying, enduring both psychological and physical torment.
Officers, with no heavy packs to carry and some reserve stamina, might fare slightly better. But knowing that the lives of dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of men rested on their shoulders left little room for smiles.
“They say if someone’s smiling on the battlefield, they’re either insane or faking it.”
Morale-boosting measures, I’d heard, weren’t so much about inspiring soldiers to fight but about keeping their spirits from completely breaking before they reached the battlefield.
Still, the soldiers in front of me looked genuinely happy in this moment.
“Just seeing this makes me feel good.”
Having served in the military myself, though not as a soldier carrying a rifle, it warmed my heart to see them like this.
If you’re going to make someone suffer through military life, at least feed them well.
One of the sergeants among the group chimed in.
“Back in my day, we’d call it heaven if we had salted meat, half-spoiled vegetables, and hardtack stew. You guys have it good thanks to His Majesty. Not that I mind. Just don’t expect me to buy you a beer.”
With that, the sergeant took some soldiers to fetch beer.
I’d heard that rank differences didn’t always prevent such camaraderie between non-commissioned officers and soldiers, but seeing it firsthand was a new experience.
“If food can maintain morale like this, I’ll have a monopoly on military catering after the war.”
As I watched the others with satisfaction, someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind.
Instinctively, I reached for my sword’s hilt.
“It’s me, the division commander.”
Of course. We were barely at the edge of the Pergamo County. It was unlikely there’d be assassins or spies already.
“My apologies, General.”
Baron Ducat chuckled at my response.
“I was the one sneaking up on you. No need to apologize. That aside, you didn’t say much during the meeting. Were you holding back because of the other officers?”
It was partly because I had nothing to say, but mostly because, as the Baron suggested, I was gauging the reactions of the other officers.
“Unlike me, the other officers worked their way up from second lieutenant. They’ve climbed the ranks step by step, haven’t they?”
In the Tuscany Empire and across the continent of Albania, there weren’t any military academies for training officers.
Noble officers were typically self-taught through books and trained in horseback riding and combat.
This lack of standardized education made geniuses in pre-modern wars stand out even more prominently.
“Without a baseline education, the average ability of officers is much lower compared to modern times.”
“As the second son of a baronial family, I never received formal military training. If I don’t want to flaunt my ignorance, it’s best to stay quiet.”
“Not all officers are competent, you know. Even if someone has a high rank, it doesn’t mean they’re capable. But in this empire, while you might rise to a field-grade rank easily enough, earning stars takes more than just connections.”
At least we didn’t have systems where ranks could be bought.
A nation where you could become a general just by having enough time and money? That’s hardly a country at all.
“And surely, you must have some ideas. Just say whatever comes to mind.”
“Why me?”
“After what you did to disrupt the enemy logistics, I figured you might bring luck to our division. Even if you told me to lead knights in a charge against musket-armed infantry, I wouldn’t complain. Just share your thoughts.”
...It wasn’t that I didn’t have any ideas.
In truth, what I had in mind wasn’t based on military science but on the inherent instincts of war and human nature.
“I do have something in mind, but please, just hear me out.”