'Oh, bossman, you might wanna hear this,' Maple's voice broke his meditation.
Konrad tried—and failed—to recover the mana he burned earlier.
It wasn't much, but to feed his wind barrier and keep his reserves full, he needed some essence to trickle in. And tapping into the ambient mana on a battlefield was difficult.
Even if he wasn't in the fight, its swirling thoughts affected him.
'What?' he groaned when the dragon refused to continue.
From the smugness in her thoughts, she found something important. But she played games, not letting him read her thoughts. He could only envy her for the boredom she must've felt.
'The vanguard's commander is very frustrated,' she claimed.
And so was he; nothing of value.
'Maple,' Konrad snapped, her laugh echoing across the telepathic channel.
'He's out of time,' she thought. 'Maou Midori gave him a week and five thousand men to clear the pass, but no progress. The main forces arrive in four days, and Maou will punish him.'
Five thousand? And that was only the vanguard?!
Well, Konrad knew he faced a huge army, but to think they weren't even there yet?
Nor was the Demon Lord, which meant—
'Even his ace in the sleeve failed,' Maple continued. 'That shaman was to turn the tide, but you took him out with ease. The other two are healers, and not very good ones.'
That confirmed it.
The enemy had no casters at the moment.
He could let loose and wipe the battlefield—unless this was a clever ruse to lower his guard.
The dragoness did not finish his report yet.
'He's yelling about where his telepaths are,' she giggled. 'The scout debacle bruised his ego a lot.'
So they did have telepaths. But somewhere else?
He wondered what else the nomads had—apart from the five thousand men, of course.
A terrifying number when he had less than a quarter of that in total.
'They are still busy trying to find alternative paths by the way, but as I promised, they'll fail.'
That was the end of her report, and she was right about how much Konrad needed to hear this.
"Tell the archers to take out any messenger they see," he barked at Bor right away. "But if there's nothing else to shoot, keep harassing the lancer's flank. Save on the arrows, though."
The battle raged for three hours, and he had to plan for the long term as things looked now.
At least, his reinforcements also arrived.
With Welf and Kade by his side, he thought he could finally relax—
But as soon as Vargas and the Aset Defenders lined up behind them, he was in for a drilling.
"Why are you holding the widest part of the road?" the captain demanded as if he outranked him. "Half as many could hold the pass if you set them up by the barracks."
Konrad looked forward to his insights, but his intensity caught him off guard.
"I figured the garrison had enough men to block the whole road in a three-row deep formation," he explained. "Any more than that, and their spears couldn't reach the enemy, so—"
"Hold on," Vargas interrupted, raising a hand. "They've been fighting like this? For hours?!"
"For the last hour, I cast a wind barrier because the nomads were pushing them back, but—"
"How did you rotate your men if your formation was only three rows deep?" the captain asked.
Konrad opened his mouth to answer—only to realise he didn't even understand the question.
"Kid, how long do you think you can keep up a duel against fresh opponents?" Vargas changed the topic, rubbing his forehead. "Ten minutes? Half an hour? And you had them fight for three?"
Oh. When he put it that way—
"You're supposed to rotate your men so there are always fresh troops at the front. Did you learn nothing from my drills?" the captain whined, but Konrad had no recollection of any such thing.
If it were common sense, and the enemy used these tactics, that would've meant—
"You're facing more than twice your numbers, in a deeper formation. No wonder they kept pushing you back. Your losses must be horrendous at this point," Vargas groaned.
"Only one dead and a few wounded so far," Konrad reported, feeling all sheepish.
His wind barrier must've helped with that a lot. But it seemed as if his tactical sense—or lack thereof—almost doomed the entire garrison. He was glad he ordered Vargas to the frontline.
"Okay, no disaster yet," the captain assessed. "Let's fall back to shorten the lines."
The barracks he mentioned were the ideal chokepoint within the chokepoint. That was the narrowest part of the Halaima Pass, reinforced by the garrison over many decades.
It had only one door from the Kasserlane side, and the nomads had no tools to lay siege to it.
As a last resort, he planned to retreat inside and hold out until the reinforcements arrived. But the enemy could bypass the structure itself. And they could have trapped him in there.
Or if he let them take it during a retreat, he would have given himself a headache for later.
No. Holding a firm position in front of that building felt like the obvious choice.
But according to Vargas, it was a huge mistake.
If the royal garrison weren't so well-trained, he might've already lost the battle.
Right when he thought he was doing fine—
'This is why you have allies, bossman,' Maple offered some comfort in his mind. 'I know nothing of this strategic stuff, either. But if things went south, I could've scorched the pass.'
Konrad nodded to himself.
He asked the Aset Defenders for a reason.
"Take command in my name," he said to Vargas. "Shorten the line, or whatever you have to. But please consult me when possible—so I can learn from my mistakes."
"You want me to teach you on the job, Duke Halstadt?" The captain raised an eyebrow.
Konrad knew him too well already. This was all for show.
The old schemer was doing what he did best—currying favors with his theatrical play.
"Well, can't help it," he said with a long, exaggerated sigh. "But when you finally hire me, you'd better remember how I saved you at the Halaima Pass."
What a drama queen.
But also what an efficient one.
"You heard the men. Retreat and regroup," he barked. "Fall back all the way to the barracks and reform into a five-row formation. Front rotating to the back. Keep the nomads guessing."
Luckily, those nomads spoke a different language and couldn't understand his commands.
And Konrad could almost feel the relief of his men through the echoes in the mana.
They never complained for a second. They followed all his flawed orders and stopped the enemy right where they stood. Loyal, valiant, disciplined—
But given that he almost messed everything up, it was a bit scary too.
"As for the reinforcements," Vargas said, still not done. "Lord Schwertburg only lets you borrow the Aset Defenders if they get all the glory. So I'll have them retreat into the barracks for now."
Konrad was about to greenlight his orders when he finally comprehended the words.
He understood them one by one, but the sentence itself made no sense.
"The Defenders will do what?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"Retreat. Disappear," the captain repeated. "And then win me all the glory."