Chapter 2
I endured ten years of hardship. What is it about that precise moment when everyone suddenly falls silent?
I was on the verge of becoming one of those foolish brats who recklessly chatter, relying solely on my family’s name.
It wouldn’t have been strange if an emergency decree had been issued. In the worst-case scenario, I could have been kicked out of the command tent.
Fortunately, I had something special that they lacked—my memories from a previous life.
Typically, I found myself longing for cola, or wishing for stews and soups rather than just the same old dishes. Useless thoughts dominated my mind.
Yet, as I gazed at the command situation amidst the sudden calamity, that thought came to mind unbidden.
Back in the days when smartphones were not widespread, everyone had at least read a biography of a Korean hero once.
In one such story, a meteor fell, and someone just said, “Yeah. Go away,” and reflected it back.
One worry lingered—what if there weren’t any kites in this world?
As it turned out, it was a groundless fear. Kites were used quite well here, especially for measuring wind direction and speed.
Upon hearing my story, the Legion Commander immediately ordered them to fetch a kite and began adapting it.
He wanted it even larger than before since it needed to burn well for a long time, so preparations were made for that.
As I watched that spectacle, I decided to offer one more piece of advice.
By the way, this isn’t something I saw in a biography; it’s based on my own experiences.
“Commander, a kite is indeed necessary, but there’s something else we require.”
“What is it?”
“There must be someone to stir the hearts of the soldiers who may be slower in grasping the situation.”
If the enemy does it, it’s called incitement, but if we do it, it’s having influence over their minds.
After all that hard work, it’d be rather disappointing if the soldiers said, “What is that?”
Understanding my words, the Commander discreetly gathered those he could trust.
By midnight, what our soldiers witnessed was the meteor rising from where it had fallen the previous night.
At first, they were in awe, wondering, “What’s that?” but soon released tremendous cheers.
A few designated as cheerleaders started proclaiming, “That is the true will of God! An undeniable proof that the Empire shall not be defeated!” This was a secret of the command.
In any case, the atmosphere that had been deflated the day before, as if we had suffered a crushing defeat, suddenly surged.
What does it mean when our morale plummeted and then shot up crazily?
Exactly. The enemies would be in the opposite situation. They were probably not dealing with demons anymore but with mere demon children.
And the reconnaissance report that came in the following day confirmed my suspicions.
“The morale of the demon tribe has significantly diminished. They are trying to hide it, but it’s severe enough that even the scouts can see it.”
“Hahaha! Of course it should be! How can they remain unscathed after the meteor rose again!”
“Uh, Commander, just to remind you, that was the kite rising, not the meteor, right?”
I was relieved things went so well. It had been an almost last-minute improvisation from a haphazard idea.
Leaving behind the chaos-stricken command, I stepped out of the tent.
I wasn’t officially enlisted in the Imperial Army nor was I a true commander.
I certainly didn’t possess any remarkable insights or awe-inspiring strategies.
Staying longer than necessary might inadvertently reveal my incompetence!
“Young master.”
But then, I saw my attendant, Alexei, waiting with a serious expression, and I started to think it might be better to return to the command tent.
“What’s wrong?”
“Uh, that’s….”
Alexei pointed towards a man dressed in officer’s attire standing nearby. He seemed rather stiff and out of the ordinary compared to others.
“Why is that officer here? What’s going on?”
“It’s not about that. Hurry, inside!”
He was mumbling “inside” without even managing to give me a proper explanation.
What could be the reason for Alexei’s unusual reaction? He’s not foolish or lacking in any way.
As a member of a noble family, he should have noticed something by now.
Inside my tent, a very important person was visiting.
That man, appearing as an ordinary officer, was actually a disguised close guard.
As that conclusion intuitively pieced itself together, I immediately checked my appearance.
‘Phew.’
Just how impressive must the figure inside be for him to behave this way?
Could it be that a member of a duke’s family is serving secretly?
I had read about a perfectly fine noble who had enlisted as a soldier in a novel; could it be that?
Lost in various thoughts, I entered the tent and found a woman seated inside.
At that moment, my mind started spinning wildly.
‘This is clearly a battlefield, not somewhere where our family carries weight. Yet, Alexei is this restless about it—a very limited selection indeed. And a young lady my age.’
Having come to that realization, logically, the answer became glaringly obvious.
I promptly knelt before her, lowering my gaze.
“I am Kael Clausewitz, the eldest son of the Clausewitz family and Duke of Bertier Empire, here to meet Your Highness the Princess.”
I felt a jolt—like a sound effect of a gasp hovering in front of me. It was real because I heard it.
In a situation like this, the question poised towards me was likely to be—
“…How did you find out?”
Well, when you gather various pieces of information, the answers become clearer.
If my attendant is that tense, it suggests she’s at least of marquis family status.
Yet, no matter how I think about it, there shouldn’t be any noble ladies of my age here in the military camp.
If there were, some news would have surfaced, but nothing like that has ever happened.
Then it struck me. Someone with great interest in the military, who keeps it a secret from everyone.
‘That must be the Second Princess, Isabelle.’
As I confidently began to mention my deduction, the princess suddenly exclaimed, “Hah!”
“No, no. I’ve made a foolish question.”
“Your Highness?”
“You, possessing such an extraordinary mind, must have found it easy to deduce. Rather, I should blame myself for not being more cautious.”
“…?”
Your Highness? If you talk to yourself like that, what becomes of my neatly organized thoughts?
As if she sensed my inner turmoil, the princess gestured for me to rise.
She then offered me a seat, and I cautiously settled opposite her.
“Prince Kael Clausewitz.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Have you studied astronomy by any chance?”
What in the world is this out-of-the-blue question?
“Unfortunately, I’m quite distant from astronomy.”
“Liar.”
Her immediate dismissal of my answer took me by surprise, and she continued speaking.
“A person who doesn’t know about the stars can’t say that.”
“Your Highness, I’m lacking in understanding; I don’t grasp what you’re saying.”
“To deduce such a countermeasure, one must know that a meteor is about to fall.”
“…Ah.”
So that’s what it was, huh? Apparently, she was quite impressed with the wisdom I had gained from General Kim Yushin.
Even a seasoned commander might not have considered something that sudden.
A meteor falling isn’t a common occurrence. It’s even rarer for one to drop on the battlefield, especially close to the military camp.
In that situation, it was odd that I naturally proposed a countermeasure, making me the unusual one.
“I truly am distant from astronomy, Your Highness.”
“…Really?”
“Yes.”
I’m not lying; I genuinely don’t know the first thing about astronomy.
If I tried acting knowledgeable and it turned out to be false later, that would really be exhausting.
It wouldn’t just end with being laughed at for pretending; I would be lying in front of the princess.
This is my truth as a noble, a necessary statement just in case.
“Wait a moment. Then what about yesterday’s incident?”
“That’s….”
“If you didn’t know anything about astronomy, and thus couldn’t foresee the meteor falling, wouldn’t you have been just as shocked as everyone else?”
“So, uh….”
“In that situation, to suggest such a clever and admirable strategy on the spot! That’s truly impressive!”
“….”
Clearly, she wasn’t listening to me.
“Then, then, Prince Kael. Why was it a kite?”
“Uh?”
“It could have been accomplished through magic too. Why use a kite? There was no need for that.”
The reason being, if I recall correctly, General Kim Yushin had used a kite.
You may not know this, Your Highness, but in that world, magic doesn’t exist.
That’s all!
‘…If I said this, I’d sound crazy.’
Why the kite? We could have used magic, and it would’ve sufficed, but why the kite?
The princess’s question sent my mind into a whirl.
“That’s because….”
It was daunting. The way the princess looked at me was tremendously heavy.
She was clearly expecting something. Just her gaze alone felt like she was waiting for an astounding answer.
I was simply jotting down the answer I already knew on the answer sheet!
“Actually.”
“Actually? What do you mean?”
“Hmm… As you know, Your Highness, magic has many unforeseen flaws, doesn’t it?”
I couldn’t help but blurt that out; I hadn’t predicted getting such a question.
I needed to pass this through at least some filtering, yet I felt so tense in front of the princess that I just let it slip.
“What matters is not that a meteor fell. The key is that our military’s morale dipped as a result. In other words, raising the soldiers’ spirits back up is the primary concern.”
“Right.”
“Magic is, without a doubt, one of the good methods available. But utilizing magic leaves traces of mana, and most importantly, it’s too fleeting—it’s over in a rush!”
“…Ah! I see. The reason you used a kite! So it was necessary to provide something that the entire army can clearly see. Something that could slowly unfold that scene!”
“Exactly!!”
I quickly matched her response with enthusiastic praise.
This way, no one would have any doubts. That would put the onus of doubt on them as well.
“Remarkable. Prince Kael.”
“That’s too kind. I merely offered a slight bit of wisdom.”
“A slight bit? No. Restoring the army’s morale in a single night—or even raising it further—is no easy feat!”
“Hahaha! That’s—”
“The Duke of Bertier was a remarkable general. And Prince Kael Clausewitz is an outstanding strategist!”
Pardon? A strategist? Me? It was too shocking a statement for me to actually claim it.
Me, a strategist? Your Highness, that’s truly a huge misunderstanding…
“I’m looking forward to what clever and witty strategy you’ll present next, Prince. Can I expect that?”
“That….”
I should say no, but as it just so happens, she’s no less a noble than the imperial family.
And to find someone so eagerly expecting an outcome right before me, could I possibly disappoint her?
“Of course, Your Highness.”
I found myself answering before I even realized it.
“It’s alright. It’s alright. I probably won’t have to step up again anyway!”
*
And a few days later.
“Prince Kael? What brilliant strategy are you planning this time?”
“Hahaha….”
Before the entire command, I revealed my identity.
The princess’s eyes sparkled with excitement, staring right at me.