Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 101 - Pursued by Fate

101 Pursued by Fate

"The first objective—a single victory—has been achieved. Now, we must retreat before it’s too late."

William’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

The Marquis and the other lords exchanged glances but offered no objections. They understood all too well what could happen if they hesitated any longer.

"He’s right," one of them finally admitted. "We should let the soldiers rest for a day before withdrawing."

"No, we must move immediately."

"What? That’s too soon! Look at the soldiers—they’re barely standing!"

William’s insistence caught the Marquis off guard. Many soldiers still lay on the ground, their bodies too numb to move after the battle. Asking them to march immediately instead of allowing time to recover seemed unthinkable.

"If we set out now, we’ll be moving at a snail’s pace," the Marquis protested. "The able-bodied will have to carry those who can’t walk, exhausting them even further. Wouldn’t it be wiser to rest at least for a day?"

"If we had the luxury of time, I would have suggested resting for three days, not just one," William admitted. "But we don’t. The enemy’s pursuit force will be upon us soon."

The Marquis frowned. "Pursuit force? But the enemy was repelled. The remaining forces should still be holed up in Bodiam Castle. What threat could possibly remain? In fact, Krefeld should be celebrating after driving the Empire back."

"One victory doesn’t mean Krefeld has secured its independence."

Previously, William had believed that if the Empire suffered a defeat, its vassal states would rise up in unison, making any re-subjugation impossible. The Marquis, on the other hand, had always argued that the Empire still had the strength to reclaim its lost territories.

William’s opinion remained unchanged, but there was one key factor—Krefeld’s perspective.

If Krefeld had broken the Grand Pact, then it meant they, too, believed the Empire would be unable to launch another invasion. However, there was always the possibility—however slim—that they had miscalculated.

"Krefeld will want to ensure the Empire never has the chance to march again. Even if they can’t secure full independence, they’ll try to buy time until another crisis weakens the Empire. And what better way to do that than by capturing a powerful claimant to the throne and using him as leverage?"

The words sent a chill through the gathered lords.

It sounded unthinkable—an act of sheer madness. But then, so was the ambush they had just suffered.

Krefeld had already broken the Grand Pact. They had hired unregistered mages, showing they had burned their bridges. Would they really care about the Emperor’s wrath at this point?

"Are you saying Krefeld will send a pursuit force after me?" Claude asked, his face pale.

"It’s only speculation," William admitted, "but the likelihood is high."

"William! There must be something we can do!" Claude’s voice cracked with desperation.

William hesitated for a moment before offering the most effective solution.

"The surest way is for His Highness to leave the battlefield immediately, accompanied only by a small group of his most trusted guards."

"Absolutely not."

The response came not from Claude, but from Marquis Bernhardt, who fixed William with a piercing gaze.

"The Supreme Commander abandoning the battlefield first? Do you realize what that would do to the soldiers’ morale? His Highness’s reputation would be in tatters."

"Sometimes, one must endure humiliation for the greater good."

"This is more than just humiliation," the Marquis countered. "It could be used against him. If certain factions at court begin questioning His Highness’s fitness for the throne, they might use this as an excuse to interfere in the succession."

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A heavy silence fell over the group.

Claude, who had briefly considered William’s suggestion, turned visibly paler. His body trembled slightly, not from fear of death—but from the prospect of losing his claim to the throne.

"The Marquis is right," Claude finally said, his voice unsteady. "I won’t run away alone."

William clicked his tongue in disappointment. If he had fled, things would have been much simpler.

But there was no point in dwelling on lost opportunities.

"That leaves only one option," William declared. "We must retreat as quickly as possible—before the enemy catches up."

"But the wounded—"

"If they can’t walk, we’ll carry them. If this were a long march, rest would be the better choice. But the border is only three days away. Even if it pushes the soldiers to their limits, it’s better to move now."

Of course, leaving the wounded behind would allow them to move faster. But this was an army composed of elite troops from noble houses. No lord would abandon his own men, and suggesting such a thing would only make enemies.

Even worse, it could earn them a reputation as cowards who left their comrades to die.

"Then it’s settled," William said. "Unless there are objections, we move immediately."

None were raised.

Following William’s plan, the army quickly gathered their wounded and began the retreat.

Meanwhile, in Krefeld…

"What did you say? Our forces were pushing the enemy back, only to be routed by an ambush from behind? Count Dominic… was killed?"

Erich, the young king of Krefeld, sat frozen in disbelief as the report reached his ears.

"Yes, Your Majesty. The enemy impaled the Count’s head on a spear and paraded it like some barbaric trophy."

Erich’s fist slammed against the table with a thunderous crack.

He had known that breaking the Grand Pact would invite retaliation. That was why he had prepared to fight without restraint. But knowing the risks didn’t make it any easier to accept the loss of a loyal vassal—especially one who had been humiliated even in death.

"And the enemy’s losses? Tell me the extent of the damage."

The knight hesitated, eyes flickering as he recalled the battlefield.

"The number of dead was relatively low," he admitted. "But nearly half their forces were incapacitated by magic. Most of them collapsed, unable to move. The ones who could still fight suffered heavy losses from Count Dominic’s final attack. Their effective combat strength is now less than half of what it was."

A glint of calculation flickered in Erich’s eyes.

"If they’re not dead, then they must be recovering by now."

"According to the mages, their bodies won’t fully recover for at least two weeks. They may be able to walk, but running—or swinging a weapon—will be nearly impossible."