Soon, Leeroy came forward and gave Valtherion two letters, before two guards were assigned to escort him back to his horse. By now, Valtherion had five letters to give to the Marshal, and it seemed like there would be no more deliveries for today...hopefully.
Valtherion soon saw his horse and, in light strides, rode back to the War Office. It was already 5 PM, and all of those interactions had made him sleepy.
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"Luther, who was that young man to you?" The Emperor spoke as he was holding his fishing pole. He wasn't even speaking in a loud tone or looking at Luther, yet the guard seemed to hear him just fine.
"He is my future godson, the one you permitted me to baptise in the Great Basilica, Your Majesty. Valtherion Mograine, son of Louis Mograine and Morgana Garcia." Luther spoke lightly, yet the Emperor seemed to hear everything as he nodded.
Luther's relationship with the Emperor was special, as he had married his sister before he ascended the throne, and even before that, they were related. Not much is known of Emperor Alexander, yet people like Luther knew most of it. After all, they had shared a battlefield. Alexander was a warrior, a fact not many people knew.
"Ah...Louis. That lad has grown, and his son is so old now. It brings me sorrowful memories, Luther, of that day back then. I wanted Louis to join the guard, but when I asked him, he said that the County needs to be taken care of. I wish I could've had him here; he seemed a man of extremely high intellect," Alexander said as he sighed.
The battle of Silver Plains; it was there that the Empire had managed to stall just enough for a secondary wall and a line of castles to be built along the new borders. It was there that the Mograines had almost been annihilated. Emperor Alexander, Duke Garcia and Luther were the three people who had to drag Louis, who had lost everything and did not wish to leave without his relatives' bodies. Alexander was older than Louis and Luther, but it was not an exaggeration to say that they were all young back then. Louis and Luther had been 16 or 17 while Emperor Alexander was around 25 years of age.
"I remember Emperor...One day, we will reclaim the Holy City and the Great Wall. All shall be restored and avenged." Luther said as he gnashed his teeth, while Dain was simply listening from the side. He had been way too young to be present at this battle, but other guards - his seniors had mostly been there, and they knew what kind of carnage that was.
"I will be present at the baptism. I wish to speak with Louis. Only, I shall wear a disguise, and besides you and Dain, no guard is to be present with me." The Emperor said as he put a fish in the basket.
"Understood, Your Majesty." Resounded in the forest as the thunderous voice of the guards rang.
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"Hmm...Valtherion, it seems like each game you adapt a different style. You're either too passive or too aggressive." The Marshal said as he took a sip of water.
They had been playing for around thirty minutes so far, and Valtherion had won two out of five games of Go.
Valtherion now stood opposite the desk, as he looked at the Marshal, far more relaxed than usual, with some crumbs on his lips. He had delivered the letters and changed back into formal clothing. From time to time, a maid would come and deliver drinks. The Marshal was someone who enjoyed playing strategic games.
"I see that you're on a very high level in terms of Strategy and Tactics, Mograine. Let me see how you practice it in an actual situation." The Marshal waved his hand, as the board transformed into a map with castles, time periods and etcetera. It was a territory on a massive Island where the Empire was waging war on two states, the kingdoms of Lizardmen.
There had been 17 battles taking place, as the Empire's first line was under siege, yet no castles had fallen after three weeks of fighting. The soldiers seemed to be fighting bravely on a land far away from the Empire, yet strangely, against an enemy who had more resources and manpower, no castle had fallen yet. The soldiers were fighting, really, really hard.
Clicking on a scroll, Valtherion took a look at the details of each recorded battle. The casualties, injuries and overall every single thing was recorded there. The Marshal said nothing as he watched Valtherion read and look at the map from time to time.
Thirty minutes later, Valtherion sighed and looked towards the Marshal, his eyes uncertain of whether he should speak or not.
"Speak." It was an order that came from the Marshal's mouth, as his lips curved in a cold smile.
"Forgive me if I am wrong, Marshal, yet this seems to be a total disaster," Valtherion said while the Marshal only replied, "Elaborate, Mograine. Why do you think so, and what should be done?
"Marshal. We cannot supply our soldiers that far. It takes time; it is expensive. We are an Empire; however, it is extremely pricey and time-consuming. In a land so far away, we are at a disadvantage when it comes to that. We cannot utilise our superiority that well," Valtherion said as he raised one finger. Had this war been closer to the Empire, the result would've been entirely different, yet it was not.
"The whole south is under siege; the lines are spread. Each battle may not consume much; however, as I said, this is the whole South of the island. This way, we are reaching our limits there, in terms of supplies. If the South is weakened, so will the Northern side be as well. The Empire is forced to use all of its strength, while our enemies, although they are spending a lot of resources, have far more of it. They are dragging the war slowly, but they are winning." A second finger was raised as Valtherion explained his point of view. This conversation was as if he were in his father's study, revising what he had learned from his tutors.
"What should be done in this case...It would be for the best if our men retreat to the second line of defence. Our troops there have remained constantly consumed; this war is nearing its end in a defeat for Salerios. The head of command there should be replaced, and a more capable commander should take up position.
The only way we could keep some ground is...A retreat, followed by scorchedearth. The enemy supply lines will be extended, and we could turn the situation around in the following battles, possibly in the North." Valtherion finished his speech, his voice shaky as the expression of the Marshal only became colder and colder.
It was deadly silent in the room, as only the taps of the Marshal's fingers could be heard. He stared at the battle, then at Valtherion and so on. Nothing was said, but Valtherion dared not move. As a son of a border lord, a battle map was something he was used to seeing at home; his father had explained the cores of War, preparing him to one day hold the whole territory.
"How old are you again, Valtherion?" The Marshal's voice came in with a sigh; the whole pressure in the room was gone now as his expression seemed somewhat sad.
"Fourteen...In a month, fifteen," replied Valtherion as he dusted off some crumbs of cookies from his clothes, trying not to look at the Marshal's eyes. The pressure from someone in a realm higher than yours was immense, leaving him out of breath. The best thing to do was to appear childlike.
"You were right. To the point. That war was lost two years ago, with the commander being beheaded." Waving his hand, the Marshal caused the whole map to change, showing the current state of things. The Empire had been totally rooted out of the island.
"Now, enlighten me, boy. Why do you have such a mind, yet wish to stay out of a high-ranking position in the future?"