The Extra Wants To Live

Baduan smiled and discussed some matters with Carl.
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He handed over command of all 15,000 troops under his control to Carl. Baduan, who had been on equal footing with Carl as the commander of an independent unit, volunteered to be under Carl's command.

"I trusted and followed you, Your Majesty, so you must take responsibility for our victory this time as well," Baduan declared.

"Of course. If Infantry Captain Zigel also trusts me and follows me, he will be able to see the scenery I see," Carl replied confidently.

"Hahaha! You're so hearty!" Baduan burst into laughter.

The transfer of command was an action that would bring Baduan no benefit in terms of post-war rewards. However, Baduan was a man who did not care about such things, so he laughed heartily as he handed over command to Carl.

Baduan may have been somewhat inexperienced when it came to politics, but he had such drive and audacity that anyone couldn't help but admire him.

Carl divided his army of 18,000 men into four groups. Five thousand men were left in Gabiha to surround and blockade the city. He formed two new units of 5,000 men each, while maintaining the 3,000 troops of the Laurel Union as they were.

In addition to the troops in charge of blockading Gabiha, three additional units were created, consisting entirely of standing forces.

"We will now advance northward and repel all enemy reinforcements that have ventured outside," Carl ordered, deciding to boldly send these three units deep into enemy territory.

"Do not neglect scouting, find out the enemy's presence in advance, and only engage in battles that you can win. Also, when you first encounter castles and cities, offer them the chance to surrender, but if they do not, you do not have to occupy them. Threaten them enough and avoid being tied down or suffering great damage."

Carl's strategy was bold, if not reckless—a war of maneuver using a force of 13,000 men to violently sweep across northwestern Tumaria. Carl gave detailed instructions on each unit's route and course of action.

His goal was to completely isolate the castles and cities in northwestern Tumaria.

If they fought in the open field, there was no way they could lose to the Tumari rebels, who were mostly conscripts with a small number of soldiers. Hardion's forces would sweep across northwestern Tumaria, crushing any Tumari rebels who dared to come out.

If the reinforcements sent to Gabiha and Jihan were defeated in the field, it wouldn't just be the liberation of those cities that was at stake.

What about the troops that were meant to defend the cities once their soldiers were gone?

This fear and anxiety would spread like wildfire across northwestern Tumari. For them, the area outside the walls would become a dangerous zone, and they wouldn't even be able to rescue their besieged allies.

This vast wilderness would become a siege net, isolating the castles and cities. Carl's goal was to lay siege to all of northwestern Tumaria with less than 20,000 men—not just physically, but through psychological and strategic encirclement.

Though this strategy is mentioned in military manuals, it is rarely put into practice. It would be far too reckless to attempt such a maneuver more than a month into a war, especially when the enemy is aware of the approaching forces.

This kind of approach would only work early in a conflict, taking advantage of the enemy's unpreparedness and exploiting gaps with explosive mobility.

But when Carl gathered everyone together and presented his reckless strategy, not a single person objected. Everyone nodded along, which was almost eerie.

'The tide has already turned,' Carl explained, 'The enemy is trembling with fear, their forces are spread thin due to civil war, and there is no external support. It is worth trying.'

Everyone was completely persuaded by Carl's charisma. His arguments had a basis in truth, but that did not make his strategy any less reckless.

This was still enemy territory. How could they navigate it when they didn't even know the geography?

"This is a map of western Tumaria, given to us by Sultan Yusuf," Carl revealed.

This was Carl's trump card. Yusuf had provided detailed information on western Tumaria as a token of trust, giving Carl an invaluable edge.

With geography no longer a concern and Carl's devilish charisma at work, the strategy was implemented without any opposition.

Thirty-seven days had passed since the start of the war. Two units, consisting of 3,000 Laurel troops led by Carl and 5,000 Central troops, began to move in earnest, spreading terror in northwestern Tumaria.

***

A large number of soldiers moved busily across the desert, kicking up clouds of dust. Yusuf took a deep breath as he looked down at his men, cleaning up the aftermath of yet another victory against the rebels.

Though he was trying his best to protect Tumaria, doing so required him to kill people—people who had been pushed into this conflict by forces beyond their control.

The tens of thousands of dead lying before him had fought and died without ever knowing why they were fighting, or what for.

The weight of this weighed heavily on Yusuf's heart.

Despite being placed in an unwanted position, Yusuf was now Sultan Yusuf, ruling Tumaria as regent in the Padishah's stead. There was no room for weakness now—no running away from the burden of his responsibilities.

The Padishah was near death, his eyes barely open anymore. The Kuah Hadad sect had left a deep scar on the religion that once united Tumaria.

Now, the many sons of the Padishah, each eager to claim the throne, circled Yusuf like vultures, ready to pounce and remove him from power.

If peace could be achieved through Yusuf's death or abdication, he would gladly make that sacrifice. But the situation had grown beyond that. The moment he stepped down, the power-hungry Sultans would plunge Tumaria into an even bloodier civil war.

"Your Majesty, the Sultan," a cautious voice called from behind Yusuf, who stood gazing out into the desert, his expression hardened to hide his inner turmoil.

Where men once casually approached him, they now knelt and waited for his permission to speak.

"What is it?" Yusuf responded in a low voice.

"News has arrived about the Grand Duke of Hardion."

Yusuf inhaled deeply at the mention of that name. The Fourth Prince of the Empire, Grand Duke Carl Felt Hardion, Master of the Laurel Union, the One who plants Laurel trees.

Yusuf still wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to entrust Carl with a task that would determine the fate of an entire nation.

Was his judgment truly correct? Was Carl gathering power to seize the throne, or was he simply keeping his relationship with Yusuf smooth?

The frail and young Carl Felt had always hidden depths, but just how vast was the mind of the Archduke?

"Speak," Yusuf commanded.

"Y-Yes," the messenger stammered, quickly delivering reports about Carl's accomplishments and the situation in western Tumaria.

'Carl Felt, you're keeping your promise. At least for now,' Yusuf thought, suppressing the anxiety rising within him.

With one great victory, Carl had gained enormous influence over western Tumaria. He could almost claim control over the entire region.

Though the loss of Akhtar Ali had been a bitter sacrifice, it was clear Carl had freed 10,000 innocent people out of respect for his promise to Yusuf.

However, this placed Yusuf and the Hadad clan in an even worse position. Should the rebels break their oath, despite knowing of Akhtar Ali's sacrifice, the Hadad Order would face immense trials—even after the civil war ended.

Though all of this had been part of Carl's plan, Yusuf couldn't blame him. Carl needed a justification and safeguard to free those 10,000 prisoners.

He had done the best he could, acted with perfect tact, and even kept his promise.

'The morale of the rebels has been broken. At least calling in Carl Felt was not a bad decision,' Yusuf reflected.

The question now was whether Carl would keep his promise and step down gracefully once the civil war ended.

"Your Majesty the Sultan."

A voice calls out to Yusuf once again as he is lost in thought.

Only then does Yusuf turn around and look at the one calling him.

The old man, with white hair, is still kneeling and bowing his head, waiting for Yusuf's orders.

"Nishanj, I am not your Padishah."

Yusuf said with a distorted face.

At those words, Nishanj, the prime minister who has been in charge of all affairs of Tumaria from Padishah's side, speaks firmly.

"The Padishah is in a worsening condition and cannot open his eyes. There is only one Sultan who has drawn his sword alone for the sake of the national fortune of Tumaria, and there is only one Sultan I can serve."

"What does it mean to be called Sultan now?"

Yusuf laughed at Nishanj's words.

There are more than 10 sultans who drew their swords to overthrow him and become Padishahs, and there are 100 others who watched the battle unfold with bated breath.

Now, the Sultan is just the son of the Padishah, nothing more, nothing less.

Who could believe that once upon a time it was the honorable word of a great king who united tribes and founded a nation in this desert land?

To Yusuf's self-mockery, Nishanj speaks in a voice that sounds like he's knocking on hard wood.

"You are not a Sultan because you were born a Sultan. You are a Sultan because you choose to fulfill that duty. If you do not become the Padishah, then among the countless people who live in this vast land, like the sands of the desert, there will not be a single person who is worthy of becoming the Padishah."

Instead of being delighted by the old vizier's firm eloquence, Yusuf's face became even more distorted.