Became a Strategist with a 100 Intelligence and 100% Accuracy

Chapter 39

As time rewinds to the moment Swen and his group first arrived at Kelstein Castle in the north.

At the royal stronghold of Raklein Castle, located at the easternmost front of the Brans Army, a discussion was taking place between Parfalle, the national strategist of the Brans Army, and Nate, the lord of Raklein Castle.

"Are you saying that our lord has sent 46,000 troops?"

"Yes, Strategist."

The number fell exactly 10,000 short of the requested 56,000.

Parfalle had calculated that 56,000 was the maximum number of troops that could be deployed immediately, excluding the border defense forces. That meant 10,000 would be left as surplus troops. Normally, this would be insufficient against the Aishus Army, but their forces were about to launch an attack on Aleffel's forces.

Having the full 56,000 would have been a more decisive and efficient approach to wrapping up the operation quickly, but 46,000 was still not an insignificant number.

"Is there a chance that additional troops were deployed elsewhere?"

"I heard that 10,000 were sent north."

Parfalle inwardly clicked her tongue at Nate's response.

'So, in the end, they listened to his words?'

Swen.

The man who had seen straight through her plans with an unsettling degree of precision.

From the very beginning, Lyn had held him in extremely high regard. Although the council had ultimately approved her own proposal, the fact that Lyn had gone out of her way to reinforce Swen’s concerns was equivalent to saying, I can't ignore this entirely.

Of course, Parfalle had been surprised that Swen had grasped the plan so completely.

But what followed had been such absurd claims that she quickly lost interest in him.

How many retainers had their lord brought in with great expectations, only for them to fall short of those hopes?

Yet, at the same time, there were few subordinates Lyn had ever been this attentive to.

Moreover, while Swen had adjusted his opinion somewhat, he had essentially agreed with Airen’s stance.

For Lyn, who was instinctively wary of Airen, to take Swen’s words this seriously… It meant that, in her own way, she placed immense trust in him.

The decision to divide the troops rather than follow the original plan entirely made sense.

If anything, it only piqued Parfalle’s curiosity.

Lyn was headstrong and, at times, frustratingly indecisive when it came to critical decisions.

But she was not a fool.

Which meant that if someone like her held Swen in such high regard, then—perhaps—his words weren’t entirely unfounded.

The secret agreement proposed by Charam.

Could that itself be a blade aimed at their army?

If it truly was a trap, then continuing this operation as planned would be recklessly dangerous.

'...My lord has her own reasoning. I can't afford to dismiss the possibility that he was right. I should at least consider it carefully.'

If Aishus had indeed conspired with Charam and Aleffel to deceive them, then the best course of action would be to turn the scheme against them.

But if they weren’t planning a betrayal, acting rashly could ruin their cooperative strategy.

Charam was a brute, but he was simple-minded—so long as he got his fair share, he wouldn’t cause unnecessary trouble.

"Has Charam sent another envoy recently?"

"Yes, they have."

Parfalle had already discussed the secret plan with Nate beforehand.

Her tone became more cautious.

"If an envoy arrives again… would you be able to summon me before responding?"

"You mean you, Strategist? Well, if it’s your request, of course. But is there a particular reason?"

"I have something I need to confirm."

"Is that so?"

Parfalle nodded.

Nate did not pry further. Instead, he simply nodded in agreement.

Among the Brans Army, Parfalle was someone who commanded considerable trust.

After confirming his response, she left the stronghold, lost in thought.

She was known for her decisiveness, yet now she was hesitating.

After much deliberation, she finally let go of her stubbornness.

'...It wouldn't be wise to trust them blindly.'

Parfalle.

A woman whose name was renowned throughout the Brans Army for her numerous accomplishments.

For the first time in years, she was beginning to reconsider someone else’s opinion.

***

After that.

For quite some time, I spent most of my days following Airen and tending to the wounded.

Every morning, I would wake up to find that only a handful of the soldiers I had seen the previous day had recovered. The rest had given their final breaths right where they lay.

Watching soldiers sob as they clung to Airen, only to have the flames of their lives extinguished moments later, was a harrowing experience.

In the game, they were just numbers—mere "units" summoned at the press of the "Conscription" button.

But could these people, who had been dragged into a hopeless battle, who fought with everything they had and suffered so vividly, really be reduced to a mere number?

For some reason, James' face surfaced in my mind.

What had these men done to deserve such an end?

Was it my fault? Should I have done something—anything—to stop Carlints?

I knew, realistically, there was nothing I could have done.

No matter how much I tried to convince him, Carlints was beyond reasoning.

And if I had foolishly pushed too hard, I would have painted a target on my own back.

A strategist who speaks the truth isn’t always beloved by commanders.

Besides, what could I really do?

All I had was the ability to predict outcomes—nothing more.

If my intelligence stat was at 100, it would have been nice if my brain had evolved accordingly. But no, all I had was absolute accuracy in my predictions.

I closed my eyes and silently offered a prayer for the fallen.

"Your lord, Lyn Brans, will carry the weight of your soul for the rest of her life."

It was ridiculous, but that was the only comfort I could give.

And so, the days passed.

One day, as Airen was tending to the wounded, a soldier suddenly recognized her and came running toward us.

"Are you… General Airen Juliet?"

"I am."

"General Miguel is requesting your presence immediately."

"Immediately…?"

There was something unsettling about the urgency in his voice.

Bad news was best heard quickly.

Without wasting time, Airen and I headed toward the fortress.

And the moment we stepped inside, Miguel greeted us with a grim expression.

"You’re here, General Airen. That makes everyone."

"What’s the situation?"

Miguel let out a deep sigh before delivering the dire news.

"…Serpina’s forces are marching toward this fortress with 33,000 troops."

Bad news never comes alone.

Miguel’s words confirmed it.

One competent commander’s single miscalculation had snowballed into an irreversible disaster.

*

Serpina’s army had launched an invasion.

They must have noticed that the fortress had been weakened.

There was no way they only sent forces here—most likely, Cherien Castle had been targeted as well.

Carlints had practically handed Serpina’s forces an opportunity on a silver platter.

At this rate, Serpina’s army would secure the region in no time.

Not that they necessarily needed this advantage—given their military strength, Ian’s rebellion would have been crushed regardless.

But Carlints had only made things even easier for them.

And the proof of that was happening right now—the very act of this fortress being attacked.

Had we stayed quiet, we might have been an annoyance but not a priority.

But with our forces depleted, Serpina saw an opening and seized it.

In the end, this attack was the result of an entirely avoidable mistake.

"……"

Airen lowered her head, her expression dark.

She must have sensed this coming.

The way she had spoken during the strategy meeting—it was clear she was far more perceptive than I had initially thought.

In-game, her intelligence stat wasn’t particularly high.

But after countless battles, she had developed something akin to a warrior’s intuition.

At any rate.

Carlints, the one responsible for this mess, was already captured and nowhere to be found.

The person left to clean up after him was Miguel, the next highest-ranking officer in the fortress.

"……"

But then again.

He had only been Carlints’ lieutenant.

What miracle solution could he possibly come up with in this situation?

Not that it was a matter of competency.

No commander, no matter how brilliant, could conjure a solution out of thin air when faced with an unwinnable battle.

The best option—no, the only option—was to run.

Or rather.

The best possible option was to burn this fortress down and escape.

If we torched the fortress before abandoning it, at the very least, we wouldn’t be handing over a freshly built stronghold to Serpina’s forces.

Strategically speaking, it was the most logical move.

This fortress was more useful to Serpina than it was to us.

Burning it down made perfect sense.

Of course, only someone like Carlints would be reckless enough to do something so drastic without the lord’s approval.

Besides, most of the soldiers stationed here had been involved in constructing the fortress.

What would it do to their morale to see something they had built with their own hands go up in flames?

Their spirits would plummet.

And judging by Miguel’s expression, he didn’t have the guts to make such a ruthless call.

Even now, he was sweating, desperately trying to come up with a plan.

Either way, a last stand is not an option.

The only silver lining was that Miguel, while struggling to find a solution, wasn’t the type to order a suicidal last stand for the sake of "duty" or "honor."

I couldn’t care less if Brans Army suffered one defeat after another.

But if Airen ended up captured or killed, that would be a problem.

And, of course, I had no desire to die, either.

Which meant.

When Miguel inevitably asked for opinions, I planned to raise my hand and say:

"Losing this fortress is unfortunate, but we must retreat to Kelstein Castle for the sake of the future."

And sure enough.

"…I ask everyone present—does anyone have a viable solution to this predicament?"

I slowly scanned the room.

No one raised their hand.

Of course.

No one wanted to be the one to say, Let’s abandon the fortress.

Which meant it was my turn to speak.

Except—

Wait a second.

Since I had the opportunity, I might as well ask.

I mentally inputted the question:

"What is the best course of action in this situation?"

I expected the answer to be, Burn the fortress and escape.

Because no matter how I looked at it, this battle was a lost cause.

Carlints’ blunder had doomed this place.

And based on my knowledge of the game, burning it down seemed like the correct move.

The answer came, as always, instantly.

[Establish a defensive position where the enemy can see you and fortify the fortress.]

"……"

Wait.

What?

Fortify the fortress?

That’s the right move???

Once again.

The absolute compass in my head was pointing in an entirely unexpected direction.