The Extra Wants To Live

Carl quietly observed Topal.

There are many who claim they will chase the flag that stands high on the top of the flagpole, too far away and too radiant to grasp.

But in truth, only a handful of people in this world can truly fight for it.

"… … ."

"… … ."

Carl looked at Topal with an unwavering gaze.

Topal, in turn, silently regarded the young Archduke whose commanding presence was undeniable despite his age.

'He is a terrifying being,' thought Topal. He shuddered as he realized Carl was coldly weighing the situation and Topal's worth according to his own merciless logic.

"Understood, Sahal Din Topal. I respect your decision," Carl said after a moment, his voice low and steady.

Topal breathed a sigh of relief but couldn't shake the uneasiness gnawing at him. What thoughts had crossed Carl's mind during that short silence? What decisions had he made?

If Topal had understood Carl's intentions, he might have cried out in despair and torn at his hair.

But for Topal, who had set out to save the lives of those about to perish right before his eyes, the future felt too uncertain. He was, after all, only human.

Carl gathered Hardion's command staff and quietly discussed the matter. No one could fathom what reasoning he used to convince them, but strangely, the command accepted his proposal with a calmness that bordered on unease.

"I'll go with you! If it's for persuasion, it'll be better if I accompany you!" Akhtar Ali, who had been shadowing Carl to monitor him, made an earnest plea.

His face was pale, and his fear was palpable.

"Akhtar Ali, this is not your concern. Sahal Din Topal has requested this himself," Carl replied firmly, refusing Ali's request. He even had Ali discreetly removed to prevent him from warning Topal.

Shortly thereafter, Topal rode alone toward the Tumarian rebels who had gathered at the edge of the Tishal Mountains.

No one suspected he would flee.

After all, seven thousand prisoners and countless civilians from western Tumaria were being held hostage.

Carl watched as Topal's figure disappeared into the vast wilderness, the setting sun casting a fiery glow over the desert.

Topal was undoubtedly a capable general and a noble man.

But it was precisely his nobility that hampered him from fully utilizing his abilities.

Topal's compassion made him prioritize saving the ten thousand lives immediately before him, even if it meant splitting northwestern Tumaria.

Hours later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Topal returned. He staggered across the burning desert, his body bloodied from arrow wounds to his shoulder and thigh.

His despairing expression spoke volumes—not just of his physical pain, but of the anguish tearing at his heart.

Topal had failed.

To be precise, he had been scapegoated. Chandar and the other Tumarian leaders, who had gathered their last forces with cries of victory, placed the blame for their defeat squarely on Topal.

The Tumarian northwest, furious at Topal for recklessly engaging Hardion's forces and ignoring the delaying strategies suggested by Chandar, now branded him a failure.

The truth was drowned in a sea of lies. The two thousand soldiers who had fled were too preoccupied with returning home to share their accounts.

And no one believed the word of a lowly commoner like Topal.

Chandar and his associates manipulated the narrative, ensuring their fabricated version of events prevailed.

As Carl watched Topal stumble toward him, his bloodstained figure a testament to his sacrifice, the Archduke remained calm.

"This is the reality of war," Carl murmured to himself, his tone devoid of sympathy.

Later, when Carl occupied northwestern Tumaria, the truth came to light through the testimonies of prisoners.

The contrast was stark—between the noble who had fought to save lives and the nobles who had driven their people to death.

When the full story was revealed, Topal, who had been vilified, became a tragic figure beyond redemption.

Yet Carl made an astonishing decision.

He appointed Topal as the governor of the imperial territory north of the Tishal Mountains.

The land was thrown into turmoil.

What would happen when the people saw the man they had once scorned placed in a position of power by Carl?

"I'm taking a day to rest. We'll leave before sunrise tomorrow. Prepare the troops," Carl ordered calmly, as Topal staggered into view, bleeding and broken after being attacked by the very people he had tried to save.

Though the battle had been unnecessary, Carl saw no reason to avoid it.

The losses were minimal, all within Carl's calculated expectations.

The casualties among Carl's forces were negligible, and those still to come would be even fewer.

***

The Hardion army rose long before sunrise to prepare for battle and began their advance while it was still dark. As Carl had planned, he ordered his soldiers to move along the edge of the Tishal Mountains, staying close to the rocky outcroppings on their left.

The shields were preferably worn on the soldiers' right arms. The left side was protected by the Tishal Mountains, but the right side was an open plain, making it the obvious target for enemy fire. Wearing the shield on the right arm drastically reduced the fighting power of right-handed soldiers, but Carl was confident in his strategy.

The Tumarians would not dare to charge against Hardion's heavy infantry. This was partly because the Tumarians were mostly light cavalry and partly because their morale had already been shattered. The most critical concern was the cavalry, particularly the horses. Protecting the horses from enemy attacks was key to maintaining mobility and ensuring a decisive victory.

Carl sent the horses and supplies far to the left, away from the line of fire, and stationed the infantry on the vulnerable right flank. To maintain this formation, Carl adopted a long, elongated line. At first glance, the formation appeared dangerously thin and vulnerable to breaking. However, this was a calculated deception.

Carl anticipated that the Tumarians might attempt a feigned charge with their light cavalry, firing arrows to weaken the ranks. Could they really break through Hardion's battle-hardened infantry, who had already tasted victory under Carl's command?

To further entrap the Tumarians, Carl devised a cunning strategy. He gathered the captured Tumarian prisoners in the center of the ranks. This appeared to be an honorable decision on Carl's part, as if he were protecting the prisoners. In reality, it was a trap.

The prisoners were tightly gathered in a slightly convex part of the formation, which naturally thinned the soldier density on the right flank. From within the ranks, this subtle adjustment went unnoticed. However, to an external observer, it appeared to be a glaring weakness in the formation—a tempting target for an arrow barrage.

Carl anticipated that the Tumarians would focus their attacks on this apparent weak point, wasting their arrows on the prisoners. This tactic would help minimize casualties among Hardion's soldiers and expedite the exhaustion of the enemy's resources.

It was a ruthless decision but ultimately a rational one. Carl knew that if the prisoners remained still, fearing death, the damage to his soldiers would be minimal. Allowing the battle to drag on would only lead to higher casualties and increased strain on supplies.

This was war, not a game. Ruthless and cruel decisions were the harsh reality of survival in the battlefield. Carl's actions were not born out of malice but necessity. He was not massacring prisoners but using them strategically to secure victory.

None of the Hardion commanders opposed this plan. It was not their soldiers being used as shields, after all. From their perspective, the prisoners were being "protected" while serving a purpose in the battle.

This battle, they believed, was a result of Tumarian folly. Had the enemy not acted recklessly, there would have been no need for such brutal tactics. Still, Hardion could not afford to arm the prisoners for protection, as doing so could lead to a revolt.

For Carl and his commanders, the lives of their own soldiers outweighed any moral dilemma concerning the Tumarian prisoners. Their primary duty was to their army and their people. In truth, they could have resorted to even more brutal measures if not for their agreements with Sultan Yusuf, Akhtal Ali, and other Tumarian officials.

Without those promises, the Hardion army would have razed castles and cities, massacred civilians, burned buildings, and looted supplies without hesitation. For now, however, Carl's calculated ruthlessness was tempered by political considerations. Even so, his strategies reflected the cold reality of war, where survival and victory justified the means.