Ten minutes earlier.
When Matyos opened his eyes again, a plain swirling with morning mist stretched out before him.
The Imperial Army advanced in silence through the fog.
The Sharlan forces were nowhere to be seen.
*Feels like playing a game.*
Matyos worked his jaw and licked his lips.
The war game rendered through magical instruments was reproduced in painstaking, lifelike detail.
He looked around.
The mist swallowed everything — terrain, distance, direction.
*This is where an impatient advance cost them dearly.*
A battlefield of tragedy, where a reckless commander had once plunged blindly through the fog and suffered a crushing defeat. Matyos had no intention of repeating that mistake.
He immediately pulled the reserve forces forward to the front line. The finest troops — meant to be the last bastion — were driven like a stake into the heart of the front.
In battle, reserves served as the final safeguard.
The force held back for the most critical moment, the one that could turn the tide.
That was why, generation after generation, the reserves had always been filled with the best.
The center grew formidable.
The war game rendered through magical instruments was reproduced in painstaking, lifelike detail.
The army moved with swift precision.
He detached a portion of the light cavalry and sent them ahead to scout.
They fanned out quickly, widening their field of vision.
Before long, they discovered heavy cavalry lying in ambush behind a ridge.
The heavy cavalry charged at the light cavalry.
But the light cavalry, unburdened by heavy armor, escaped without harm.
The heavy cavalry swallowed their frustration and pulled back.
The enemy's position had been confirmed.
Matyos immediately set the army in motion.
Heavy cavalry poised to charge from all sides, ready to encircle and crush.
Even solid heavy infantry would suffer against a cavalry charge. A victory was possible, but the cost would be steep.
So he thought differently.
Rather than let the heavy cavalry charge — charge them first.
Instead of waiting for the enemy to strike, he made the bold choice to strike first.
*Bwoooo—!*
The Imperial center surged forward like a massive wave and crashed into the Sharlan heavy cavalry.
The startled enemy riders tried to wheel their horses around, but light cavalry clung to them like hyenas, gnawing relentlessly at their flanks.
Heavy cavalry against light cavalry — the heavy cavalry held the advantage, naturally. But once infantry joined the fray, the equation changed entirely.
The infantry that followed swept in and began cutting down the disoriented riders.
The combined infantry slaughtered the enemy. A great battle erupted from nowhere.
The Sharlan heavy cavalry crumbled rapidly.
Seeing how things had turned, the Sharlan main force abandoned their ambush and launched a full-scale assault.
But the Imperial left and right wings, arriving in turn, shielded the flanks.
The formation took on a peculiar shape.
It looked as though the Imperial Army was driving a wedge into the Sharlan forces.
The tip of that wedge was the powerful center.
Matyos ordered a fierce push.
The center and reserves drove forward as if to cleave the enemy's middle clean in two.
The enemy committed their reserves as well — but far too late.
The Sharlan center was severed. Cut at the waist, the Sharlan forces were encircled by the Imperial Army.
And annihilated.
The battle was over.
Matyos's consciousness slipped out of the war game on its own.
*...That was fun.*
He licked his lips, turning the battle over in his mind.
He'd wondered if it would work — apparently, it had.
*How long did that take?*
He checked the clock.
Exactly ten minutes.
The fastest time yet.
He'd been aiming for under twenty, but the bold tactics had paid off better than expected.
*Good thing I did well on the last exam too.*
With this, all the tests were finished.
He was pleased — it seemed like he'd earned quite a solid score.
Professor Jill approached, breathing hard.
"Matyos. Victory. Imperial casualties... three thousand. Enemy casualties. Seventy thousand.... A perfect victory. Matyos."
Suddenly, Professor Jill grabbed his shoulders.
*Whoa — what's this about.*
"Have you ever considered becoming a great commander?"
"I... beg your pardon?"
"Let's have a word after the exam."
"Y-yes, sir..."
What on earth.
Why did he have such a bad feeling about this?
*Professor Kennedy said he wanted to see me later too.*
And now Professor Jill as well.
Something told him he was about to get tangled up in something troublesome.
*Crunch.*
"..."
Franz ground his back teeth and glared at Matyos.
That face — utterly unbothered after posting a ten-minute record — was infuriating beyond measure.
*What in the world did he pull?*
The Imperial Army numbered eighty thousand; the Sharlan forces, a hundred thousand.
The situation had been tilted against the Imperial side to begin with — and yet that bastard had casually finished in ten minutes, on top of which he'd received a shower of praise from Professor Jill.
Professor Jill, who had never once offered Franz so much as a word of commendation.
And now he was showing interest in *that* person?
*I'm the better one here!*
The moment his turn came, Franz plunged his hand into the crystal orb and connected to the war game.
The plain spread out before him.
"I'll beat this in eight minutes!"
Franz scrapped the strategy he'd originally planned.
Scout with light cavalry to locate the enemy, then use the light cavalry as bait to lure them in and envelop them with Imperial infantry.
But that approach took too long.
To beat Matyos — to finish in under eight minutes — he needed something bolder.
He ordered the entire army to advance.
"Any enemies that come charging out of ambush can simply be repelled."
Franz was confident in his command ability.
He pushed the army forward, waiting for the enemy to appear.
The Imperial forces moved through the heavy, smothering fog.
*Where are they?!*
Unable to bear it any longer, Franz sent out the light cavalry.
They shot forward.
And immediately ran headlong into the enemy.
Heavy cavalry charged as if they'd been waiting for exactly this.
The Imperial light cavalry was annihilated.
Riding the momentum of their victory, the heavy cavalry drove forward in a wedge formation.
Franz scrambled to form up his lines.
At that very moment, another force of heavy cavalry appeared from the rear — the ground the Imperial Army had already passed through.
Franz, occupied with commanding the front, had no way to respond to the attack from behind.
And so, as expected.
*CRASH!!*
The army under Franz's command was trampled.
The Sharlan heavy cavalry drove from back to front, slicing diagonally through the Imperial center.
The heavy cavalry charging from the front thrust their lances into the gap and tore through the formation, throwing it into chaos.
"No, don't — hold your positions! Listen to me!"
Franz poured every ounce of concentration into his commands, but the Imperial Army lost its nerve and collapsed.
His orders no longer reached them. The white flag went up.
The Imperial forces shattered by the Sharlan heavy cavalry stumbled about in confusion.
It was the Sharlan infantry who drove in the final nail.
They did nothing but walk forward — and the Imperial Army, utterly broken, fled in a rout.
A perfect defeat.
"Ah..."
With a hollow groan, Franz's consciousness snapped back to reality.
He lifted his hand from the crystal orb. His eyes had lost their focus, trembling faintly.
But the students around him, who hadn't yet grasped what had happened, saw only the time on the clock and erupted in wild cheers.
"Eight minutes? Franz, you really are something—!"
"Good lord. That's Georg for you! Incredible."
"Finishing that fast... he's even faster than Matyos?"
Adulation-laced noise filled the lecture hall.
Under normal circumstances, Franz would have received that praise with graceful composure — but right now, he couldn't bring himself to lift his head.
Cold sweat poured down his back like rain.
Then, parting the clamoring crowd, Professor Jill approached. His face was cool and expressionless, utterly devoid of emotion.
"Franz. Defeat. Imperial casualties: sixty thousand. Enemy casualties: three hundred."
Silence fell over the room as if cold water had been thrown over it.
The followers who had been cheering blinked at one another like broken dolls, each waiting to see what the others would do.
"...Franz von Georg. Do you consider this examination a joke?"
Professor Jill's voice dropped low.
"Even the actual Imperial Army did not suffer a defeat this catastrophic. They lost this battle, but regrouped effectively and went on to win the engagements that followed."
"..."
"But your defeat leaves no such opportunity for a reversal. What were you thinking? Driving your entire force deep into enemy territory without any scouting, only to be annihilated? Do you have a brain in your head or not?"
The color drained from Franz's face.
A public humiliation, delivered in front of all his peers.
"I am deeply disappointed in you, Mr. Franz. I cannot award you even a single point. I trust you understand that."
"...Understood."
Franz squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them — and fixed his glare on Matyos.
* * *
The salon of Porca, bathed in golden light, served as a discreet outlet for the empire's nobility.
"Pfft — hahaha. To think you'd score a zero. Just how hard was the exam? Franz."
A beautiful young man with black hair and blue eyes burst out laughing and mocked Franz mercilessly.
He was drinking wine straight from the bottle — Wilhelm, Crown Prince of the Empire.
The others gathered around him were likewise children of the so-called upper echelons.
"...I let my guard down."
Franz pinched the bridge of his nose and sipped his champagne.
Wilhelm's mockery was galling, but he was the Crown Prince.
He had to endure it.
Wilhelm, as though utterly uninterested in any reply, openly kneaded the full bosom of the pink-haired woman nestled in his arms — Claude.
"Mmm... Your Highness."
"What, stay still."
"But there are others present..."
"Let them look. Why should my future Empress care what anyone else thinks?"
*Smack.*
Wilhelm greedily sucked at her neck.
Claude let out a languid moan and pressed herself deeper into his arms.
"..."
Franz kept his face rigid as he stole a glance at the pink-haired woman — Claude.
Claude was an attractive woman.
She'd grown up without parents, yet she was spirited and warm. Her appearance stirred a protective instinct in anyone who looked at her.
Franz was no different.
He felt something toward Claude that he had never felt for any other woman — something he could only call *love*.
*...I was going to ace this exam and show off in front of her.*
Matyos.
That bastard had ruined everything.
*Click.*
"A drinking party the moment exams are over. How well did everyone do?"
The heavy door swung open, and a woman carrying a cool chill stepped into the salon.
It was Ofilienne. She cast an indifferent glance over the vulgar display of affection between Wilhelm — her fiancé — and Claude, then settled herself into the empty seat at the head of the table.
Her reason for coming was nothing special.
It was simply the regular social gathering among the nobility.
"For people like us, a trivial exam doesn't matter. Fili."
Wilhelm stuffed a slice of cake into his mouth and sneered.
"Exams exist to evaluate people. But us? We don't need anything like that. Ah — though I suppose you might be a different case."
"I don't care what you do, but does it have to be in front of others? Keep the empire's dignity in mind."
Ofilienne's cold rebuke twisted Wilhelm's expression into something ugly. Claude, nestled in his arms, began to tremble as if she might burst into tears at any moment.
"Don't call my woman something like that. You don't know what kind of person Claude is."
Ofilienne looked at Claude, trembling where she sat.
"I think I have a fairly good idea. Just a whore who's good at acting. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Claude. Don't listen to her. No matter what anyone says, you're my treasure."
"Your Highness..."
Watching the two of them exchange that sticky, clinging gaze, Ofilienne rose from her seat as if she'd had quite enough.
"Just don't come crying to me about double standards later."
"What are you talking about? Are you saying you're going to go off and have an affair?"
Wilhelm fixed her with a venomous stare.
"My fiancé is openly fooling around with a whore in plain sight. I don't see why I can't do the same."
"Is there even a man out there who'd want to be with you?"
At those words, Ofilienne paused mid-step and fell into thought.
What she'd said to Wilhelm was meant to irritate him, nothing more.
She genuinely had no time to be coy with any man, and there was no man worth being coy with anyway—
*......*
Why did Matyos come to mind just then?
The tips of Ofilienne's ears flushed faintly pink. She swept her hair back behind her ear with practiced elegance and curved her lips.
"That's none of your concern, Wilhelm."
She delivered the words coolly and walked out of the salon — and her steps, somehow, felt oddly light.
Come to think of it, today was the day Matyos's exams finished.
*Perhaps I should give him a reward.*
Her eyes gleamed with something quietly dangerous.