There’s something slightly twisted about it, but watching an enemy fall into utter despair always feels satisfying.
I don’t mean the kind of despair that comes from personal hardships or life’s struggles.
I’m talking about the despair that consumes someone when all their plans and strategies crumble, leaving nothing but ruin.
The kind that arises from being forced to acknowledge defeat and the humiliation that comes with it.
Why, you ask?
It’s simple. Seeing them in that state fills me with a sense of accomplishment.
It makes me think, How well must I have done for them to break down like that? It’s a source of pride.
Take, for example, Duke Barelmud standing outside his castle right now.
“Why… why are you there?!”
There I was, sitting casually on the edge of the castle wall, munching on a dry biscuit.
And there he was, ragged and panting as he led his defeated remnants.
A striking contrast, really. Just a few years ago, our positions were almost entirely reversed.
After finishing the biscuit and washing it down with water, I finally responded to his question.
“Well, isn’t it obvious? Because I took this castle while you were off leading your entire army elsewhere.”
“You secured the entire fortress… in just half a day?”
His eyes blinked rapidly in disbelief.
Of course, it was hard to believe.
Even I had to admit that this fortress was a well-constructed stronghold.
The walls were high and thick, and while the design was a bit outdated, it was still an excellent military installation.
Placed on the northern front, it would’ve made for a valuable defensive stronghold and garrison.
But what can you do? It’s already fallen.
He had no one to blame but himself for leaving such a fine fortress so poorly guarded.
“I found plenty of treasures while searching the place, you know? Fine wines, jewels, administrative documents for your territory… and people. Bring them in.”
“Yes, sir.”
At my signal, my aide dutifully brought in the hostages we had captured.
“Darling!”
“Grandfather! Please, don’t kill us!!”
“Yulia? Pavel??”
Ah, so the old lady’s name was Yulia.
Good to know.
I had Duke Barelmud’s wife and grandchildren, bound with ropes, brought to stand beside me.
I even allowed them a moment to exchange words with the Duke.
For a brief moment, he looked utterly bewildered.
But soon enough, his confusion turned into unbridled fury.
Pointing his finger at me, he shouted, hurling insults and curses.
“You spawn of Satan! Do you have no heart?! Taking innocent women and children hostage?!”
“What on earth are you talking about? These people are your family, aren’t they? The direct relatives and spouse of the ringleader of this rebellion—of course they’re relevant.”
Honestly, why does anyone expect mercy or morality in war?
Unless you’re crossing the line into outright atrocities like massacring civilians or committing genocide, isn’t it natural to use any means necessary to win?
If taking hostages is what it takes, then that’s just part of the game.
No matter what criticisms may follow later, if those actions ensure victory and save your soldiers, then that’s the right and just choice.
This isn’t some medieval age of chivalry where honor comes before practicality.
Nobles like him—good at politics but utterly detached from reality—always spout nonsense like this.
“Enough small talk. Let’s get to the point.”
Sighing inwardly, I placed my hands on the shoulders of the hostages and addressed the Duke.
“It’s time for you to stop resisting and surrender. You have no chance of victory left. If you disarm your troops and comply with my orders, I promise leniency to the extent possible.”
Compared to boiling the nobles in the capital alive, these were exceedingly generous terms.
Yet whether it was a lack of common sense or blind rage clouding his judgment, the Duke didn’t even hesitate to kick this golden opportunity away.
“Ridiculous! Do you think I’ll surrender so easily? Men! Prepare to lay siege to the fortress immediately! We’ll retake it in one swift strike and regroup our forces!”
“…Excuse me? What did you just say, Your Grace?”
“Did you not hear me?! Prepare to lay siege! We must retake the fortress and regroup for the future!”
The Duke’s subordinates exchanged uneasy glances.
With the Central Army, largely unscathed, hot on their heels, and now practically at their doorstep, launching a siege that could last days was sheer madness.
Perhaps their lord had finally lost his mind, they must have thought.
Though it was true that a siege was the only conceivable option left to them, there’s a stark difference between what can be done and what’s actually feasible.
As such, the soldiers hesitated, fidgeting awkwardly, without making any serious moves.
“Sigh.”
Useless nobles who held high ranks solely by birthright were always the most frustrating to deal with.
Clicking my tongue, I shifted my focus away from the Duke and addressed his vassals and officers directly.
“Soldiers! I’ll make you an offer. Arrest Duke Barelmud and lay down your arms immediately. If you do, I guarantee your lives and promise you will be treated with leniency.”
“W-what?! Don’t listen to him! It’s nothing but the lies of a traitor!”
The Duke shouted, trying to rally them, but it was clear the tide had already turned.
“…We’re sorry, Your Grace. We have to survive.”
“We surrender! Please, spare our lives!”
It didn’t take long before the Duke’s vassals gagged him and raised a white flag in surrender.
A couple of hours later, our main force finally arrived at the fortress, allowing us to begin the post-battle cleanup.
“Disarm the soldiers and release them immediately. Most of them are just ordinary peasants. There’s no need to harm them unnecessarily—except for mercenaries and known criminals. Keep those detained.”
“Understood. I’ll see to it right away.”
“And don’t forget to confiscate the goods from the merchants and porters who followed the enemy army before releasing them as well.”
It was best to quickly deal with the less significant elements—those who posed no real threat and would only get in the way—so we could focus on more critical matters.
“Our Duke… our Duke, Your Grace, is—”
“Damn it! Release me at once! How dare you treat the descendant of a family honored since the days of the first king like this?!”
“Ugh, you’re unbearably noisy.”
Next up was dealing with the highest-ranking individual here—the Duke himself.
I’d briefly had his gag removed, thinking I might get some testimony out of him.
But as expected, he immediately began bellowing and throwing a tantrum.
“Who forced you to rebel? Did someone put a sword to your neck and threaten you? You brought this upon yourself, so take responsibility for it.”
“You were the one who tried to ruin us first! Just as you destroyed the House of Roengram!!”
“The Duke of Roengram ignored royal orders. I didn’t go after them on a whim.”
Of course, those orders had been forged to create a pretext.
But technically, the process and evidence were airtight—it was officially a decree from Carl VII.
By refusing that order, Roengram had been declared a traitor, and their extermination was perfectly justifiable.
“Had you not raised an army, I wouldn’t have had to march the Central Army down here. Don’t confuse cause and effect.”
Not that it mattered. If Barelmud hadn’t made the first move, I would’ve found some other excuse—just as I had with Roengram.
The difference here was that Duke Barelmud had kindly handed me all the justification I needed by panicking and assembling his forces preemptively.
I suppose I should return the favor by sending him to the guillotine instead of boiling him alive.
Perhaps once the remaining major families are uprooted, I’ll host a public execution ceremony for all the heads of the noble houses.
“Bind him with the Duchess and load them into a wagon. They’ll stand trial in the capital.”
“Kill me, you scoundrel! Don’t humiliate me any further—just kill me cleanly—mmph!”
We shoved the struggling old man into the wagon as though he were just another piece of luggage.
With the Duke and his family dealt with, all that remained were the former vassals of the House of Barelmud:
The officers captured on the battlefield, those who surrendered, and the retainers left behind in the fortress.
These were the middle-ranking officials and administrators who had served the Duke in both military and civilian capacities.
In one way or another, these people had likely been directly or indirectly involved in exploiting the populace under the guise of war.
The severity of their crimes varied, but it wasn’t unreasonable to regard all of them as guilty.
“Too valuable to kill.”
Unlike the wholesale purge in the capital, I couldn’t just eliminate everyone here.
Each educated and experienced individual was a rare asset right now.
After all, I’d already decimated the central government, and if I completely destroyed the local administration too, who would handle the governance?
Without these people, we wouldn’t even be able to collect taxes from the Duchy of Barelmud.
The best course of action was to keep them alive while imposing an appropriate punishment.
“Luckily, I have just the idea.”
Having reached my conclusion, I raised my voice.
“Hear me!”
I adjusted my tone, projecting with the same force I used when giving speeches.
“You are all guilty of serious crimes. You exploited the people, forced an unjust war upon them, and even dared to defy the government. These are unforgivable acts, deserving of the severest punishments!”
I started by instilling fear, laying out their crimes and emphasizing the consequences they deserved.
As I watched their faces grow pale with dread, I followed up with a semblance of mercy, offering them hope.
“But there is a way to atone. Though you cannot erase the wrongs you’ve committed, you can repent for them and earn forgiveness.”
“I-is that true?”
“It is! Through labor!”
“Labor will set you free.”
…No, not in the twisted historical sense. I meant it quite literally: they would work, and their punishment would be commuted through that effort.
“You each possess specialized knowledge and skills in your respective fields—be it military, finance, or civil engineering. Isn’t that right?”
“Y-yes! I was the chief accountant for the Duchy of Barelmud!”
“I’m a facilities manager! I can handle any construction project!”
As they eagerly began touting their qualifications, I cut them off with a brief declaration.
“Good. Swear here and now that you will dedicate your talents and abilities to the service of the nation! Endure hardship for just 10 years, and you will be granted your freedom!”
“Wha—really?! That’s it?”
“Yes. Prove your loyalty and worth, and you’ll earn a second chance.”
“Woooooo!!”
And with that, I had successfully secured a workforce of valuable administrative “volunteers.”