Around the time Areha was feeling uneasy—on the other side, Crishet could be seen, having been temporarily entrusted with command of the workers and proceeding with the fort’s expansion.
“It’s fine if this area is flimsy, so please set up the planks firmly. Something archers can hide behind is sufficient. Also, over there, place cheval de frise at equal intervals. The river crossing point further west of here is quite a distance away, so if they cross, it will likely be mainly cavalry. Take thorough countermeasures.”
“Yes, ma’am. But, are you sure about this? This fence is far too—”
The workers’ foreman asked.
The front—the fence facing the river—had many gaps and was far too fragile.
“Yes. We’ll be dealing with infantry who have broken through the river and exhausted their stamina. We just need to impede them and further sap their stamina and morale.”
Saying so, she pointed beyond the fence at the front of the fort—to the stakes driven into the grassy area at regular intervals.
Ropes were tied between the deeply driven stakes, concealed by the grass.
It was a simple trap, merely meant to trip them.
Enemy soldiers would advance through a river with poor footing, amidst a rain of arrows, in a state of tension, excitement, and exhaustion.
Everyone would wear down their nerves to cross the river, and after breaking through, they would dash to establish a bridgehead.
It was a setup sufficient to break the spirit of soldiers who had fallen into tunnel vision.
Hard-to-see ropes, woven from vines, were strung up before they could reach the fort’s fence.
If they were to trip and fall amidst a rain of arrows, anyone would panic.
Being makeshift, it had durability issues, but if they were cut, it was a simple matter of restringing them during the night.
Cutting these ropes at their feet for their comrades, amidst a rain of arrows pouring down from above, would require a spirit of self-sacrifice, and disarming all of them would demand immense effort.
Maximum effect for minimal cost.
Crishet enjoyed such trial and error.
It was not intended to annihilate the attacking enemy.
This fort, which prioritized lowering morale, was indeed fragile.
Had this been a simple plain, it would have been a meaningless contraption, offering no reward commensurate with the effort.
However, when considered as a defensive point against an enemy’s river assault, it was extremely effective—because a river assault, no matter what, increases casualties on the attacking side.
The soldiers’ morale would hardly rise; they would have to advance, masking their fear with fervor.
That is precisely why obstructing their movement, even if only to delay them, would yield more than sufficient results.
—Soldiers follow the backs of those who go before them.
Those who can stand at the very front are heroes, and it is because those heroes are there that many soldiers can advance.
If such heroes were impeded and died in the rain of arrows, then the thought ‘I’m next’ would awaken the supporting soldiers from their fervor and halt their advance.
Lowering morale—it was a wicked fort focused solely on that.
That said, it wasn’t as if Crishet, its creator, understood the subtle intricacies of the soldiers’ hearts to that extent.
Because Crishet possessed a unique way of thinking, she was poor at deciphering emotions.
Scared, sad, angry.
Even if she could recognize such emotions themselves, she still couldn’t quite grasp the process by which people came to feel them, despite Berry’s teachings.
When she was entrusted with the construction of the fort, which she had intended to leave entirely to Bohgan and the others, that was what troubled her greatly: the problem of under what circumstances people feel fear and soldiers’ morale drops.
After much thought, what Crishet conducted was an interview survey.
She gathered privates, corporals, and the like in a tent and questioned each one, making fear on the battlefield the central topic.
—”One cannot be a soldier without being valiant. Each and every one must be a hero.”
Soldiers who held such words in their hearts could hardly be expected to frankly expose their own cowardice, and at first, the survey progressed very slowly.
The one who changed that situation was Gahlen, who was assisting her.
Gahlen spoke of his time as a private and laid bare his own cowardice.
He then told them that being cowardly was not shameful but natural, and that a true hero was one who, after fully recognizing their fear, mustered their courage, thus changing the soldiers’ perceptions.
The words of Gahlen, who had once been renowned for his bravery and was now the general’s adjutant, resonated deeply with the soldiers, and through this, Crishet was able to obtain valuable opinions from many of them.
This wicked fort was built based on the opinions gathered there.
The topic of what kind of situations evoked fear had shifted to how they overcame that fear, but for Crishet, either was fine.
To summarize the opinions voiced, soldiers fought to protect their comrades and feared isolation above all else.
Of course, they feared their own death. But if they didn’t overcome that fear, their comrades standing in the same deadly place would be sacrificed, and to protect those comrades, soldiers would risk their lives.
Everyone cherished the lives of their comrades with whom they had shared meals, and thus feared being left alone—somehow, that seemed to be the common understanding among the soldiers.
However, Crishet wasn’t particularly interested in whether those opinions were actually correct.
Her understanding was merely that such an aesthetic probably existed among the soldiers; what Crishet sought lay in the process by which such opinions were voiced.
After finishing the interviews, the conclusion Crishet reached was that soldiers were ‘a flock of sheep led by dogs.’
There were ‘dogs’ called ‘Instigators’ and ‘sheep’ called ‘Followers.’
The Followers would agree with the Instigators’ opinions, deeming them reasonable, and share that aesthetic.
The Instigator soldiers were generally brave and daring, excellent soldiers who would charge headfirst into enemy lines.
On the battlefield, too, the Followers would likely trail behind the Instigators who advanced at the forefront of deadly ground.
In that case, it was enough to kill only the Instigators at the very front.
The Instigators were the ‘ideal soldiers’ for the troops.
Therefore, she judged it would be extremely effective to show them such Instigators being helplessly killed by trivial contraptions.
In a situation like a river assault, where morale was already low, that would be more than enough.
There was no time to build a perfect fort, and what was required was an effective one.
Crishet did not forget that objective.
“If they try to take this fort by concentrating their forces, that’s fine by me. Because it holds no meaning even if the enemy captures it.”
The rear of the fort—this side—was completely defenseless.
The number of posts had been drastically reduced, and there were no defensive walls whatsoever.
From this side, retaking it would be easy; even if destroyed, rebuilding it would be simple, and if necessary, abandoning it would also be easy.
This fort offered the enemy no tactical advantage whatsoever.
If they aimed here, it would prevent a concentration of forces on other parts, and damage could be suppressed.
In that case, she even thought she’d rather they attack it.
“Well, I suppose this is about complete. I’ll leave the rest to you. If you have time, tie some grass together or make some loops to trip people. We’ll keep the leftover materials for later repairs.”
“Yes. Crishet-sama, where are you going?”
“My role is finished, so I will await the Head of the House-sama—ah, the General’s instructions. I’m delegating command here to you, so after that, the Third Army Corps here can handle it as they see fit. …Nn.”
Saying so, Crishet stretched and sleepily stifled a small yawn.
For the past few days, work had been a round-the-clock rush, so she was fundamentally sleep-deprived.
As Crishet usually slept about twice as much as a normal person, sleep deprivation was extremely hard on her.
Stating only that she was going back to the tent to sleep, she turned her back and walked away.
“Crishet, how are things? I came to check on the situation.”
And just at that moment, Selene appeared, mounted on a horse.
“Instructions for the necessary parts are finished. I’ve left the rest to the foreman-san, so please speak with him.”
“…Um?”
The foreman, to whom command had been so casually transferred, was bewildered, while Crishet, in contrast, looked utterly uninterested.
Crishet wore her usual expressionless face—however, Selene had spent enough time with her to read the minute changes in it.
Crishet’s large eyes, usually wide open, were slightly narrowed, and she was moving her lips softly. These were signs of sleepiness.
Seeing Crishet’s expression, Selene sighed and pulled Crishet’s hand from atop her horse.
Crishet, who was wearing a skirt, was pulled by the arm and ended up held by Selene, riding sidesaddle, as her cheek was pinched.
“Ugh… mhy cheeg…”
“Honestly. …I’ll listen to your report on the way back to the tent, so please bear with it a little longer. Foreman, would it be alright if I take this child with me?”
“Y-Yes… I’ve received the necessary instructions, Adjutant General Chrishtand.”
“I see. If you need any materials, personnel, or anything else, just let me know. Well, there probably won’t be any major battles for a few more days, so you likely won’t need them, but… don’t you think you’ll want a bit more manpower for repairs?”
“It depends on how much damage we sustain… but the structure is simple, so I believe our current personnel will probably be sufficient.”
“…I see. But the more I look at this fort, the more unsettling it becomes. If I came back in half a year, it looks like it would collapse on its own even if nothing happened to it.”
It was built with green wood that had absorbed plenty of water.
Ample water for extinguishing fires had also been placed, and while it was certainly highly resistant to fire arrows, it looked like it would start to rot quickly and self-destruct.
“…It’s a fort that will have no use in half a year, so it’s fine.”
Crishet, her cheeks slightly puffed out from having them pinched, replied.
Priority had been given to creating its shape, so it was merely a hollow shell with no consideration whatsoever for durability.
However, precisely because of that, Selene, who had thoroughly learned the fundamentals of fortification, felt an indescribable sense of unease.
Of course, she knew Crishet could build a proper fort if she wished, and she understood that Crishet was doing this intentionally.
But, at this point, it was probably a matter of preference.
“I understand that, but it’s, how should I put it, a matter of feeling.”
Cradling Crishet’s body, which had grown warm with drowsiness, Selene stroked her head.
It was almost a habit by now, an unconscious act.
The squad leader couldn’t help but be captivated by the sight of the two beautiful girls mounted on the horse.
The closeness of their relationship was a well-known fact.
Crishet was expressionless, and it was hard to tell what she was thinking, but in front of Selene-sama, she often showed a dependent, almost spoiled side.
Rumors about Crishet’s peculiarities had spread among the soldiers, but at the same time, her beauty and charm were also known among them.
Especially thanks to Selene-sama—an object of admiration for the soldiers, someone they considered an unattainable flower—diligently looking after her, the two were perceived as an outstanding older sister with an excellent character, and a slightly eccentric, genius-type younger sister.
Selene-sama had no unpleasantness about her, nor any of the arrogance typical of nobles.
If necessary, she would speak directly even to a common soldier.
And if she found merit in the opinions voiced, her magnanimity in frankly accepting and incorporating them was well-received by the soldiers.
Just as Grace had done in the village, Crishet was protected from much malice by Selene-sama’s popularity.
“…Honestly now.”
As Selene-sama urged the horse towards the command tent, Crishet, still cradled in Selene-sama’s arms, closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Selene-sama, though exasperated, slowed the horse’s pace, careful not to disturb her slumber.
Falling asleep like a young child on the battlefield—and on the very front lines at that—could, depending on one’s perspective, be seen as a lack of tension and invite resentment.
However, the sight of these two, blessed with military talent and beauty, was somewhat picturesque. And because they were fourteen or fifteen—in fact, still on the cusp between childhood and adulthood—it instead served to soothe the soldiers’ hearts and boost their morale.
The minimum age to become a soldier was fifteen, so to most, they were still young, and for that very reason, they stirred the soldiers’ protective instincts.
“Two Fair Princesses in Chrishtand, and the Heroes Who Protect Them”—it reached the point where songs like this were composed. This, combined with the good disposition of the Chrishtand soldiers, meant that no one directed any displeasure at such a sight of them.
And Selene-sama had her own calculations in this.
She had long been aware of the unfavorable rumors spreading about Crishet, but Crishet herself was completely indifferent to such things.
Selene-sama had concluded that if left alone, Crishet’s standing would only worsen.
Normally, showing herself in such a way would be decidedly unacceptable, but Crishet was a truly unique existence, one who unconsciously instilled fear in those who caught a glimpse of her inner nature.
There was nothing Selene-sama could do about that.
Crishet was Crishet, and no matter what was said, that aspect of her likely couldn’t be changed.
After pondering how to change the impression she gave, Selene-sama had figured that showing this dependent, attention-seeking side of Crishet would balance things out.
Crishet was calm, composed, polite, and earnest—but at the same time, because she had been quite spoiled in the village, her mental makeup was, in truth, childlike, making her seem younger than her appearance.
Even to Selene-sama, who was confident in her own looks, Crishet was an undeniably perfect beauty, and her mental immaturity, in Crishet’s case alone, was nothing short of charming.
Selene-sama’s scheme was proving quite effective, and she felt satisfied as she bathed in the gazes of those around them.
That said, Selene-sama herself still had many mentally immature aspects.
Crishet, who showed her defenseless, dependent side to Selene-sama, was adorable. And here, without Berry, Selene-sama was the only one Crishet could be dependent on.
Crishet was aloof, and her way of thinking differed from others, but she was more innocent and pure than anyone.
Selene-sama harbored an unconscious desire to show off the fact that such a girl would act dependent only towards her.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Regardless, due to Selene-sama’s actions, Crishet was fitting in well within the army.