Escape

As the Counselor was analyzing all the possibilities and options they had, a lot of thoughts flickered in the General's head like the candle on the table. After this whole-night, heart-open conversation with his Counselor, the general made his decision. At the time of then, he was listening to his counselor carefully.

A command of retreatment from the Emperor?

Expecting the sun would rise from the west was more reasonable than expecting that command, according to the Counselor.

They would be defeated for sure but in different ways. If they retreated, the damage to the reputation of a big empire was unbearable to the Emperor—the interior weakness, hidden beneath a facade of power, would be exposed; the fear rooted inside the countries around this big empire would be doubted, which would encourage them to make further tests; the confidence and worship of the domestic subjects to the authority would be weakened, which possibly would shake the longstanding dominant position of the Emperor.

Victory and defeat were both common in battle—he could always say, after the total destruction of an army, when the King was celebrating the bravery of the soldiers and announcing the determination to defend national sovereignty.

Reinforcements might be deployed by the King?

This was the largest military operation in the history of the Kingdom, as far as the General knew. Neither left much time for the authority to prepare more forces, nor nothing would change even if more soldiers were maneuvered here.

Also, to send all the soldiers out was a stupid idea because a Kingdom empty of soldiers would be as fragile as a crying baby, vulnerable and exposed, to all the small counties around, who were friends when this Kingdom was powerful and strong but definitely threats when it was in trouble and chaos.

All in all, salvaging the situation was not the issue concerned by the authority since they knew failure was inevitable, but how to clean up the shit after it.

Kill himself?

A stupid idea, an escape from reality, General had to admit it was; however, he was too exhausted to face all these: shouting orders, hearing reports, being updated on how many soldiers died, and how many were alive, when he already saw what was around the corner. He just wanted to end it more quickly. Or, he just tried using death to ease his intensity: instead of facing his family, motherland, reputation, and responsibility, death was a big relief for him.

Or fight to the last one?

That's obviously what everyone wanted, except the Counselor, who put forward another option with details—to escape secretly with well-planned steps, or say, to live, as he called it. It was the best option: the authority satisfied, their families safe, the sparks kept, the possibility of the future remained, his fame undamaged, lives saved.

"May I see the military map?" asked the Counselor.

A simple drawing rather than a map it was, without many details on it. This big piece of cloth only showed the directions, mountains, rivers, and so on, mostly for you to guess than read. The counselor had checked this map thousands of times, and he asked for it just to show the General his plan, or just something to put between him and the General to avoid awkwardness.

To the east, it was the way back to the Capital city of their land, just the way they came over here, and a long journey enough to take them months.

General, for seconds, thought of the day the whole Kingdom saw him off, the King, all the top civil and military officials, and all the plain citizens in the city. He, the leader, was laden with confidence and satisfaction for a good reason. Why not? He had been waiting and preparing for this day all his life as well as the whole Kingdom. For the time of then, he had all the strong soldiers, trained for years for this day, equipped with the finest weapons in this Kingdom, infantry or cavalry; he had the best logistic support ever from years' cumulation of tax; he had the best brain—the counselor, though he thought it unnecessary. What more he could possibly expect? However, the level of his confidence on that day was the level of how much he wanted to kill himself at the time of now.

Even received the order of retreat, he didn't think he could go back shamelessly and face all the people. On the other hand, without the order of retreat, if they went back to the Kingdom, they would definitely be executed as deserters. As for army deserter families, whether soldiers or officials, they would be in hell: men in the family would be slaves, and women would be sold to a brothel either an official one or a personal one, as punishment. So, the east was absolutely not a choice.

To the north, that's where the enemy was, the destination they should charge into and, obviously, to be killed at the end for the glory of soldiers, or the hatred of hundreds of years. Meanwhile, it was the easiest way for General to go without racking his brain. Sometimes, not rarely for some people, death was a relief while living was too heavy a burden. However, it was not optional for the Counselor, and that's why they were talking and discussing.

To the west, no one knew where this direction would lead to, the wild, the end of the world, the dead zone maybe.

"What about the south?" General asked.

"As far as I can reason, if we go all the way south, straight across the mountains, we would possibly reach the sea."

"'Possibly' you said?"

"I don't know more than you do about it." The counselor looked down at the map, not lifting his head.

"I guess we should go south," said the General.

"Not exactly. The majority of us will go south, and the rest will stay.

"What do you mean?" General asked, full of puzzlement and surprise.

The counselor lifted his head finally, looking at General, feeling like it was time to tell General the whole picture and all the details he figured out in the prison van for days, but he said, instead, "You have a tough choice to make!"

To the south would they go for sure, since to which they knew, at least, where they would head; however, at the same time, two thousand soldiers would stay in the camp to cover them until the end of the retreatment.

Four or five thousand soldiers, at first, would run to the south afoot quietly at night until they reach the mountains where they would wait for the rest to gather with them; then another four or five thousand, the other night. In this way, the enemy would not find out about their retreat.

"That's an excellent plan!" General seemed absorbed in the Counselor's idea.

"Not really. Some, at least two thousand, soldiers have to stay, or say, to die, for this plan, for us. That's the tough choice I'm talking about: you have to pick up two thousand soldiers to die for our plan."

More than one thousand wounded soldiers would be too big a burden for a quiet escape. Even if they made it to the mountains, it was not possible for them to make it across the mountains, considering no medicine, a journey God knows how long they would cover, and the climbing or falling among the mountains. So they had to stay.

Since they had to stay, they couldn't be left alone because not only had they no ability to fight back and would be slaughtered but also they could surrender and tell the enemy about the plan.

So, some soldiers had to stay and fight to the last one to show the enemy and, more importantly, their King that the whole army was slaughtered to the very last person. Nothing but this created illusion could stop the enemy from following them up and keep the King from punishing their families.

"Aside from the wounded, two thousand soldiers was a proper amount: they can stand against the enemies' blows for a couple of times, and this amount is big enough to puzzle a tired opponent."

"The enemy can still find out the truth if they are smart enough," said the General.

"Yes, they probably can. During months of the war, dead bodies are everywhere. It's impossible for them to count out how many bodies are on the prairie, but you and me, the General and the Counselor, they have to find out. So, you have to leave all your personal items here, your armor, your sword, and so on, and I will find a dead body similar to your figure and mess up his face to fake your body with your items."

Opening his mouth, General wanted to interrupt the Counselor, who lifted his palm in the air to press back his words.

"No soldiers should know our plan, and what they are told is that we are applying a new strategy to fight back. In this way, before they realize anything, you will be far away. As for the possibility of any soldier being captured and telling the enemy the truth, I will stay to make sure it won't happen, which means I will make sure no one will be captured alive."

The Counselor stopped for a moment, emotionless while the General full of tears in his eyes, who did not realize why and when his eyes were red—for his Counselor, or for his soldiers? The general didn't even know what was going on in his heart—sad? Moved? Desperate? Disappointed? Way too much mixed and stirred up in his heart.

Then, the Counselor continued, "Even if the enemy finds out the truth by any means that I can not think of, which must be days after your leaving, they will keep their mouths shut and announce the end of the war since their country is on the verge of collapse and they can't wait a minute longer to show off to their soldiers and subjects the victory. Similarly, our King will do the same, even if he knows the truth, to announce that all the soldiers die a glorious death. All the point is to fool the soldiers, either the enemy's or our own's, and shut their mouths."

"You are not going with me?" General asked.

"You are not listening! That's not the point!" The counselor burst into anger all of a sudden.

"I can't leave you behind and escape alone!" General said.

"You are missing all the points! You are not escaping! You are the only one who can lead them out of here! They will follow your order without any doubt! With you, they are soldiers; without you, they will be out of control and scatter, which is a big risk to our plan. Anyway, you have to go."

"I understand. But what's the point you staying here, since you, a scholar, can't fight?" The General felt as if he couldn't breathe anymore. His chest hurt and his throat choked. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to calm his mind.

"I don't want to argue with you about this stupid trivia. Let's deal with the next problem: who can stay and stand as a leader. He has to know and understand our whole plan and stay to fight until his death perfectly willingly. Do you have any candidate in your mind?" Counselor asked.

The General stopped a moment, though he already had an answer just when the question asked out by the Counselor; however, he had all the people who would fit in go through his head: the ones he trusted the most, the ones he liked the most, the ones who could die for him, and the ones he chose to die.

He coughed and cleared his throat, like a child to admit his mistake, and finally, he said out the answer:

"My Lieutenant."