“The ‘Empire’ of Rhin-Lotharingie is not, and has never been, a homogenous entity. Formed in the aftermath of the Rhin-Lotharingie Independence War from a loose coalition of insurgent groups, outlaw settlements, mountain clans, and rebellious vassals, the Empire remains to the present day a collage of different languages, laws, customs, and hierarchies.
“Yet, despite all of their differences, the people of the Empire have one thing in common — being Lotharin. It is the shared cultural origin which unites them, the foundation of a singular identity which binds them.”
– Yue Yuling, Journey to the West, Part II: Thunder of the Great War
“–Then it’s decided,” Kaede heard Princess Sylviane declare from the head of the oval table. “General Caradoc and General Macdonald will lead the counteroffensive in the Avorica front. We will exploit the defeat of the Caliphate’s western invasion force during the winter campaign and push them back to the border.”
The Samaran girl stood at attention in the space behind Pascal and Sylviane. The table was double ringed by attendees as over two dozen of the Empire’s top brass filled the room. Kaede’s own rank as the Grand Squire of the Empire made her one of the Six Great Officers of the Crown. Nevertheless, her importance in the conference didn’t compare to the nobles and generals who served as commanders of armies and war fronts.
It was also the largest gathering of paladins that Kaede had ever seen. The girl looked up at the thick beams supporting the large room and saw five different phoenixes looking down upon the meeting. The birds all varied in size and came in different shades and patterns of blue. However, all of them snuggled close to each other despite the fact they rarely all met.
“Understood,” the huge and intimidating General Caradoc ap Gwydion, who wore a wolf’s head on his shoulders, acknowledged in his gruff voice. “However, Your Highness, as Macdonald and I both hold the same rank as General of Army, it would be best if one of us is given overall command.”
Prudent advice, consider how many battles were lost when two co-leaders can’t agree, Kaede thought before she looked at the other general. However…
“I nominate my colleague,” General François Macdonald said without hesitation.
The square-faced old soldier held his head high even as he sat. His proud bearing and immaculate military dress gave the impression of noble birth. Yet the reality was that Macdonald had been a low-born yeomen elevated to the aristocracy by the late Emperor.
“General Caradoc’s offensive skills are superior to my own. His reputation as the Dread Wolf is well-known. And his Army of Ceredigion will form the core of the counteroffensive. Meanwhile, my current command, the rebuilt Army of Avorica, is untested after the losses of the winter campaign.”
True pride does not quarrel over glory. Kaede smiled.
The Kingdom of Avorica had suffered catastrophic losses since the opening phase of the war. Their top leadership had been gutted, which was why Macdonald, who had been commander of the capital garrison before the war, was now leading their army. Queen Katell of Avorica was also the only of the five rulers absent from the table — though that was not due to the war but rather her recent childbirth.
“Seconded,” Marshal Cosette added with a simple nod.
The graying-haired woman sat symbolically right of the Princess just as Pascal occupied the seat to Sylviane’s left. Meanwhile, behind the Princess’ left and right stood Kaede and her near-doppelganger Vivienne — which only added to the common misunderstanding that they were twins.
“Your Majesty?”
“Of course I agree,” King Llywelyn responded with the practiced smile of a consummate politician. The short and boyish teenage king had only recently ascended to the throne of the western kingdom of Ceredigion after his elder brother suspiciously fell off a balcony.
Llywelyn no doubt trusts Caradoc, Kaede thought. The latter served as Ceredigion’s top general and guardian of the young king. Regardless, she knew that what Llywelyn actually agreed to was that his kingdom would carry the logistical burdens for the western front of the war — which Sylviane had negotiated before this meeting.
“Then we’re all in agreement. General Caradoc — you have front command,” Sylviane declared before turning to the other. “And General Macdonald, you have my sincere gratitude for rebuilding the shattered Army of Avorica in record time.”
“It’s one thing to organize men into a fighting force, Your Highness. It’s another to drill discipline and cohesiveness into them,” Macdonald answered. “History will judge if I have succeeded.”
“Well said,” Pascal nodded as he looked upon the middle-aged general with deep respect.
“<Macdonald never ceases to impress me,>” he commented over the telepathic channel they had set up earlier. It tied together individual links between the five allies from yesterday’s rooftop discussion to talk in private even during the meeting. “<It is rare to find a leader of his caliber who can work well with anyone.>”
“<Unlike Your Grace?>” King Alistair joked which made Kaede stifle a giggle.
“<If only everyone else were as easy,>” Sylviane responded before she spoke again:
“General Gervais, I’d like for your sworn brothers — Laurent and Edgard — to transfer to the Avorican front. In return, I will personally make a request for Saint Edith-Estellise and her Knights Hospitaller to be transferred to your central front.”
“Your Highness…” Gervais Odo de Vascones objected in a sullen voice.
The Paladin and General lifted his tired gaze off the conference table and its three-dimensional strategic map display. The man had dark rings around his eyes and looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for years.
“Saint Edith doesn’t get along with General Caradoc due to differences of religion,” Sylviane explained before Gervais went any further. “But a Lotharin offensive without Oriflammes would be inappropriate.”
“Too right.” King Alistair thumped his chest with an eager grin. “There’s never been a decisive victory in Lotharin history where our soldiers did not follow the radiance of a paladin into battle.”
“Yes, I understand,” Gervais’ tone remained dispirited as he sighed. “I take it that my front will be taking a backseat as usual.”
I would certainly hope so, Kaede frowned as she thought. I can smell the alcohol in your breath from over here.
The Samaran girl wonders if the only reason Gervais has kept his post was due to his long and distinguished service record. As a hero of the First and Second Garonan Independence Wars, the Paladin and General has bled for the Empire for over sixty years. Yet as the man aged, he turned increasingly towards inaction and substance abuse.
I feel sorry for his phoenix.
Kaede looked up at Bayard, a large phoenix with an unusually wide wingspan. It huddled between Sylviane’s Hauteclaire and Vivienne’s Olifant as though the two smaller birds were consoling it.
“Yes,” the Princess answered straight. “Your job will be to harass and skirmish with the Caliphate’s forces in the mountains. We need you to tie down as many Tauheed soldiers as possible in support of the Avorica counteroffensive.”
“As you will,” Gervais replied in a voice devoid of enthusiasm. “Though Your Highness, can you be sure that Saint Edith will even remain loyal? She is the ‘Saint of Crusaders’ after all — the ‘Miracle of Ronceval’ who saved the rearguard of the 3rd Crusade. Are you certain she won’t join our enemies now that the Pope has declared a 4th?”
The Princess scowled as it was hardly the place to discuss such matters. Edith might not be attending the conference in person. But there was always a chance she might hear about the topics discussed.
Praises should be given in public. Criticisms and doubts expressed in private, Kaede thought of the leadership lesson that Sylviane had once given her. It was a policy that the Princess believed in and held to… at least most of the time.
“I cannot say for certain,” she admitted. “But I have faith in Edith that she’ll prioritize the greater good and focus on the infidels. The 3rd Tauheed Holy War presents a threat to the entire Trinitian realm, regardless of our internal squabbles.”
“Edith has also sworn an oath to be an ecumenical defender of the Trinitian faith,” Cosette added. “I doubt she will turn her back on fellow Trinitians in need, regardless of what the Pope brands us as.”
It’s also the reason why she refused to partake in the civil war, Kaede thought.
Gervais merely let out another sigh before responding in little more than a mutter. “We’ll do our best, Your Highness.”
Losing his sworn brothers only to receive someone unreliable in exchange.
Kaede felt sympathy for the general but kept it to herself. A significant part of leadership was about prioritization and assigning tasks. Limited resources meant someone always had to receive the short end of the stick.
“And that concludes our discussion of strategic objectives in the western and central fronts,” Sylviane declared as she scanned around the table for any last minute comments. “Now, we must turn our attention to the highlight of this meeting in the southeast, where war with the Imperium is now upon us. Henri?”
A tall and strikingly handsome young man who looked no older than twenty stood up. He wore a charming smile and had beautiful, deep-emerald eyes beneath his wavy, brunette locks. His chin was clean-shaven with a pronounced jawline which stood out beneath the gentle curve of a feminine nose. His pretty-boy appearance was only marred by an outbreak of acne which spoke to his youth.
Yet despite his age, Henri de La Tours de Lorraine was one of the most powerful men in the realm. He was the scion of the powerful aristocratic House of La Tours which dominated the Rhétie region to the Empire’s southwest. It was his hand that played the decisive move during the climatic battle that ended the civil war. And as a reward, he was given free reign to form the new Bureau of Bookkeeping and Statistics, which effectively made him the Empire’s spymaster.
“As you all know,” Henri began, “in response to the attacks launched by the Garona Liberation Army last Friday, the Imperator has declared war upon the Kingdom of Garona, and by extension the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie. The war was immediately ordained as the 4th Crusade by Pope Vigilius, which places our Empire as the enemy of the entire Trinitian realm.
“We do not yet know how many crusaders will answer the Holy See’s call-to-arms,” Henri continued. “However, my sources confirm that the Imperium has assembled more than thirty-five legions, including five of their seven elite Tagmata Legions, near our southern borders. That’s a mobilization of over 180,000 men. Many of them are veterans of the Imperium’s wars with the Caliphate in the southern continent.”
It spoke to the professionalism of the attendees that nobody made a sound in response to the intimidating numbers. Nevertheless, more than a few stares from around the table turned towards Duke Raymond de Saint-Gilles, regent and therefore ruler of the southern Kingdom of Garona. Among them was Pascal, who had just opened his mouth, only for his betrothed to speak first.
“Needless to say, the Imperium has been preparing for this conflict for some time,” Sylviane solemnly reminded everyone before any pointed fingers could be raised.
“I want everyone to be under no illusions,” the Princess added in a grave voice. “This war is not merely a vengeful response or even an opportunistic move. The assassination of my late father, the recent civil war where the Church openly supported my uncle and the rebellious Belgae lords, the Skagen invasion against our allies in Weichsel in January, even the Caliphate’s 3rd Holy War — all of them could be partially traced back to the machinations of the Imperator.
“In other words, this is a war long in the making, which cannot be ended by mere negotiations,” Sylviane steeled her voice as she raised a hand before clenching it into a fist. “We must grind the Imperial war machine to a halt by blood and arms if we are to seek reasonable peace terms.”
The Princess then returned the proverbial baton to Henri with a firm nod.
“Our intelligence indicates that Imperial forces are rallying in two provinces.” The young spymaster extended a metal baton into a telescopic rod. He then pointed at the three-dimensional illusory map of the entire empire projected onto the oval table.
“Their main army is gathering outside the logistics base at Augusta Tanarus. The city took serious damage from the so-called ‘Unholy Friday’ attacks and has thus been named by the Pope’s legates as the launch point of the 4th Crusade. We can expect crusaders of varying quality to augment the Imperial army in their push towards the Garonan capital of Narbona. Furthermore, I have confirmation that the 7th squadron of the Vasilikoploimon will be accompanying them in support.”
“The Imperial guard fleet? In a campaign through the mountains?” King Alistair raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Did their galleasses also sprout legs like the trees of Ceredigion?” He said sarcastically.
Henri shook his head.
“The 7th squadron is a newly-formed experimental unit equipped with a new type of war machine,” he noted. “Airships that rely on neither a skywhale nor a dirigible lighter-than-air hull to stay afloat.”
“How?” Pascal demanded with a wide eye that was simultaneously astonished yet fascinated.
“By something called a ‘gravcore’,” Henri shrugged with pursed lips. “My sources came across mentions of this device. Though we have no idea what it is yet,” the spymaster admitted.
“Gravity-control magic?” General Caradoc raised an eyebrow.
“That’s too presumptuous. The name could be intentionally misleading,” Henri warned.
Which is often the case for a top-secret weapons project, Kaede considered the history from her old world.
“How they float is also less important than an understanding of their operational capabilities,” Marshal Cosette commented. “Even a single skywhale airship has tipped the balance of battle in the past. We cannot ignore the potential of an entire squadron. Lord Henri, I’d like to have your people work with the Garonan air cavalry to probe and determine their capabilities.”
“Ye–”
“Marshal,” Duke Raymond interrupted. “The Garonan Hippo-Cuirassiers are under my command. I’d appreciate that you do not overstep your boundaries.” His words rang with acid as he looked sideways as the Marshal.
The Duke-Regent sat opposite of the Princess which spoke to his importance in this meeting. He had a lanky build and sat back against his chair with his arms crossed. The man was over ninety years old but looked to be in his late thirties. His chocolate-brown hair fell in well-groomed short curls, while he had two sharply trimmed mustaches and a goatee beneath his bright-hazel gaze.
“You disagree with the importance of this mission?” Cosette asked with a blank look.
“No. Only that it’s not your call to casually sacrifice my men,” Raymond retorted.
“If it’s your call, then make it.”
“I don’t take orders from former mistresses.”
The Duke-Regent refused to even meet the Marshal’s gaze. Nevertheless, his acidic words drew the icy glare of Knight Matriarch Ariette who stood behind Cosette. The woman pursed her lips as her temple gave a faint twitch.
“Your Grace,” Sylviane interjected with a polite, imploring smile before tensions could escalate further. “I understand that probing costs men and lives, which is particularly painful for precious air cavalry. But I do believe it is vital that we ascertain this information at the earliest opportunity. As most of the air forces in the Garonan front are under your command, I would be grateful for your cooperation with Lord Henri in this endeavor. I’m sure he will strive to attain this at a minimum cost.”
“You have my promise,” Henri declared with a slight bow.
“Very well, Your Highness,” Raymond looked slightly taken aback as he met the younger man’s gaze. “Your Lordship shall have my support.”
Kaede could almost hear a few people breathe sighs of relief.
“<I’d heard that the Marshal and the Duke-Regent often disagreed over strategy,>” King Alistair commented over telepathy. “<But I didn’t know it was already this bad.>”
“<Why did your father never explicitly specify who was in command?>” Pascal asked.
“<It’s not that simple,>” Sylviane exhaled a silent sigh. “<Raymond was named regent because he’s one of the architects of the Garona Army. Their military was built for mass mobilization and is cheap to maintain during peacetime. But the command structure is extremely fragmented and only a superb administrator like him can keep everything working together.>”
“<One could say the same about much of Rhin-Lotharingie,>” Pascal scowled. “<Regardless, preemptive scouting was the correct strategy.>”
“<Being correct isn’t enough,>” Kaede interjected just as her master was about to speak out. “<How and whom you ask are every bit as important. People want to feel respected.>”
–Especially those with large egos, she left a few words unsaid as Sylviane turned back to Henri:
“Please continue.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Henri nodded before he pointed at a different location on the illusory map — a settlement model which flickered when the tip of his rod accidentally touched it. “A second Imperial army is being assembled to the northeast near the fortress-city of Lauricum. We expect this force to make a simultaneous advance towards the city of Outremont.”
The young man didn’t bat an eye as he pointed towards the spire-like model that stood for his home. Outremont was the seat of power for House La Tours. Its towering citadel acted as the lynchpin of Lotharin defenses in the southeastern region of Rhétie. It was also a major trade hub and by far the Empire’s largest and richest settlement.
“Defending against the two Imperial advances are the Armies of Garona and Rhétie,” continued Henri. “The former had been more than halved by the spring planting demobilization orders and reduced to only 35,000 men plus local garrisons. The latter has only seen limited participation in both the Caliphate’s invasion and our civil war — my father expects to call up 30,000 before Imperial forces cross the borders towards Outremont. Nevertheless, this means our forces will be outnumbered roughly three-to-one by the Imperium alone. The odds grow worse when we include the Caliphate’s eastern invasion force in Garona, which numbers over 50,000 and will double in strength once all of their Spring mobilization reinforcements arrive.”
That’s a crippling comparison when Lotharin troops are already qualitatively inferior to the Imperium’s, Kaede thought.
She remembered reading that in all of their history, the Lotharins have never won a decisive battle against the Imperium without at least 3:2 odds in local numerical superiority.
“Thankfully, with the spring thaw, our own reinforcements are heading south as we speak,” King Alistair said with a confident grin. “The Kingdom of Gleann Mòr’s armies march south in three columns: 21,000 in the west to reinforce the Avorican front, 37,000 in the center from our capital of Scuin, and 9,000 in the east with the renowned Black Army under General Montrose.”
“Adding to that will be the New Model Army that I’ve been assembling around Alis Avern,” Pascal then pitched in. “We have one light brigade almost ready plus three heavy brigades in the process of formation, for a total strength of 20,000 men.”
But those men won’t have the time to drill into a truly cohesive fighting force, Kaede thought.
The Samaran girl had contributed to the discussions when Pascal designed the new brigade structure based on the professional armies of Weichsel and the Imperium. They were meant to replace the Empire’s ‘banner’ organization system which relied on feudal retainers and levies. The new brigades utilized centralized recruitment and standardized equipment and training. The ‘light’ and ‘heavy’ variants differed little in numbers and mostly in their equipment and structure — light brigades were built for mobility in rough terrain and had greater logistical self-sufficiency. Meanwhile, their ‘heavy’ cousins were designed to slug it out in major battles with significant field artillery support.
“And my grandfather, Duke Mathias of Baguette, promises 16,000 men from the Army of Belgae to reinforce Outremont in the east,” added Perceval de La Tours de Baguette.
Kaede could hear a faint shakiness in the young healer’s voice. He’s still not used to high profile meetings like this.
The Army of Belgae had also fought on the wrong side of the Civil War and had been mauled as a result. Sure, large numbers of them had surrendered at the end of the conflict. And Duke Mathias had been one of the few Belgae lords who stayed loyal. But Kaede rather doubted he could have assembled this number without cutting some corners, thus limiting the combat effectiveness of this force.
“That makes four columns of reinforcements, excluding those headed to Avorica, to bolster the Armies of Garona and Rhétie,” Pascal declared as he stood up and extended his own pointer-baton.
The young lord still wore the crimson-on-black army uniform from their neighbors in the Kingdom of Weichsel. But nobody in the room objected to him taking the spot. Everyone in attendance already knew that he had served as the Princess’ chief advisor during the hard-fought winter campaign in Avorica.
“My proposal is to send all of the men from Alis Avern, plus over half of the main Army of the Glens, to reinforce the Narbona front,” Pascal said in his typical aristocratic drawl. “This will double the forces defending the Garonan capital to 70,000. The remaining will shore up our defenses at Outremont by bringing its strength to 60,000 men.”
As Pascal finished, both Sylviane and Kaede kept their eyes on the other attendees to assess their reactions. A few generals frowned as they considered the implications of this almost-even split. Duke Raymond scowled with clear disapproval. Meanwhile, General Macdonald raised an eyebrow as he glanced up at Pascal with an inquisitive look.
“<I think Macdonald noticed the discrepancy,>” Kaede voiced in private.
“<Henri and Cosette likely did as well,>” Sylviane added.
“<How can you tell?>” Alistair asked. “<Cosette seems unfazed by everything. And Henri has the perfect gambler’s smile.>”
“<But neither of them are pathological, so their masks aren’t perfect,>” Sylviane replied honestly. “<And I have a spell that highlights even the slightest crack.>”
Gwenhidw’s Grace, Kaede considered the Faerie’s Blessing spell which only the Faekissed could use.
Gwenhidw was one of the faerie queens who ruled the lands of Rhin-Lotharingie in ancient times. Known as the ‘White Enchantress’, the queen had a reputed ability to read the emotion of her court. The spell named after her used divination magic to enhance its caster’s subconscious to notice every minute detail from those whom she interacted face-to-face with — be it the slightest shift in mannerism due to interest and focus, or a subtle change through their skin pores’ chemistry from anxiety and nervousness. And since the spell did not actually intrude upon a target’s mind, it was neither illegal nor could it be blocked by most defensive wards, not even a mage’s innate mana resistance.
“Only 70,000?” Duke Raymond challenged as he stared at the Landgrave. “Narbona will face over 200,000 foes between the Imperium and the Caliphate combined. How do you expect us to defend the city with only 70,000?”
“I do not,” Pascal eyed back with a steady voice. “We must evacuate Narbona at haste.”
“Evacuate?” Raymond scoffed as his eyes narrowed. The Duke-Regent uncrossed his arms and slowly leaned forward as his words fell into a low growl. “You want us to abandon Narbona?”
“Not merely abandon,” Pascal replied firmly. “We must fire the city as we leave.”
He had hardly finished before Raymond slammed a fist into the table’s edge.
“Narbona is the capital of the Kingdom of Garona! It’s not just a symbol. It is the home and hearth of our people, the beating heart of Garona’s war industry!”
“I lost two brothers and twenty thousand men taking Narbona from the Imperials,” General Gervais retorted as his hand trembled while he raised his eyes toward Cosette with a pained look. “And now you want us to abandon the city without a fight! Do the lives of us men mean nothing to you!?”
“We have been fighting,” the even-toned reply came from Marshal Cosette. “The Army of Garona has faced off against the Caliphate’s largest invasion force for months. Our forces skirmish along the surrounding mountains daily to prevent them from outflanking our fieldworks outside the city. However, the Imperium entering the war means we soon must fight a battle on two fronts. His Grace’s proposal is logical — we should pull back from the city despite the costs.”
“<I told you that Marshal Cosette would support this,>” Sylviane glanced at Pascal as she commented over telepathy. “<She’s not someone to be caught over a fallacy like sunk costs.>”
Nevertheless, Kaede felt her chest clench as she watched Gervais down a glass of water like liquor to drown his sorrows.
“Narbona is a fortress-city built at the convergence of three major roads,” the Duke countered as he flung out his arm to point at the map. “It’s surrounded by steep mountains bristling with their own fortifications, which makes it all but impossible to encircle the city by siege. To abandon such a strong position is not mere military folly but outright cowardice! If you women do not have the courage to defend our capital, then at least have the decency to leave us be — for every pace of ground in Narbona was paid for in blood by us men of Garona!”
In that moment, Kaede felt as though a kindling had been dropped onto a bed of dry leaves. The flames of anger spread like wildfire across the familiar bond she shared with Pascal.
The Marshal kept a calm expression and said nothing as she waited patiently for the Duke to finish. However, Ariette was glaring daggers and had just parted her lips to retort when Pascal beat her to the punch.
“Decency?” The young Weichsen snarled. “Where was decency when the Garonan Liberation Army launched attacks upon civilians to supply the enemy with the perfect casus belli for this ill-timed war! Where was decency when you watched the Albigesian Heresy burn down not only Trinitian Churches, but even Tauheed Mosques which provoked holy war from the Caliphate to begin with!”
“<Pascal, calm down…>” Kaede eyed her master with worry as she could feel the anger radiating from him.
“We have had zero foreknowledge of the Liberation Army’s unsanctioned attacks! They did not consult any leaders within the administration before carrying it out,” Raymond growled back as his face grew red with anger. “And as for the Albigese, I shall remind Your Grace that this is Rhin-Lotharingie, not your papist puppet of Weichsel! Religious autonomy within the Empire has been guaranteed by our laws since independence!”
“Yet as the regent in charge of Garona, you bear ultimate responsibility–” Pascal almost spat before Sylviane cut him off:
“Your Graces — war is upon us, regardless of the cause. This meeting is to discuss strategy, not to assign blame.”
She then glared at Pascal before adding over their private telepathic link: “<And Pascal, politics is not your topic to bring up, and certainly not religion.>”
Though I do agree with him, Kaede kept to herself.
The Samaran girl wondered if Hyperion had an equivalent to the ‘Yamashita Standard’ — where leaders were held accountable for the crimes committed by their men even if they did not approve or order it.
Regardless, it was King Alistair who was supposed to play the ‘bad cop’ role, except Pascal’s kneejerk anger had beaten him to it.
“Your Grace, I agree with the Landgrave because it makes logical sense, not because I underestimate the importance of Narbona,” Cosette used the reprieve to explain in her cool voice. “Tactically, once the Imperium breaks through our border forts and marches upon the city, we’ll have to abandon the fieldworks to the south to free up manpower to hold Narbona’s eastern walls, which leaves us with a weak all-around defense. Furthermore, Narbona will become encircled on at least three flanks. Its remaining supply line to the north will be squeezed by the Imperium’s superior air cavalry, creating ammunition and food shortages that will further diminish our combat effectiveness…”
“Yet we cannot–” Raymond tried to interject.
“Shut–” Knight Matriarch Ariette finally had enough.
“Please, Your Grace,” the Princess cut in over both of them. “You will have your chance. Let others finish theirs.”
The Duke-Regent deflated a little as he sat back while Sylviane nodded at the Marshal.
“Strategically,” Cosette continued smoothly. “The Imperium and the Caliphate hate each other as much as either of them hates us, if not more. Narbona lies at the junction of three major roads, which also means it is caught in the middle of a three-way brawl. Any side who holds the city will be pressured by both of the other two. Why must we insist on placing ourselves in that unenviable spot?”
“But the Imperium is not in a state of war with the Caliphate,” Raymond countered. “How can you guarantee they will fight each other?”
“Since when has a crusade required a declaration of war to engage in hostilities?” Pascal scoffed. “My home country of Weichsel has never declared war against the Caliphate. Yet we have fought them in each of the previous three crusades.”
“Let’s hope they don’t send again this time, or we might have to hang you for treason,” Raymond shot back.
“Even if fighting does not break out, the Imperials and the Caliphate will be at a tense standoff,” Cosette ignored the previous comment as she pulled the conversation back on topic. “Meanwhile, if the Garonan Army fights in Narbona, there is high risk that it will be destroyed there,” she then turned her firm but otherwise emotionless gaze at Duke Raymond. “With the responsibility entrusted to me by his late Majesty, I cannot allow that to happen.”
“There is always a risk of annihilation in war,” Raymond retorted. “We cannot simply admit defeat and surrender our homes and pride over a little risk!”
“Some risks are acceptable, others are not. I will not gamble such odds,” Cosette remained resolute. “We will mitigate our losses by relocating as much of the industry as possible alongside the civilian population. They will be sent to the fortress-city of Carcas in northern Garona.”
“I concur with the Marshal’s sound assessment, though it may not be my jurisdiction,” General Macdonald said.
“As do I,” declared King Alistair.
He gave Raymond a stern gaze which signaled that the Duke-Regent had already lost the argument. After all, as the King of the Glens, he had final authority over the deployment of the northern reinforcements.
“That being said, the Army of Garona does need to buy as much time as possible for both the evacuation and the construction of new defenses,” Cosette added before she turned to Raymond once more. “If your vassals wish to blame me for cowardice, they are welcomed to do so — as brave members of the rear guard. I shall gladly bear the insults of those who wager their lives in defense of the realm.”
“<I wish I had her emotional resilience.>” Kaede considered the calm resolve that the Marshal so easily held.
“<More like there’s something wrong with her sense of ‘self’.>”
Sylviane’s reply had left Kaede puzzled. However, before the girl had any time to dwell, she heard Pascal hiss in a low mutter:
“Yes, put your sword where your mouth is. You disgraceful excuse for nobility.”
“What did you say!?” Duke Raymond snarled as he locked gazes with Pascal’s single good eye. The younger lord’s last few words had rang just loud enough to be heard.
“We aristocrats exist to lead by example,” the young lord declared. “Which castle were you cowering in when your men died in the thousands in the flames that you failed to manage?”
“<Pascal…>” Sylviane sounded exasperated enough to ram her head into the table.
Meanwhile, the Duke-Regent looked like he’d just been slapped by an iceberg. His face was red and his mouth hung slightly open as he glared as the future Crown Prince Consort. His fists were clenched and shaking atop the table as though he was boiling with anger and about to give off steam.
“Your Grace may rest assured that me and my men will hold onto the city to the last moment and the last mace! And Your Excellency,” Raymond snapped at the Marshal, “shall have your time to evacuate. We men of Garona have never shirked our duty as the ‘Southern March of the Empire’!
“Nevertheless,” he then continued, “we must hold the line somewhere against the Imperial advance. Yet if you abandon the obvious, then where is the alternative?” He demanded.
“Here, before the strategic pass of Montaiglin Gap, thirty kilopaces north of the city,” Pascal pointed to a winding valley that the road north passed through. “I have already dispatched engineers from the New Model Army to begin excavating additional fortifications. Three overlapping layers of defenses are to be built starting from Almond Hill, through Sniper Ridge, under Triangle Hill, behind Pike’s Peak, and to the existing fortress on Mount Céüse which will be expanded. And together, they will form what I call the ‘Iron Triangle’ defense zone.”
The fact one of the landmarks is called ‘Sniper Ridge’ speaks to the location’s bloodied history, Kaede winced.
She watched as Pascal drew a triangle around the mountainous region with his pointer. The whole area was no bigger than twenty square-kilopaces, which was roughly the same size as Narbona’s walled city.
“The steep, rocky slopes in this region are prone to avalanches. The Imperium will be unable to use their numerical superiority as they attack these fortifications one by one in repeated, grinding assaults. We will utilize all means at our disposal including tunnel and mine warfare. My hope is for the layered defenses to buy us at least six weeks of time,” the young lord finished.
“Add two to three weeks for holding the city, and that’ll be more than enough time for my army to arrive.” King Alistair sat back with a satisfied nod. “If we still hold the exit of Montaiglin Gap by then, 70,000 men will be sufficient to plug the narrow pass.”
“And what makes you think the Imperium will not simply bypass these defenses?” Raymond challenged.
“Because through the ‘Iron Triangle’ passes the only road north that can supply an army in the tens of thousands,” Pascal stated.
“And the Imperial commander, Magister Belisarius, is not one to take chances with his supply lines,” Sylviane added while Henri, her spymaster, nodded in agreement. “He will not advance his main force through the bottleneck at Montaiglin Gap without uprooting these strongpoints one by one to secure his rear and flanks.”
—– * * * —–
“For all that I’ve heard about the Crown Prince Consort, I feel rather disappointed with his plans.” General Gervais rubbed the bridge of his nose to alleviate his headache.
He wasn’t sure if it was due to his chronic sleep deprivation or the fact he drank too much last night. Yet, without drinking, it was hard for him to get any proper sleep these days.
“A counterattack in the Avorican front is due — that much is obvious to everyone,” he said to his fellow general and old comrade. “But in the southeast where the war will be decided, he’s doing nothing but making defensive stands.”
Besides him, the taller and larger General Macdonald walked quietly without a response. A moment later, Gervais felt a chime at the back of his head as Macdonald reached out to him with a Telepathy spell. He immediately tugged on it to accept the call.
“<I agree with you for what was discussed in that meeting.>” Macdonald’s voice ran in Gervais’ mind. “<However, I do not believe His Grace has shown his true hand.>”
“<Concerns over operational security?>” Gervais frowned. “<But only the highest level attended that meeting.>”
“<Always best to limit secrets to a need-to-know basis.>” Macdonald shrugged.
“<But why do you believe he’s holding secrets?>”
“<Because there are four reinforcement columns heading down towards Narbona and Outremont,>” Macdonald explained. “<That’s 20,000 from Alis Avern, 37,000 from Scuin, 16,000 from Belgae, and 9,000 from Inbhir Dheathain. Yet His Grace only promised to double the Armies of Garonan and Rhétie, 35,000 for the former and 30,000 for the latter.>”
Gervais tried to count the numbers up in his head. He then reached up and pressed his palm against his temple.
Math gives me a headache.
His old comrade noticed this as Macdonald clapped him on the shoulder.
“<I know it’s been hard for you since your first two sworn brothers died in the Garona Independence Wars. But do try to get more rest.>” The taller general then looked to Gervais’ other shoulder and met the beady eyes of the latter’s phoenix. “<It would lessen the burden on Bayard as well.>”
The empathic familiar chirped as though it could hear them talk.
“I know…” Gervais sighed audibly before focusing his thoughts once more. “<The numbers don’t add up, do they?>”
“<Shortfall of 17,000 men. Too much to be rounding. Too many to leave behind at depots. Where did they go?>”
Gervais turned and stared upwards at his old battle brother. “<You don’t think…?>”
“<Remember the motto of the Weichsel’s founding king: the Weichsen Army always attacks,>” Macdonald commented. “<Lord Pascal is not just any Weichsen, but the son of their late Marshal von Moltewitz who built Weichsel’s war-winning General Staff. The kid was taught their military doctrine since childhood — concepts like Schwerpunkt and Bewegungskrieg are deeply ingrained in him,>” Macdonald tried his best to pronounce the foreign language terms.
“<The only question is where will he strike?>”
—– * * * —–
Meanwhile, down a different hallway in the castle, Kaede watched as Pascal, Princess Sylviane, King Alistair, and Lady Vivienne — the same five people who discussed strategy on the roof yesterday — gathered inside a lounge with six large and cushy armchairs.
“Pascal, be honest with me,” the Princess asked as she elegantly sat down. “Are you disappointed by the fact I kept Cosette as Marshal instead of appointing you?”
“I would not have agreed if you made me Marshal.” Pascal leaned back with his arms sprawled wide before the door opened. “I have not done enough to deserve such a rank.”
An armiger maid in her late teens walked in carrying a large tray with two pots. Kaede had heard her name was Lucia, the new lady’s maid to the Princess. And as the pretty girl with short blonde hair and emerald-green eyes began to place down teacups and trays, the familiar moved forth to help out.
Lucia returned an appreciative smile as she picked up the smaller pot. She silently pointed to the larger one and waved a finger around to everyone else.
That tea is specifically for the princess then, Kaede realized as her eyes fell upon the vessel in the royal maid’s hands. Must have been made with the lithium water I brought yesterday.
“It was your strategy that smashed the Caliphate’s western army during the winter campaign in Avorica,” Sylviane took the first cup with a thankful nod. “Not to mention your help with… against my uncle. Even Macdonald’s rebuilt Army of Avorica made use of your new brigade organization plans.”
“And for that, His Majesty King Leopold promoted me to brigadier-general,” Pascal replied in an aristocratic drawl that did not match his words at all. “I have much to learn still.”
“It’s very uncharacteristic for Your Grace to be so humble,” King Alistair jested before he turned to Kaede who poured his tea. “Thank you.”
The Samaran girl then moved onto Pascal where he took a cupful with an odd look.
“<Kaede, you are not a servant anymore,>” he said over their familiar bond’s telepathic link.
“<It’s proper manners where I’m from.>” She thought back to her previous life in Japan. “<Besides, I don’t mind serving my own family.>”
“Humble is not my nature. I am being professional,” Pascal answered Alistair with a haughty smirk before turning to his betrothed. “Besides, Cosette and Macdonald are two of the greatest assets that your father left you. Both are capable in their own way and extremely loyal.”
“And best of all, neither has a huge ego that makes them difficult to manage,” Kaede commented in a half-joking tone before she smiled at Pascal and gave a slight tilt of her head. Unlike you.
“They’re loyal to the Empire, not me,” Sylviane answered with an inward smile. “Still a good thing.”
“What did you mean back at the meeting that Marshal Cosette has a problematic ‘sense of self’?” Kaede then asked as she stood back between Pascal and Sylviane’s seats.
The Samaran girl stretched a little as the armiger maid left and closed the door.
Never thought I’d feel thankful to be wearing a corset.
The war council had lasted for nearly six hours and she had stood rooted the entire time. The corset’s support for her back proved invaluable on days like this where she spent so much time standing straight.
“It’s something my late father once said,” Sylviane frowned with tilted lips. “To quote him directly — ‘Cosette’s only ego is dedication. I only pray the duties of Marshal gives her solace.'”
“Did something happen to her?” King Alistair frowned.
“Something traumatic no doubt.” Kaede considered her conversation with Ariette on the beach. “She’s a Lazarite after all.”
“What do you–”
Alistair had yet to finish when the double doors to the room opened to admit the people they were talking about. The beautiful Dame Ariette walked in first followed by older-looking Marshal Cosette. Though Kaede had learned hours ago that their real seniority was reversed.
“Your Highness, Your Majesty, Your Grace, Your Excellencies,” the Knight Matriarch bowed slightly as she greeted them each.
The styles are getting out of hand, Kaede thought in amusement.
“Marshal, Dame Ariette, please sit,” Sylviane gestured with a welcoming smile.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Cosette said before the two took up the remaining seats.
Lady Vivienne had also sat down next to the princess which left Kaede the only one standing. Though the familiar hardly begrudged her ‘twin’ as Vivienne looked noticeably tired after spending hours standing in her usual high heels.
“I have invited you here as a follow-up to the war council,” the Princess began. “As you may suspect already, what was presented during the meeting was not the entire battle plan. The last part has been kept secret for operational security. And while neither of you are directly involved, we do require your support.”
“Or more precisely, we require the support of Garona’s irregular forces,” Pascal added.
“I’ve heard that the Lazarus Order maintains better links with the Liberation Army than Duke Raymond’s royal army?” Sylviane asked.
“Yes,” Dame Ariette nodded. “They don’t tell us everything — we did not hear about the Friday attacks ahead of time either. But we do coordinate on the defensive from time to time.”
It reminded Kaede that war was never a contest between two monolithic bodies, but rather a complicated struggle between coalitions of independent actors.
“That is precisely what we seek,” Sylviane smiled politely. “Pascal?”
The young lord unfurled a scroll map over the low table to present the eastern third of the South Lotharin Mountains. He stopped when the map went just far enough to display the capital of Narbona to the west and the city of Outremont to the east.
“Mirage Figment.”
Pascal tapped his turquoise focus ring on the map as he cast the spell. A three-dimensional image projected upwards to create a fuzzy illusion of the snow-covered mountains.
“As you may have noticed during the meeting, the numbers I provided on the allocation of reinforcements do not add up,” he began. “This is because I purposefully set aside a strike force of 17,000 men for a separate aim, consisting of a mix of forces from three columns.”
Three blue arrows converged north of the mountain range and merged into one. Another arrow then split off from the main line and dove into a valley before it snaked south through the dense mountains.
“My plan is for King Alistair, myself, and General Montrose to lead this force,” Pascal commented. “We will detach from the main reinforcement column during its march to Outremont to obfuscate our whereabouts, then enter the South Lotharin Mountains through the Greater Queyras Valley and advance to the Lestio Plateau. From there, we will cross the central ridge before marching down to the border fortress at Genèvre Gap.”
It’s like Hannibal crossing the Alps: take a path the Romans least expect, Kaede thought of her inspiration when she helped Pascal draft this war plan. Their discussion actually began weeks before the Imperium even declared, as Pascal implemented the traditions of Weichsel’s General Staff to prepare potential war plans.
“You’re planning to entrap and envelope the entire Imperial invasion force,” Dame Ariette looked up with wide eyes. “That’s quite…”
“Ambitious,” Cosette added plainly. Though even her gray eyes showed a hint of surprise.
“Yes,” Pascal smirked. “As Marshal Cosette aptly observed during the meeting — the mountains that surround Narbona might make the city easy to defend. But it also limits retreat which could potentially turn the position into a death trap. The location is a natural cauldron. All we need is a few lids.”
“And luckily for us, the Caliphate has graciously sought to provide us with aid,” Sylviane added.
Always best to use one enemy against another in a three-way fight, Kaede smiled.
“Once we take Genèvre Gap,” the young lord continued, “we will cut the only major road the Imperium can use. Their army will be caught in a three-way vice between the Caliphate and our two forces. They will have to rely on air transport and teleportation to supply their troops, which simply is not enough for over 100,000 men.”
“But Your Grace,” Cosette furrowed her brows as she pointed at the line Pascal drew through the mountains. “There are no roads along this route. You will have nothing but local footpaths and animal trails at best.”
“And many of those mountains will remain snow-covered until next month. Not to mention the crossing point near Lestio which lies above the snow line,” Ariette commented with a tone of outright disbelief. “This can’t be done. Not for an army of over ten thousand men.”
“And that is exactly why this force will consist of only mountain warfare troops,” Pascal’s lips thinned. “They include the new 1st Light Brigade of veterans and rangers that I have assembled, the Royal Guard and elite Northmen mercenaries brought by King Alistair, and the infamous Black Army of Clan Douglas under General Montrose.
“I understand that this will not be easy,” the young lord continued with a deep exhale. “But only by doing what seems impossible could we catch the Imperium off-guard. We will carry all supplies on the backs of soldiers and donkeys accustomed to the cold. And the Highlanders will prepare as many spell runes for the journey as they are able to do.”
Unlike most mages on the continent who used spontaneous-cast Aura Magic, the Highlanders of northern Gleann Mòr took after the Hyperborean ‘Northmen’ whom they have deep cultural and trade ties with. This includes their spellcasting preferences as they prefer Runic Magic’s prepared spellcasting instead. The same was true for the Garonans in the south, though their reasons were far more complicated.
“But even if you do find a way through, how are you going to keep such a large force a secret from Imperial scryers and air cavalry patrols?” Dame Ariette stared intently at Pascal. “Magister Belisarius did not gain his fame for being careless.”
In the same way the Chinese hid a crossing of 300,000 troops from US air reconnaissance, Kaede thought.
“I have plans for that,” Pascal hid a scowl as though recognizing his countermeasures might not be enough. “The main columns will march at night only with no fires or lights and guided by only Night Sight spells. Every soldier will be given a special cloak to avoid being spotted by Thermal Sight spells, and et cetera.”
“But even if you can march through the mountains without being discovered, will 17,000 men, minus whatever casualties you take, be enough to hold Genèvre Gap against counterattacks?” Cosette asked with doubt.
“That is again why this force consists of only our best troops,” Alistair replied. “Elite infantry do not break or rout. Certainly not when they fight alongside their King.” His slight smile then grew into a cheerful grin as he added: “and Lady Vivienne will be joining us with an extra trick.”
Kaede looked at her look-alike who wore a hood over her head despite being indoors. The petite Vivienne fidgetted and looked uncomfortable with this plan. But her crystal-blue eyes remained focused on the map with a determined gaze.
“However, to be successful, I need the help of Garona’s irregular forces like its countless militia groups.” Pascal brought the spotlight back to Cosette and Ariette. “For scouting, supply, and laying ambushes to dissuade Imperial air patrols from low-flying sweeps. That — is why we need your support.”
Author’s History Notes
Phoenix Names – All of the phoenix names so far, including Hauteclaire, Almace, Olifant, Bayard, Veillantif, etc., come from the literary epic Matter of France. This work was written as a romanticization of Emperor Charlemagne of the Carolinian dynasty and his paladins.
Yamashita Standard – More generally known as ‘command responsibility’. The Yamashita Standard is named after the war crimes trials of Imperial Japanese General Tomoyuki Yamashita. He was charged for atrocities committed by his soldiers which he did not order and had no foreknowledge of, since it is the duty of a leader to control the actions of those under his command. Unfortunately, even modern Earth was terrible about enforcing this rule. Since nobody at the leadership level in any undefeated great power has ever been tried for war crimes.
Vasilikoploimon – Named after the Byzantine/Eastern Roman Imperial flotilla responsible for the naval defense of Constantinople.
Gwenhidw – A faerie queen from British mythology often described as a morforwyn or mermaid. Her name means ‘white enchantment’.
‘The Weichsen Army always attacks’ – based on the motto of King Frederick the Great: ‘The Prussian Army always attacks.’
Schwerpunkt and Bewegungskrieg – German terms for ‘focal point’ (of a battle) and ‘maneuver warfare’. These are core concepts for the Prussian/German military doctrine which will eventually give rise to the colloquial term ‘Blitzkrieg’.
Hiding 300,000 troops from US air reconnaissance – Pascal’s suggestions are inspired by Chinese countermeasures during the Korean War, when they moved over 300,000 troops into position for the Second Phase Offensive without being detected by US air recon. This created the conditions for the decisive victories at the Battle of Ch’ongch’on River and Battle of Chosin Reservoir which drove the UN advance out of North Korea.