Chapter 42
Chapter 42
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Bait Operation (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
We arrived at the rendezvous point where the entire force was scheduled to assemble.
The commander spotted us and grinned.
"You all made it to Obern right on time without a single straggler. I am immensely proud of you."
Honestly, it had been a brutal schedule.
What kind of lunatic orders a 300km march in just 33 days?
And through enemy territory, no less.
War isn't waged by sane people anyway...
'This was way over the line.'
"Thanks to you, our army was able to penetrate safely deep into Ortz Kingdom territory. But it's far too early to let our guard down. We've only just taken our first step."
Penetrating deep into enemy territory.
In a word, we'd thrust deep into the enemy's jaws.
That meant our supply lines were overstretched, and we could be cut off at any moment.
We absolutely could not afford to relax.
'Win big or crash hard.'
"I'll give a quick rundown of the enemy movements as I've assessed them. The enemy is camped near Grasten City, about 5km from here in Obern. Scout estimates put their numbers at around 40,000."
In war, superior numbers are always an edge.
But without at least a three-to-one advantage, victory isn't guaranteed.
No, factoring in how things always throw curveballs contrary to expectations...
We couldn't get complacent even with a slight edge in troops.
Or we'd end up like Won Gyun.
"According to a spy embedded in their ranks, Ortz Kingdom morale is rock bottom. I believe our odds of victory are strong."
At those words, the officers in the briefing room lit up.
Defeat in war meant death or utter humiliation.
Victory, on the other hand, brought fat rewards, honor, and promotions.
Who in this world doesn't crave money?
'No mortal can treat gold like gravel.'
Only beings who transcend humanity could.
For us regular folk, cash ruled supreme.
"So I plan to stabilize our supply network fast and clash with the enemy ASAP. Speak up freely if you have differing views."
"Commander, one concern."
"Quartermaster Commander, I'll detach an extra division and 2,000 cavalry to escort the supply trains. That ought to keep the Ortz scum off them, right?"
"Thank you, sir."
It was good that he'd neatly addressed the supply escort issue...
But honestly, I was still worried.
If I were Ortz Kingdom's top commander...
I'd absolutely target our extended supply lines right now.
Our commander had anticipated it and beefed up the escorts.
But it still felt woefully short.
And with the enemy's play so obvious, wasn't it only right to turn it against them and rub salt in the wound?
'Wars are won by the side that infuriates the enemy first.'
"If no more comments, meeting adjourned."
As the commander started to rise, I spoke up.
"One concern."
All eyes snapped to me.
Resentment and confusion filled their gazes.
After that hellish march, dragging themselves to a meeting, I wasn't winning any beauty contests by prolonging it.
Like the jerk who peppers the prof with questions after class, killing break time.
"What's the issue?"
"I'm worried the coalition forces will strike our rear."
Our commander's brow furrowed.
He'd invited free speech, but not outright contradiction.
Especially not declaring his escorts insufficient. That had to sting.
If I couldn't convince him—and everyone else here?
Someone higher up would chew me out later.
Bruises on the shins incoming.
Still, some things had to be said plainly.
"Sir, this has all the signs of an enemy feint."
"A feint? Not entirely baseless, but isn't that paranoia? A division plus 2,000 cavalry should cover it."
That escort could repel most raids.
But staring our situation in the face...
'One supply cut, and we're toast.'
Unless the enemy commander was some shadowy guerrilla hack or feuding brass from a navy-army spat...
Wouldn't they go all-in, souls on the line, to sever our supplies and end it quick?
Heavy and light cavalry mobilized—a single solid strike clinches it.
"Sir, we've gone too deep into enemy lands. One supply hiccup, and we're starving. Starving means annihilation before we even fight."
"......"
"If I were their commander, here's what I'd do. Mind if I move the wooden markers on the map?"
With his nod, I shifted them slowly.
Enemy cavalry slicing our rear, their main force just falling back.
"This forces the Imperial Army into a nightmare choice."
"Not one, but two?"
"Chase the retreating enemy into starvation and wipeout, or pull back while wasting away hungry."
"Countermeasures?"
"We know their game. Why not flip it on them?"
Intelligence lore has it: spies terrify when unknown, harmless once ID'd.
Enemy plans are the same.
Scary only in the dark...
Pin down the reality, and fear vanishes.
Enemy right in my palm—no way to lose.
'Know thy enemy, know thyself: invincible.'
No pitfalls means straight to victory.
"Flip their game, eh."
"Both sides know we're sending convoys for supplies. So we lay bait first."
"Bait?"
"Closest hub is Tuener, 100km out. Send word: wagons stuffed with straw or dirt to mimic loaded supplies. Make 'em look like the real deal."
In a world where comms worked fine, maybe not.
No phones, not even easy Morse.
Verifying intel from 100km? Tough.
Practically impossible.
So they'll tap their moles inside to check if that incoming convoy is legit Imperial supplies or bait.
"Leak the same info to our own troops. Gotta sell it to the enemy."
"Fool the foe by fooling your own first, yeah."
"But fooling's not enough. We repel the raid."
"Wagons loaded with dirt sacks, stakes, powder, matchlock muskets, 4,000 troops. Plenty to thwart their hit. Cavalry's fast, hits hard... but fragile as glass."
In the line infantry era, cavalry stuck to recon, pursuit, flanks.
No smashing medieval pike blocks of green troops head-on, no rewriting the battlefield.
Horseback limits pistols to 5m effective (1-5% hit feel), then spear thrusts only.
'Only works on unguarded units.'
"Makes solid sense. Your thoughts?"
Major General Chaplin beside the commander backed me.
"Enemy has no choice but supplies. Time to make 'em taste pain, scare off future tries."
"If that's your take, we're doing it."
"And for that op..."
The commander cut off Major General Chaplin.
"Send the proposer, naturally. Yeah, Lieutenant Colonel Schumacher and his battalion. Dismissed."
With that, we were finally free from the marathon meeting.
The commander and Major General Chaplin shared an odd exchange.
"Playing favorites with your son-in-law?"
"What? My daughter's not for just anyone."
"......Right, sure. Whatever you say. For now."
Others were buying into that misunderstanding too.
Later, when I got the chance, I'd debunk it as vicious gossip.