Wolf Hunt (3)
After a day's rest in Sian, our army marched north along the Line River.
We had no other choice for the time being, since we needed to secure our supply lines along the river.
My plan was to push all the way to Belanga like this, then draw provisions from Briton to sustain the war.
Of course, if Heigirt spotted our line of march, he'd have a rough idea of what I was up to.
That meant he'd likely try some desperate gamble before we reached Belanga.
I sent out scouts as far as thirty kilometers from the main force, preparing for any flanking attacks from the enemy.
But over the four days we marched north along the border, Heigirt's forces showed no sign of movement whatsoever.
All we saw were barbarians fleeing in panic at the sight of our army invading imperial territory without knowing their place.
We brushed aside a few light skirmishes, but nothing truly threatened our legion.
What the hell is he planning?
If our army reached Belanga, it would do Heigirt no favors.
He might abandon his base to strike at the imperial heartland, but in the long run, that wouldn't benefit him.
Even the greatest strategist would struggle to operate amid hostile locals and unfamiliar terrain.
Or is he planning to lure us onto the Belanga plains for a showdown?
That was possible.
The wide-open plains there would let the barbarian cavalry unleash their full strength.
If he'd massed his forces there, rested up, and waited for us, he might fancy his chances.
Plus, it was near our supply limit. Without grain from Briton, we'd be strangled in no time.
If that was his aim, we'd need to tread carefully.
I halted the army at Palrn, one of the border fortresses built by the 11th Legion, and dispatched a herald to Belanga under the pretext of an ultimatum.
The herald delivered a threat: the empire demanded they pack up and withdraw for their crimes, or face total annihilation.
In truth, it was reconnaissance to probe if Heigirt's army lay in wait at Belanga.
Soon after, the herald returned and reported to me.
"Lord, Heigirt's forces at Belanga number only five thousand."
"Five thousand?"
I immediately suspected a trap. Visible troops could be manipulated at will.
Hide them in the woods or station them beyond line of sight on the plains—five thousand in view didn't mean that was all.
"Yes. No other garrison troops were visible outside the city."
"All cavalry?"
"Infantry."
I fell into thought. If they were infantry, it'd make more sense to keep them inside the city walls. This was blatant provocation.
But it could also be a bluff.
I couldn't decide easily. Open-field battles carried too much risk.
"Defenses?"
"They have wooden palisades."
"Shall I order the legion to advance?"
Rikius asked from beside me, having overheard.
"Do it. But tell the engineers to prepare assembling the catapults."
"Catapults against palisades, sir?"
"A cavalry flank during the assault would be fatal."
"Understood."
Rikius saluted with fist to chest and withdrew.
A chill unease gnawed at me; I doubted Heigirt had prepared only what was visible.
That monster would have some unseen move to exploit my blind spot.
Failing to anticipate it would cost us in blood.
Such worries filled my mind, but I kept my expression impassive. A commander showing anxiety could sap the troops' morale.
I had to remain calm and composed, no matter the situation.
My doubts and fears stayed buried deep inside.
"The legion advances!"
Far off, Rikius barked the order to the legion standard-bearer.
Soon, the soldiers began marching in step.
I watched them a moment, then lightly kicked my horse's flanks.
Belanga had always been rich in resources and fertile for farming, a land the barbarians coveted.
The empire had strictly curbed their migrations, fortifying the border with legion bases—but that history lasted less than four hundred years before crumbling.
Now the barbarians owned Belanga.
What were once wheat-filled fields grew only weeds. The vineyards lay abandoned.
Some areas saw cultivation, but compared to imperial rule, it was virtual wasteland.
In short order, we reined in at the sight of Belanga's drastically altered landscape.
"Impressive. So this is the world barbarians build."
I clicked my tongue in dismay.
Better to perish with the empire than live in this. Raising my hand, I signaled.
"Legion standard-bearer! Send the engineers forward!"
Rikius bellowed in my stead.
Thoom. Thoom. Thoom.
With the drumbeats, the standard-bearer crossed the ranks, raising the flag for the engineers.
Our army's engineers surged to the front lines, carrying planks, nails, sturdy ropes—everything for assembling catapults.
As the soldiers worked, I eyed the barbarian camp beyond the overgrown fields.
As reported, the enemy numbered around five thousand.
They simply watched us assemble catapults while we half-encircled them.
Knowing they couldn't beat tens of thousands in open battle, the barbarians stayed passive.
I ordered the flanking legions to prepare anti-cavalry obstacles against enemy charges, then gave the rest of the troops a break.
No need to tire them before the real fight even began.
An hour later, with the catapults ready, I signaled the attack. We used stones gathered from nearby hills.
Thwack.
Each time the catapults hurled their loads with mechanical groans, faint dust clouds rose from the barbarian palisades. Mounted, I observed calmly.
Like most sieges, this took time. Palisades were easier than stone walls, but dismantling them properly still demanded effort.
Even as stones rained down, the enemy infantry held firm. Impressive endurance for barbarians.
Heigirt must have trained these elites with care.
If so, tossing them before us as fodder? Was this the anvil for a hammer-and-anvil ploy?
Once we breached the palisades enough, though, the front-line foes couldn't hold long.
As I pondered their intent, a giant emerged before the palisades.
Who's that?
It was Griham, the barbarian we'd clashed with before. His face was forgettable, but that intimidating bulk and monstrous axe were unmistakable.
Griham strode fearlessly to the shattered palisade amid flying stones and bellowed at us.
"I am Griham of the Thunder Tribe! Quit your childish stone-throwing like little girls and come clash spears and swords! Scared of us even with your tens of thousands?"
I chuckled at his crude taunt.
Childish provocation.
But it would rile the troops. I saw our soldiers' faces twist in anger.
"Rikius!"
"Yes, lord."
"Deal with that illiterate barbarian."
Rikius grinned and spurred his horse forward.
"Hey, you bear-brained oaf. Griham of the Thunder Tribe, was it? Hearing your savage nonsense—thinking war's some hunting trip—makes me snort. Why should we stoop to your primitive games?"
"You cocky whelp."
Griham slammed his axe into the ground. Dust billowed—truly monstrous.
"What? Too barbaric for words to reach you?"
"You... not scared of my axe?"
"Not particularly. What's frightening about one boastful warrior?"
"Pipsqueak with no fear."
"And you're the fearless one? What makes you tiny rabble defy the empire?"
"Hmph. Your heads will all roll before our king soon enough."
"Easy to say anything with words."
After a few verbal jabs, Griham retreated behind the palisades. The taunt hadn't landed.
As Rikius returned, I clapped his shoulder.
"Well done."
"Simple brute—not much challenge."
"Still, he had presence."
I laughed heartily.
The next morning, reports came that the palisades were nearly down. I was preparing to commit infantry and capture Griham when a pale-faced herald rushed up and knelt.
"Lord, disaster!"
"What happened?"
"The rafts coming down the upper Line River— all destroyed. Barbarian hordes have pushed into our rear."
"What?"
I was stunned.
This was unforeseen.
I'd expected them to abandon Belanga for a counterattack or use Griham as anvil with hidden forces nearby—not strike our rear.
Bold beyond measure.
A slight timing error could lose us Belanga and control of the region. Did he trust himself to manage that risk?
I clenched my fist at Heigirt's meticulous strategy.
He was a genius who saw one move further than me. With my reliance on experience, insight, and seasoned subordinates, such gambits were hard; he executed them effortlessly.
The gulf between genius and mortal—I felt it keenly again.
Now we were trapped between barbarian armies with only days of supplies.
Fall Belanga swiftly or smash the rear force, or the whole army perished.
I clutched my face in both hands.
Griham, the palisades, the infantry—it was all a bluff. To keep us from hitting Belanga early.
He'd outplayed me.
And it put us at a strategic disadvantage.
"Lord, let us strike the front infantry first."
Boruman suggested.
I shook my head. The palisades were down, but the enemy infantry held a strong position. Even committing two legions, they'd hold four hours or more.
If the rear enemy pressed then, our lighter-armed troops would collapse.
That couldn't happen.
We might have pushed yesterday at the cost of lives, but now it was too late. We'd missed the moment.
"No."
"But leaving them be endangers us, doesn't it?"
"Of course."
"Lord, what if we take a gamble?"
Usifer, who'd been listening, spoke up.
"A gamble?"
"In the woods, we hunt hibernating bears by pounding their tree hollows. When they stick out a paw, we hack it off with an axe until they can't move.
Why not bluff a strike on Griham's force the same way?"
"Bluff?"
"Yes. The enemy in our rear will surely move to reinforce."
"That means a night operation."
I grasped the point instantly.
"Exactly. They'd see through a feint in daylight and ignore the bait."
I pondered. Usifer's idea exploited the enemy's assumption of coordination—turning their linked forces against them.
If we lured them to a prepared battlefield, we could seize the initiative.
A sly wolf might fall for it, but would it be easy?
I gathered the officers to refine the plan in detail.
(To be continued)