Chapter 212
Chapter 212
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 212
Chapter Title: Stockholm Conquest Operation (3)
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"The enemy is heading toward Boros Castle, where our main force is bound, and since it's their own territory, their march looks extremely leisurely."
"Not bad at all. So, are the barbarian light cavalry led by that bastard Ishtaven scouting properly?"
"They're mainly checking the roads suitable for large groups to pass through diligently, but they're not paying much attention to places like plains where it's hard for people and wagons to travel."
When we watch manga, novels, or movies dealing with strategy and tactics, we often see scenes where they only scout the commonly used paths and areas around the unit, leading to them getting thoroughly ambushed. And we think:
"If they'd just scouted a bit more thoroughly, a bit more widely, they wouldn't have fallen for that ambush. What idiots. Tsk tsk."
However, in reality, to scout every single spot without fail requires throwing in an enormous number of soldiers.
And if you run your army that way, by the time you actually hit the battlefield, the troops will already be so mentally and physically exhausted that they might collapse in defeat without even putting up a proper fight.
I'm turning the enemy's perfectly reasonable thinking on its head—picking only routes near paths with no rivers for drinking water and hardly any villages for food supplies—so I could observe their movements undetected until we reached this spot.
"Do you know of any forests good for hiding along the enemy's expected route?"
"There's a massive pine forest about 15 kilometers from here, and nearby is a nice open plain perfect for a large force to camp."
"Perfect. Now, I'll issue the operation orders. Everyone, listen up."
At my words, Laura, Anya, and all the Northern tribe chiefs perked up their ears.
"Starting now, as we just heard, we'll hide in that pine forest 15 kilometers from here and wait for the enemy to arrive."
On the Rhineland Front, we'd loaded a company with a few mages for a raid, charging all the way to the division commander's position and snatching their division flag.
During the Bisocia campaign, we'd acted as an advance recon unit, raining arrows and spells on the lead scouting company to wear down the enemy's stamina.
Just preparing a new raid operation like this made my chest tingle with excitement.
And Laura, who'd fought alongside me on those two fronts; Anya, with her countless battles in the North; and the Northern chiefs—they all seemed to feel the same thrill I did.
Their faces openly showed their eager anticipation.
"A raid? My blood's boiling already! As expected of the Khan Slayer—you're the real deal."
"I even handed over the booze I'd been saving just to get into that raid unit of a thousand men. Looking back now, it feels like I got it dirt cheap."
"Reminds me of Rhineland. Hell, I'm even nostalgic."
......When they find out a major general came to personally command a raid with just over a thousand troops, His Highness the Crown Prince, my father-in-law, and everyone else will curse me as insane.
But as the Northern Army's deputy commander, I'm doing this to give these Northern guys here a real shot at fully integrating into the Imperial Army.
After all, among the Empire's nobles and commoners alike, Northerners still carry the image of barbarians—shunned and avoided to some degree.
What if war heroes of the Empire—like me, a symbol of rising status—showed their valor by raiding the enemy main camp with a mere thousand men?
In the Reich Empire, where machoism and manly ideals reign supreme among nobles and commoners, that would turn Northerners in their eyes from barbarians into true courageous soldiers.
So what choice do I have? These guys enlisted staring right at me—I owe them this much.
With my thoughts sorted, I raised a hand to quiet them and spoke.
"An army that size usually covers about 12 kilometers a day, so we have a bit over one day to set up the ambush and raid. It's short if you call it short, long if you call it long—so we need to hide thoroughly to avoid detection, and be swift and precise in preparing the ambush."
"So how should we prepare? What do we need to do?"
"Our goal is to instill terror in the enemy troops at their main camp. The kind where Stockholm Kingdom soldiers piss themselves just seeing your horse archers. And while we're at it, have some fun with a little fireplay."
Instilling terror is the biggest aim, but if I had one small wish, it'd be that some minor fires burn up all their food supplies.
Because what crushes soldiers' morale and combat ability most isn't the mass death of comrades nearby.
It's having no food for tomorrow—forcing them to worry about starving before even facing the enemy.
"Long live the Northern Army Commander! This is our Northern tradition!"
"Burning enemy villages and striking such fear that they wet themselves at our sight—that's the Northern way. To think you'd understand..."
"Hold on, you damn Ishtaven bastard. This old man'll ride into your camp and slaughter you good."
They say most people love watching a fire across the river, but it's even more fun watching your enemy's house and wealth go up in flames.
Turns out it's not just Reich Empire soldiers who love that—Northerners are exactly the same.
"You brave Northern warriors probably know this, but what you need to prepare is courage, dry leaves or bark that burns well, and oil that catches easily. That's how we'll play with fire at night. Can you get enough?"
The Northern horse archers just grinned and replied.
"No cowards in our ranks. Hell, standing on the battlefield with the major general who slew the Khan himself—even a coward would feel a hundred times braver today."
"Leaves and bark we can scrape from the forest, and oil—we'll grab plenty from the enemy camp."
"Honored to be invited to such fun fireplay."
But this still wasn't enough.
To be precise, it was plenty for raid prep, but not enough to settle the score with that traitor Ishtaven who'd betrayed us and lured good Reich Empire soldiers all the way to Stockholm.
So I devised a plan: while raiding, pin a pretty false charge on that loathsome Ishtaven to sow seeds of doubt among the Stockholm forces.
"Listen up. Since we're playing with fire anyway, shouldn't we credit this glorious opportunity to Chief Ishtaven, who handed it to us?"
With that, I stripped off my plate armor and changed into the leather garb of nomads I'd prepared in advance.
"So when we charge in to attack, we'll carry one of these forged documents we prepared—stamped with Ishtaven's fake signature and seal—and scatter them in plain sight. Once they find it, the Stockholm Kingdom army will suspect Ishtaven."
The letter I'd written reads roughly like this:
[To Chief Ishtaven of the Ishtaven Tribe: Thanks to you tipping off the Stockholm army's position, we could raid their main camp safely. As promised, we grant you a Reich Empire baronial title and a baronial domain from Stockholm Kingdom territory.]
The odds of the Stockholm army believing Ishtaven betrayed them by revealing their position to the Imperials upon seeing this are slim.
But if we keep stabbing at their blind spots and racking up victories, the Stockholm king will gradually grow suspicious of Ishtaven.
Then that bastard's head will roll without us dirtying our hands.
"Alright, everyone—move out and prep the operation."
I've done this a few times, but raids are always such a rush.
The next day at dawn.
The sky was dim and murky, and the Stockholm soldiers 500 meters away were yawning as they stood guard.
They looked utterly carefree, but since that laxness could be a ploy,
I and the entire Northern horse archer unit waited tensely, holding our breath.
After a few minutes, the five Northern scouts sent ahead returned and whispered cautiously.
"No sign they've spotted the raid. Strike now, and victory is yours."