Chapter 263
Chapter 263
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 263
Chapter Title: Griffino Naval Battle (1)
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Warsaw Grand Duchy, palace conference room.
Grand Duke Stefan von Batory, sovereign of the Warsaw Grand Duchy, slammed his exclusive grand ducal command baton down on the desk with resounding bangs.
The surrounding generals flinched at every bang, constantly glancing at Grand Duke Batory's expression.
Already in a foul mood on the verge of death from the horrific situation—60,000 dead, 20,000 seriously wounded, and 15,000 captured out of over 150,000 troops.
The officers adorned with stars sat there like mutes with honey stuck in their mouths, offering no countermeasures whatsoever, driving the grand duke even madder.
‘These bastards, could they be colluding with that Peter Jaeger from the Reich Empire? Damn it, should I purge the military lightly right now and fill it with trustworthy men?’
Even toying with the notion of purging generals during wartime, without so much as pinpointing direct treason.
As their sovereign teetered on the brink of fury, unleashing his rage, one young lieutenant general cautiously raised his hand.
“Your Highness Grand Duke Batory, I have a stratagem. Would you hear me out?”
In a gathering of generals averaging mid-fifties, he alone in his late forties stood out starkly.
Many harbored displeasure that this young upstart—a mere lieutenant general—dared speak first while marshals and full generals remained silent.
Yet, if not quite matching Peter Jaeger of the Reich Empire, he was an elite who had risen rapidly in the Warsaw Grand Duchy on tremendous war records.
The grand duke halted his outburst, a flicker of pleasure crossing his face as he replied.
“Oh, Lieutenant General Timo. Of course I must lend an ear to your stratagem. Well? Do you see a path forward?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I have a plan.”
“Speak quickly. Out with it! If your stratagem can claim that damned Peter Jaeger's head, I'd have no greater wish!”
Lieutenant General Timo Kivinen was mildly surprised to see the grand duke—whom he had always regarded as unflappably calm—now frothing with rage.
But given the grand duchy's dire straits, he understood and focused on his duty.
Soon, they fetched the Warsaw Grand Duchy map. Standing beside it, he pointed to the coastline with his command baton.
“First, allow me to summarize our current plight, Your Highness. Regrettably, our grand duchy has fallen to scum worse than Reich Empire vermin—thanks to traitors. Consequently, the western coastal regions bordering the Reich Empire have been seized, leaving us in a most unfavorable position.”
Losing a fortress to the enemy in a single major battle is simple enough, but recapturing it is a true ordeal.
To slay foes barricaded behind walls, one must scale them—and countless soldiers meet ignoble ends in the attempt.
The enemy, shielded by battlements, suffers minimal losses from assaults, yet from above, they loose arrows, catapults, and ballistae, striking unprotected troops dead.
Even if soldiers brave volleys of arrows and spells to reach the walls, the next hurdle looms: thousands of defenders poised atop, ready to repel.
And should the walls fall, fresh troops—well-rested and primed within the city—pour forth. Such is the hell of siege warfare.
“Yet when they overran the western coast, Your Highness's foresight in evacuating all foodstuffs has granted us one vital countermeasure.”
With losses exceeding 100,000—including prisoners and the gravely wounded—even the generals deemed it utter defeat.
They believed no scheme could overturn this tide, whatever the cost.
The young lieutenant general's bold revelation shattered preconceptions, drawing the grand duke's attention—and even those irked by his presumption—into rapt listening.
Lieutenant General Timo savored the moment.
‘No matter how formidable Peter Jaeger, my tactic will prevail. Crushing him now saves the grand duchy; I could claim a princely consort's seat or even marshal's stars.’
Wishful thinking, supping kimchi soup before the rice cake was offered.
“The villages, fortresses, and cities along the western coast hold no food reserves. Peter Jaeger undoubtedly knows this, so to avoid starving the two million souls there, he must rely on maritime resupply. Wagons alone could never sustain them.”
Stating the obvious before unveiling his scheme might seem superfluous, but those present saw it differently.
By methodically justifying the plan's necessity, he demonstrated grasp of the crisis, fostering trust before the stratagem itself.
“Thus, our nemesis Commander Jaeger has no choice but to stake everything on sea lanes. Sever them, and not only the coastal populace starves—the Reich Empire's own rations crumble. What follows then?”
In the Middle Kingdom, they say the people regard food as heaven itself.
Starvation terrifies more than death; the famished forsake humanity.
Prolonged hunger drives them to devour rotting beast carcasses, roots, even human flesh.
If still insufficient, they turn on kin.
Starving mothers boil beloved infants.
Spouses, once mutual pillars, eye each other warily—husband's knife ever poised.
Reduced to that, people choose honorable death over savagery...
The generals, envisioning it, replied in quavering tones.
“Cruel as it is, the Reich invaders ravaging Warsaw would be driven out in desperate bid for survival.”
“Nearly half a million of those two million will revolt—even Peter Jaeger couldn't contain it.”
“A mid-forties lieutenant general with such a vicious notion; remarkable.”
Yet Warsaw itself cornered, none opposed sacrificing the western coast—recently their own.
One mused privately.
‘Peter Jaeger is rational; at cannibalism's first signs, he'll withdraw ere it erupts—lest irreparable losses tarnish his emperor's honor.’
“Too horrific to voice. But if my operation succeeds, Warsaw survives. Nay, triumphs in reversal, Your Highness.”
Grand Duke Batory, feverish with anticipation, leapt to his feet.
“Excellent! Speak it! Any plan has my full backing.”
“My thanks. Behold the map anew. Western coastal cities subsist solely on Reich sea convoys. For grand duchy's reversal victory, mobilize our proud navy en masse—cut supplies, seal harbors utterly.”
“......All this preamble for such a basic ploy?”
The grand duke bristled, but Timo flashed a wicked grin.
“Your Highness, sound strategies are simple, clear, efficient. With our fate hinged thereon, every naval asset must deploy. Withholding the rationale and impact? That would be graver disloyalty.”
“All naval power means wagering the grand duchy—what fleet size?”
“Minimal detachments to fend pirates from other coasts—else, everything. A hundred ships? Nay, 120. And aboard, elite infantry beyond crews.”
The grand duke wavered briefly.
Timo's words rang true, yet staking fate anew terrified.
Not total ruin, but blows near-devastating.
Yet halting invited equal peril.
While the grand duke pondered, Batory scanned the generals' faces.
Varied reactions, yet all converged: no alternative.
‘No choice; decide.’
“Baron Timo Kivinen, step forward.”
Timo advanced.
The grand duke met his gaze with unprecedented gravity, drawing his waist-sheathed sword—scabbard and all.
Gesturing to the Grand Chamberlain, who bore the epaulets stripped from Tadeusz for prior defeat.
Batory seized them, grinding off Timo's three stars, affixing four.
“......In earnest?”
“That whelp holds our fate... but none better to execute than the architect.”
“Hah, admiral in his forties. What of my own son?”
The generals' grumbles fell deaf on the new admiral's ears.
“Hereby promoting Lieutenant General Timo Kivinen to admiral, entrusting Warsaw Grand Duchy's fate thereto. As trust's token, I Grand Duke Stefan von Batory bestow my constant companion, this treasured blade. Admiral Timo, repay solely in victory. All generals: heed his directives, prepare the fateful clash.”