Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: Northern Conquest War (2)
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“That spot isn’t a bad one, but surely the vanguard is the best place to rack up merits. If that’s what you want, then the central vanguard is yours—no one else’s.”
The foremost position in the center of our army’s formation is the one that capable commanders and generals crave the most.
That’s because the center is where the fiercest fighting usually erupts, leading to heavy casualties for the unit.
But if you manage to smash the enemy forces facing you and break into their lines, the assault will unfold around your unit as the spearhead.
Then, when victory is claimed and you return, you’ll be hailed as having made a massive contribution to the army legion’s triumph, earning handsome promotions and rewards.
That’s why the high-ranking generals fight tooth and nail, eyes blazing, to claim the vanguard spot for themselves.
“Our brigade has been grinding away in the north for four years, subjugating no fewer than thirty tribes. No unit is as battle-tested against them as ours. We’re absolute masters at putting down barbarians.”
“The Palz Division may be new to northern combat, but our countless battle achievements prove our mettle. Especially two years ago, when we clashed with the Swissirand bastards and crushed Robin Hood’s brigade...”
“Our Chelliat Brigade is an elite force to whom His Majesty himself granted the ‘Guard’ designation just last year...”
But that’s only when facing regular formations. When dealing with a ragtag mob, the flanks—where you have room to maneuver—are far superior.
By deploying your forces thinly and widely to the left or right, enveloping them like a noose, you increase the contact area with the enemy. That lets you cut down more foes in less time.
Plus, the ones getting hammered might even mistake your ferocious assault for an attack by a force far larger than a single regiment.
And when you factor in the lessons learned from past fights against their infantry...
“Frankly, their infantry is barely a step above fresh Imperial Army recruits straight out of basic. Spread the unit wide for the attack, and we can take on huge numbers at once.”
If I’d said that while facing soldiers from a nation like Checobia or the Franco Republic, Count von Venner would’ve asked me if something was seriously wrong with my head.
Because against proper regular infantry, spreading out to engage large numbers at once would spell disaster.
You might hold your own at first, but once the front-line troops start dropping, with no reserves to rotate in, the unit falls apart fast.
It’s like thin paper: it can cover a wide area, but it tears or punctures just as easily.
“So you’re saying every other unit should deploy wide and horizontal too? Then even our seventy thousand could envelop their infantry.”
“The barbarians may be savages, but they’re not idiots. If they catch on that we’re trying to encircle and annihilate their forty to fifty thousand infantry with just seventy thousand men, they’ll throw in cavalry to punch holes all over our lines. Then their infantry can exploit those gaps and rip us apart. And once we sow confusion in their ranks, we’ll reform our units as normal.”
Otherwise, their harassing horse archers circling our flanks would hit my thinly spread regiment from behind.
“I see. So you don’t need anything else?”
“To fool the enemy, we have to fool our own troops too, don’t we?”
“You want to borrow a division banner, then. Fine. And the authority to impersonate the division commander when needed.”
That’ll sow absolute chaos in their ranks.
“Make it happen. Though I hope that within a few years, you won’t need to disguise yourself—you’ll just fly the division commander’s flag openly.”
I responded to that not with words, but a smile. Count von Venner then addressed the generals with magnanimous generosity.
“Colonel Peter Jaeger’s 24th Regiment deploys at the far left of the left wing. As for the rest, I’ll deliberate further and send messengers with the orders. That concludes this strategy meeting. All units, prepare thoroughly to march out the day after tomorrow.”
And two weeks later.
The seventy-thousand-strong expeditionary force under General von Venner—the man who calls me son-in-law—marched on in division-sized detachments to avoid being picked off piecemeal by their horse archers.
Normally, marching like this means stringing out for kilometers along narrow paths blocked by mountains or forests, barely wide enough for a few men abreast.
But here, with vast plains unbroken by forests, hills, or mountains, regiments could march as cohesive blocks.
And as word spread through barbarian lands that a massive Imperial force had come to crush Ludvik, some changed their tune to survive...
“Great lords of the Empire, have mercy on us wretched, impoverished shepherds! Please spare our lives!”
Naturally, they showed up.
After all, they’d only joined Ludvik out of brute necessity, bending to superior force. For nomads like them, loyalty stops at the tribe.
They’d watched their vital tribes get obliterated under his banner during the Imperial invasion—what choice did they have but to see the writing on the wall?
Besides, even before we set out, we’d publicly declared that any barbarians surrendering from their regions would be treated with a modicum of respect.
It was like slapping the face of a man already begging to cry.
“This is Colonel Peter Jaeger, commander of the Imperial Army’s 24th Regiment. Have you come to surrender?”
“Yes. Please, spare us.”
The old Imperial Army would’ve accepted their surrender, integrated them as auxiliaries, and extracted intel.
Those turncoat barbarians would then prove their worth by aiding the Empire in subjugating Ludvik.
“Understood. So, tribe chief—you’ve brought how many tribesfolk?”
“Six hundred women, five hundred men, and of those, two hundred fighting-age males.”
“Unlike Ludvik, the Imperial Army keeps its promises. We won’t take your lives or seize your property and villages.”
The chief bowed deeply, his face alight with genuine gratitude.
“Thank you, my lord. From this moment, we’ll serve with renewed hearts and utmost diligence. We’ll even offer tribute like hides to the Empire every year...”
“Your tribesfolk are here too, right? Bring them over.”
“Yes, sir.”
He led his tribesfolk toward us, and my men leveled crossbows and spears at them.
“What is this?”
“We’re at war with Ludvik right now. We can’t allow armed barbarians to march with the Imperial Army like before. Surrender your weapons to us—all of you. Then, as promised, we’ll protect your villages and property. We’ll even relocate you south to better lands for work.”
I drew my sword, pressed it to the chief’s throat just enough to draw a trickle of blood, and said,
“Die here, or drop your weapons and surrender. And spill every scrap of intel you have on Ludvik’s army.”
“...Understood. Chieftain Ludvik has mustered fifty thousand infantry and ten thousand cavalry—a total force of sixty thousand. He’s preparing to meet us on the Chainov Plains.”
I’d verify the chief’s words later, but for now, I kicked his shin hard with my iron boot—hard enough to hurt, but not break bone.
He rolled on the ground, wailing in agony through tears... I hauled him up and spoke again.
“Now that you’re under us, Ludvik isn’t your chief anymore—he’s the enemy. Speak plainly. Unless you want to die.”
As some old text I’d read put it: a mad dog needs a club, and a clueless barbarian needs the lash to drill in the lesson.
Kicked by an iron-clad boot, he suddenly switched to groveling tones.
“F-Forgive me. Originally, the plan was to lure the Imperial Army past the Chainov Plains into unfavorable terrain for annihilation. But they can’t risk it now—the villages inside would be ruined. And I suspect other tribes like ours are considering surrender too.”
So, beating these barbarians or torching their homes triggers some instinct that makes them dance to our tune.
When we wiped out the Torner tribe, we beheaded every warrior and man guilty of slave-trading, banditry, murder, and rape, then hauled their women and children to warm lands in the opposite direction for labor. It worked wonders.
“I see. Anything else?”
“Also... truth be told, Ludvik’s short on food supplies. Because they’ve been bracing for the Empire’s assault...”
That interrogation took about thirty minutes, after which I forwarded the details to the division commander.
They’d cross-reference it with intel from other surrendering tribes.
Any liars would pay with their tribe’s annihilation—effective screening for spies.
“One last chance. If you’ve lied, correct it now. Is everything you said true?”
“Yes, absolutely... so please, just spare us.”
I tuned him out and issued orders.
“Disarm that lot completely—men, women, kids—and send them to the division commander. Treat ’em like POWs: bind them with ropes and escort with two infantry companies. Tell the general to feed them well.”
Managed this way, even if the chief’s a spy, he can’t pass intel to Ludvik.
And Ludvik won’t bother sending more infiltrators like this.
If false info gets caught, execute the spy... and we won’t fall for their disruption tactics.