Mopping Up the Battlefield
The ones whose minds had shattered most completely in this situation were the Western conscripts. The Western elite troops who had been taking direct fire from the warships? They had already been pulverized beneath the naval bombardment. The dead, after all, do not speak.
The conscripts knew only too well just how strong those so-called elite troops were. More than half of the veterans who fought daily against the natives, the monsters of the Arbel Mountains, and the rebels on the Western front were aura users.
Even if they weren’t full knights, Western elite soldiers were trained in at least the basic aura breathing techniques.
Yet those very men were melting away without offering the slightest resistance. It was only natural that every explosion bursting from the canyon filled them with terror. The moment that blast turned toward them, the number thirty thousand would lose all meaning.
And that wasn’t all.
“Enemy forces sighted!”
From the opposite side of the Arcal Plain, the Southern army began to reveal itself. At their forefront were the very cannons that had shredded the wyvern knights at the port of Sarcen and during the night of Albion. Rumors of how powerful those weapons were had already spread far and wide.
The story that five thousand infantry sent to attack the port of Sarcen had been unilaterally wiped out by a mere three hundred infantry was already circulating in whispers. In a situation like this, who would have the heart to fight?
“Let’s surrender.”
Of course such words spilled out. If they surrendered and the Southern army lost, they would die? No one even entertained the thought that the Southern army could possibly be defeated.
Besides, every conscript understood their own position perfectly. They were the thirty-thousand-strong meat shield meant to help the elite troops break through. There was no way they would feel any patriotism toward a homeland that had used them as disposable fodder.
“Western conscripts, listen well! His Grace the benevolent Duke Kyle Leopold knows that you did not come to this place of your own free will!”
“Our army has come here to liberate our families, friends, and countrymen from the corrupt nobles of the West! Those who do not wish to fight, throw down your weapons and surrender!”
And so, every Western soldier surrendered before the 1st Division of the Southern army.
The place where the warship’s merciless bombardment had passed was utterly, indescribably horrific. The Arcal Plain and the canyon running through it had once been the largest coastal road in the Western seaboard, but no trace of it remained.
Mountains crushed by 305mm shells had collapsed into the canyon, swallowing everything beneath them. Yet even in that gruesome scene, a few had survived.
Knights. Mages. And soldiers who had learned aura breathing techniques. There was only one fate awaiting them.
“Kill them all.”
To industrialize, it was crucial to shatter the landlord class that held vast tracts of land. And the power of that landlord class came from land and people. Here, “people” meant the private armies those families had built up over hundreds of years.
The elite troops had also been drawn from those noble households’ private forces. From my position—someone who needed to industrialize the West—there was no choice but to sweep them away without exception.
“Today, no enemy leaves this canyon alive.”
At my command, the Royal Guard stepped forward. Having been forged through several battles and intense training, the disciplined guards advanced in perfect ranks and files into the collapsed canyon. At the very front were the machine gunners clad in thick steel-alloy heavy armor.
Acting as the unit’s shields, they opened fire with their machine guns at everything in sight as they pushed forward. Behind them came the riflemen in ash-gray coats. Bullets infused with mana and aura finished off any enemies who had survived the machine-gun barrage.
For a while, the canyon echoed with gunfire and screams. It took less than two hours for the Western army’s ten thousand elite troops to be literally annihilated.
Watching the scene, I gave orders to the operations officer.
“Relay to the 1st Division and support units: station themselves on the Arcal Plain, manage the Western conscripts, and carry out civil affairs operations by using the conscripts to agitate the locals.”
“Yes, Your Excellency!”
“As for the 2nd Division, they will advance on the port city of Aquitaine together with the fleet.”
This was why I had deliberately brought two full divisions plus five thousand support and supply troops even though one-sided slaughter was possible. This was not a war that would end simply by capturing the capital and accepting surrender.
Our ultimate goal was the complete merger of the West and the South. For a true merger, both justification and the hearts of the people were necessary.
The corrupt Western nobles who had used their own people as meat shields, contrasted against the Southern army that treated even those who surrendered with warmth.
Showing that contrast clearly was the purpose of the 1st Division and the support units. That was also why the support units included quite a few civilian specialists in medicine, education, and construction. It was a 21st-century style civil affairs operation.
“Tell the main body of the 2nd Division following behind to march straight ahead. I’ll catch up shortly.”
The forty-thousand-strong army that had been guarding the capital had vanished. Nothing in the West could any longer block our army’s path.
The wyvern knight order would be completely swept away by the anti-aircraft artillery units, and the fortresses would crumble before the overwhelming power of the warships.
It was only natural. The West possessed nothing but the wyvern knights. The West was a land completely cut off from the Imperial center.
It was blocked by the massive Arbel Mountains on land and could only reach the Imperial center by sea through Southern territory.
Naturally, its rate of development lagged far behind the center. The reason the West had been incorporated into the Empire despite being so isolated was simple. It was a region that was difficult to invade, yet far too annoying to simply leave alone.
The land blocked by the Arbel Mountains and sea, its precarious position that made one uneasy about leaving it unattended, and the aerial cavalry known as the wyvern knights.
For those reasons, the Empire’s founding emperor had brought the West into the Empire. For the past thousand years that might have been peaceful, but…
“Not anymore.”
There was no land as good as the West. The mountain range was an excellent natural barrier that even a 21st-century army would find difficult to cross.
Moreover, there were considerable cultural and ethnic differences from the Imperial center. Being closer to the South than to the center, they were people we could trust to some degree.
In short, this place would become our South’s ultimate rear base. A safe rear area where we could build military factories we couldn’t construct in the homeland, increase production with advanced agricultural techniques, and conscript population.
Of course, there were a few paths that crossed the Arbel Mountains. But that didn’t matter. There was no better place for firearms—including artillery—to display their power than the narrow passages between the mountains.
“So we will quickly capture Aquitaine and push on to Porvin.”
Speed was the core of our strategy. The Imperial center was not unaware of how important the West was. They would certainly attempt to intervene, and before they could, we had to cut off the routes crossing the Arbel Mountains.
“Has the battlefield been cleaned up?”
“Yes, Your Excellency!”
“Then let’s move out. Time is life itself.”
As I spoke and turned to leave, one of the machine gunners in heavy armor approached, dragging a man dressed in luxurious clothing.
“Your Excellency. We found someone who appears to be of fairly high rank. Normally we would execute him, but we couldn’t tell if he was someone we should handle carelessly at our level…”
The man who had been dumped onto the ground was in a wretched state. His face was deathly pale and he was coughing up blood.
There were no visible external injuries, so it seemed to be internal damage. When I extended my power to examine his interior, I saw that his aura core had been shattered.
“He resisted, so I shattered his aura core. He will never be able to use aura again.”
“Hmm…”
He could use aura and wore ornate armor different from that of ordinary knights. At a glance, he looked like someone important. I grabbed the collar of the man sprawled on the ground, and he finally reacted.
“Ugh… Sp-spare me…”
For someone of high rank, it was an incredibly servile sight. Well, from my perspective, such groveling made things much easier. The more pathetic they were, the more effective death threats became.
“Royal Guard. Point a machine gun at this man’s head.”
“Hiiik…!”
Clack.
The moment the heavy barrel pressed against his forehead, the man’s body began to tremble violently. I asked him in a coercive tone.
“State your affiliation, position, and name.”
“I-I am Eric… Eric Smith, Supreme Commander of the Western Army!”
“Eric Smith?”
It was a name I had heard a few times through the intelligence bureau. I recalled he was one of the Western officers. But wasn’t he the one who fought the Western natives? Why was he here? When I asked, the answers poured out of him.
The chaotic state of the Western upper class. The Western Grand Duke who had shut himself in his room. And how he had been dragged here after gathering conscripts. “Hah. He treats the lives of thirty thousand commoners as worthless but values his own life so dearly?”
The sheer hypocrisy was so astounding I couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. Still, the reason I didn’t kill him was simple.
“Consider yourself lucky. You still have some use.”
A man who held the position of Supreme Commander of the Western Army would know plenty of information and could be used in many ways.
“The rest of you, finish cleaning up the battlefield and return. We depart for Aquitaine.”
The speed of the Southern army’s advance was faster than the rumors suggested. After all, rumors spread from person to person, yet the forty thousand Western troops who should have been spreading those rumors had been completely annihilated without exception.
By the time news that the Southern army was marching on Aquitaine reached the city, the fleet—including the Dreadnought—had already arrived near the port.
On the crimson sea dyed by the setting sun, the Dreadnought’s massive guns were aimed at the Aquitaine fortress.