Night Raid
Fifty thousand in all, drawn from the West and the South together.
The western campaign against the natives had stripped every available soldier from the standing army, and it was meant to do more than conquer. It was an internal show of force for the Westerners themselves. That meant we had to display overwhelming power of our own.
Only by proving how strong the South truly was could we expect Western soldiers to trust us and follow our lead. In the first battle, I wanted a one-sided victory—nothing less.
So the moment we crossed the western border and stepped onto the edge of the great steppe, the staff officers convened for a war council.
"Even if the three tribes are close, they are not close enough to live and die as one," an officer said.
"Meaning?"
"They are holding a Plains Assembly to elect a chieftain who will unite the grasslands, but their home grounds remain separate."
In other words, we could still defeat them one by one. And the first target was the Aikamade tribe.
"The Aikamade have built their settlements only about seventy kilometers from the western border."
"Population?"
"Roughly fifty-four thousand. For a western native tribe, that is a considerable number."
That put them on a scale with the large tribes of Genghis Khan's era. Of course a population that size did not all live in a single village. A large central settlement sat at the heart of a ring of satellite camps scattered across tens of kilometers.
"And the settlement at the very center is said to hold nearly twenty thousand natives."
"Then we strike the center first."
I intended a dawn raid. A declaration of war? These were people who crossed the western border whenever the opportunity arose, looted what they could, and murdered our civilians.
Did they deserve a formal warning? Declarations of war were for building legitimacy. Savages steeped in blood needed no such courtesy.
First, we would smash the settlement with overwhelming firepower centered on the eighty-eight-millimeter field guns the Design Bureau had recently delivered.
Inflict catastrophic losses before the shamans could even begin their rituals, then drive machine-gun-armed troops into the ranks of the panicked, scattering survivors.
"There will be no survivors."
"Even so… no matter how quickly we suppress them, some will inevitably try to flee."
"Which is why we will use a mobile force of Imperial Guards and military trucks."
Aura users among the Imperial Guard and the military trucks could both move far faster than ordinary men. With that overwhelming mobility we would seize the rear in advance and sweep the enemy from both directions.
Could barbarians, startled at dawn by eighty-eight- and seventy-six-millimeter shells, mount any effective response to a machine-gun encirclement? I did not think so.
So the force of trucks and Imperial Guards would go first and seal off the enemy's rear. Numbers barely mattered. This was open, empty plain. On grasslands that offered no cover, a handful of soldiers with machine guns could annihilate fleeing enemies in a single sweep.
And so, at three in the morning the next day, the moment we entered Aikamade territory, the mobile force of Imperial Guards and vehicles pushed to top speed and raced for the far side of the enemy position.
"Still no reaction from the Aikamade?"
"No, Your Excellency. Word of our approach seems to have doubled their usual watchfulness, but there is no significant movement."
"Of course. They have never properly faced our weapons."
Surprisingly, night raids were rare in pre-modern warfare. It was not some gentleman's agreement not to attack while the other side slept. Night raids were simply far harder than people imagined. The nights of an uncivilized steppe were pitch dark.
With nothing but weak moonlight for illumination, you could barely see ahead of you. Forming ranks and marching through such a night without light was grueling work in itself.
We were not free of those constraints either.
"Only the First Division and the artillery of the Second Division will take part in this battle."
That was why I did not commit every unit from the outset. The Western army would watch from a little farther back while only our elite First and Second Divisions—veterans of many battles—moved forward.
And marching was not the whole problem. Once you reached the enemy camp, you had to fight tangled together in the dark with almost no light. No way to tell friend from foe, no sense of front or rear, no ability to respond to the unexpected, and no sight of where the attacks were even coming from.
Close combat under restricted vision against barbarians who would not die even if you drove a spear through their skulls? That was pure suicide. Trade one thrust apiece and the last men standing would be the savage warriors.
They know that, which is why they are sleeping so peacefully.
It was not as if barbarian warriors had never faced a night raid. Their past victories had simply bred the delusion that night fighting always favored them.
"Let us correct that misconception."
Our army had no reason whatsoever to close with them. One side fought at short range, the other at long range—and under those conditions, the usual disadvantages of a night raid simply vanished.
"Yes, Your Excellency!"
The attack was set for three in the morning, deep in the night. On command, the divisional artillery batteries began to move. By half past two, the army had closed to within three kilometers of the settlement. In the dark veil of night, only the sound of field guns shifting position could be heard.
More than a hundred guns in total. An entire artillery force brought for one purpose: to crush the tribe itself.
"Your Excellency, a report from the mobile force! They have finished constructing a simple temporary position using the military vehicles!"
"Good."
Seen from the rear, the First and Second Divisions of the Southern Army now looked like a proper army. A hundred field guns drawn up in orderly ranks at three kilometers, and ten thousand soldiers arrayed in a shallow arc that half-embraced the settlement.
With no means for the enemy to counter long-range fire, the formation itself was closer to the Napoleonic Wars than the First World War—and somehow that only made it more intimidating.
There is a reason twenty-first-century nations still hold parades in perfect ranks.
To the Western army watching only our backs, we were a solid shield. To the enemy facing our muzzles, we were an object of dread they dared not approach. That was the image I wanted for our forces. Watching them take shape into something close to it was satisfying.
"Movement from the enemy settlement! They seem to have noticed our approach!"
I activated night-vision and vision-enhancement magic and looked. On a watchtower, someone was shouting.
"So they have someone who can use night-vision magic as well."
The settlement brightened. Warriors moved about inside; others searched for their horses. Someone headed for the very heart of the camp—almost certainly to wake a shaman and beg for a ritual.
"Hmm. They do not seem especially hurried, though."
For the seriousness of a night assault, the enemy's response was remarkably calm. The distance, I suspected, had lulled them into thinking they still had time before the fighting began.
"Time to give these barbarians who forgot the Empire's grace a taste of gunpowder."
Ten thousand soldiers stood ready, and only a gesture of mine could set them in motion. Without hesitation I pointed at the settlement and gave the order.
"Blow it away."
The result of that simple gesture was anything but light. Like ripples spreading across water, my command raced through every unit in an instant. At last it reached the soldier at the very front of the formation, holding the illumination flares—
"Illumination flares—fire!"
A sharp whistle split the silent night sky. Dozens of tiny suns bloomed overhead. The veil of night was torn away, and the field guns that had hidden within it stood fully revealed. The barbarians' eyes went wide at the sight of a hundred guns drawn up in a single line.
As the glare of the flares softened enough for them to open their eyes again—
"All batteries, fire!"
The horizon turned red with flame. A hundred shells tore through the night sky at once.
"An attack will begin shortly. All of you, keep your eyes on the Aikamade settlement."
About an hour before the battle, Southern Army officers gave that order to the Western troops and deployed them on a stretch of high ground. Ten kilometers from the battlefield—a place with a clear view of the Aikamade village.
The Western soldiers obeyed. Southern command held authority over the Western forces as well. But none of them understood why.
"In the middle of the night? Looking at that village?"
A dark settlement lit by only a few faint fires. What was there to see?
"Ah, well. They must have something in mind."
"Yeah… probably. I guess."
Most of the soldiers watched the village with half-belief and half-doubt. If it had been anyone else's word they might have dismissed it, but these were the people who had built a weapon more magical than magic itself—the machine gun. Surely they had a reason.
And their expectations were met exactly.
A piercing whistle cut the air. Night turned bright as day. At the same time, the enormous roar of the artillery batteries hammered their hearts.
"W-what is this…"
The Western soldiers who had shielded their eyes from the flare light looked back toward the village—just as more than a hundred shells struck as one, and the interior of the settlement vanished under a curtain of smoke and fire.