The Defense of Sarsen Port (1)

The doctrine of the Western Wyvern Knights was fundamentally based on combined arms. Once the wyvern units, boasting overwhelming shock capabilities, swept through the enemy lines, the infantry would immediately charge in to shatter them before they had any chance to recover. Because of this, the wyvern units and the infantry maintained a slight distance from each other.

In other words, it was difficult to annihilate both forces simultaneously. After all, no sane person would charge forward on foot while watching their wyverns get torn to shreds by anti-aircraft guns right before their eyes.

"With our current deployment, by the time the wyvern units are completely shredded by our anti-aircraft guns, their infantry will have already fled."

And I had no intention of letting things end that way. We had to crush them utterly on their very first attempt so that the West would feel a far more suffocating pressure.

"Therefore, we will ambush two platoons of air defense artillery and four anti-aircraft guns on this hill."

I pointed to the map of Sarsen spread across the center of the command room table. The port we had captured was a natural fortress nestled between mountain ranges. Once inside Sarsen Port, there were only three ways out: retreat through the entrance, escape by sea, or head toward the South.

But the path to the South was already blocked by our air defense artillery. The sea? Standard infantry jumping into the ocean without ships would just end up as fish food. If our two air defense platoons sealed off the entrance, they would be completely trapped.

"That would certainly allow us to completely encircle the enemy, but... if we detach two platoons, the number of infantry defending the front of Sarsen drops to two hundred and thirty. I worry whether they can withstand the shock of the enemy's infantry charge."

The staff officers' concerns were understandable to some extent. In this world, a battle between a modern army armed with firearms and artillery and a conventional medieval infantry unit had never occurred.

"For the encirclement to succeed, the air defense unit acting as the anvil must be able to hold the line against their charge. Is that truly possible...?"

It went without saying, but I wasn't acting without a plan. First of all, the West couldn't mobilize a massive army. Moving too many troops at once would make their logistics and troop movements glaringly obvious, instantly exposing their preparations for war. Thus, to keep their plans hidden, the West could only deploy a few thousand men at most.

And history had already shown, through the colonial empires of Europe, how a battle between a fully equipped artillery unit and soldiers armed with spears and swords would play out.

"Do not worry. The A-01 will be more than enough to handle ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it."

With the invincible Wyvern Knights turning into chunks of meat in the sky and artillery shells raining down on the ground, there was no way medieval infantry could keep their wits about them—a situation that would panic even a modern 21st-century soldier.

Therefore, my focus lay elsewhere.

"Once we break their spirits with the initial bombardment, try to secure as many surrenders as possible."

"Surrenders... sir?"

"Yes."

Factories in the Industrial Revolution era were monsters that devoured human labor. To keep the engine of economic growth spinning, a constant supply of labor had to be fed into the machine. We were already short on manpower just to fill our military ranks. There was no better labor resource than free prisoners of war from the West.

"We will do our best to secure their surrender, then."

"Good. It's not an absolute requirement, so don't push too hard. If they refuse to submit and fight to the bitter end, wipe them out completely."

The strategic briefing held just before the summit concluded. All that was left now was to wait for the results at the negotiation table.

Airestopolis, a neutral trade hub situated between the West and the South, was a peculiar city. It was an island located smack in the middle of the public waters bordering the maritime boundaries of both regions. Because people from both territories gathered here, the architecture was uniquely blended.

But I hadn't come here to admire the novel architecture. Before I could even begin to enjoy any leisure, a telegram arrived.

"Your Excellency, a telegram from the anti-aircraft artillery unit in Sarsen."

"Ah, thank you, Lucilla."

"What about the deployment of our anti-aircraft artillery?"

"They report that everything is in place, sir. They are ready to annihilate the enemy the moment they are spotted."

"Excellent. Now... all that's left is to face that insolent brat Charles's shameless face."

Charles Raymonds. What kind of face would that despicable, muscle-brained thug make when he heard his army had been completely wiped out? I was already so curious that a smile naturally tugged at my lips.

"It is time to enter, sir. The talks begin in ten minutes."

"Ah, thank you for letting me know."

Guided by the butler, I made my way to the designated venue. The outdoor conference area was already packed with people, but there wasn't a single knight or mage in sight.

Airestopolis was the midpoint between the West and the South. Though it lay within imperial territory, it fell under neither region's jurisdiction. In such cases, the area naturally came under the direct control of the Imperial Crown. And one could not simply march their private army into imperial territory without prior notice. Consequently, neither our side nor Charles's could bring soldiers.

That was precisely why this location had been chosen for the summit. It was a place where both parties could converse at ease, without the constant worry of being stabbed in the back.

"Where is the Archduke of the West?"

"He is already seated and waiting, sir."

Following the butler's words, I turned my gaze toward the pavilion and spotted Charles Raymonds, the Archduke of the West, already seated. He looked exactly like his description in the novel.

Long red hair and blood-red eyes. A man resembling an untamed wild dog.

True to that description, his attire consisted of casual wear rather than a formal suit or military uniform. Despite having convened this summit under the guise of seeking peace, Charles himself looked as though he had absolutely no desire for dialogue.

Unsurprisingly, the negotiations proceeded exactly as anticipated.

"Withdraw from the Sarsen region."

When the Western aides demanded this,

"Then acknowledge your violation of the Sarsen-Lutetia Treaty and pay the corresponding reparations,"

our aides countered.

"Excuse me, but weren't you the ones who demolished Sarsen Fortress? I cannot fathom the sheer audacity of demanding reparations after destroying our fortress."

"Do you even hear yourselves, considering who has been extorting heavy tolls for the past three years?"

Eventually, as the atmosphere in the pavilion grew heated, personal attacks began to fly. The agitated Western side spoke up first.

"To completely forget that we have protected the South for decades... It seems the rumors are true: Southerners really are cold-blooded creatures who would sell anything for money."

"Ha! You haven't so much as touched the Southern pirates for the last ten years, so I haven't the faintest clue who you claim to have been protecting us from."

In the first place, neither the West nor our side had come here to negotiate. Amidst the bickering, Charles sat in silence with his arms crossed. He was clearly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trying to buy time, planning to launch a surprise attack on our unprepared forces while our command staff was gathered here.

But what a pity. Things weren't going to go his way.

"Pfft."

As I let out a soft chuckle at the thought, Charles's brow furrowed.

"Got ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a problem?"

The retort came instantly. Charles was a hothead who wouldn't learn to control his temper until he fell completely under the female lead's spell later in the story. Honestly, it was a miracle he had managed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to stay quiet for a whole hour. He had clearly reached the limit of his patience.

"Oh, nothing. I just thought you seemed to have a lot on your mind, considering how much you prattled on about wanting peace in your letters."

"..."

"Almost as if... you have some other underhanded motive?"

The reaction was instantaneous. Charles, who had been sitting passively with his arms crossed, suddenly unleashed a suffocating aura.

"Hey, idiot."

In an instant, the pavilion fell dead silent. No matter how disgraced his position, Kyle was still a fellow Archduke. No one had expected Charles to address him so blatantly as an "idiot."

"Did getting kicked out for hitting on a woman make you lose your mind? Just because the lowborns around here call you 'Your Grace, Your Grace,' do you actually think you're somebody?"

I listened, curious to see where he was going with this, as his voice grew louder.

"Don't flatter yourself. Just because you're treated like a king by the lowborns playing with pennies in this Southern corner doesn't mean you can hide your pathetic past."

Slam! Charles irritably threw a fist-sized crystal ball onto the table. After flickering for a moment, mana erupted from the crystal, projecting a massive screen in midair. The screen displayed Sarsen Port.

Three wyvern squadrons and an army of five thousand soldiers were gathered before it. They were marching triumphantly through the narrow pass between the hills. Their momentum alone was quite formidable.

"I'll let you watch your pathetic toy soldiers get torn apart by our elite knights. Once you've been reminded of your place, then we can talk."

Charles seemed to feed off the sheer presence of his army. As he confidently declared victory, there wasn't a shred of doubt or worry about defeat in his voice.

"Don't worry. I've ordered them not to leave a single soul alive. They'll make sure their deaths are as agonizing as possible."

A sadistic smirk spread across Charles's face. Looking at his triumphant expression, I replied nonchalantly.

"Hmm. I think the ones you should be worrying about right now aren't my men, but yours, Charles Raymonds."

"What?"

"Because the ones getting slaughtered in Sarsen today will be your Wyvern Knights."

The moment my words fell, the sixteen anti-aircraft guns aimed at the sky roared to life in unison.