Reconnaissance is Part of the War - 3
I had seriously underestimated the horrors of war. I'm just a greenhorn not even in my thirties yet. I've never experienced real war, and the closest I've come to armed conflict is dealing with water bandits or mountain brigands—nothing more than newbie stuff. If I stretch it, maybe the battle against the Mongols at Jiayu Pass. Even that pales in comparison to the founding generation's wars before the nation was established; it'd be embarrassing to call it "combat experience" anywhere else.
So even though I'd kept telling myself that war was brutal, deep down I'd set the bar way too low for what "brutal" really meant. I'd only been picturing the blood and tears from the bandit suppressions I'd seen.
We haven't even had a proper clash yet.
Like those white rag prototypes you see in historical dramas during plague events—crude masks that soldiers wore as they bustled about, clearing away blood and chunks of flesh, swatting at the swarms of insects crawling in. Thinking of those corpses as belonging to beasts rather than people made my mind reel on its own.
I figured they'd be like roadkill deer at worst.
I sighed inwardly. Fine, I admit it. Because I knew nothing about war, I'd been treating it lightly. Even seeing the beasts' corpses scattered so gruesomely, I'd imagined something like a deer or wild boar hit by a cart. That was the worst beast corpse I'd ever seen, after all.
And yet here I was, having idiotic thoughts like envying Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i for moving as a pair, or wishing Yi Yeon-i were by my side. If my fantasies had come true, Yi Yeon-i—and the baby in her arms—would've witnessed this nightmare.
- Kki-ring, kki-ri-ring...!
As I clicked my tongue in frustration and self-loathing, the qilin I'd brought to survey Guyongguan's horrors let out cries laced with fury and grief. With so many eyes watching, it used strange animal sounds instead of human speech. But those cries carried emotions heavier and thicker than any torrent of curses in human words—enough to tug at my heart listening from the side.
- Kr-heuung.
Even Do-cheol grimaced and growled in clear displeasure. That caught me off guard. I'd assumed one of the Four Evils would secretly relish the blood and guts, or at least be indifferent to dead beasts. After all, they weren't called evils for nothing, and I suspected another of the Four was behind this disaster.
But Do-cheol was neither gleeful nor apathetic. Whether it had learned human compassion from time with the Emperor, or if that was just its nature, I couldn't say.
"As I said, this isn't a sight fit for Your Excellency."
I quietly stroked the qilin and Do-cheol's heads as the escort captain spoke up, his voice a bit stiffer.
"In the past, the Mongols catapulted corpses over the walls. They even desecrated human bodies, so imagine what they'd do to beasts. From their perspective, it's no different from loosing arrows."
"Arrows, huh. You're right."
I nodded in agreement. The Mongols' ruthlessness toward humans was proven in their steppe unification wars and the conquests that followed. If they treated fellow humans that way, what chance did beasts have? They were probably just living bombs—tools without guilt or hesitation.
Truth be told, I had no intention of crying, "Those barbaric Mongols! How could they?" just because they slaughtered beasts indiscriminately. In war, victory justifies any means. Just as we relied on overwhelming population, they used beasts. That was all.
But one question lingered: Is this really okay for them?
No matter how many beasts the Mongols had, to nomads, livestock was their most precious asset. Was it fine to waste them like this in suicide attacks? They weren't grinding for cash with beast explosions, after all.
Never thought I'd worry about the enemy in wartime.
No, not worry—more like contempt or doubt. That fit better.
"Any captured beasts?"
"None. They're too feral even before detonation, and once they start, we fear our soldiers getting caught in the blast, so we can't approach."
Solid reasoning. I just nodded silently—I hadn't expected much anyway.
I roamed Guyongguan in one of the soldiers' masks. Might as well; I fitted masks on Kki-ing-i, Kki-ong-i, the qilin, and Do-cheol too. Their muzzles were long, so they should've been uncomfortable, but they accepted them meekly, sensing the gravity. Crafting sizes to fit was the real hassle.
"Raids happen every day or two on average. Worst case, three times a day."
"Three times in one day. They timed it for cleanup."
"Exactly. Explosions on uncleared corpses or fresh piles—our soldiers suffer endlessly."
I rubbed my chin at the Guyongwei Commandant's explanation as we toured.
Vicious bastards. Even scattered leaves blowing away annoys you; imagine painstakingly gathered corpses exploding and scattering again? If I were a soldier, I'd flip out on sight. Hatred for the Mongols would skyrocket.
Disrupting composure is part of their goal too.
Enraging foes to cloud judgment—the Fury-Inducement Stratagem, an ancient ploy. No enemy is easier than one off-balance.
"Of course, His Majesty's troops are unflinchingly loyal; they sigh but don't waver... Still, I'm worried the beasts breaching the walls will only increase."
The Commandant's sigh drew a groan from me too. If even Guyongguan—a key northeastern fortress—was drowning in blood from these attacks, imagine civilian areas. Military zones allowed quick response and limited damage, but a suicide blast in town? Catastrophe. Miraculously, none so far, thanks to Jung San Wang and officials from Habuk and Shanxi grinding down the beasts before they reached people. They couldn't stop all at the wall, but they culled them pre-civilian zones.
"Hmm."
"Something wrong?"
Suddenly, the Commandant halted, staring north.
"Deputy Censor-in-Chief. You came to inspect the frontlines, right?"
"Ah, yes. That's right."
I nodded. Couldn't mention the Four Evils, so I'd claimed pre-deployment border checks—and countermeasures for beast suicides.
"Looks like we'll see a fresh scene."
Right on cue, faint cries echoed from afar.
No way.
"Your Excellency, is this—"
"The beasts sensed the Deputy Censor-in-Chief's visit. They're rushing to welcome you fiercely."
Your hunch is spot-on, I thought with a wry smile. I'd guessed from the "every day or two" rate, but not that it'd hit right away.
From prime seats atop Guyongguan's walls, the Commandant, escort captain, and I watched the beast wave.
Quite the variety.
Horses, oxen, dogs, sheep, eagles—every steppe animal stampeding in, foaming at the mouth, eyes rolled back.
Normal beasts would need five or six peers to match one berserk; the momentum screamed that.
- Kki-ring...
The qilin in my arms let out a bitter cry, pitying the maddened masses. As king of furred beasts, maybe its roar could control them? Unrealistic not to hope. But seeing it now, even royal dignity failed against the frenzy. If it worked, it'd have charged first.
"Fewer than usual today."
"That's... few?"
Stroking the qilin, I sighed at the Commandant's words. Easily over 500—and that's few?
What kind of battles are these?
If 500+ was "few," normals neared a thousand. A thousand suicide bombers? Horrifying.
"Don't let 'few' fool you. For suicides, size matters more than numbers."
"Understood. I'll remember."
At "size," I scanned quickly. Horses—naturally huge—made up half. No idea on usual ratios, but half elite troops? Unignorable—ah, ni...?
"What the hell."
"What is that?"
The Commandant's curse and escort's shock rang out. I felt the same—too stunned to speak.
What the fuck is that?
The charging horde halted en masse, then... merged. Not tightening formation—literally clumping into one mass. Hundreds into a single blob.
What mad alchemist pulled this shit?
Unforeseen chaos, stirring childhood trauma. Looked ready to scream for big brother Edward. My sanity was fraying.