Death Trains Bielka!
But what about a large-scale battle? It would end far more miserably.
Unless we were winning a sweeping victory, the moment our lines wavered even slightly, or we were forced to clash head-on with enemy elites, the peasant levies' ranks would collapse in an instant and dissolve into a fleeing tide of rout.
I don't even need to see it — I can picture the outcome in my head.
I had never fought a war myself, but I did know that most casualties in premodern warfare came not from the thick of close combat, but from the rout that followed once the battle line broke.
The only ones who could actually fight effectively are the standing forces.
Count Volkov's and Count Sokolov's standing troops — the heavy cataphract cavalry and the elite light infantry — would be the only ones able to hold their own. Such as their numbers were.
I turned my gaze to the window. Below the citadel, the whole of Eisenfels spread out before me. It was a peaceful evening; people were going about their daily lives.
"We need time. And we need united strength. But there's very little we can do right now. Even so, the preparations have to begin."
I rose from my chair. Every eye in the room was still fixed on me.
"Oleg, take stock of the emergency grain reserves and supplies throughout the direct domains. If war breaks out, we will need far more food than we do now."
City Treasurer Oleg scribbled notes with brisk efficiency.
"Polonsky, send letters to Count Volkov and Count Sokolov. At the very least, the senior vassals of the original Grand Duchy — not the new northern lords — must be informed of the Sergen threat and asked for their cooperation."
"I shall prepare the correspondence at once."
High Chamberlain Polonsky bowed his head.
"Captain Woldin."
Royal Guard Captain Woldin straightened his back instantly.
"Intensify the training of the watch and the citadel garrison. Draw up plans to summon the peasant levies as well, but do not execute them yet — it might unsettle the populace. Even so, we must be ready to call them up quickly when the time comes."
"Old Basil."
The old man smiled gently.
"Gather more intelligence on Sergen. Especially on the Unifier Kurgan herself. What her weaknesses might be, whether there are frictions among the tribes…… any information we could turn to our advantage, I want it."
Finally, I looked around the table.
"And…… send a courier to Father with a detailed report of today's proceedings."
One by one, the people around the table nodded with resolute expressions. There were no objections. In truth, they all seemed a little surprised that I was capable of issuing such directives at all.
Everyone rose, bowed, and filed out of the room. Secret Counselor Orlov, the last to leave, turned back to me at the door.
"My lady, what you showed us today…… your accomplishments and your insight — I am truly astonished. You have grown tremendously."
His eyes carried a genuine, heartfelt admiration. He hesitated a moment, then too departed.
"……Whew."
With the war-council meeting finally over and everyone gone, I walked back to the window. The sunset was slowly fading, and stars had begun to embroider the night sky.
……………
Several hours had passed since I returned to my chambers after the meeting, but sleep refused to come.
In the dark room lit by a single candle, I tossed and turned in bed until, at last, I gave up and got up.
Pulling on thick slippers, I paced the room. Every time my soles pressed the cold floor through the slippers, my thoughts grew more tangled.
What on earth am I supposed to do?
I went to the desk and rummaged through the mess of documents piled on it. Weekly reports prepared by the administrators, papers on citadel management, tax records of the direct domains — the sort of paperwork the old Katerina wouldn't merely have ignored, but wouldn't even have known existed.
I sat down in the armchair before the fireplace and folded my arms. The flames danced, casting long, wavering shadows across the wall.
What about building up the nation's power over the long term? Grow the economy, raise the population, and crush them with sheer national mass.
The land of Sergen beyond the Northern Sea on the map was vast, but it was far colder and harsher than the Eisenmark Grand Duchy.
Of course, that very climate had inevitably given rise to a culture of raiding, and so nearly every adult male Sergen was a hardened warrior, a raider, a pirate. In terms of the average quality of troops, the Grand Duchy's army was no match for them at all.
Hence my first idea: widen the gap in national scale between the two states. I naturally had no detailed statistics, but judging by climate alone, the Grand Duchy's population and economic size had to be far larger. If we conscripted every adult male, our numbers would be several times theirs. But……
As if that would actually work.
A sigh escaped me before I could stop it.
You can't win a war on population numbers alone. This world is premodern.
The firelight flickered before my eyes. War never changes — the old saying circled through my head.
In this era, things like industrial capacity, GDP, and population aren't the deciding factors in war.
An image surfaced from a history documentary I'd watched in the world before I was transmigrated into this body.
A single battle at Hastings toppled the Anglo-Saxon kingdom and gave birth to Norman England. One day of combat rewrote the fate of an entire nation.
In wars of this age, the outcome of a single engagement can decide whether a kingdom rises or falls. And such things happened all the time. Which means……
I sketched the map in my head. To the south of the Eisenmark Grand Duchy lay the Empire.
They possessed a developed bureaucracy and a powerful military. If the Empire sent reinforcements, we could respond to the Sergen threat far more effectively.
But reality was never that accommodating.
Asking a foreign power for aid is dangerous. Especially the Empire……
Going through documents the old Katerina had never bothered to read, one by one, had taught me this much: relations between the Empire and the northern Grand Duchy had never been good, even before my father — the current Grand Duke — took the throne.
After Grand Duke Chedomir, the present ruler and my father, came to power, relations had deteriorated even further, to the point where the two states were now openly, pointedly cold to each other.
They'll play the fisherman watching two clams fight. The Empire wants the North weakened. While Sergen and Eisenmark tear at each other's throats, they'll be positioning themselves to reap the profit.
I walked right up to the fireplace and stared into the flames. When I tossed in a bit more firewood, the fire roared up, and warmth washed over my face.
On the wall, my father's portrait seemed to gaze down at me out of the darkness. His strong jaw and hard eyes looked as if they were about to speak.
"Uuuurgh……"
My thoughts were a snarl. However many times I turned the problem over, no clear answer appeared.
And yet — dimly, faintly, some possibility seemed to flicker in and out of view. The method hadn't fully taken shape yet, but it was there.
I left the fireplace, returned to bed, and lay down. Sleep still wouldn't come.
……………
Morning sunlight warmed the floor of the training yard inside the citadel. Beneath the shafts of light pouring through the tall, high-ceilinged windows, motes of dust drifted in slow dances.
I let my eyes wander idly over the weapons hung along the training yard's wall. Swords, spears, axes. All of them might soon be put to use in a real war — not as tools of training, but as instruments for spilling blood.
"Lady Katerina, I'm ready!"
At Bielka's voice I turned to find her already changed into simple training clothes. On that pretty face that had bewitched half the male servants of the citadel, nervousness and anticipation mingled.
"Whatever possessed you to want to do this? Being a maid would be far easier on you."
Bielka lowered her head for a moment, then answered carefully.
"Watching you in that duel with that huge warrior…… it made me want to be of real use to you, Lady Katerina. Not as a maid — as a fighter. After the Sergen delegation left, I heard what people were whispering about.
If it truly comes to war…… I want to fight at your side."
Looking into the eyes of our light-pink-haired, monumentally endowed maid, I could tell she meant every word.
Honestly, when she first proposed it, I'd intended to refuse. But Bielka turned out to be surprisingly stubborn, and once someone insisted on pledging her life in service, talking her out of it just made everything look worse. I had no choice.
Before long the door opened, and in walked a man with a rough white beard — Nikolai.
Nikolai was the weapons instructor of the citadel garrison, and he had to be past fifty at the least. Yet his body was hard as iron, and his stride carried a confidence that men half his age couldn't match.
"You called for me, my lady?"
His gaze shifted to Bielka. His eyebrows rose a fraction, then settled back.
"Assess this girl for me. Whether she has any aptitude for weapons — and if she does, which weapon would suit her."
A complicated expression crossed Nikolai's face — half surprise, half doubt.
"This…… maidservant, you mean?"
"She's not a maidservant, she's a lady's maid. And yes — assess her."
Nikolai let out a small sigh and approached Bielka.
"Your name, girl?"
"Bielka, Instructor, sir!"
"Spent your whole life holding a broom, I expect. Well, know this — weapons are heavier than you'd think."
Nikolai stroked his beard.
"Right, let's see your basic stance first. Feet shoulder-width apart……"
Bielka followed the instructor's every instruction to the letter. Nikolai circled her stance, adjusting here and correcting there. At first he seemed to be going through the motions, but gradually his eyes grew serious.
"Raise your arms."
When Bielka lifted her arms, Nikolai pressed and prodded at her muscles. His eyebrows climbed once more.
"Hm. More muscle on you than I expected. Where are you from?"
"A farm in the Black Earth Plains, sir. I carried water buckets every day, hauled sacks of grain, and tended the cattle."
Nikolai nodded, then walked over to the weapons rack on the wall. He took down what looked like a light dagger and held it out to Bielka.