Chapter 308
Chapter 308
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 308
Chapter Title: War of the Puppets (5)
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Amar Kagan sat upon a crudely fashioned throne. It was draped in banners stitched together haphazardly. Some were stained with blood, others half-charred by fire.
Worn, tattered, filth-encrusted banners. They were army standards and noble seals. A new tradition born from the overheated loyalty contests among Amar Kagan's followers.
His reign was short, and most of it forged in civil war. In short, Amar Kagan was an inscrutable and brutal sovereign. His generals lived in constant fear of being discarded at any moment.
It was a fear he had deliberately cultivated. With too little time to earn true loyalty, Amar Kagan had built his rule on terror.
Toward enemies and allies alike. The chariot wheel rolled in equal circles for all.
“Great Kagan, the envoy has arrived.”
“Yes. I was just wondering what he’d have to say.”
The generals who had yet to march out sat in a circle around the Kagan’s throne. Soon, the ger’s curtain was drawn aside, and a sturdy-framed man stepped in.
Deep maroon eyes and a prominent hooked nose. He was Kirzhat stock. Amar’s lips curled into a smirk. He had noticed the envoy’s gaze fixed upon his throne.
“Ah, you see it.”
“……”
The envoy swallowed his rage and bowed his head. Though damaged and hard to make out fully, it was nothing less than a profound insult to his nation. Sitting on noble seals with his ass!
Abima’s army banner, Ajarin’s house flag, Shaihan’s standard, Kahet’s command seal… Just the ones visible meant four cities or more had already burned.
“War trophies are the virtue of the victor. Akoku’s radiant sun acknowledges your spoils.”
“Haha! Did you all hear that? It ‘acknowledges’ our trophies. So, what is it that it doesn’t acknowledge?”
The envoy swallowed his rage and bowed his head. He offered no reply to Amar Kagan’s words. Moments later, he took a step forward and spoke.
“You must remember. The mercy and forbearance we showed you! You have insulted Great Kirzhat and violated the rightful borders of Akoku.”
“Forbearance? Mercy? Haha!”
“When you starved, we sent grain. When you lacked even plows and iron cauldrons and toiled in hardship, we supplied you with ironware! When your winter stores ran dry, who supported your survival!”
“Grain? Food! Iron!! You always plundered our resources for far more in return!”
At the envoy’s words, one general shot to his feet and bellowed. The envoy turned toward him and said,
“You must remember! When you dared oppose Kirzhat. When you trampled our borders and sacked our cities—remember that! Recall how your forefathers, your ancestors and sires, were buried alive before Rahor Fortress! Did you think you were the first in your wretched history to set foot in Kirzhat lands!”
Roars of fury erupted. Kill the bastard! Stuff him in a sack! The generals could not forgive this civilized dog for standing brazenly before them and hurling insults.
-Clap.
At that moment, the Kagan raised a hand. Silence fell over the ger in an instant. Seeing these rough men cower and submit at one man’s gesture, the envoy shuddered.
“Continue.”
“You… Your invasion has prompted the Great Sultan to pronounce judgment. Yet the Sultan remains magnanimous, deeming it possible that you bandits flail in desperation amid hunger and squalor. He has declared he will grant you a chance!”
“…A chance?”
“Begone! Never set foot on this land again! We acknowledge ownership of your pilfered spoils—content yourselves with that meager wealth and scrape out your lives as swineherds! The Sultan’s mercy decrees that crimes born of ignorance and starvation shall be met with correction, not severe punishment!”
The envoy snarled his words. The ger’s atmosphere grew savagely hostile. The generals, barely keeping their heads bowed under Amar Kagan’s oppressive presence, flushed red and gripped their sword hilts at his declaration.
Then, the Kagan rose from his seat.
“Delicious.”
“…What?”
“Nobles’ flesh was delicious. Softer and fattier than pig or horse—perfect with a drink.”
“……!!”
“The steppe eagles breed fledglings that are predators too. But yours weren’t. Like tender lambs or veal, full of savor. The women were warm, and even your so-called ‘warriors’ weren’t so tough.”
“You… bastard!!”
“Correction, was it? Why haven’t you heeded the lessons we’ve imparted these past few days? We gave you one teaching, and the only one we’ll bestow henceforth is the same.”
The Kagan slowly approached the envoy. Looking up at the Kagan’s face, a full handspan taller than his own, the envoy trembled with rage and terror.
“Fear not. We are rich in patience. If you fail to grasp it, we’ll teach you again and again and again. Our wisdom is singular, so it won’t take you long to comprehend.”
“…What are you saying?”
“The sole wisdom we offer you: the law of the jungle.”
-CRUNCH!
The envoy’s shoulder shattered. He hadn’t even seen the Kagan extend his hand. With one grip, the Kagan tore off the envoy’s arm and flung it to the floor. Blood sprayed as the envoy screamed and collapsed.
“I commend this man’s courage. Do not kill him.”
“But Kagan!”
“Tie him to the horse he rode in on. Cowards of this land don’t deserve to ride—let him be dragged behind his own mount.”
The envoy’s face drained of color at those words. Keeping pace with a galloping horse was impossible. Dragged along injured, he wouldn’t return alive.
But the Kagan settled back onto his throne and propped his chin.
“He’d best hurry. He must arrive ahead of us if your king is to hear my words before he dies.”
* * *
‘The ley lines are twisted.’
-Not the work of demons. This is… magic.
‘To be precise, it’s demonic magic.’
Fernandez straightened his back, lost in thought. He had ridden his horse across the farthest reachable distance in nearly two days, probing the land’s ley lines from the nearest regions onward.
All earth holds a certain degree of mana permeated within it. When it crystallizes, it can be refined into mana stones. Many theories existed, but Fernandez believed the massive mana stone veins clustered deep in the earth were aftereffects of distant ancient magic use.
Just as the aftermath of Mutoh’s ascension had upheaved the Great Wilderness and birthed a colossal mana stone vein beneath it. Mana stones slumbered deep within the land.
And as those stones resonated with one another, the paths of flowing mana were called ley lines. The ones slumbering beneath this land were now twisted and tangled, emitting a specific wavelength.
Normal magic use was difficult atop this earth. The interference seeping from the ground acted like a wedge, disrupting spells.
‘To neutralize magic warfare?’
-Their level is too crude for anything else. Only then does the war take shape.
In this era, victory in war could not be assured by raw military might alone. Nations of sufficient scale invariably trained battle mages.
Mages waged a silent war above the battlefield, while below, soldiers spilled blood in combat. That was the foundation of modern warfare. Given enough skill, time, and mana, a mage could single-handedly tear through dozens or hundreds of soldiers.
Thus, civilized society’s contempt for the hundred-clan nomads was well-founded. Their magic scarcely rose above the level of tribal shamanism. But now, the board had shifted.
‘Kirzhat’s magical forces are effectively sealed.’
-Head back. We’ve scouted enough.
Fernandez gave a curt nod and mounted up. Kirzhat’s battle mages would be unable to fight for the time being.
With the ley lines twisted and destabilizing grand spells, any large-scale magic discharge beyond minor personal incantations risked friendly fire.
It meant tactical heavy weapons held no more value than a few dozen archers.
‘Karadaskar. So history flows the same as in my past life.’
-It would have, without us.
In his past life, the hundred-clan nomads had employed the same stratagem. The nature of this relic was unknown. During the nomad uprising, Fernandez had operated in a region utterly unconnected to Karadaskar’s forces.
But he had heard the rumors. Karadaskar’s legions advanced with enemy magic sealed away. That was why the hundred-clan nomads, relying solely on ground forces, had been able to trample civilized lands.
Fernandez chuckled faintly atop Feizashi’s horse and flicked his hand. Mana knotted several times of its own accord, unintended, then crumbled apart. Yet with each attempt, the mana knots grew ever more refined.
-Fwoosh!
How many tries had it taken? Soon, a black halo ignited behind Fernandez’s head, sparks crackling from his fingertips. Success. With a light heart, he turned his horse’s head and smiled.
Twisted ley lines distorting mana knots? The explanation was complex, but the logic differed little from mana wedges. And mana wedges belonged to the realm of magical combat—
Where he had never once known defeat.
* * *
“Ah, you’re back?”
The Sultan flashed an inscrutable smile and regarded Fernandez. The field tent, lively with revelry when he had left, now hung heavy with a grim, cloying air.
Viziers and generals alike sat stone-faced, holding their positions in silence. Fernandez wove through them and stepped before the Sultan.
“What happened?”
“Well, the envoy returned.”
The Sultan chuckled dryly and dangled his cup aside. A servant promptly approached to refill it with wine.
“Brought back nearly in pieces, dragged behind a horse. He barely made it to my feet before dying.”
“Did the envoy bring any message?”
“No. He died before he could speak.”
The Sultan smiled thinly. The sole man to meet Karadaskar and return alive was dead, and the enemy’s movements remained a mystery—yet he showed no sign of it as he drank.
And Fernandez was no different. He accepted the cup the Sultan offered, drank, and mirrored his smile.
“It’s proceeding according to plan.”
“Indeed. Just as you planned.”
There had been no need for the envoy to bring intelligence. No, he hadn’t needed to return alive at all. On the contrary, he had to die.
For the operation Fernandez had proposed to the Sultan began with the envoy’s death.
“That man your plan got killed was a soldier I valued. Steadfast and bold, even among my guard officers. It was necessary, but let’s drink to him.”
“Yes.”
The Sultan drained his wine and eyed Fernandez. His tactics were not of the imperial style. Far more radical. Far more brutal. They weren’t predicated on minimizing losses for maximum gain.
The basis of tactics was to reduce allied casualties or evade threats—even if it meant forgoing greater damage to the foe.
Yet Fernandez always considered only the impact inflicted on the enemy. His tactical judgments compelled sacrifices from his own side. To maximize enemy losses, he manufactured allied sacrifices as a necessity.
It wasn’t that he was willing to accept sacrifices if needed. He viewed sacrifice itself as an essential factor.
“Do you think he’ll move as you predict?”
“He must. Karadaskar’s reign is short, and his underlings serve him out of fear. What matters most to him is the authority power brings. We provoked him and his tribe—he’ll have no choice but to respond, if only to preserve his dignity.”
By sending the envoy into the midst of the hundred-clan nomad generals, they had provoked them all. Karadaskar had to answer that provocation and crush the enemy. For his own authority’s sake.
Now, Karadaskar’s forces would shelve all other strategic aims and charge straight for the Sultan’s main army.
Knowing their position didn’t guarantee victory in war. But at least now, Kirzhat could choose the battlefield.
Fernandez gazed at a section of the map. Just then, the Sultan’s eyes fell on the same spot.
Rahor Fortress.
The deepest point the nomad bandits had penetrated during years of unrest. The place the envoy had invoked to goad them.
Karadaskar would desperately want to seize it.
‘I’ll grant it to him.’
Time to leave a gift for the bastard. Fernandez met the Sultan’s eyes and smiled.