Chapter 313
Chapter 313
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 313
Chapter Title: War of the Puppets (10)
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Heat haze rose from the horizon. Robert narrowed his eyes, glaring at the circular edge of the brilliantly blue grassland.
How many times had he meaningless checked his pocket watch? It was time for them to arrive. It was time...
"They're coming!"
"Is it the enemy?"
"One rider. The flag... black! He's flying a black flag!"
"Damn it! Give me that!"
Robert snatched the spotter's telescope. A ragged, exhausted cavalryman was charging straight toward him. Arrows? Thin spines protruded from his forearms and back.
Yet the rider pressed on with fierce, unyielding eyes. A familiar face. It was the scout Robert had sent himself.
"Call a doctor! Hurry!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
At Robert's command, his adjutant rushed off. Moments later, the scout reached him. Upon confirming Robert's face, the scout tumbled from his horse and slammed his forehead to the ground.
"Your Highness, this is Barden. I have completed my mission and returned."
"Well done. Well done!"
Robert leaped from his horse in one motion and uncorked his canteen. The scout's body, after racing across the late summer plains, was burning hot enough to shimmer like heat haze. Robert poured cool water over his head and back.
"Did you see them? Confirm the enemy?"
"Yes, Your Highness. They're... they're advancing northward from the western sector, fifty miles out."
"Northward...? Northward, you say?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Damn it!"
Robert sprang to his feet. He urgently sought his adjutant, who was rushing back with the doctor.
"Oh no, it's Wulang!"
"Pardon?"
"They're bypassing Libye and heading straight there! Damn it. How am I supposed to face His Imperial Majesty after this? The Iron Side's leader making such a blunder!"
Robert vaulted onto his horse. He shouted at his stunned adjutant.
"Libye is a hollow shell! Wulang? It's a wealthy domain with vast farmlands! They know Libye's situation!"
Predicting the Pale Horsemen's offensive and reporting to the court, preparing defenses a step ahead—all perfect judgment. Indeed, when the Pale Horsemen's army entered the Great Wilderness, Libye's defenses were already in place.
Where was their legion most likely marching? At this point, where intel couldn't keep pace with their advance, prediction was all they had.
By the time scouts pinpointed their position and relayed it, they had already moved on.
'Monsters!'
On forced marches, they slept in the saddle! No such feat in any war history. Every action rewrote the annals.
Thus, the nearest city. Their grueling pace couldn't last forever, so defend the closest city to the Pale Horsemen's plains: Libye. The frontline stronghold from the Fifty Years' War. The rational choice.
"Advance on Wulang?"
"No! Too late!"
How long could Wulang hold? If it fell, next was Paltenoia. Before other electors' armies assembled, considering their speed, they'd charge the capital.
He glanced at his pocket watch.
"Abandon Wulang and Libye. Split the army in two—half guards Paltenoia! Buy time for the electors' legions to assemble!"
"Your Highness, then you...?"
"I'll lead the other half into the Great Wilderness!"
It was the best option. The electors' forces relied on feudal wartime levies, so stall until they massed and blocked the enemy.
'How the hell did they know?'
The Empire's domains were unknown to the Pale Horsemen. With no exchanges, how did they deem Libye not worth the effort? How did they know Wulang was rich?
Allied intel leaked. Even Shaksis couldn't evade Iron Side's eyes in the Empire...?
"What's done is done."
Robert steeled himself. No more guesses—judge by remaining intel. They knew our situation, and we couldn't match their speed.
MARCHING to Wulang now? Given their pace, likely only ruins awaited. The rational move was—
"We become the breakwater now."
Guir's harbor faced North Sea winter waves. Those storms ravaged the port.
Yet Guir was the Empire's golden harbor, unshakable, thanks to its breakwaters. As Earl of Guir, Robert devised a new plan.
Breakwaters weren't impregnable fortresses. They were reefs dissipating wave fury. Each clash weakened the surge, leaving ripples at the harbor.
The legion to Paltenoia was just their vanguard. Tens of thousands from the Pale Horsemen's plains hadn't fully invaded yet.
Cut that path. Accumulate damage bit by bit, turn the Empire road into treacherous reefs packed with breakwaters. Thus, the Great Wilderness. Whittle them there.
Block supply lines, sever reinforcements. But suicidal, blind in ignorance of their forces.
"Your Highness, that's...!"
"Any other way?"
"Wulang might hold! They may need aid even now!"
"And if not? If we're late again, witnessing Wulang's ruins? Who guards the Empire's heart then?"
Arrive at Wulang in time, crush them between Libye and Wulang forces. But with evidence they knew our intel, unlikely.
If they burn Wulang and push inward, chasing was the worst blunder. Paltenoia's garrison wouldn't last.
"Inform His Majesty to issue the electors' summons. Fortify Paltenoia outskirts for siege! I'll prepare skirmishes in the Great Wilderness. You there!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
"You to Kirjat. Fetch Lord Cerned and Chieftain Hearttaker. And you! You to Ravirata and Apotajar. Contact the two spectral dynasties! Secure their aid! Hurry! The Empire's fate—and this legion's—rests on you!"
"We obey, Your Highness!"
Adjutants scattered. Robert turned his horse, heart heavy. Behind him loomed the massive camp before Libye domain.
Nearly all forces Guir and the court could dispatch. Half the standing army under him. Meaning Paltenoia's garrison was minimal.
"Spread my words to the entire army. Do not despair yet!"
Robert shouted, perhaps to himself.
"We know not their numbers, cannot match their speed, their host overwhelms us. But surrender? Lay down arms in futile lament?"
"No!"
"Your families, liege, farmlands, children—slaughtered under their blades! Soldiers! You are the Empire's spear, unbreaking spear, foremost spearhead! Each of you, before Empire soldier, Empire's child. Protect your parents!"
"The Empire's millennium was never tranquil! Never peaceful! Your forebears like you upheld it; your descendants safe by your hands! Do not yield! Greater trials in the millennium! The next won't be peaceful—"
"Remember. That's praise—we endure another millennium! Empire's children, millennium-endurers. It rests on your hands! Do not yield! Forge the Empire's fate with your hands! Empire's sons and daughters!"
"Charlemagne guarded this realm with blade; millions followed. Heroes of this age, defend Holy Revaunter's millennium!"
Robert's cry, amplified by mages, echoed across camp. To soldiers readying, camp followers aiding, children trembling.
All straightened, faced the vast plain Robert proclaimed toward. That boundless horizon. Now, one voice.
-Holy Revaunter, eternal!
"Long live His Majesty! Charge!"
That day, Libye's legion split. One to northeast, Paltenoia. Half to Great Wilderness—those vast, enemy-scattered plains.
* * *
"Libye's aid won't come, Black Fang."
"We can't hold alone! Damn it. The Empire abandons us!"
Partak slammed the table. But Piel remained seated, eyes closed in silence.
"Speak, Great Shaman! See victory defending this land?"
"No. We won't."
"Damn it. Should've returned to the Wilderness. Vast enough to hide till their host thinned. Damn it. No word from our lord!"
Partak tried contacting Fernandez steadily. Futile. Unknown force thwarted his magic every time.
The land rejected magic. Just days ago; now enemies too close to evade.
Their prophet foresaw this.
"We're no good at sieges. Our warriors know only riding! How many days hold a castle?"
"Not even one."
"...What?"
"We won't last a day. We mustn't."
"What nonsense."
Golden Tusk, silent till now, spoke. Piel opened her eyes.
"We abandon Wulang, elders."
"Hide in the Wilderness?"
"That makes us prey. No scattering."
"Frustrating! Speak plain!"
"We are Great Kadans, heirs of the Hunt God. Why face prey's charge head-on? God foretold: hunt not here."
She pointed Empire interior, roads to Paltenoia.
"Prey strong on plains; intercept hugging mountains. Seal walls, bind their feet, burn all food, withdraw."
They needed food, supplies. Torch what can't carry, waste their search time.
When hunger strikes, impatient push to Empire heart.
Like Sefor ducal house of Wulang. Near all paths to Paltenoia barred by rugged peaks. Their graves.
"The Empire's hero devised breakwaters. He vows to stand on plains as one. We match: breakwaters in Empire's mountains."
"Just buying time!"
"When prey tires, hunter's turn. Trust, Elder Black Fang."
Ten days since Karadskarl's host marched on Empire's heart.
Libye and Wulang. Distant cities, no shared intel. Different origins, races—yet legions executed same plan.
Three days later, foes reach Wulang. Ruins only.
By then, Libye forces assembling at Paltenoia's outer Pfalz.
To buy assembly time, Tiger Alliance legions dispersed to all gates to Paltenoia.
Resistance in Great Wilderness—Ravirata, Apotajar—gathered.
"Counterattack nears."
Wulang's prophet said, closing eyes again.