If You Want Peace, Prepare for War
After heading out on reconnaissance and returning, it was time to focus on tackling the mountain of piled-up tasks.
The old man has that much sense, right?
If he did, wouldn't he send not just material support from the capital, but personnel as well? Support troops weren't actually needed right away—the Wall falling imminently wasn't that urgent a crisis. What would be ideal were capable architects. After all, no place in the empire had talent as concentrated as the Imperial Capital.
Once the Great Wall is properly built, defense worries are over.
It had a gambler's vibe of "pay it back later," but if they really constructed a monstrous barrier blending the Theodosian triple walls with the Korean Three-Year Mountain Fortress, then Gromkuld could never breach it head-on—no matter if he lived or died. Guys without so much as iron weapons, let alone cannons—what could they possibly do? Not the slightest possibility.
Even an army of 1.13 million had been sorted out not at triple walls, but along the Yodong Fortress line. Something even stronger? Forget it.
Leonard agreed on this point.
"In the end, if it comes down to a battle of time against time, Your Grace is bound to win."
"I know that."
"If elves' longevity and affinity for spirit magic are racial traits on a species level, then orcs' traits are their explosive breeding rate, physical abilities superior to humans, and the short time it takes them to mature."
"And their average lifespan is shorter than humans'."
"Of course, we haven't laid eyes on this Gromkuld yet, but if he's a variant, his lifespan might be a bit longer. I'll have to research that separately."
Leonard stroked his chin as he spoke.
"But based on my thinking—and the Ivory Tower's research accumulated over centuries on monsters—I'm certain of this: variant or not, he'll die before you, Your Grace."
He shrugged and added,
"Whether by the sword or old age."
"I didn't know the Ivory Tower had that much research material on monsters."
"We're seekers of root mysteries and this world's truths, after all. If it's a field worth studying, the eccentrics dive in. Monster research? In the Tower, that's barely even eccentric territory."
"Even accounting for that, there's still so much unknown. Most of it is vague speculation or stuck at the hypothesis stage."
"The northern monsters are exceptionally anomalous, but as an expert, my conclusion is skepticism that the orcs will maintain their current habits even after Gromkuld dies."
"Hm."
There was merit to Leonard's words. Even after Gromkuld died, could the orcs keep up their current aggression? Before the exceptional hero Nurhaci appeared, the Jurchens were split into three factions: Jianzhou, Haixi, and Yeren Jurchens. Jianzhou itself divided into Left, Right, and just Jianzhou Proper. And Jianzhou Left splintered further into tribes.
It wasn't until Nurhaci unified the Three Jurchens, founded the Later Jin, and promulgated the Seven Great Edicts that they coalesced. Until then, they were scattered in utter disarray. Much like the Mongolian Plateau before Genghis Khan—a war of all against all.
Apply that to the orcs up to now?
"That means..."
If Gromkuld was to the current orcs what Nurhaci or Genghis Khan was to their tribes, then his death alone would cripple their offensive capacity immediately. Sure, another Gromkuld-like figure might emerge later—but until then, definitively.
Leonard, lost in the same contemplation, asked,
"If we're just holding defense, fortifying solidly should suffice. But wasn't conquest the goal, not mere defense?"
"Right. We have to wipe them out completely. They're the kind that form villages even in places like that and periodically hurl thousands at the Wall to cull their numbers."
"Total extermination isn't possible with defense alone."
"In the end, we launch a campaign, take Gromkuld's head, and eradicate every last orc. Otherwise, the war with them never ends. No other way."
"Rebuilding the Wall is one thing, but we'll need preparations for field battles too."
He was right. If my ultimate goal was the complete extermination of the orcs—and eventually drying up every monster seed in the Snowy Mountains and conquering the place—defense alone wouldn't cut it. Defense didn't worry me much, but gearing up for field ops was another matter.
"The key is cavalry. Seeing it firsthand this time, the terrain isn't impossible for cavalry operations."
Knightage as a status couldn't be mass-produced willy-nilly. Aura-wielding knights treated orcs like trash—they were superhumans—but you couldn't churn them out like factory goods.
That meant expanding knights-as-a-profession, like men-at-arms.
And one more thing.
"Sooner or later, we'll have to introduce the non-commissioned officer system."
"Non-commissioned officers?"
"Like a sort of sergeant."
"Ah, I get it."
Leonard, who had tilted his head, nodded. Not exactly modern NCOs, but the system's origins traced back to Roman times. Customary NCOs already existed in Berg and my army, of course. But reorganizing into a full modern army modeled on Prussia and Sweden—expanding the force—meant formalizing what had been customary into an institution.
In my head, urgent tasks competed fiercely for priority. Mining development and road construction were fully under Geltner's purview. Word was, he was so enthusiastic he crawled into the developing silver mine himself. Leave that to the passionate Geltner; it was fine.
So, once support from the capital arrived, borrow Leonard and Aisha's power to accelerate the Wall rebuild...
For now, that much?
"Expanding cavalry strength, introducing NCOs, and if finances allow, extending limited mandatory education from serving soldiers across all of Berg."
"Mandatory education? What's that?"
"Exactly what it says. Obligatory basics: reading, writing, simple knowledge. The difference between a soldier who thinks for himself to execute orders and one who needs every step spoon-fed."
"That's... never crossed my mind."
Unfamiliar in this era, Leonard looked puzzled. But it was necessary. Mandatory education was one of the decisive elements for completing a modern army and conscription. The other was nationalism.
Nationalism was faint in this era, but fortunately, there was precedent. The tattered France of duchies, principalities, and crown lands gained a "French" identity through the Hundred Years' War. An existential external threat naturally fosters unity.
Propaganda framing humanity's struggle for survival against orcs and monsters could sprout a modern "humanism" nationalism.
Lay conscription's foundation, raise an army ready for a soul-crushing melee...
Puzzle pieces clicked together in my mind.
Rhineland remilitarization, heed Noiraut's concerns, Anschluss, Sudetenland demands, Danzig or war... national focus?
Ugh, not that kind of national focus! Get out of my head!
I shook my head vigorously. Let that in, and my precious duchy would be dyed black. I shoved the grim thought away and muttered,
"Plenty of plans, but every one guzzles money. Pairing with the Wall rebuild will take a fortune."
"Already calculated that far? Impressive."
Leonard, who had been staring at me, said,
"What is?"
"Reminds me of my first encounter with Elang at the Ivory Tower. I thought, 'Whoever made this must live for food and war prep only.'"
"Me?"
"Isn't it the same now?"
His finger pointed to the Wall and nearby large map hanging on the wall. My stark office landscape entered view—no decorations, not even a speck.
"Solutions pop out like you foresaw this. And Your Grace is still young. Too early for that weathered wisdom."
"Hm."
"Two possibilities. Empire's youngest Sword Master, strongest knight. Like me, the archmage mocking even this goddess—realms unreachable without genius."
"What are you getting at?"
"Your genius shines in intuition too, or your head's been war and strong-state-strong-army only from the start."
Leonard snickered.
"I think both, Your Grace."
"Genius? Me? Nonsense."
I dismissed it outright. Put simply, I was taking an open-book exam. This wasn't Earth; it was my sister's romance-fantasy world, so no shared history. Differences abounded, but similarities too. I just pulled references from Earth's history, adapting or copying what fit the situation.
Thinking of history's countless figures whose ideas I'd "borrowed," calling myself a genius felt a tad conscienceless. Better to say I stood on giants' shoulders.
But Leonard showed no sign of agreement.
"Ask around. Prodigy for excellence in one field, genius across many—Your Grace is the latter."
"..."
"In that sense, I'm a genius mastering all magic, but so are you—maybe a hair better. Shoulders back, chest out. Geniuses like us can afford it."
"Your self-awareness is off the charts, at least."
"Naturally. We're geniuses."
Pointless chatter, zero nutrition. I'd staked my life on strong-state reforms and military overhaul, but true talent? Only reaching Sword Master. And even that—Estiang Berg was originally that character, the world's strongest in my sister's novel, unrivaled one-on-one.
So, genius talk felt off. All I'd done was localize.
Leave him be, and he'd soliloquize nonsense seriously. I waved him off and issued dismissal.
"Enough drivel. Go finish your monster research. Time to discuss military matters—I've indulged you plenty."
"Haven't done Elang yet, so 'indulged' is iffy."
"You finished this week's quota ages ago."
"Tch, that's why sharp people suck."
Grumbling, Leonard scrawled his way out, back to mage duties.
Grand Duke and Tower Lord. Surely prickly, subtle tensions between us. But our banter? Like old war buddies.
I sighed and rang the summon bell.
"Call the operations staff officer and logistics staff officer."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The reply came from outside.
NCO system, cavalry expansion, conscription theory base. All money pits. Better to hash with practitioners for cost estimates.
Price it out first, then tackle sequentially from doable. The urgent one was Gromkuld, headbutting dino trusting only numbers. Me? I'd scorch every orc village with the knights the moment he slipped.
"Your Grace, reporting as summoned."
"Enter."
As I pondered, a knock sounded. Karl and the logistics officer entered, saluting.
"Come, sit. I had just the talk in mind... wait."
"Yes?"
Karl looked puzzled.
"Your mustache looks odd."
"Er, I've been growing it lately. Suits my fast-growing beard—easy to manage."
Karl said sheepishly. And there, dark around his philtrum: the so-called toothbrush mustache.
Uh, hmm.
Suddenly, the ranger recruitment speech recalled—Karl drafted, Maximilian read aloud. The one that captivated soldiers at the training grounds, setting them ablaze.
This was trouble.
"Once discussion ends, shave it immediately."
"That mismatched? Can't be helped then."
Karl scratched his head.
In my eyes, Karl already had that vibe—growing that mustache spelled doom. I wanted conscription, but Grand Armée-style, not Bear Mustache horde.
I shook my head. Growing that grim facial hair risked Führer demon possession.