Chapter 6
Estiang had disseminated the upcoming changes to bow and archer operations among the Prussianized officers of the Grand Duchy army. He still couldn't quite figure out why the grizzled old veterans were so thrilled about it. In any case, time in the north marched on relentlessly. And there was still plenty of work to do.
"If it were up to me, I'd urge you to stay longer, but the heavy snows will be here soon enough."
"This is the northernmost frontline, after all. There's no helping it. Best to depart before the snow traps our feet—and His Majesty is waiting, besides."
"At least you're heading south, so you'll be fine. Just a bit further down from here, and the damned—er, my apologies—the vicious blizzards ease up a touch."
"Haha, no offense taken. How could I not know the Berg family's tradition of martial bluntness? Generations of Berg men have been as bold-tempered as Your Highness."
"Then we'll meet again in the capital."
"Yes, Your Highness. My deepest thanks for your hospitality. Rest assured, I'll convey everything to His Majesty."
Ludwin Court Count, who had stayed a few days, departed amid Estiang's farewell. The old fellow had seen his share of hardships in his later years. Still, it wasn't a bad deal.
A court count was essentially the emperor's chief steward—one of the empire's true power players in a surprisingly high position. The emperor had sent his closest aide with a roundabout message: Why not get married? Married!! No more dodging marriage!!
If Estiang replied with something like, "Too busy in the north to bother," what would that do? Intended or not, it'd be like flipping the emperor the bird right in his face. Not quite a double-barreled gesture, but a single finger all the same.
Tricky business. Even in a feudal society, mutual support is the baseline.
No matter how much autonomy the north held—judicial, military, administrative—the emperor's dignity couldn't take a direct middle finger. Since Giovanni had sent such a clear signal, Estiang had no choice but to attend. In exchange, he'd negotiated remotely with the emperor, who was probably lounging in the capital by now.
I'll show up for the Founding Festival to save face. Fine? Then here's my counteroffer. The court count has full authority—work it out between you.
And for that, I got a proper building. Not bad at all.
Truth be told, the current General Staff headquarters was barely worthy of the name. To Estiang, the ideal was Prussia's General Staff—the driving force that let them thrash France and Austria like lightning, the masterminds behind the German army's war-machine reputation.
By contrast, the north's version had a long way to go. They'd only just rushed the first batch through training and thrown them into the field. Being pioneers meant trial and error everywhere.
"Money well spent."
Gazing at Ludwin Court Count's receding procession, Estiang murmured to himself. Building for training cost a fortune—and buildings weren't cheap. But the north had no shortage of places to pour coin.
Only after the procession vanished did he head back to his office. There was still much to do in the north.
Roena, who shadowed him everywhere like a faithful ghost, naturally fell in step beside him—slightly behind, as always. As they walked to the office, a sudden thought prompted Estiang to ask:
"Lady Roena. I have a question for you."
"Yes, Your Highness. Ask away."
"In your view, what is the Berg Grand Duchy's army like?"
"Pardon?"
Caught off-guard, Roena tilted her head.
"I mean, what comes to mind when you think of our army?"
"Hm……"
She pondered briefly before replying.
"A strong army, I suppose."
"A strong army."
"That's the image the empire has of the north: fierce, hardy dispositions. Hunters who roam the snowcapped mountains, picking off monsters. Since we recruit from such folk, it's natural to see our forces as mighty."
A strong army. Estiang found it hard to agree.
"You and I see it differently."
"Pardon?"
Roena's eyes widened in surprise.
"I don't consider our army that strong. Our definitions of 'strength' don't quite align."
"Then, if I may be so bold, what do you see as the problem, Your Highness?"
"The era of winning wars on individual soldiers' bravery is long past. Maybe back in the empire's founding wars."
He spoke as they climbed the stairs to the office.
"Hm……"
"Let me turn it around: Suppose there were ten more Sword Masters in the north besides me. Could we march into those mountains and wipe out the monsters root and stem?"
"It'd be tough, wouldn't it? Excluding Your Highness, ten more Sword Masters would deliver devastating breakthrough power. But without follow-up troops, full extermination would be impossible."
"Right—just culling numbers, thinning the herd. Helpful, sure, but mass battles aren't for a handful of superhumans."
He opened the office door. The familiar sight greeted him: stacks of documents piled on the desk, patiently awaiting his signature amid the pressing issues.
How many signatures does it take to clear these bastards out?
Sinking into his chair with that idle thought, he continued.
"Our army's biggest issue isn't complicated. It's all ad hoc, scattershot. In a way, it's because we're too versatile."
"Pardon? Versatility is a problem?"
"A huge one."
Roena blinked, still baffled. As his dedicated adjutant, maybe explaining upfront would lighten his load a bit. Hoping so, he elaborated.
"Northern men are capable. Anyone can handle a bow, set traps, wield sword or spear at a basic level. If gear breaks, they patch it up on the fly."
"The north is harsh. Without those basics, survival gets dicey."
"That's why we never needed strict specialization before. Hand them a bow, and they're fine archers; give them shovel and hammer, and they're engineers. Their role shifted with whatever you put in their hands."
"Isn't that standard? We have dedicated logistics troops and separate combat units, but……"
He shook his head instead of answering. The Roman model—all soldiers digging in—was appealing; Rome built an empire that way. But times change. That's why he'd bothered splitting archers into longbowmen and crossbowmen.
The key was specialization. Ideal if every soldier mastered archery, melee, and engineering at high levels—but the north had no such luxury. Monsters could surge anytime, keeping everyone on edge. Humans died ridiculously easily in battle. Losing elite, hyper-trained troops tanked combat power when replaced by greenhorns.
Specialized branches prevented that. You're a spearman? Drill spears only. Archer? Arrows all day. Engineer? Design and build. Even if veterans fell, the loss minimized. Slot a rookie into an archer's spot and drill archery nonstop, and they'd proficiency faster.
"First up: engineers, medics, and quartermasters. That's the priority."
"……?"
Roena tilted her head again.
"Will that really work? Won't it just shrink our available manpower?"
"It will. Probably."
He nodded. He couldn't guarantee it. His Prussian ideal didn't perfectly match this fantasy army—no Sword Masters slicing hundreds solo, no lone mages lobbing artillery. If Prussia had those, they wouldn't have lost two world wars.
Habsburg kangaroo knights charging in unison, Prussian war machine unleashing massed spell barrages. Sounds badass. If we snag kangaroo-like beasts, maybe form a Kangaroo Knight Order.
Dismissing the stray thought, he added for Roena:
"Individually, it seems trivial. Natural to doubt the payoff."
"……Ah, no, Your Highness! As your most loyal adjutant, I would never—"
Roena flailed her arms in panic. But non-experts might feel that way. PhD-holding unemployed scholar vs. reincarnated in a romance novel building Prussia. No regrets picking the latter—his dusty degree finally shone here.
"But it's all necessary."
"……"
"Like finely meshed gears, small parts form the massive machine. Only when they interlock perfectly does the army function without a hitch."
"Your Highness truly aims for an army stronger than any in history?"
"Naturally."
Roena eyed him curiously.
"To what end…… No, forgive my impertinence. Please forget I spoke."
She clamped her mouth shut. Hey, I'm not plotting rebellion to become emperor.
Unsure what misconception she'd formed, he corrected it promptly.
"Imagine freely, but rein in the dangerous ones. Anyway, that's my goal."
"The mountains……?"
He pointed out the window at the snowcapped peaks beyond the Berg Grand Duchy's northern Great Wall. Endless blizzards shrouded the unknown, hard even for a Sword Master's eyes to pierce. The source spewing hundreds, sometimes thousands, of ragtag monsters tirelessly.
The north's true hatchery. Staring it down, he declared:
"Berg has guarded the north for centuries. Relying on the massive Great Wall, unbroken for hundreds of years. The myth of the impregnable fortress."
"Then Your Highness intends……"
"I'll tweak that myth a bit. Waiting for them to come doesn't suit me."
He smirked. No more pouring water into a leaky jar. Couldn't defend forever. After centuries of one-sided beatings, time to hit back.
Build the ultimate war machine, invade, exterminate. No need for teary defenses at the wall. Make this romance fantasy romance—marry a pretty noble lady, live normally, have kids. Couldn't legacy his heirs a life glued to the wall, dying in endless sieges.
"I won't pass the burden of northern defense to the next Berg Grand Duke. If I don't end it in my generation, it'll haunt us forever, like my ancestors."
"Your Highness……"
Roena covered her mouth, visibly moved. Then, with grim resolve:
"Then I, too, will serve you with all I have. To ensure that future never comes."
"I always appreciate your loyalty. Well, here's to more of the same."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Was that that moving?
Awkward, he scratched his head.