163. Strategy, Tactics, Schemes, and Deception (1)
*
The Karandal Camp, located in the middle of a vast grassland centered around Hazart Palan, was a watchtower guarding the eastern border of Hazart Palan.
Hazart Palan was a territory with relatively safe maritime areas and extensive grasslands. Due to its abundant basic resources, the warriors of the territory were numerous and of high quality. The warriors at the Karandal Camp were neither too hot-blooded nor too old—just strong men in their prime.
Aeren sat at the end of the hastily prepared banquet hall in the camp, looking down at the warriors awaiting her orders. The true strength of the territory lay with them. And their future rested in her hands. It might have been an excessive burden for a young woman, but her eyes still burned with fierceness.
“Southern stranger. I must thank you once again. If it weren’t for your efforts, we wouldn’t have survived.”
“I consider it a mutually beneficial exchange.”
Fernandez wiped his hands after tearing into some meat and looked at Aeren. Her eyes shone like ice from the tundra, and her hair, like a lion’s mane, gleamed like faded gold. She looked exactly like the Archangel he remembered.
-Too much of a coincidence.
‘Indeed. It’s as if the angels were waiting for us wherever we went.’
The encounters in the Great Wilderness, and now here in the north. It wasn’t something he had anticipated or discovered through his own tracking. It was as if fate had intervened, leading him to meet and save them.
As if it were the most natural thing. But how many people could possibly live in this northern region? And how many clans were there, and what were the odds that one of those clans would have an angel?
-Is it too far-fetched to think there’s divine intervention?
‘Not yet. And this situation makes sense in its own way.’
Meeting Pieranel, the Archangel of Wisdom and Truth in the wilderness, was the result of chasing Guimerin’s prophecy. While the encounter itself was coincidental, he had at least predicted that one of the Archangels would be in the Great Wilderness.
And now this situation. Among the few northern clans resisting Sadarkelisa, it’s only logical that a survivor would be an Archangel. A human born with the nature of an Archangel would never join hands with demons.
Fernandez frowned. Whether someone had intervened, or if fate truly existed, or if all of this was just a natural meeting—there were too few factors to make a judgment.
“I was too distracted to ask earlier. You said you could help us, didn’t you?”
Aeren asked as she swallowed some mead. She looked down at Fernandez with cold eyes. Her calm exterior was her natural demeanor, but she still couldn’t calm her racing heart.
The demons that had fallen to that man’s blade. Each one was a monster summoned into this world after devouring dozens of human lives. She had heard from prisoners who escaped Hazart Kazal’s altar how they were created.
The horrifying rituals where blood and flesh were offered to ‘forge’ demons from beyond this world. Just witnessing such scenes would drive ordinary people to madness and lose their sanity.
‘Erik…’
Aeren sighed softly and rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t show weakness, but she was already reaching her limit. The clans supporting her were dwindling, and her own clan lacked the strength to restore the lost capital.
But if word got out that the offensive had failed, Kazaldar’s arrogant young lord would immediately march with his full force. There weren’t many clans in the north that could stand against Kazaldar alone.
The situation was dire. Should she gather all the troops stationed at the border to prepare for a decisive battle? Or should she submit to Erik and disarm?
And what did this young warrior from the south want? If he needed something from her clan, she would have to give it to him, no matter how important it was.
“Exactly what kind of help can you offer? Unless Lord Botan sends the Einherjar warriors himself, we don’t have the strength to stop Erik.”
At her words, the warriors began to murmur. Some of the more hot-blooded ones gritted their teeth and shouted. Fernandez quietly spoke up amidst the tense atmosphere.
“I’d like to hear a more precise situation.”
“We’ve lost our capital. We haven’t been defeated in the war yet, but we had no way to counter the sudden ambush.”
The capital of the northern clans isn’t a frontline base. The most seasoned warriors are all stationed near the borders, and they’re only summoned to the center during the summer raiding season or when war breaks out.
Otherwise, the capital serves as a hub for logistics and administration. In other words, during peacetime, the capital is populated by civilians, young warriors, and men too old to fight.
That’s why the winter ambush was so devastating. Under normal circumstances, such a dishonorable attack would be brought before the Great Clan Council, but now the council is under Erik’s control.
“Even if we were caught off guard, does it make sense that there were no sentries at the port city?”
“Yes. But the fog rolled in, and the ambush began right after. We couldn’t do anything. Demons appeared in the fog, and by the time we managed to calm the panicking civilians, the enemy had already arrived.”
In such a situation, escaping with the civilians was nothing short of a miracle. Fernandez highly regarded Aeren’s leadership in protecting the people with a handful of troops.
‘So the fog wasn’t natural after all.’
-Is it possible to sustain such a large-scale magic without leaving traces of mana? That’s…
‘Yes. Only divine power could do that.’
-Weather
The god of the north dealing with phenomena…
I didn’t know much about the legends of the Northern Temple of the Gods, but if the god of this continent was helping them, it was a pretty desperate situation. Fernandez swirled his glass and thought.
‘Fog and ambush. And a diversion.’
Information tangled. A virtual chessboard formed in Fernandez’s mind. A familiar thought experiment. A rough hand moved the pieces in the dark. The first move: fog. Probably divine power.
And the second, a demon. Just its existence could scare civilians, be noisy, and be most effective in an unpredictable ambush. A kind of joker card.
‘The capital.’
So, collapse the capital. If you kill the leader in this situation, there’s no one to unite the scattered tribal warriors. If the young leader dies without an heir, the northerners, by nature, would turn their blades on each other for the throne, no matter how dangerous the situation.
Then it’s self-destruction. Even without external interference, if this move worked, Hazart Palan would have been destroyed.
‘But Aeren. That archangel survived…’
This time, our piece moves. Eastward, avoiding the enemy’s grasp. One step toward the nearest military camp. The enemy’s pieces follow her. And simultaneously, the pieces in the dark advance one square.
‘They probably had a second plan.’
-Sadarkelisa is cunning.
Fools who blindly believe in one move can’t become great demons. If there’s a great demon behind this, there’s a second plan. Probably a diversion.
Whether the capital’s destruction succeeds or fails, the shock to Hazart Palan isn’t easily recoverable. So, when the border warriors turn their attention to the capital, the enemy’s forces cross the empty border and advance.
No way to stop it. Even if we prepare and block, it’ll be a tough battle. If the enemy attacks from two directions, there’s no time to defend. Their capital is a port city. The capital’s fall means the enemy’s sea routes are open, giving them the means to advance by sea and land.
‘But that’s not enough.’
-Yes. There’s a third move.
Pushing back the advancing pieces, Fernandez’s hand moved. A move to reverse the most desperate moment.
Fernandez opened his eyes. The surroundings had quieted. Aeren’s despair was spreading to the warriors.
“How long to gather all the troops?”
“Two days. If we send messengers to the border and gather at the capital, it’ll take that long. But Hazart Palan is a city without a defense line. Now it’s not even a city, just ruins.”
Aeren smiled bitterly. A wasteland with no walls or fences. If enemy forces appear from the front and warships from the rear, how many hours could we hold? The capital is a death trap. Even if we cut off retreat, the enemy would cross.
“If we fight a full-scale battle, it’s better to go west, near the Daal mines. There are walls there, and escape routes to other tribes if needed.”
“Are those tribes fully on your side?”
“…Some. Probably not yet.”
“Then that opinion is rejected. We must gather at the capital.”
Aeren’s brow furrowed at Fernandez’s decisive words.
“Are you suggesting a siege? Is that what you want? Then go back south. We’ll fight our own war. I don’t even know why you came to us.”
“Erik’s head. That’s all I want.”
“What did he do in the south? Erik ascended to the throne this fall, so his reputation wouldn’t have reached the south during last summer’s raids.”
“Not this summer. Preparing for the next summer.”
As Aeren tilted her head, Fernandez took a sip of wine and looked into her eyes.
“My reasons don’t matter. Only that our goals align.”
“Goals or delusions? How do you plan to deal with Erik? First, the current war. Yes, your strength is impressive, so you’d help on the frontlines. But how can individual support change the war?”
“We won’t be on the frontlines, Aeren.”
Inquisition Officers aren’t battlefield generals. Their role is to hunt demons, heretics, and witches. Even if they belong to a group, they don’t launch large-scale extermination operations or start wars.
Inquisition Officers are always deployed to the enemy’s heart. Roaming the frontlines and earning merits is the world’s business. Even if the enemy forms a group, burning them is the soldiers’ job.
Inquisition Officers strike the enemy’s core. Infiltration and tracking are their basics. They only draw their blades when they reach the enemy’s heart to cut their throat.
“The essence of war is blocking strategy, and the best way to block the enemy’s strategy is to strike their expectations.”
“So?”
“So, the most effective sword to strike the enemy’s expectations…”
In Fernandez’s mind, the chess piece moved forward. The white hand in the dark hesitated. The enemy’s expectations, huh, great demon? Gotcha.
“Is the sword in the enemy’s hand.”
An ambush toward the capital, a siege across the battlefield. A double scheme and an excellent diversion. Therefore, our means are the same. Ambush and diversion.
“Gather the warriors. Siege the capital. Send me, you, and your best elite soldiers to Hazart Kazal. By water, the way they did to you.”
Aeren’s eyes widened at his words, but she soon frowned.
“Are we all going to die? Just a few of us to blockade the enemy’s capital?”
“The enemy’s main force is probably stationed nearby, and their capital isn’t much different from your situation.”
“It is. They came with fog and ambush…”
“Who said we can’t summon fog?”
Fernandez chuckled. Mimicking divine power was impossible, but tactical magic was his specialty, and magical combat was his forte.
Using the enemy’s means to strike their throat. This was the strategy he most enjoyed in his past life.
-And it always worked.
Faijashi giggled.
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