246. The Emperor’s Eye (5)
The heart of the Empire lies in Paltennoia. The most fertile granary in the center of the Empire. This land is not under the control of any Elector Count but is solely subservient to the Imperial Palace.
Paltennoia is an independent territory where the ambitions and interests of the Elector Counts are intricately intertwined. Since the Emperor is not a hereditary position but elected by the Elector Counts who hold dominion over their respective territories, the Empire’s capital has a peculiar characteristic.
Every time a specific Elector Count ascends to the throne, moving the capital to their domain causes massive administrative losses. Therefore, the current Emperor chose a completely neutral zone, untouched by any Elector Count’s influence, as the capital.
Long ago, Paltennoia was the meeting place of the Empire’s predecessor, the ‘Tribal Federation.’ From the Grand Tribal Council emerged the Elector Counts’ Assembly, and the Great Tribal Chief began to be called the Emperor, marking the beginning of the nation’s form over a thousand years.
Throughout that long history, Paltennoia has never once been exposed to enemy hostility. It is a sacred city, the cradle of civilization, the final ark…
-It’s a lie.
Faijashi sneered on the rainy plains. The northwestern granary of Paltennoia was drenched in the early summer drizzle.
‘Yes, it’s a lie.’
During Empress Rene Philippa’s reign, Paltennoia burned three times. Beyond the northern border of the territory lies Guir, a blessed trading port. In peacetime, it was a prime location for trade profits through a rich maritime network, but…
-It was a region too suitable for northern invasions.
When the dark Erik began his southern conquest, Count Tremule abandoned defensive support for almost all regions except Guir. While Guir itself remained safe, the surrounding maritime areas were stained with blood.
And some northerners, ignoring Guir, eventually succeeded in invading Paltennoia.
‘And then, Karadskar.’
During Karadskar’s great advance, Rene Philippa’s family, the Principality of Carvelier, heavily invested in the battle that took place in the wilderness. If they lost the war in the Great Wilderness, Karadskar’s advance would inevitably head straight to Ribue.
Rene Philippa couldn’t ignore her family’s request. Almost all of the Empire’s forces headed west. And at that time…
-Duke Bülrang…
At the moment when the Empire’s administrative power and authority hit rock bottom, Antoine de Sephor, the Grand Duke of Bülrang, declared independence. It’s the same situation now, though at least 50 years early. The Grand Duke of Bülrang still coveted the throne.
-Swoosh…
The rain began to pour. Fernandez felt the rain pouring under his helmet, breathing in the humid summer air.
The wet metal mixed with the smell of blood created a strange stench. The soldiers, drenched in sweat and excitement, couldn’t feel the coolness in the rain, their blood boiling.
-Boom! Boom!
The war drums echoed. Beyond the mist, Duke Bülrang’s forces slowly revealed themselves. There were many. No empty space was visible within the plains’ range.
-They’re spread out.
‘They know our forces are few.’
The battlefield’s view differs from that on a map. The commanders and soldiers see a stark contrast between a flat and a three-dimensional perspective.
The commanders would think it’s a fight worth taking. Though the enemy’s forces are somewhat superior, defensive forces inherently have significant advantages over attackers.
But from the soldiers’ perspective, it’s different. The enemy’s forces seem endless. Beyond the mist, flags bearing Duke Bülrang’s crow emblem were everywhere.
-They’re trying to intimidate us.
A concentrated formation is solid. But a scattered formation can disguise itself as a larger force. Even with the naked eye, the soldiers’ morale is easily shattered enough to be threatening.
But…
“Raise your spears! Raise them! Don’t be afraid!”
The officers shouted, stirring up the camp. Fernandez chuckled. Duke Bülrang is no fool. He’s a great ambitious man, who once opposed Rene Philippa and burned Paltennoia in a past life.
Paltennoia has burned three times in the past thousand years. Once by a northern invasion, next by the powerful military commander now advancing, and the third time…
-We must show them.
Faijashi Wildcast’s forces. At that time, it was said to be the achievement of the ‘Spear of the Crimson Duke.’ Fernandez smiled at his words and headed to the command center.
* * *
“Duke Sephor’s forces total sixteen thousand, with fifteen hundred cavalry.”
Bernard spoke heavily. As the Cavalry Captain, he sensed the impending defeat.
“We have seven thousand. More than half less than them. Damn it. I didn’t expect all support requests to be denied.”
“Did you really not know?”
“……”
Bernard couldn’t answer Erbe’s words. The Imperial Palace’s authority had plummeted, and most forces that could respond to the Emperor’s call were holed up in their own territories.
While the eastern regions of the Empire burned due to the Dane Kingdom’s advance, Count Tremule was severing the Emperor’s limbs, sometimes through politics, sometimes through direct combat.
In this chaos, there were no more pro-Emperor Elector Counts left to send support to the Imperial Palace. They were all saving themselves, perhaps even hoping for Duke Bülrang’s victory.
The pro-Emperor Elector Counts, not attacked by Dane or Tremule, remained silent, unable to distinguish friend from foe. Guir’s betrayal had already held a funeral for the Imperial Palace’s authority.
“Even in this situation, the Emperor is nowhere to be seen.”
“His Majesty is quite busy now.”
Pierre, the Imperial Palace’s Chief Secretary, spoke softly. He had the warm and gentle demeanor typical of a wealthy administrative noble.
Pierre was sent to represent the Emperor’s position. But no one here saw him as just a spokesperson. There was a strange atmosphere… icy cold, and somewhat twisted.
“What could possibly be so busy? Is he looking for an escape route?”
“Haha… Duke Carvelier. His Majesty would never abandon the Empire’s capital.”
Fernandez quietly stood behind Kirhas, watching Pierre.
-A vampire?
‘It’s daytime.’
-Could be a Day Walker.
‘A vampire of Richter’s caliber wouldn’t settle for being just the Emperor’s subordinate.’
To overcome the sun’s curse that vampires bear, one would need the abilities of a clan leader.
As Richter of the Franzrit bloodline once said.
“His Majesty the Emperor wishes to resolve the current situation in a peaceful manner. Even now, he is sending a peace envoy to Duke Sephor. Since no battle has yet taken place, wouldn’t it be better to avoid shedding anyone’s blood if possible?”
“Do you think Antuan will just quietly agree now? Do you think he’ll just back off?”
“Of course not. But how can we not even try?”
Pierre was right. If it were possible to avoid shedding anyone’s blood, that would be the best outcome. But neither Erbe nor Kirhas—no, no one in this room truly believed those words.
Would the Emperor really not want to see bloodshed? From the start, there were no Imperial troops present here.
“And if we do fight, what are our chances of winning?”
“80%.”
Kirhas responded coldly to Pierre’s question. She tilted her head slightly and glared at Pierre with her lazy, greenish-blue eyes, which shone like a predator’s.
“And that’s after deducting 20% because of your assumption that we’ll be acting like dogs.”
“…Impressive confidence. A field commander should always have such confidence.”
“Talking like a slippery eel. I don’t like fish. Imperial noble.”
Kirhas shook her head and reached back. Fernandez handed her a pipe and lit it. Kirhas took a deep drag, inhaling the cigarette smoke.
The nobles’ expressions stiffened. The fact that she smoked in the conference room, and that no one stopped or criticized her, spoke volumes about her power in this room.
“The enemies are stupidly spread out. Infantry that isn’t grouped together is just prey for cavalry. Those fools don’t even realize that.”
“Do you think we can win in a cavalry battle, Chieftain? Sir Bernard, care to answer?”
“…Our cavalry is outnumbered. Even with high morale, our chances of winning are at best…”
“100%.”
Kirhas cut Bernard off. She clicked her tongue and answered.
“My subordinates were born suckling milk on horseback. As children, they hunted instead of playing ball. By your standards, they’d be… what, ‘knight’ class? You said they have fifteen hundred cavalry? How many of those are actual knights?”
“If you only consider knights as a rank…”
“Fine. Let me rephrase: knights who have actually fought and bloodied their spears.”
“Then at most, three hundred.”
Not all knights have proper territories, and the title of knight is a money-devouring monster. You can’t fill an entire cavalry unit with knights, nor is there any reason to.
The squires accompanying the knights, and the attendants serving those squires—they are all masters of horsemanship. You could hand them a spear and use them as cavalry immediately. So, out of the Duke’s fifteen hundred cavalry, the number of those with actual combat training is much smaller.
But the Beastmen are different. The number of their cavalry directly translates to the number of mounted combat experts. Kirhas’s forces may only number around five hundred, but in terms of ‘knight-level’ combatants, they surpass the enemy’s strength.
“Tell the rest to just sit and wait. Don’t charge. Running and fighting will be left to me and my beasts.”
Kirhas spoke arrogantly, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. Fernandez noticed her tail wagging behind her. She playfully wrapped her tail around his calf.
Her excited voice seemed to say, “Did I do well? Wasn’t that cool?” Yes, you did well. In that spirit, Fernandez gave her tail a firm squeeze.
“Huh?”
“…?”
“Ahem. The tobacco is strong. Pernin.”
The meeting ended without any major decisions. Since the battle plans had already been laid out during the march to the capital, Pierre left the tent without gaining any strategic clarity.
* * *
The forces had closed in enough to see each other, but the battle horns had not yet sounded. Nominally, Duke Bülrang had marched under the pretext of “defending the empty capital,” so they couldn’t declare war on the defending forces themselves.
Thus, the initiative lay with Erbe. And Erbe had no intention of ending the war quickly.
It was Fernandez’s idea.
“Supplies won’t last long.”
“I know.”
During the march, Fernandez had advocated for a war of attrition. If the two armies clashed near the capital, the Emperor would want a quick resolution. But if the Emperor wanted that, there was no need to oblige.
They had to tie down Duke Sephor as much as possible. His territory, Bülrang, was located just beyond the western border, slightly north. And that meant it was close to Ribue.
Given their similar starting points, Sephor could easily interfere with their supply lines at any time. Therefore, the supply lines had to rely on the capital itself, not Ribue.
However, the Imperial supply lines were unstable. With Gur, the most influential nearby territory, having betrayed the Imperial Palace, the Emperor’s resources were at rock bottom.
“The enemy will be in the same situation.”
Fernandez said this with a laugh. Even a million-strong army is no longer an army if it’s starving. And supplies didn’t need to be abundant. The most important thing about supplies was just one thing:
‘More than the enemy.’
As long as the supply quantity was greater than the enemy’s until the battle began, the total amount itself was irrelevant.
And Fernandez had the best plan to keep their forces stationary while crippling the enemy’s supply lines.
-*Whoosh.*
With a gesture from Fernandez, the campfire turned a dark green. From beneath it, the laughter of an old Beastman could be heard.
[Everything is ready, my lord. Shall we begin?]
“Yes. As I promised you.”
Regarding the ‘benefits’ Partak had demanded for the Beastmen, Fernandez had ordered, “Plunder the wealthy territories of the Elector Counts.”
The Beastmen would be happy with the spoils, and Erbe would be happy with more supplies than the enemy to prepare for battle.
From that day on, the Beastmen forces that had emerged from the Great Wilderness began plundering all nearby territories.
In response, Duke Sephor was outraged, accusing Duke Erbe of “colluding with external forces to sell out the Empire.”
But Duke Erbe publicly stated, “My territory was also plundered.”
Kirhas, with a sorrowful expression, told Duke Sephor’s envoy:
“It’s my fault. In my absence, traitors have appeared within the tribe again. It’s truly shameful. I will personally punish those traitors.”
With her declaration, even more Beastmen began advancing toward Duke Bülrang’s territory. Duke Sephor, grinding his teeth, ordered a retreat.
“Retreating is always harder than advancing.”
“And since the civil war between Elector Counts is a battle of legitimacy, they’ll be confident we won’t attack first.”
“Who can be sure in war? But if they think that, they’re fools.”
Fernandez and Erbe laughed with the same expression. Three days after Duke Sephor crossed the capital’s border, the positions of offense and defense began to shift without a single battle.
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