For several months, the frontlines of Dedolant had experienced a brief respite, but now they were once again being soaked in bl**d.
Dedolant, having acknowledged their disadvantage, was now intent on holding onto their defensive strongholds and fortresses.
On the other hand, the Empire had to obliterate these very locations to secure their path forward.
The merciless sieges and battles between these two sides unfolded as a matter of course.
Everyone knew the truth now—Dedolant was at a clear disadvantage, and the Empire’s victory was drawing ever closer.
While Dedolant was still holding their ground for the moment, it was only a matter of time before their efforts would crumble under the strain. Another strategy was desperately needed. Otherwise, it was just a slow and agonizing d*ath march.
“…And so, the future of Dedolant and the pride of the Deo people rests in your hands,” a commanding voice declared.
Indeed, the Empire’s strength lay in its unmatched legions. No matter how often they were repelled or even annihilated, similarly skilled legions would step into their places. Supported by reserves, supply lines, and, of course, the mighty Empire itself, they were an unstoppable force.
Winning isolated skirmishes or single battles would not be enough against such an opponent. Even Dedolant’s command, once fixated solely on achieving tactical victories, had begun to adapt under the reign of King Cassius II. Now, the plan wasn’t just about fighting—it was about targeting the factors that bolstered the Empire’s military might altogether.
“Fear not d*ath, for your glorious ends will be remembered by all,” the speaker continued.
“Also, don’t perceive this as d*ath itself! Nay, do not even think about yourselves dying. Today, it is only the Empire’s forces who will collapse upon these icy floors!”
“Our elite soldiers have already tied up the enemy’s finest. Show them no shame in their sacrifice! Exploit this opening to wear them down. Teach them that they cannot charge heedlessly into battle without fear of retribution.”
The frontlines stretched ever further. The Empire’s forces had penetrated deep into Dedolant territory. But was Dedolant going to simply sit back and let their homeland be trampled on? Never.
With each step onto Dedolant’s soil, one soldier would d*e fighting, another from starvation. The locals had made sure of it. Everything of value had been wiped away.
“There are no resources for them to use on their invasion. The only supplies reaching the frontlines come directly from the Empire itself,” came another rallying cry.
“Go forth, plunder, and burn! For every cart you stop, dozens of your allies survive. Let the glory of the Deo people shine once more!”
Deploying their top-tier troops solely for harassing supply lines seemed wasteful, but this was perhaps the Empire’s greatest weakness to exploit. Did they not remember how Dedolant’s own resistance faltered due to disrupted supply lines just months ago?
The situation wasn’t identical, of course. The Empire hadn’t been trapped in a siege like Dedolant had been, but the lengthened supply lines and stretched battlefield effectively created similar vulnerabilities. Without steady supply, the Empire’s war machine would crumble like a sandcastle in a storm.
“The first convoy can go through unharassed. No sense tipping our hand too early,” the commander instructed.
“If they’re smart—and let’s face it, they’re not dumb—they’ll be on high alert for ambushes. But once they recognize our heavy resistance at each stronghold and fortress, they’ll dismiss the supply lines as safe. That’s when we strike.”
Dedolant fighters, born and raised in these lands, had the upper hand with the terrain. Small units of their finest soldiers positioned themselves strategically, lying in ambush along the Empire’s supply routes.
Ideally, with more time, Dedolant would target the Empire’s rearguard, not just their supplies. But after countless battles, Dedolant’s forces were too depleted for large-scale operations. Now, they had to resort to whittling down the enemy by nibbling at their edges and disrupting their supply chains.
This first assault on the supply line was but the opening gambit.
Soon, each unit had stealthily taken their positions, careful not to leave behind any traces. Luckily, they avoided discovery by the Empire’s rear patrols who were preoccupied with the ongoing battles.
“General, according to reconnaissance, an Imperial convoy is expected to pass through this area this afternoon. What’s your order?” an officer asked.
“Let them go. They’ll be on edge initially. For all we know, those carts might be filled with hidden enemies posing as supplies. We need to watch closely.”
Unlike the second-rate forces of Dugal or Ross Tannika, the Empire’s army was formidable. Even if it pained them to admit it, Dedolant had to face the grim reality: they would lose if they directly confronted the enemy.
And so, Dedolant let the first convoy pass without incident. The Empire’s troops moved with calculated vigilance. An ambush could have resulted in heavy casualties, even if no ambush lay in wait.
Two days later, a second convoy was approaching.
With renewed resolve, Dedolant prepared meticulously. This time, they were going to strike. Not just steal, but torch anything they couldn’t take.
“The Empire’s carts!” someone shouted.
“Attack! Burn it all to ashes!”
Caught off-guard, the Empire’s escorts panicked. These weren’t elite soldiers but rather guards whose primary job was protecting the supplies. With little combat training, they flailed helplessly against their attackers.
“They’re abandoning the carts and fleeing!” a soldier reported.
“Let them go. Our objective isn’t their lives—it’s cutting off the Empire’s resources.”
Time was of the essence. At any moment, the sound of the assault might summon reinforcements from the main Imperial forces. Thus, Dedolant’s soldiers had to act quickly. They grabbed what they could carry, doused the rest in flames…
And then something went wrong.
“What… What is this?!”
Inspecting the contents of the carts, the soldiers recoiled in confusion. Could this be a trap? Had the Empire anticipated their move?
The commander rushed over and, upon inspecting the contents, his face turned red with fury.
“d*mn it all!”
Herring. Spoiled, rotting herring, reeking of decay. Surely, the Empire wouldn’t be stupid enough to send this as part of their supply chain.
This stunt was deliberate—a provocation, mocking Dedolant’s efforts.
‘Is the Empire saying they have all the numbers memorized?’
Though the thought nagged at him, the commander soon calmed down. There was no way every cart was filled with putrid fish. Eventually, the convoys would transport something more valuable. After all, the Empire still needed to feed their frontline legions—and guarding each convoy with excessive forces only made the logistics more complicated.
Until the Empire pulled resources from the frontlines to secure the rear, Dedolant had the advantage.
“Keep your heads up. We stumbled this time, but they’ll fall for it next.”
The soldiers moved to another chokepoint, ever wary of a possible retaliation force. The cat-and-mouse game had begun.
*
“…Report, Chief of Staff sir. We’ve had a total of 21 surprise attacks thus far, with nine instances of successful supply confiscation or destruction.”
“Not bad for a bunch of rats,” the Chief remarked dryly. “They’re risking their lives, but so far they’ve avoided significant losses to us. Whenever we’ve set traps, they’ve somehow evaded.”
“They seem to know the terrain inside and out. Probably why.”
The Empire’s scouts scoured the land ahead of each convoy’s movement. They even interrogated prisoners to gather any useful information.
Still, Dedolant managed to leverage their home-field advantage, striking at the Empire’s supplies from unpredictable angles. They’d been repelled at times, and sometimes they’d fled, but overall, the attacks were increasing in frequency.
“Perhaps we could assign additional units from the reserve to escort each convoy.”
“Fine for main roads, but covering every single route is impossible. Plus, every extra soldier requires more supplies. We’d end up feeding the guards instead of the fighters.”
The escalating demands for resources weren’t just about food. Multiple routes fed various units across the battlefield. Adding escorts only multiplied the burden. Every new body in the convoys meant more mouths to feed.
It was a vicious cycle—the whole Empire would feel the weight if this kept up.
‘Feels like that Atlantic warfare. With those blasted submarines.’
At least they weren’t guarding the equivalent of meal carts in a life-or-d*ath struggle like some poor Brits dying of hunger. But still, it was d*mn annoying. They didn’t have the luxury to thoroughly secure every corner. Nearly all their seasoned warriors were focused on capturing Dedolant’s fortresses. Momentum was on their side, and they had to keep pressing forward.
“Looks like no other option. Aide?”
“Yes, Chief of Staff sir.”
“Could you send a message to the Minister of Magic, please?”
“The Minister of Magic?”
“Yes. I fear I’m going to need their assistance.”
In the real world, when submarines became too much of a pain, what did the Allies do? They attached aircraft carriers to their convoys.
In this world, there was no air force, but there was detection magic.
Sure, magic-users were invaluable, a rare commodity. That much was undeniable. But oh, the Empire? They had too many. Way, way too many.
