The first month or so? Yeah, that went pretty well, if I do say so myself.
The Empire, not being total dunces, had prepared for several contingencies, but they couldn’t keep this up forever, right? Reports kept flying in about how we’d attack their concentrated units, send them running, confiscate or burn their supplies. Classic good times.
Every time one of these reports came in, King Cassius II of Dedolant would breathe a sigh of relief. “Everything’s going according to plan!” he’d say. Cutting off their supply lines was weakening the relentless enemy assault. Once they turned their attention to the rear, our counterattack would be right around the corner.
Or so we thought. Right up until yesterday.
“…Another unit has lost contact.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Cassius II, upon hearing the report, slammed his fists on the armrests. Something was happening. Something that absolutely shouldn’t be happening. We had sent about 5,000 troops into Dedolant’s hinterlands. The best of the best, handpicked elites. They were divided into units of a hundred each, with one goal: attack and disrupt enemy supply lines.
And they’d been doing it. Beautifully. For real. And then—out of the blue—seven units stopped sending their regularly scheduled reports.
These guys had been equipped with expensive communication devices to keep us updated daily. Their updates were crucial for our command center to adapt to the battlefield. They wouldn’t skip a report; not on purpose, at least. Not even if something minor came up.
“Could it be that seven units were taken out by the Imperial Army in one night? Or maybe they’ve pulled a whole legion back to target our rear?”
“Reports from our defensive outposts and fortresses indicate no such thing. The enemy forces that were engaged with our own Dedolant troops are still exactly where they were, sire.”
It seemed unlikely that the elite and experienced soldiers had secretly withdrawn. At best, the only reserves or conscripts that the enemy could mobilize would have been pitiful compared to our own hit squad of 5,000. Sure, splitting them into groups of a hundred made them vulnerable if they were caught, but these were the crème de la crème of Dedolant’s military. They knew the terrain better than the Empire ever could. Heck, I told them point-blank—if things got too hairy, retreat. Just focus on cutting supplies. No need for martyrdom.
There was no easy way for them to be wiped out so quickly. We’d taken measures to avoid that. Using dozens of strategic ambush sites and targeting the long, vulnerable supply lines, we had the advantage. They should’ve been able to strike and retreat at will like the apex predators they were supposed to be. But somehow…
“How the heck did seven hundred of ours get taken out in one night?”
Even if King Cassius II were fighting alongside the Empire, something like this would’ve been impossible. Even if they attached overwhelming numbers to the supply lines, as long as the attackers chose not to engage, they’d be fine. And thanks to the bottlenecks along the routes, numerical superiority wouldn’t matter. Thinking about it from the Empire’s perspective, this level of devastation made zero sense.
“Your Majesty, it’s possible we have a spy among our ranks.”
“A spy? A traitor, you mean?”
“This operation to disrupt their supply lines was something the king and the command personally invested in. Up until a month ago, the Empire lost a significant number of their supply lines. How could they suddenly eliminate so many of our soldiers overnight?”
Gruber had a point, alright. As much as I hate to admit it, this was fishy as fish could be. Even Kael Klauwitz, the legendary nemesis of Dedolant (and someone Cassius himself respected), wouldn’t be able to pull this off. Unless they knew exactly where our forces were at all times, how could they selectively annihilate us like this?
“Gruber.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
” discreetly investigate everyone involved in this supply disruption mission.”
“Everyone, sire?”
“Yes. Rank doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how many battles they’ve fought or how much glory they’ve earned. Every single one gets investigated. Quietly.”
The nobles of Artria had once tried to abandon the Deo ethnic group for more favorable allegiances, and let’s not forget how Benito in the south eventually betrayed us entirely and surrendered to the Empire. Heck, only two years ago, these same guys were shouting “Long live Dedolant!” Now look at them. Who could trust anyone?
“Not that this is an unreasonable suspicion. How could things have unfolded this way unless there was a leak? There’s no way they could know our positions, movements, and unit sizes so precisely.”
Cassius II’s reasoning made sense, and others in leadership agreed. For devastation to hit this fast, there had to be a mole feeding information to the enemy.
And the longer it dragged on, the more reports came in of rising casualties and reduced operations, the stronger that suspicion grew.
[The Empire’s movements are suspicious as hell. They know everything we’re doing.]
[We thought we were setting up an ambush. Instead, when we moved, the Empire’s Mobile Strike Force was already waiting, choking off our escape routes. Meanwhile, their supply units were ready for battle.]
[It’s like they know exactly which paths we’ll retreat on. They’ve chased us relentlessly. Barely managed to lose them and escape.]
[Forget messing with supplies—we’re barely surviving their relentless pursuit. Units nearby seem to have vanished entirely.]
The more reports came in, the stronger the suspicion that there was a leak. Without insider information, there’s no way they could know exactly where and when we’d strike, or where we’d retreat to. Thorough investigations were carried out, but no evidence of betrayal was found.
And yet, we were stuck. With no way forward, and with the mission becoming too dangerous to continue, the decision was made to go dark on regular reports and to focus on ensuring their survival instead of hitting supply lines.
If there was a traitor in command, then we wouldn’t give them information to pass on. Simple, right? But then, when we reconnected a month later, we discovered that 70% of the forces we’d sent out had disappeared. Dedolant was utterly shocked.
We couldn’t let this continue. The reason didn’t matter; maybe there was a traitor, maybe there was magic involved—whatever it was, we had to pull back the survivors immediately. This was a failure. Cassius II reluctantly nodded in agreement with the command’s decision.
In the end, all we learned was that the Empire’s supply lines were working just fine, and we had a lingering paranoia about potential betrayal within our own ranks.
—
“You’ve done wonderful work, everyone. Thanks to you, we’ve broken the enemy’s will to resist.”
Our poor wizards, dragged out of the lab in the middle of an experiment, were greeted with these words. To achieve the level of detection magic I needed, I called upon some of the greatest minds in the field. The whole team, every last one of them older and wiser than me.
Even though they were high-ranking in the real world, a little respect for their age goes a long way. Besides, if I was using their skills for such a project, a thank-you was only polite.
“Of course, Chief of Staff. It’s an honor to contribute to the Empire’s victory.”
“So… when will the research funding come through—Ack! My apologies.”
“The Minister of Magic says to keep supporting the Chief of Staff, you know. Hahaha!”
Let’s not dwell on any awkward slips. That’s for the Treasury and Ministry of Magic to handle. By the way, there’s someone else who owes these wizards a word of gratitude.
“I can’t thank all of you enough for your efforts on behalf of the Empire. May God’s luck be with you in all your future endeavors, especially in your magical research.”
As soon as the princess said this, the wizards erupted in hearty laughter. Aw, man, now I’m hurt. When I said it, I got a polite little grin at best.
“Wait. Chief of Staff, do you mean we need to keep all this a secret? Can’t we inform everyone that we’re part of the concentrated units now?”
“No, secrecy is still important, even as you return. Discretion at all costs, please.”
“Alright. If that’s what the Chief of Staff insists, we’ll follow your orders.”
I could already guess the chaos unfolding in Dedolant right now. They had prepared well, even landing some blows during the first month. They’d calculated that the Empire would take some casualties, assuming the bleeding wouldn’t be critical.
Imagine their surprise when suddenly the enemy concentration units started knowing exactly where they were? That their Mobile Strike Force would appear just in time at every single ambush spot? That they’d be chased down relentlessly, no matter how far they tried to hide?
Naturally, the Dedolant forces would start questioning what went wrong. They’d check if their own plans were flawed. They’d wonder if the Empire had moved entire legions to the rear. And eventually, the inevitable accusation would emerge:
”There’s a traitor among us!”
And why not? The aristocrats of Artria tried to switch sides, while the southern provinces of Benito already had*. Precedent exists. No matter how much they praised the Deo ethnic group, they now had every reason to turn suspicious eyes on one another.
“Chief of Staff.”
Just when their paranoia couldn’t get any worse, fresh intel arrived.
“The Dedolant defensive outposts are surrendering, one after another, ceasing any further resistance.”
The road to their very heart now opened, one segment at a time.
