“If the enemy were to place cannons on Mifeux...we’d...have no option but to abandon Byner’s northern side,” the former said hesitantly.
“That would make coordination with Ginaugh impossible,” the latter continued. “It’d be as good as condemning our allies on Ginaugh to their deaths.”
Indeed—even if we did manage to hold out on Ginaugh Hill, we’d lose Byner’s northern face to the enemy cannons.
I turned to Timona. “Will the defenses on Ginaugh be completed in time to begin with?”
“It will be tight. But given the difference in force between us and the enemy, the alternative is not an option,” Timona pointed out calmly. To my surprise, he was perhaps the most composed individual in the tent. Maybe he had a talent for command.
“I can ride out to buy time,” Péter Pál suggested.
The Atúr cavalry were characterized by their proficiency in one-sided, offensive retreats. Their fundamental battle strategy was to approach an enemy force, unleash a volley of arrows from horseback, create distance, then repeat the process. It was simple, but potent. They were the fastest cavalry I knew of, able to leave enemy riders helpless in the face of their technique, much less enemy pikemen.
The issue was that the Atúr were vulnerable to gunmen, archers, artillery, and battle mages. My understanding was that the Raul army had little in the way of decent bowmen, but the presence of the other three practically guaranteed casualties on the Atúr side. Péter Pál obviously knew this, yet had made his proposal nonetheless.
“In that case...” Fabio began, before cutting himself off. “No, never mind. Pardon me.”
At a guess, he’d been about to offer his own name up, seeing a chance to redeem himself. The thing was, he would be unable to commit himself to another endeavor, since he was still overseeing the construction work.
Perhaps, given his mistake, I should have transferred the responsibility to another. However, that would only cause confusion on the work site and, more importantly, tank the morale of the Ramitead army—who, judging by their recent work, felt genuinely remorseful for their mistake.
“Then we shall proceed under the assumption that the encampment on Gineaux Hill will be finished in time,” I asserted. Not that that would solve the problems we faced. “Our initial plan was to position the militia forces on each of the three hills, and your armies to the south. However...”
Placing my lords’ armies by the highway would have prevented the enemy from marching on Keighamer and allowed us to lure them into the trap we’d readied. Meanwhile, our northern side would have been secured by a joint defense effort by all three hills. Any attempt by the enemy to circle around to Mifeux would have made them vulnerable to our offensives, meaning they would’ve had to do so at a significant distance. And with the time that would have given us, we’d have been able to clean up the main southern battlefield. That had been the plan.
Now, though, Mifeux Hill was no longer a part of our defensive formation, meaning we had to prepare against attacks from the north.
“Worst case, one of your armies may have to defend Mifeux,” I finished. “With no trenches nor walls to aid you.” It couldn’t be the militia, of course. They’d just run.
“I’m not so certain,” Joel de Bourgault-Ducoudray disagreed. “We will indeed be in for rough times ahead if Mifeux Hill is taken, but it is undeniable that we lack the manpower to dedicate toward defending it. Said soldiers could be put to better use elsewhere, such as in a more forward defense effort. In other words, I believe we should devise a proactive counteroffensive.”
The deputy general’s suggestion had merit. In plainer terms, he was saying that counterattacking the enemy from a position that could be supported from our Ginaugh Hill encampment would be a better focus of our resources. The problem with that idea, though...
“We lack the commanding officers...” someone muttered.
“Correct,” I agreed. “The numerical disadvantage we can overcome with our defenses, as well as the final trick up our sleeve. But the lack of commanders—unit commanders in particular—is something we can do little to compensate for.”
If our numbers had been about even with the enemy’s, I had planned to have one of my lords shuffle his troops into the hill encampments and take command of the militia. However, given the disadvantage we were at, we needed all of our professional forces fighting on the outside.
“Your Majesty may have to allow it nonetheless. Moreover, the enemy may be facing the same issue.”
Just as Viscount Cédolin said, the enemy would need the personnel to force thirty thousand new conscripts to fight. And unlike us, who could enclose our militia within our encampments, they would be on open ground, meaning it would be up to their platoon commanders and such to prevent the conscripts from deserting. Incidentally, “prevent” in this case meant executing them. Unceremoniously killing deserters to keep other conscripts in line was common practice in this world.
Given that, though, it was very possible that the enemy was short on commanding officers too. Actually, come to think of it...
“Why conscript thirty thousand militia to begin with?” I wondered aloud.
A larger force was not always better. Apart from the pressure it put on your provisions stores, it also slowed your army’s overall movements. Conscripted militia were a weak addition too, as far as war potential went, and were liable to balk and flee at the first sign of trouble, which would take time and resources to “prevent.”
Timona provided a possible answer to my question. “Perhaps the enemy was working under the assumption that they would be storming a fortress,” he suggested.
True—that was what I had gathered our laborers under the pretext of constructing. And a fortress built to defend a strategic location would by definition be durable, able to withstand a protracted offensive.
“Count Palatine Vodedt,” I said. “To what extent have you hunted down the enemy’s scouts?”
“I have given it the maximum priority,” he answered.
“We’ve been tracking them down whenever we come across a trail too,” Péter Pál added. “Hasn’t been much to do otherwise since we came here.”
Our encampments’ defenses were not sufficiently prepared enough for a protracted battle to call it a fortress. We had wells and a stock of provisions, but not enough to sustain our numbers in the long term. In fact, we were being supplied via the nearby cities and towns, Keighamer included.
Above all, though, we did not have the literal, physical components of a fortress. Small cabins had been erected within the encampments for myself and the other nobility to sleep in, but everyone else had to make do with tents. Even then, we were making them all—with the exception of some of the laborers—sleep outside of the encampments so as to not obstruct the work.
However, if the enemy didn’t know that, it would explain why they had gone to the trouble of conscripting thirty thousand militia.
“Human shields, then,” someone realized.
“Indeed,” I said. “Their purpose is to absorb projectile fire for the main Raul force.”
It was the same principle behind why battle mages used summoning magic. It seemed that the enemy understood that there was no future in store for them if they lost this battle, so the deaths of thirty thousand of their subjects seemed a small price to pay for the head of an emperor. Was it an effective tactic? Perhaps. But it left a bad taste in my mouth. It was as if they didn’t consider commoners to be people.
Ah, wait. That was just how blue bloods thought, wasn’t it?
“The enemy is thinking of what comes after their victory,” I said. “So they’re prioritizing minimal losses to their regular soldiers.”
Still, human meat shields or not, there were still thirty thousand of them, and all would be equipped with weapons. And as low as their morale would be, they still posed a threat. We couldn’t just ignore them. Damn it.
“Count Palatine Vodedt. Continue your counterintelligence and information-gathering efforts,” I ordered.
“As Your Majesty commands. I also have a report to make regarding the Dozran army’s movements.”
According to the Count Palatine’s report, the Dozran army was five thousand strong, but was marching toward Chelán Hill at a snail’s pace. The biggest problem, however, was that it was coming via the County of Voddi.
Gautier, the Count Voddi, had been the former Lord Chamberlain of the imperial court. We’d released him because he’d testified against the perpetrators of the previous emperor’s assassination. Formerly a member of the Chancellor’s faction, he had entered the vassalage of the self-proclaimed Duke Raul immediately after returning to his holdings. In short, the County of Voddi was Raul-controlled territory. And according to the Count Palatine, the Dozran army was passing through it with no conflict to speak of breaking out.
At this point, it seemed safe to assume that Marquess Dozran was very much not on our side.
“At worst, we must assume our enemy has gained five thousand men,” someone mused.
“Those of us here can make allowances for that,” I said. “The issue is the effect it may have on our militia...”
The war council proceeded. We considered the possibilities available to us, reviewed our strategy, and planned our troop deployments. To the extent that we were able, anyway. At the end of the day, it would all depend on the enemy’s movements.
Man. After all that planning and preparation, this was where I was? I didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if I’d done nothing but rustle up some troops and run them into the Raul army head-on...