Day 381, 10:30 AM
“All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.”
― Sun Tzu
Troops line the walls of Karengord, purple flags with golden bulls flutter from its towers and the soldiers’ spears, just like the scouts described when they returned two hours ago. The sight is impressive. Not as impressive as Eaglegord would be under the same circumstances, but there’s a whole lot of armed men to make up for the inferior fortifications.
“What now?” Blunt asks when I expected it would say shit.
Vatten and I are at the head of our army, him on a horse, and me on foot, but I doubt he’s the only one who heard me.
“Besieging Karengord would be tricky,” Vatten mutters, and he’s right.
We passed at least three towns with more impressive fortifications, taller, sturdier. Karengord is barely a town, recently upgraded from Karenmir, and it doesn’t yet have fields surrounding its walls on all sides like most old towns. If we wish to besiege it, we will have to split our forces with one half sitting in front of one gate, the other watching the other one, unable to reinforce each other until it’s too late.
“Shit,” I mutter, but continue louder. “If they have the entire army inside, and we divide our forces, we’re screwed.”
Vatten nods. “They would eat the city’s reserves quickly in the case of a siege, but they won’t wait for that. They will attack us as soon as we split our forces. So, we do the logical thing and keep our forces together.”
Huh?
I stare at the old man.
“They expect a traditional siege, with us sealing their gates shut, to prevent them from getting provisions. However, the amount of provisions they need to feed hundreds of extra mouths is staggering, and there are no supply lines which could bring enough food for them.”
He pauses to let me process what he’s saying before continuing. “So, why bother blocking the gates? We wait, let their morale plummet while their food store dwindles and the townsfolk’s disgruntlement grows from being cramped and having uninvited squatters with whom they must share their meals with. If we are lucky, they will suffer an epidemic by the end of the week.”
I gape at him without blinking as he says all that. The old man is right. He’s a genius.
“You’re a genius.” Blunt blindsides me, but I don’t mind; credit where credit is due. “Do we field our soldiers outside the walls?”
I know we shouldn’t. We would be within the range of their bowmen, and Vatten shakes his head, confirming my guess. I’m paying close attention to him, and I can swear I see a tiny shadow of a grin dancing at the corner of his lips because my comment made him happy.
“We camp in the forest, laugh, eat, drink, and sing.”
It’s a tactic similar to Gohen’s - the king’s forces can wait and stay on their guard the whole time while we are relaxing, or they could come out and abandon their superior position to fight us on our terms.
“Men, make camp in the forest!”
Soldiers cheer at Vatten’s order. Fighting the enemy through sitting on their asses and eating our food while we pay their wages is the best kind of work mercenaries can hope for. I don’t blame them; I also wore a white-collar too several lifetimes ago.
The men work, clearing bushes for our tents, then they pile up the branches for our cooking fires. Others search for a stream and soon start hauling water, filling the seven ox-skins. The atmosphere is jovial, almost festive, as large fires start burning, their flames licking ten-pound rocks, which we will use to heat the stew.
My plan to increase the army’s mobility is working great, we don’t need carts nor cauldrons, but having followers would have made life easier for us. Soldiers resting while someone else looks for the rocks, cooks, cleans, and puts up tents would have been a boon.
We enjoy lunch, and my invention, the steel meshes, keep the scalding rocks from damaging the cooking skins. I can’t believe it, but everything seems to be going smoothly. The guys in Karengord must be entertaining similar thoughts.
Stolen novel; please report.
It wasn’t a bad plan. I consider the fortification which the prince or royal general or whoever had chosen, how they planned to split our forces and inflict major losses by relying on terrain. Luckily, I wasn’t alone. I glance at Vatten, sharing stew and crackers with his company of twenty cavalry bodyguards, surrounded by another two hundred of his most loyal troops.
Maybe he won’t betray— I drive away the thought. I will never trust him, I must never trust him. My instincts are screaming at me that he’s going to stab me in the back one day, and I must never give him the opportunity.
“What about the knights?” I ask, heading over to Vatten’s group with a small entourage of my own.
“Basson has twelve knights, but even if he sent only four of them, enduring a charge of eighty heavy cavalry headed by knights would be devastating. That’s assuming they are just leading bodyguards and not entire companies”
I nod. “That’s why you had us camp in the forest?”
Vatten glances at me and taps his temple. “You seem to be using this more often when you are not around my niece.”
Yeah, fuck you too. I clamp my tongue hard when Blunt tries to speak the words aloud.
“Are we building a fortification?” I ask instead.
“Naturally, after we rest a little from eating and setting up camp. We are not in a hurry, but once we have a decent defensive position, we will send bowmen at night to harry them. Nothing much, three volleys one night, a single one the next evening, then rest. Sooner or later, the enemy will grow tired from all the sleepless nights and from trying to catch our archers with a counter-volley. Then they will have to choose between attacking us while tired, or growing hungrier and more tired before attacking.”
Vatten’s bodyguards laugh. A bit too loud, too much bragging forced into it, but I get the point. They have done this before, and it worked more or less the way Vatten thought it should work.
Hours pass, I join the men in felling trees and making the palisade until sunset.
“Message!” a merc whose name I don’t know runs over as I’m washing my face. “In Lord Vatten’s tent. There’s going to be an emergency meeting.”
I frown. The man is panting after barely running a couple hundred yards. I focus on his face. He’s pale, his hands shake, and sweat is beading up on his forehead.
“You need to rest.” I pat him on the shoulder, but the man jumps away as if I would kill him, staring at me with terror in his eyes.
What the hell?
I have a bad feeling and sprint towards Vatten’s tent.
***
Frostend 13th, late afternoon
“Your Royal Highness,” Bastian Hassel went down on one knee before his king. “My father sends reinforcements for your campaign. We of the Hassel family feel personally responsible for these unsavory events, and we wish to help, despite not getting a conscription order.”
“Five hundred cavalry and two hundred infantry.” The king nodded. He was a shriveled old man with a thick, white mane adorned by a golden crown. “A fine gesture, expensive. Your father need not have apologized in this manner. The rebels would have snatched the Eagleeye girl in whichever town or city We had stationed her. And We know Viscount Hassel had gone to great lengths to try to reclaim her. Your loyalty is neither questioned, nor could your gift buy your absolution from high treason.”
The king paused for breath before continuing.
“Unfortunately, you arrived late. We have dispatched the crown prince and his punitive forces this morning.”
The king looked at the young man kneeling before him. All he could see was the top of his head and the fist, which aided his deferential genuflection. And that fist clenched tighter.
A slight smile crept onto the king’s usually emotionless face.
“We understand the woes of a young man sent to perform a task and prove himself to his father, especially when the task fails through no fault of his own. If you hurry, you will catch up with the crown prince. We would recommend sending several riders ahead and notifying the crown prince of your intentions.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Bastian lowered his head further. “Do you have any commands?”
“Merely the suggestion We have given you. Your further actions are up to your discretion.”
Bastian stood, bowed once more, and left the room.
What do I do now? Bastian brooded. Why did the king send the army an entire week ahead of public schedule? Arriving a week early offers little gain at the cost of marching in poorer weather and the lords not having all their conscripts ready. Barandmir will probably send runners ahead to warn the rest, so there won’t be much chaos—
“Sir.” A trotting servant in purple and black livery caught up with Bastian. “Their Royal Highness wanted to tell you one more thing. Should you choose to speed after the crown prince and his army, head towards Minegord rather than taking the road to Barandmir.”
Minegord? Bastian frowned, not making sense of the servant’s words.
“Their Royal Highness said I should head for Minegord?” he repeated slowly, and the servant nodded.
“Yes, Sir. The crown prince and his army left that way this morning. Their destination is still Eaglegord, but the route differs from the one everyone expects.”
What in the primordial devil’s name is going on here?
“Thank you.”
The servant bowed and trotted back towards the throne room while Bastian went to tell his men to pack up. They had to hurry for several days, starting from the next morning.