V7: Chapter 1

…

Use every advantage possible to win every fight.

Now, on the surface, that seems crazy to say. There should be limits to warfare, like not causing excessive suffering. If you’re going to kill someone, make sure that it’s clean, quick, and painless. While I’m tempted to call that stupidly idealistic, if I’m going to get killed, I’d like to die cleanly, quickly, and painlessly, too. No one wants to stare down the barrel of a gun and die, but I’m sure most people will take that over getting their guts blown out in the woods to be eaten by animals.

However, in the end, that’s a personal preference on my part.

As a leader, though, I can’t really refrain from committing atrocities.

Look, if you’re putting more money into your military than your next three competitors combined and have no hostile countries at your borders, you should be held to a higher standard by your populace. They’re giving you trillions over decades to spend on the military, you’re spending the taxes that their kids will be paying you, and the citizenry are going without health insurance so that you can get a set of new supercarriers.

At the very least, you should try to keep your fights above the belt, if you’ve got those advantages.

However, I’m not in that position of power.

Most of my nation’s productive capacity is being invested into securing my territories, and the rest is being used to upgrade my economy so that my economy can improve my economy by itself soon. Most of my soldiers are people that I’d rather be back home, making stuff, popping out babies, and paying taxes. The equipment they’ve got isn’t easily replaced, the training that they’ve received cost me time and money, and finally I’ve barely got… little more than two million people tops? Half of that was in just my capital, too.

I’m not in the position to hit only above the belt, because to do so would be giving up lives, resources, and time that I’ve spent on my forces.

And, most importantly, the people I lose now will be people I won’t have ready to fight in the future.

So, there you have it.

I need to assassinate my enemies.

I need to poison their wells and their food stores.

I need to use every underhanded tactic that I’ve got to win.

Because, quite frankly, with everything that’s on the line, it’ll be irresponsible of me not to do everything that I can to.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I’m totally not hitting the war crimes button just because it solves problems that I’d rather not deal with.

…

Since I decided to make the Forger’s base my starting point, I’d told my support column to establish a forward operating base where they were.

So, instead of happening upon the same sturdy, but spartan fortress once I returned, tons of supplies and prefabricated structures and troops encircled the position. Land was cleared and stamped down with the help of mages, trenches were built, latrines set up, and water towers established. A network of squat, wide towers manned by Conquerors with big guns were built the outer edges with overlapping fields of fire and trenches and defenses connected them. They were mini versions of the flak towers used by Germany back home. Past that perimeter, there were tall, wooden observation towers, some anti-air nest, and every block or so there was a simple shelter set up with sandbags and slabs of rock, in case we had an air raid come at us.

It was a wide base with multiple redundancies, and I made it that way in case we didn’t detect a powerful mage and they got close enough to launch something nasty.

Yeah, spacing is very important.

Naturally, General Erlan was a bit nicer to me when we met again.

“King of Wisdom.” He greeted me with a grunt, but he raised his hand towards me for a handshake. That was pretty much leaping into the air and hollering thanks my way in his culture. I took his hand and gave him a firm shake. It felt like shaking hands with warm marble. Not an exaggeration. He’s well-built, but flame resistance and damage resistance racial passives came with physical changes. The dwarf-analogues of this setting had rock-like hides. “This is much in exchange for the fifty warriors you’ve requested.”

“Plans have changed. I’m fighting right alongside you here.” Overhead there was a constant stream of transports pulled by winged horses dropping onto dirt runways. Supplies, soldiers, and equipment were flowing in here. This whole operation is well-practiced. Orthodox, I’d hoped to honestly call it. “I’m afraid that I’ll be needing more than fifty soldiers.”

Erlan stroked his straight, brown beard and peered up at me through the shadows of his helmet.

“This is within the terms of the alliance against the Death Lord. You and your forces are simply here instead of on the other side of Academy territory.” Ah, how I wish that I don’t need to rip your people out of your city, eradicate your culture, and make sure you all don’t ruin the entire world. You Forgers are honestly great allies. If only you weren’t extremist eugenics that see other mortal races as assets to be exploited. We could be friends. “What is your plan? How many of your soldiers will be here? Will a Champion be present?”

“I’ve got someone on the way and two recovering. One of my armies will be here. The other will be putting the pressure on from the other side.” Two armies. Four thousand heavy pike, three thousand rifles, a thousand mages, a thousand heavy ground cavalry, and a thousand aerial cavalry. With the support elements for them, just to keep everything running smoothly, there was another seven thousand people. Seven people to take care of food, clothes, and keeping everything tidy for every ten people. Honestly, it was barely enough and we could only get away with so few on the logistical side due to literal magic making things like cleaning, getting fresh water, and keeping fires going that much easier. The expenses for two armies are frankly eye watering and I’m going to need at least two dozen more. A quarter of a million professional soldiers and nearly a fifth of a million supporters for the final fights… I’d give myself a 30% chance at managing to hold the front with that much and all the tricks I can come up with. “With your forces, we should be able to punch through their front, especially with the tricks I’ve cooked up.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Tricks?” Erlan questioned and I obliged him with an answer.

“Most of the mortal mercenaries they’ve got are under my payroll. They’re setting up the trap now. Poisoned supplies, assassinated officers, and sabotaged defenses. The works.”

“I see. I have been told by scouts that many of the non-monsters flee instead of attacking. We do not give chase.”

“Don’t worry. They’re paid enough to risk dying to our forces.”

“Quite the callous way of considering your fellow mortals.” That was a statement on Erlan’s part. He was testing me. Was I fine with getting people I hired killed for information security? I met his stare and I didn’t flinch. He nodded, and he backed down. “I see.”

The people I sent in went in there went knowing they’ve secured futures for their families, or at least got enough money to live life to the fullest before leaving to risk it all. Every single mercenary working with the Death Lord now were fighting for my sake, risking their lives against the entire world, and they were being paid handsomely to risk death and pave the way for the soldiers I couldn’t afford to lose.

“We’re going to wait for a week or so for the Guardians and Wardens to mass up. The Merchants are sending in funds, as well. Until then, let’s train up our formations to work together.” I offered the general my hand and he nodded after a moment to shake it once again. “Rest assured, General, I’ll be doing my best to keep your men and mine alive, while killing as many of those of the Death Lord’s as possible.”

I had to lay it on thick, since Erlan belonged to a race that didn’t trust anyone outside of their own to do things right.

Therefore, I cheered inwardly when he nodded and decisively shook my hand.

“This is better than sending fifty warriors off to die in a mere assassination.”

“I won’t lie, it’s nice to play things straight, but I’d rather my target be dead than fighting against us.”

“Hrrm.”

I’ll play nice, until I do what I need to do, before you kill the rest of us off.

…

I blinked at the sudden shadow cast over me and looked up to find Ilych looming over me with her helmet at her side.

“You’re supposed to be recovering.”

“I will recover faster by fighting.”

“You know what, that’s a good point.” Ilych had the full not!Berserk armor set now and it’s adapted to her perfectly. The various plates and pieces were streamlined and less jagged now and seemed to smoothly glide over each other. Beneath the armor was a second layer which looked more like muscle fibers than thread or metal. The cape was no longer tattered and in spite of the wind it fell back from Ilych’s shoulders and didn’t move an inch. Black ‘fur’ covered her shoulders where the cloak wrapped around the shoulders of the armor, and they also didn’t sway with the wind. It was all metal, and with a few thousand more kills, it’ll really come to life. “Come take a seat and eat, though. We have some time before we need to engage.”

“Thank you.”

After meeting with Erlan and getting my forces assembled, we sent out armed patrols. I wasn’t at the point where I could send fifty men into enemy territory and expect them to kill everything vaguely hostile, yet. The average patrol of a US army group was still far superior to anything I could muster. Pound-for-pound, the average group of infantry performing a regular patrol could wipe the floor with the same number of troops I could muster, so I had to get creative.

By creative, of course, I meant I used Conquerors as force recon soldiers instead of regular humans.

The replacement for a marine squad with a vehicle is a nearly ten-foot tall, superhuman from a militaristic society armed with a gun that can blow apart horses in a single shot and with a massive axe as a backup weapon.

Yeah, if you think about it, modern soldiers are just grossly overpowered.

Anyway, once the sabotage operations were underway, I sent teams of ten of them forward to do operator/commando stuff.

I had a limited number of Conquerors, and they were the only ones who could use the biggest guns and best explosives that I could mass-produce, so anyone not manning the defenses and practicing their aim were special forces. Teams of ten trained to live off the land, eating whatever they needed to live, fight with their guns, their axes, or their bare hands, and kill. Kill and win through attrition against the enemy in their own home territory.

It was a heavy duty, the hardest duty I’d ask anyone for, and the Conquerors all but fought amongst themselves to be part of the five hundred or so that I had the time, money, and assets to invest into.

Now that I thought about it…

“After you eat, there’s one last commando group waiting to leave before nightfall.” Ilych listened intently. She’d stopped talking about stuff like the winds, unless prompted. In fact, she barely talks when not prompted nowadays. Was it a choice to be more introverted? If this was in-game, I’d submit a ticket about voice blurbs bugging out. Here, though, it might just be the constant combat and butchery getting to the young woman. So, I didn’t ask. Sorry, but short of a mental break, I can’t afford to take someone off the line. “Their mission is to pave the way for our army going forward. Bait them into our forces and our lines, kill any officer that you find, and once confronted by an actual army you’re to retreat towards our main force.”

“I understand and I will obey.” Ilych dipped her head down in assent, and I considered that the end of the conversation until she spoke up. “After this battle, I want more training in leading armies. I have learned all I can as a frontline Champion.”

Oh?

Ilych’s developing into another skill tree as a field commander?

Sign me up.

Nothing better than a field commander that can handle whole portions of the enemy army!

“Done. I’ll have a spot assigned to you in our university by the start of next year.” I’ll review the curriculum beforehand to get her on the right track. I couldn’t call up the pop up screen, but I could make a series of guesses. There were only eighty or so field command Champion skills and they generally fell under three different playstyles. Defensive, offensive, and support skills. The best was support skills for field commanders, since they were totally dedicated to buffing troops. Hopefully, Ilych didn’t pick anything stupid up and get like thirty percent fire rate increase for Children of the Elm ranged units. That would just be stupid. I’ll find out soon enough with the curriculum I was drafting in my head. “What do you have in mind?”

Ilych pondered the question for a moment and diverted her gaze to the bright blue sky above us with a constant stream of transports pulled by winged horses coming in an out.

I’m liking where this is going.

“I would like to acquire a strong mount. One that can fly and fight with me on the battlefield, and allow me to look down and guide my troops. I want to know everything about leading the army we now have.” Ilych stated and I had to hold back from giving a cheer of victory. She’s unlocked her Skil which gives her an epic mount and she’s going for a support build that provides general improvements to all troops. Perfection, especially since I wasn’t going with a single mortal race for my armies. “I will need time to find such a beast and to learn all that I need, your majesty.”

“You’ll have both.” I confirmed with a nod. It was a small victory, but it was a great nonetheless. The first, real crisis wasn’t here yet, but I’ve got a Champion halfway to max level. At this rate, I’ll have the dozen or so max-level Champions that I need for the final fights. It’s worth the price of having Ilych not around for a few years. “I look forward to your results, Ilych.”

She gave me a nod and left after that.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like something was going to plan and it was great.