Chapter 16: Lightning Offensive

After the fall of Fort Augur, the Holfortan invasion force advances into the Kingdom of Carkus at an alarming speed; with Leon employing an infamous battle tactic from the distant past.

Blitzkrieg.

With him at the head, he smashes through the weakest points of enemy defenses and clears the path for infantry to encircle and mop up the survivors. With this, the Holfortans are able to take dozens of bases and hundreds of Carkussan prisoners– none of whom expected such a rapid assault. Such is the speed of their advance that they are able to capture enemy Armors, as well as supplies and fuel to keep them running. But there were no spare pilots, and those from Holfort were too proud to use Carkussan mechs or simply didn’t know how.

Leon takes one look at the perfectly functioning Armors, then at the excited 422nd infantry men around him.

“Anybody fancy themselves a mech pilot?” he asks, and dozens cheer or holler their names. “Alright, alright! Calm down! I’ll teach you guys how to pilot one of these things, just stop cheer– hey! Put me down! I’m telling the colonel about this, damn it! Put me down! And somebody tell the regiment commander to petition the Count for more mechanics and engineers!”

The 422nd’s Armor complement grows from a single Armor to 20; a full four squadrons. But they are not taught the same way that Holfortan Armor pilots are instructed– to fight and move like a man would. Instead, Leon teaches them how to pilot these Armors like warmachines. To slide across the ground instead of run, and to prioritize speed rather than blocking.

He teaches them how warmachines wield blades and shoot guns, and how to reload in the heat of battle instead of the normal doctrine of waiting for an ally to cover for you before rejoining the fight. He teaches them the tactics and skills that a Raven would have, to prioritize efficiency and not frivolous things like ‘glory’ or ‘a good fight’-- because both of those came from completing missions and letting the enemy send their best to him. And to complete missions, one needed to survive.

As the 422nd’s accomplishments grow, so do the severity of the missions that Count Jaeger gives them. Fortress assaults, to be done within a week with neither assistance nor reconnaissance. Capturing a heavily fortified and fully garrisoned city with as little civilian casualties as possible. Attacking major Carkussan naval bases to sink specific ships without naval support. Impossible missions with seemingly impossible or ridiculously stringent completion conditions– ones that even the field commanders balk at.

It’s only through his past life’s combat experience, the loyalty and courage of his fellow soldiers, and the aid of other regiments and Armor squadrons that Leon sees these missions complete. And though he doesn’t always emerge unscathed, the rising fury and growing dismay on Count Jaeger’s face when he relays results of his successes make it all worthwhile.

The effect was visible on the Carkussans as well– who’s soldiers learned to fear the 422nd and their ace Armor pilots; so much that some commanders would choose to flee than to face them. This in turn leads to more forts and cities falling. In 2 month’s time, half of the small country’s territory would fall to the hands of the Holfortans.

Come the third month, the Carkussan leaders would launch a counterattack aiming to sweep the Holfortans out of the country and retake lost territory– deploying veteran soldiers, whole aerial fleets, and ace Armor pilots who have seen decades of service. Against these foes, Count Jaeger would summon more reinforcements from the Kingdom, and tasks the 422nd to hold off the incoming armies while the reinforcements were being gathered. Faced with impossible odds, Leon consults with the regiment commander and hatches plans.

For the soldiers, the men of the 422nd split into companies 150 to 200 men strong and gather in captured Carkussan forts before drawing fire. And when the Carkussans inevitably land and surround them, ships under the islands would spring out and wipe the landing vessels before deploying Armors that would attack from behind– massacring the Carkussan guns and wrecking encampments, before going after the common soldiery. This broke enemy morale and led to many surrenders, allowing the 422nd to capture enemy forces that outnumbered them 3 to 1.

For the fleets, infantry and Armors would be placed on the underside of islands beforehand and a small taskforce of Holfortan ships would be put under Leon’s command. The taskforce and Leon would lure the ships under the islands, feigning fearful flight, and draw them under the infantry and Armors. From there, the Armors would sink the escorts and damage the larger ships whilst the infantry boarded and took command; thus decimating the Carkussan fleets

And for the Carkussan Armor aces… well, Leon has fun dueling them. And those that surrender are captured alive with little fuss.

By the time reinforcements from the Kingdom arrive, there is no longer a Carkussan counterattack to repel; for the 422nd had done it already. But with a glut of fresh bodies, the Count sees no reason to stop and personally takes to the field– granting the beleaguered 422nd a month of respite at a captured Carkussan city as he goes on to take the rest of Carkus with the soldiers.

The window of respite allows Leon to bring the men out to drink and make merry, and in the process learns of fellow victims of the Forest of Ladies’ machinations. Them, he takes a particular shine to, and learns from them who they were wedded off to– making sure to compile a list of names that he can properly… deal with later. And though they don’t quite believe him to be capable of doing anything to the shadowy cabal, they nonetheless appreciated his offer to try.

It was during his time off that a messenger arrives, asking for Leon and telling him of an important individual wanting to see him over lunch. He dresses as well as he can under the circumstances and goes to the specified location– a modest restaurant.

He enters and finds a Ducal heir waiting for him.

=X=X=X=X=X=

“Leon Fou Marshwell, I take it?” Gilbert Rafa Redgrave smiles, handsome features striking. “It’s a pleasure to meet such an accomplished young man such as yourself.”

“T-The pleasure is all mine, Lord Redgrave.” Leon stammers, caught off guard. “I wasn’t notified of your arrival, sir. Had I known–”

“Please, no need for any of that.” the young man laughs, voice rich. “I was sent here at the crown’s behest to get a feel for the rising star in the Carkus War. Right now, we are but two friends meeting for a meal together. No need to make a scene, in enemy territory no less.”

“Captured enemy territory… but yes.” Leon concedes, walking over and shaking his offered hand. “I will admit, things have been a little hectic. It’s only recently that my regiment and I were allowed some time off. The Carkussans haven’t been an easy foe.”

“I can’t imagine any war of conquest would be easy.” the Ducal heir nods. “But you seemingly have it well in hand, what with the speed you have been advancing into Carkussan lands. Some in the court have started calling the 422nd the ’Ghost Division’ from the sheer speed of your advance and the number of victories you’ve accrued.”

“It would be faster had I the resources to use and a properly outfitted Armor to pilot.” Leon grumbles. “And that’s not even counting the ridiculous missions Count Jaeger’s sent my unit and I on. In fact, this is the first real vacation we've managed to get since we arrived in the theater 3 months ago.”

“Really?” Gilbert blinks, surprised. “So, all those high-priority missions like the fortress capture and naval base destruction–”

“Back-to-back, little rest in between.” Leon shakes his head with a sigh. “And with me being the sole Armor unit assigned to the 422nd, I’ve had to train up my squadron mates practically from scratch. Thankfully, the only real issue they faced was memorizing where all the buttons were and the Armor controls– there were plenty of Armors to pick after we started capturing forts.”

“...wait, so the pilots of those additional Armors that sortie with you all come from the 422nd? They aren’t formally trained?” the Redgrave heir gawks. “I daresay their performance rivals that of Household Knights and veterans. How on earth did you turn infantrymen into pilots? And in a little under a month?”

“Two weeks, actually.” Leon corrects, pausing as he and the Redgrave scion placed their orders. Once she was gone, he continues. “I had my regiment commander hold back the most promising ones so they could learn the Armor controls in their own time. The basic tactics were no different than those taught in boot camp, and they could take their mechs on supervised test runs. From there, all they needed was field experience.”

“Hm. I suppose there is no better teacher than live combat– even if it’s a little risky.” Gilbert hums. “Your teaching abilities are unmatched, however. To turn infantrymen into Armor pilots is no small feat.”

“Thank you.” Leon nods, gracious.

“I do find it strange, however,” Gilbert continues. “That your family would allow you to enlist despite still being 13.”

Leon pauses, seeing the opportunity before him. He could make the claim now, that he was forced into this by the Forest of Ladies– even if he didn’t have proof of it, he’d make a member of the upper nobility, a Ducal heir no less, aware of them. It would be an invaluable step towards exacting justice from those who would take advantage of Holfort’s legal system. And if he did it right…

“It’s… complicated, Lord Redgrave.” Leon winces, not needing to fake it.

“Gilbert’s fine.” the Ducal heir says.

“Leon, then.” Leon nods back. “It’s not something I can say without being considered rude at best and outrageous at worst. My military service was not something I had a say in, nor is it something I could have stopped with what little I had to my name. It’s one of those things that you don’t really have a choice in doing, I guess?”

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“...you’re saying you were forced into this?” Gilbert cocks a brow. “A literal child entering military service isn’t something anyone would just ignore. You’re not even of age yet.”

“I’m not, no. But I’m here regardless.” Leon smiles, adding a little sadness to it to make it seem genuine. “Like I said, it wasn’t something I had a say in. Same goes for all the others like me.”

“Others like you…?” Gilbert shifts in his seat, his expression shifting. ”This is certainly news to me, that there are those who were forced to enlist. Could you enlighten me, then?”

“...they’re called the Forest of Ladies.” Leon says, strangling the relish in his voice as he prepares to spill everything he knows. “It’s a network of Holfortan noblewomen, usually Baronesses and Viscountesses who marry the sons of lesser nobles and make them enlist in the military– where they are sent to distant battlefields like this one to die in. The state compensates them for their loss, and the cycle repeats.” he shakes his head. “My father had to choose between me and my 9 year old brother, who would have been wedded when he came of age.”

The waitress returns with food, and the two men speak as they dine. Leon tells the Redgrave heir all he knows, and the man nods with growing interest and disgust. He doesn’t have proof of this on hand, and getting it wouldn’t be easy given how he’s away and out of contact with Hustler One. But it is as good a start as any.

“You must care greatly for your family if you’re willing to risk retribution by doing this.” Gilbert notes with approval.

“Of course. Nothing matters more in the world than family.” Leon nods, firm. “They’re all you have when everything turns sour. Too many people forget that.”

“Indeed.” Gilbert nods. “Have considered where you will be going after this war, Leon? You’re young yet, and you would be honorably discharged in 3 years time. Do you see yourself going anywhere or doing anything in the future?”

“Well, I figured I’d get into–” is the most Leon gets before a uniformed Holfortan soldier bursts through the restaurant’s front door and runs straight to Leon’s table. Gilbert blinks at the interruption while the Raven groans, rubbing his face. “Alright, out with it.”

“Lieutenant,” the soldier salutes, breathless. “The 422nd have been ordered to return to the front lines– Count Jaeger has returned and he’s suffered terrible losses.”

“He what?” Gilbert demands. “He had a fleet, 7 Armor squadrons, and 3 infantry regiments! And the 422nd practically gutted the Carkussan forces beforehand! How was he routed like that?!”

“I can’t speak ill of the Count, but I’d imagine he got a little cocky and decided to send all his men to a single city at once without softening its defenses first.” Leon grumbles. “Probably wanted to reach the capital and take it before I and the 422nd finished our downtime. For a Count, he’s not the best strategist.” he turns to the runner. “Have the 422nd been notified?”

“Yes sir, they’re mustering now.” the runner nods. “No-one was pleased to hear this, sir.”

“I can tell.” Leon grunts, pushing himself up. “Apologies Lord Gilbert but I’m afraid we’ll have to cut our meal short– duty calls.”

“Allow me to bring back to your base, then.” the Redgrave heir smiles. “I’d much prefer to see the Ghost Division in action personally.”

=X=X=X=X=X=

Gilbert is no stranger to war.

He’d fought in a few himself, and won accolades for valor on the battlefield. And though he’s since learned to temper that Redgrave fire with logic and experience to become an able administrator and speaker, he still remembers how wars are fought. There needed to be soldiers, and warmachines. There needed to be tactics and speed, but also efficiency.

As he stands on the bridge of his personal ship, the Focal Flame, he beholds the Ghost Division as they approach the Carkussan city and sees efficiency in motion.

The regiment is split into 3 separate spearheads converging from the south, west, and northeast; each with 4 ships and 350 of the Ghost Division’s elite soldiers split between them.The south and west spearheads had 2 Armor Squadrons each escorting them, while Leon would escort the northeastern spearhead himself. Behind them were more ships, the remainder that was left after Count Jaeger’s disastrous assault.

Their objectives were simple– the 422nd’s Armors would smash through the defenses and open beachheads for the ship to land and deploy infantry. Then, the 422nd would speed through the streets while the main force landed and kept the defenders busy to capture the main administration building; decapitating the defenders’ leadership so they would be forced to surrender.

Simple, effective, and deviating far too greatly from standard Holfortan doctrine; a fact that Count Jaeger protested loudly during the strategy meeting.

“With all due respect Count, standard Holfortan doctrine got over almost 2,000 men killed, lost us 3 Armor Squadrons, and sank a third of the reinforcement fleet.” Leon had countered with the sort of cold logic Gilbert has seen his father use. “What’s more, you failed your assault. Now let me plan mine in peace.”

“Y-You’d dare speak to me like that?!” the man had squawked. “I am a Count!”

“And you are a horrible tactician.” Leon countered. “Now shut up and let me plan.”

Gilbert promptly exercised his authority to have the flabbergasted Count escorted out of the room so the 422nd could start strategizing. No need for the incompetent to intervene.

Now he watches as the plan is set into motion, paying particular attention to the northwest spearhead where Leon was handling escort duty by himself. Carkussan Armors fly up to meet the 422nd’s, outnumbering them 2-to-1 and they clash– gunfire making way to brutal melee.

Except… it wasn’t brutal. There is none of the flailing and punching that Gilbert had expected the Armors to use in melee; instead the 422nd’s Armors use speed to close the distance and stab or slash at the Carkussan Armors’ cockpits, effectively killing the pilots and sending the warmachines plummeting out of the sky. They don’t just fly like regular Armors either, but dance– sliding to and fro, spinning this way and that, evading fire and retaliating with their Armor-sized shotguns.

And they were holding their own. 10 Armors against 20, downing them one by one without a single casualty– and all of them practically greenhorns. How were they able to…

“Lord Redgrave.” spotter says. “Report on the northeast spearhead. All enemy Armors downed.”

“Already?” Gilbert gasps. “Wha– show me!”

On the bridge of the ship, a screen materializes– a scrying spell from one of the casters aboard. The Redgrave heir gawks as the single Armor floats in place, reloading its shotgun as the smoking wrecks of Carkussan Armors plummet out of the sky.

“The battle only just started, and he’s already…” Gilbert murmurs, eyes calculating. “And he’s all alone, without any support… just how capable is he?”

Then Leon’s Armor finishes reloading and flies full speed towards the defensive line. It weaves through incoming fire with the same ease as a bird of prey, closing the distance with the fearlessness of a warrior who knows he wouldn’t be defeated by mere chaff.

It lands heavily and slides across the ground, kicking up sparks and dirt in its wake. Then it starts killing.

“Saint’s breath…” Gilbert murmurs, the bridge crew of the Focal Flame breaking out into whispers as they behold Leon massacring Carkussan’s through the scrying screen. “He’s unstoppable…”

It surges forward, sliding across the ground as it dodges– hopping, jinking, even spinning. Infantry positions are obliterated by shotgun blasts, the men turned to chunks and red mist. Carkussan Armors come in with blades brandished, but Leon simply weaves through their slashes and bisects them with beautiful spinning slashes. A commander Armor lands before Leon and lets loose with its shotguns, but the Armor simply flies over its shots. Then its thrusters activate and it hurtles to the ground, impaling its arm-blade through the enemy Armor’s torso and pinning it to the ground.

Leon doesn’t even bother pulling the blade out– simply detaching it from the arm entirely, switching the shotgun into the now unoccupied arm, and brandishing his spare arm-blade before continuing with the slaughter. Fortified buildings have their walls cratered by powerful kicks of the Armor’s reverse-jointed legs or outright cut open with the arm-blade. Caches of munitions go up in flames and barracks’ are flattened under the Armor’s legs. Stationary cannons are reduced to scrap with dispassionate kicks or casual swings of the arm-blade.

Mere minutes after Leon lands, the designated landing zone for the northwest spearhead has been cleared of any and all resistance. The other spearheads have just finished dealing with their aerial assailants in that time, and are only now moving to clear their respective landing sites.

This city is done for, Gilbert thinks. Nothing could stop Leon here, and in all likelihood the leadership would be quick to capitulate in the face of such an opponent. Otherwise, their underlings would forcibly remove their leaders directly and throw themselves at Leon’s feet. The battle was already lost for the Carkussans when Leon stepped into the field.

Gilbert mentally revises his initial estimation of the Carkussan conquest’s completion– from 12 months to 5. Maybe 4 if the other cities chose to surrender now.

“...send a messenger to Holfort.” the Redgrave heir orders as the 422nd land their men and the Armors charge for the city’s administration center. “Tell them to ready diplomats and bureaucrats… and send word to my father.” he swallows. “We must secure Leon Fou Marshwell’s loyalty at all costs.”