--Southern Arasaka Coastline---
---Former Clan Naga ‘Fujiwara’ Plantation---
Marcus stretched his hands across the weathered map that sat upon his bamboo command table, his eyes tracing the new etchings his scouts had given him before he looked up to acknowledge that his commanders had just filed into the room.
It was time to get down to business.
“Numbers,” he said.
“430 Yokun ranged support units, including two units of 200 handgunners.”
“350 Tigran regulars, each one equipped with a Yokun Shoto blade for maximum speed and efficiency.”
“500 human frontline infantry, fully armored in Zhrukin battledress pilfered from the guards and overseers.”
“10 Tauron shock troops, unarmored but equipped with broadswords that weren’t yet broken down and shipped off from the plantation’s storage units.”
“Don’t forget the 400 Oshu scouts. Sakri might do things his own way, but he’s reliable and good as his word. And he’s beginning to see that our eyes extend beyond simply the South. Soon, his people will come around to the notion of a real war as retributive justice for their centuries of enslavement.”
“How’s training going?”
“Slow but steady. Even now, we’re hearing reports of other revolts across the rest of the coastline.”
“The South is pretty much ours at this point, though the vision of Nagoya will soon reach eyes farther North. We have to be prepared for a counteroffensive.”
“Or we cut our losses and push now, before the Patriarch has time to mobilize his forces.”
Marcus listened to the concerns of his commanders, pondering their successes and woes over the past weeks of almost constant conquest. Seven more plantations across the jungle realm had fallen in the time since their first assault, and many more would fall as they cut their way through the sparsely defended Yokun border.
He looked up at the now proud, seasoned warriors assembled in what was once the old Warden’s headquarters in this plantation – the place they were using as their forward base as they planned their next move.
Five hours ago, their forward scouts had returned from an advanced survey of the Eastern reaches of the jungle – the regions where the trees had been felled to make way for Yokun construction projects, and where the city of Saku glistened like a jewel against the backdrop of the untamed wilds.
It was a city belonging to the House of Blades – flying the banner of Clan Hitogi. The city that had once belonged to the very Prince that was now under their captivity. In its stead, Mari explained, a Viceroy would be appointed who would be overseeing matters. But without explicit orders from his CO, he would not be permitted to muster the city’s military personnel unless the walls themselves were threatened directly.
“That suits us!” Marvin exclaimed.
“But not those who are still in chains in the old Prince’s ‘crowning jewel,’” Karliah pointed out. “There will be more slaves there, and more of the bastard Masters to slay, than we’ve found in any of these blasted plantations.”
“Hialjia wants to break the city,” the Tauron Princess growled in agreement. “Hialjia will go with Tauron brothers and sisters and break the walls personally!”
Mari calmed her great warrioress with a gentle brush against her horns. She had become so much more determined lately with the liberation of some of her own. Her exploits in battle were only getting bloodier.
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But we have to rein her in a little, Marcus thought.
“Don’t get me wrong here,” Marvin scoffed. “I’d love to see the look on our bastard Prince’s face when we put his city to the torch, but the place is locked up tighter than a Navali girl’s blouse. And it’s packing some heavy firepower to boot, as well as a whole garrison of Keth-Tari.”
Marcus nodded. Everything he’d heard of the Yokun ‘Screamer-Killers’ told him they were the supreme aerial unit that dominated the skies of the battlefield. Armored, wicked-fast, and dauntless in pursuit of their prey. He didn’t like the prospect of fighting against something he had literally no counter for.
“We have to break through somehow,” Karliah pointed out, drawing her finger across the map and giving a gruff twitch of her film-thin whiskers. “Why not chance it? Take the city and hole up. Even if it costs us a large percentage of our force, the insult to the Masters will be great enough that not even Marxon will be able to ignore it. He’ll be coming to us to ask for support.”
“He won’t if all we’ve got to hold the city is a token force of ragtag former slaves,” Marvin rebutted. “You really think the Emperor of all humankind would risk sending a delegation to a city that couldn’t even defend itself if it came to it? Besides, the damage to the place would take time to clear up.”
Marcus kept listening intently and then held up a single hand before Karliah had time to respond.
“I’ve heard enough,” he said. “It’s possible Saku would capitulate if we negotiated with them for the freedom of their Prince, but then we’ll have an entire army on our doorstep anyway. We don’t have the manpower to take the city. Especially not in a long siege.”
“But it’s the only way East, Marcus,” Karliah countered. “Clan Hitogi prides itself on being the bastion against any possible human incursions against their Empire’s Southern flank. The city’s walls extend all the way across the Eastern border. Unless you’ve got some magical ships you can conjure up with your ratman magic, we’ll have to contend with it somehow.”
Marcus looked to Mari, who confirmed the Tigran’s assessment with a solemn nod.
“Karliah’s right,” she said. “Nagoya’s castle has held as the greatest defensive measure against Marxon’s Southern forces for decades.”
Marcus digested the information quietly, drawing his finger to the West of the city.
“If we have to nullify it,” he said, “then our best bet is drawing its forces out or starving them.”
He pointed to the spot he had in mind – a thin rectangle recently scratched along the map over the river Yangzhao where his finger was hovering.
“How does Sakri tell it? ‘To the West of the Master City, a great bridge stands, built by armies of bonded. The bridge is to help get resources within the city walls from over the great river.’”
Marcus could already sense Mari’s smile as he tapped on the etching.
“Of course…” she whispered. “The Bridge over Yangzhao is the only connection between the Southern Arasaka borders and the rest of the Yokun Empire proper. Without it, the snakes are deprived of their convoys of military equipment and vital minerals from their mines in the region.”
“We assault and take this bridge,” Marcus explained. “We cut off their supply line. A supply line they sorely need. That, I’m sure, will constitute enough of a strategic issue for the Viceroy to be compelled to send his forces against us. We dig in, use the bridge as a chokepoint, and annihilate them outside their walls.”
The Pipers considered the plan with stern eyes, focused on where Marcus was pointing as though they could see the bridge and their assault already.
“Destroying the Bridge over the Yangzhao…” Marvin murmured. “I must admit, the Shai-Alud is ballsier than I anticipated.”
“There’s still the Keth-Tari unit to consider,” Karliah put in. “A chokepoint will not stifle an airborne threat.”
“We’ll be combining our hard and soft power tactics in this battle,” Mari told them all. “We’ll broadcast the image of their precious Prince to every attacker’s mind. The Screamers’ potential for mass casualties is too great – the Viceroy won’t employ them if he genuinely believes their Prince’s life is in danger.”
“As you say, Pale Lady. Yet there is still a chance-“
“Hialjia will crush the birdies if they come! Time for action, not for talk!”
Marcus, for once, was inclined to agree with the girl.
“We’ll commence the initial assault at 01:00. A night raid will be our best chance at nullifying the bridge’s token force and waking up the Viceroy of Saku with a bang.”
The Piper leaders nodded, each one tentatively awaiting their delivery of these orders to their troops. Such troops were currently gossiping about what plan the Shai-Alud and his Pale Matriarch would form next, and what part they would all play in the wars to come.
Excitement and anxiety charged the air, and as Marcus adjourned their meeting, he was no stranger to either. The humidity that sweated his brow was nothing compared to the expectations of all those eyes on him, begging for a chance to get back at their enemy. If he were any other man, he'd have probably balked at all this. Luckily for him, he'd been here all before.
But this time, he wasn't about to fail.
***
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