Chapter 3
“...how on earth did you beat six men at once? That is so incredible! Were you scared?”
A young noblewoman sat up prim and proper as she talked, her beautiful gown nearly glowing in the low light of the ballroom. The man she was speaking to spoke, his loud yet old and grizzled voice echoing throughout the room.
“Not really. They were all children, and only one of them showed any skill or training in hand to hand combat. When you’re used to fighting on a battlefield, you learn to stop being nervous, especially in situations where your life is not in danger.”
“Not in danger? You were dueling six men at once!”
The Baron chortled.
“Yes, that is true, but I was not in any real danger. They weren’t even armed. Honestly I almost felt bad for them. Almost. I mostly just wanted to make a point.”
A young merchant boy spoke up.
“I heard that you fought them over the Elven question. Is that true?”
The Baron grinned.
“Yes, yes it is. He fell firmly on the wrong side of the issue, his family deals in Elven slaves, and as far as I am concerned slavers are less human than any elf. A complete lack of empathy for your fellow being.”
A few of the nobles and merchants shifted uncomfortable in their chairs, while others vocalized their agreement. Another young noblewoman spoke up, deciding to change the topic to something much more interesting to her.
“Sir, is it true that you are not married?”
The Baron nodded, mostly to hide the rolling of his eyes.
“Yes, I am still unwed. And no, I am not accepting applications. In truth, I don’t want to be married again. I had what I needed with my late wife, Sabine. Trying to find comfort in the arms of another just feels wrong now.”
The women all cooed and awwed at his words.
“That’s so cute! So romantic!”
The Baron chuckled.
“Yes, well, romance hasn’t been much on my mind for the past few decades, all I really think about these days is blood and politics-oh, apologies for repeating myself.”
The table laughed reservedly.
“Say, kids, would you all like to participate in a discussion? Being able to do such a thing on the spot is a good skill to have in politics, and people like you must be well versed and prepared for debate.”
The people surrounding him all nodded their heads.
“Excellent. So, I shall use a topic already brought up by someone earlier, the Elven question. Would you all like to know where I stand on it?”
The table again nodded.
“Good. My opinion, is that there is an objective answer to the Elven question, which is freedom. I wish to rid this country of Elven slavery, just as I have in Bickenstadt, and I want to cool tensions between our two people. If you go around and meet with folks around the world, you will find that no matter the race, all sapient beings, thinking beings-people like us, are fundamentally the same. All they want is to live their days in freedom with the ones they love.”
The Baron took in a breath.
“Anyways, enough about my position, I would like to hear from you all.”
The table was quiet as people collected their thoughts. One of the young women from earlier spoke up.
“I…think I side with you. I never really understood why we were still using slavery. It always seemed barbaric to me.”
Another spoke up, a male merchant.
“Well, I don’t like literally enslaving people, but we still need those workers. I’ve asked my father if he would be willing to pay them salaries and he said no. We really can’t afford to lose them, our economy is built on slavery, they’re essential! And I mean, we are providing them food and lodging, better than some Imperials get.”
The Baron tried to stop himself from speaking, as leading the socratic seminar as the teacher was generally frowned upon, at least last he had heard, but he simply could not help it.
“Bickenstadt’s economy is slavery free, and we are equal to Gössenburg with a lower population and no slavery. I don’t believe that slavery is the only way we can have a good economy. And even if that was true I would still argue to end it and replace it with something else. I believe it’s fundamentally immoral, though please do not think of that as an attack on you. You were born into this system, just as many elven slaves are. Neither of you had a choice.”
The man looked down at the table.
“Yeah…”
The Baron waited for him to continue, and when it was clear he would not, the Baron did so in his stead.
“The system of slavery not only hurts the slaves, it hurts the masters as well. Think about it, son, the rest of you as well, despite obviously being uncomfortable with the practice, you have been forced to participate in it by nothing other than the accident of your birth. Because of the system you were born into, you have been forced to act unethically. You have been turned into nothing more than a cog in the machine of suffering against your will! It is for this reason, amongst many others, that I have banned slavery in my province.”
The young nobles all nodded their heads in agreement.
Excellent. This is working perfectly. I hope this stuff sticks in their heads. It’s how I get new supporters! Time to spread The Enlightenment!
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“Fire!”
The deafening roar of firearms discharging echoed through the surrounding area.
“Fall into the spears!”
The soldiers ran into the safety of the spearwall, reloading their weapons as spears were presented forwards. All of their movements were clumsy and lacking refinement, but still serviceable. They would likely not survive a charge from heavy knights, but they would do fine against lighter cavalry and other blocks of infantry.
These men wore the uniform and colors of the Waffenstadt Provincial Militia. Their uniforms were very unlike those of the other provincial militias, instead they wore a similar uniform to the Rauchburg Home Guard, though noticeably different. It was a Litewka colored in light brown, with dark gray sashes and trimming. Each man had on a simple cuirass, light brown trousers, burgundy collared shirts, and a kettle helm.
The lack of puff and slash grated against the Baron’s fashion sensibilities, but he had to learn to let that go. Times were changing, and so fashion was as well.
Not mine, though.
Ingo von Waffenstadt looked at the Baron, pride overflowing from his eyes.
“So, what do you think?”
The Baron crossed his arm across his chest and bit his thumbnail.
“Hmmm, they look...fine. About as good as militia are going to get, I’d wager.”
Ingo laughed and slapped the Baron’s back.
“That’s high praise coming from you!”
The Baron smiled coyly.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Your methods are a tad…outdated.”
Ingo raised an eyebrow.
“Oh? How so? Have you guys been doing something different?”
“Yes, in fact, we are likely going to do away with spears entirely. Nothing but bayonets and muskets.”
Ingo squinted his eyes.
“Really? You’re replacing spearmen with…muskets? Won’t that-”
“No, it won’t. If you give the men a long enough bayonet, they are functionally spearmen that can kill a man at 100 yards once every thirty or so seconds.”
Ingo brushed his beard in thought.
“I mean...that sounds smart enough to me. Say, do you think-”
“Yes, of course, I can send men over when they are finished with their training. This is a very new style of warfare, but I can feel its efficacy in my bones. The old ways are certainly still effective, but enchantments are expensive, and nothing short of enchanted metal can go head to head against a bullet at point blank. At least not reliably.”
Ingo crossed his arms and nodded his head.
“Yes, I see the logic in that. Can you stop interrupting me, by the way.”
The Baron smiled.
“Sorry, this is just something that I care about quite a bit! And I believe in it quite strongly. Reorganizing the military to adapt to this new style of warfare is shockingly easy, honestly. The role of a spearman really is not changing too much, neither is their training. They are just also learning to fire in volleys and reload a gun on top of their regular training, nothing too special.”
The militia’s gunners fanned out on either side of the spearmen, slowly and messily forming into two lines three men deep. After around thirty seconds of maneuver, the lines were mostly neat, and the gunners took aim at the targets placed 100 yards away.
The leaders of each formation gave the order and the groups fired in a rough volley, mostly in sync with each other. After more yelling from their leaders the first row kneeled and the second fired. Again, yelling, second row kneeled, third row fired. By the time the third row fired, the first row should have been fully loaded, but none of them were, with most in the tail end of the process but not finished.
The Baron nodded his head when the first row fired again, after another fifteen seconds of reloading.
“Yeah, about as good as militia are going to get. Have you concerned turning them professional? Just have them be the Waffenstadt Provincial Guard?”
Ingo shook his head.
“No I have not. Really not my thing to manage, I’m more about the logistics and manufacturing. The men in the militia and my bureaucrats keep track of the army itself.”
The Baron smiled and shook his head.
“Well, I would suggest you start thinking about it.”
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Later that night, the Baron was being hosted in Ingo’s personal garden. It was in a greenhouse attached to the palace. The Baron had heard the word ‘garden’ and made some assumptions of what it would be like, which were, largely, wrong.
Surrounding the table were a few plants, yes, but mostly machines and displayed guns, with the plants used more as detail to highlight them. In what should be a regular plant bed was instead a display case with three rows of pistols, vines and flowers growing in between and around them.
A palm tree from the south was growing out of a small square of dirt. The middle of the tree was cored out, and in its place was a longrifle protected by perfectly clear glass. A cannon was placed in another flower bed, with various different plants and vines growing in and around it.
The Baron was very impressed. It was a beautiful and novel amalgam of a noble’s garden and a firearms museum, which Ingo was visibly proud of.
“So, how do you like it? Let me tell you, this was a bitch to get right. Plants kept dying and guns got too tangled to display. My gardeners are incredible is all I can say.”
“Yes, this place is amazing! I should-”
“No! Do not steal my idea! Come up with your own!”
The two men looked each other in the eyes for a moment before erupting in laughter. The two men enjoyed themselves for some time, going through the dinner while making jokes and smalltalk, as well as talking about what each other had missed in their lives during the decades of radio silence. Finally, when the plates were taken away, the Baron put on a more serious expression.
“Alright, this place is incredible, but I am here on business. I would like to talk, is this place locked up tight and private?”
Ingo nodded.
“Yes, only I and my gardeners have the keys, and they would not betray me. They have certain…eccentricities that would make them unwelcome anywhere else.”
“Any ‘gender incongruents?’”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Ingo squinted his eyes.
“Gender what?”
The Baron shook his head.
“If you had them, you would know what it means. Anyways, onto the Empire. I have many questions and I’m sure you do as well.”
Ingo took a sip from his wineglass.
“Yes, do you mind if I ask first?”
The Baron nodded, and Ingo continued.
“Thank you. There are a few things I must know before we continue. For one, I need to know how much manpower and allies you have. For two, I need to get an idea of what you would want me to do. And lastly, I need to know what you intend for the future of this Empire. What do you want to do to it? I hear you have been introducing some elements of ‘democracy’ to Bickenstadt, is this your plan?”
The Baron smiled.
“Yes, it is. I know noblemen don’t tend to like the idea of democracy, but you will have to bear with me for a moment. I can promise you a comfortable position after this is all said and done, though not necessarily one in power.”
Ingo looked confused.
“Wait, so, you are going to take power…away from me? I don’t see how this works in my favor.”
The Baron smiled somewhat dangerously.
“Well, you see, you benefit by being left alive. The nobility is a parasite upon this country and her people, I want our titles abolished, and yes, especially mine.”
The Baron checked his fingernails for dirt, mostly as a gesture to portray himself as cool and aloof.
“Noble life never really suited me, anyway. Ingo, I understand what you’re thinking, and all I have to ask is, do you think you will be safe after the revolution comes?”
Ingo shifted in his chair uncomfortably.
“What do you mean exactly?”
The Baron chuckled.
“Well, after the Elven Revolution succeeded, the ball got rolling. It’s already rolling, far too late to stop it now. Even without me, this Empire will see revolts and revolutions in the future, especially when we invade the southlands. My people have gotten a taste for democracy, and I imagine others will follow suit. As it turns out, people like to have a say in the systems which govern their lives.”
Ingo tried to speak, but the Baron just continued.
“The way I see things, you have two options: Side with me, in which case you will lose your title of nobility but live a comfortable life, you could even get involved in the democratically run government, you are a citizen after all, and popular. Or, you could side with the Empress against me, in which case you will not be spared, despite my genuine love for you as my brother.”
The Baron sipped his wine, still trying to appear cool and aloof.
“Even should I fail, there will inevitably be more of Me’s in the future. And they do not have our personal relationship with each other, they will want your head on a pike.”
Ingo sat in silence. The Baron continued.
“You know, there is precedent for this, in our world and the other. In fact, what is known as ‘The French Revolution’ occurred here and there, emanating from there. They killed their nobility, publicly executing them in front of roaring crowds. As did the elves. I would like to get their system, though without the wanton and pointless bloodshed of the French.”
“...”
Ingo sat in stunned silence. After gathering his thoughts, he finally spoke.
“...am I just supposed to accept this as true? This that you have laid out?”
The Baron nodded.
“Yes, very much so. It has happened in the land of the elves here, and dozens of places in the other world. It is inevitable. The internal contradictions in our system will become too great, and it will rip itself apart. The class interest of the people does not align with us, or you I should say, and that is simply unsustainable. As it turns out, people very much like to live free. And when they have nothing, they will do anything to gain it. We almost saw this during the Black Hunger, I’m sure you know I’m right.”
The Baron sipped his wine.
“The Empire is a powderkeg, and all it will take is a single spark to set the whole thing ablaze, Depending on how well we control the explosion, how well we can shape the eruption, it will either send the blast at the Empress alone, or it will vaporize everything within the radius. I know which option I would prefer, do you?”
“...”
The two men, again, sat in an uncomfortable silence.
“...tell me about your allies. What exactly have you gotten?”
The Baron smiled and began to list them off with his fingers.
“Well, we have the Brayherds as allies, the Orcs of Londonsburg, the Ottoman Empire to the south, as well as Holenstadt. As it stands, still not enough to fight the Grand Imperial Army, even with people defecting from either side. But we only need a little more and we can do it. If I can gain your assistance with sieging and taking Bergcitadelle Freidrick, keeping the Empress on the other side of that damned river, as well as dealing with whatever crops up in Leibenstadt, then I believe strongly that we could win.”
Ingo thought long and hard. The Baron was more than happy to allow him time to think.
“...I think I could offer up twenty five thousand soldiers, more if I institute conscription. They wouldn’t be the finest soldiers in the world, but they would be armed with state-of-the-art weapons and artillery.”
The Baron smiled.
“Well, they’re only poor soldiers because they have no experience. If everything goes right, they could end up being the best. Especially with your wealth of artillery. With your industrial expertise and my martial prowess, we could force the Empire into a new era! A better one, one of prosperity for all people, including nonhumans, and one with far less pain and suffering.”
Ingo twiddled his fingers as he thought.
“...I think…hm…”
The Baron kicked his feet up on the table.
“Take your time, I am more than happy to wait. Just answer during this dinner.”
It took around three full minutes before Ingo spoke again.
“...I get to keep the palace, and I get to continue running our forges.”
The Baron stood and leaned across the table, hand extended.
“I believe we have a deal, brother. Thank you for making the right choice, both for you and for the Empire.”
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In Bickenstadt, a group of students were walking around the harbor. They had study hall, which for Imperial students was a time for them to either study, as the name suggests, or for them to rove around and get into trouble.
They were out looking for two things: Food, and women. The men stumbled out of the bar, laughing and falling over each other as the owner shooed them out. The men traipsed across the city looking for more bars to get kicked out of, as was their want as young university students.
A young nobleman by the name of Erich Wemhoff stopped dead in his tracks as something attached to the base of the nearby statue of the Baron and Wolfgang, the very same one that he had heard was worked on by an Elven engineer, caught his eye.
It was a poster put out by the Bickenstadt government. While not unusual in-and-of itself, it was the picture and writing which made him take notice.
In the center of the poster was a drawing of men wielding muskets and bayonets formed into a line three men deep with bayonets presented front. Notably, the formation was a mixed one made up of both humans and orcs. To the side of them were dozens of cannons, all firing at once.
Opposing them was a force made up of various different things, from heavy Imperial knights wearing full plate with lances leveled and light cavalry with sabers raised, to heavily armored Imperial Greatswordsmen and lowly unwashed brigands with rough axes and chipped swords.
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The Bickenstadt Provincial Guard
The state of Bickenstadt has decided to reorganize the state militia into the Bickenstadt Provincial Guard, full time, professional soldiers.
We need you, our fellow Imperial, to join and fight to vanquish the enemies of Bickenstadt!
You will become the best of the best, trained rigorously every day for months on end. This work is hard, taxing, but rewarding. You will become strong, you will gain martial prowess, and you will be honored and rewarded for your hard work.
In addition to soldiers, we will need personnel to keep everything running properly, meaning cooks, laundresses, repairmen, and others to keep our baggage trains moving. There is nothing more important to a soldier than a warm meal to fill his belly and a clean set of clothing to warm his body!
To enlist, simply come to Castle Bickenstadt. There, you will find a recruitment office just outside.
* Any who pass the fitness tests will become professional soldiers. Their families will be taken care of, their children’s education paid for, and their own as well after ten years of service!
* There is no prohibition of employment by sex for any position. If any man or woman wishes to join, we will find a place for you!
* You must be at least 17 years of age and of good physical condition. Any who are found fit to fight may do so should they please!
Pay varies depending on position
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One of Erich’s friends cackled.
“Look at the tiny text at the bottom! They had to make it all small and shit that’s hilarious!”
The rest of the young men erupted in laughter, though Erich was a tad more reserved.
“You guys ever think about it?”
One of them squinted their eyes at him.
“Think about what?”
Erich gestured to the poster.
“You know, enlisting?”
Another spoke up.
“Nah bro, I don’t wanna die. I’d rather just get a cushy job at the University and have a family”
This was greeted with various different shouts of agreement from the group. Erich rubbed the back of his neck.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’ve gotta at least finish my education first.”
One of his friends chuckled.
“First? Bro, you think you’re gonna finish your education?”
“Shut up Dietrich, I’m starting some mage courses next semester. I’m gonna be a fucking mage!”
His friends all laughed.
“Yeah man, so what, you want to be a battle mage?”
Erich shook his head.
“I was thinking medic, maybe. Maybe I will be a battle mage…”
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The Bickenstadt Provincial Guard had gathered nearly eight hundred recruits in the first week. They were currently all learning to march in formation, a fundamental part of military life. Marching in formation was how they got from place to place, as well as how they got from their lines to the enemy’s.
A few men stumbled and fell, causing the whole line to get out of alignment slowly as men tripped over them and others lost their guides standing next to them. Eventually, by the time the formation had reached the end of their march it was more of a disorganized mob than a line.
A drill sergeant, wearing his Napoleonic uniform and bicorn hat, shook his head solemnly.
“Eh, ça ne marchera pas du tout.”
Jean looked at the sergeant with annoyance.
“Oui, ce sera le cas, donnez simplement du temps aux humains.”
Jean, alongside the drill sergeants sent by Napoleon, were bickering back and forth. Udo had no idea what to make of it. He didn’t speak a lick of Elven besides oui and non.
“Hey, fellas, no offense, but can we keep the chatter to Reikers? I’m also learning as I go, just like the boys out there. We’re not gonna get anything done if you’re all secretive and shit.”
One of the elves looked at Jean.
“Est-il mon officier supérieur?”
Jean nodded and the drill sergeant sighed.
“Bien. Your men are ‘aving trouble keeping spacing while marching in a line.”
Udo scratched his head.
“Have you tried hitting them with sticks?”
The sergeant looked at him deadpan.
“Oui.”
Udo smiled and shook his head.
“Well, then we just need more time. Trust me, they’ll get it. Klarwasser gets it, I’m sure these boys will too.”
Udo shrugged.
“It’s only marching, and only their third day. I can do it in my sleep but I’ve been doing this nonstop for a little over a year now. Say, why doesn’t Klarwasser come out here and show them how it’s done? We’re only like, a few miles south of them, and they’re starting to get this ‘linear’ shit figured out, I think.”
A drill sergeant nodded.
“Not a bad idea.”
Udo smiled brightly.
“Great, I’ll go get ‘em.”
Soon, the recruits were watching the well drilled men of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company as it performed elaborate march drills in front of them. While not necessarily useful for combat, the exercise helped soldiers get a better idea of how to stay in lines even in rough terrain.
The Klarwasser Mercenaries looked incredible, perfectly in sync despite the difference in size between the Orcs and humans. The recruits awed in wonder as the line turned while moving forwards, smoothly and efficiently turning the whole formation another direction without even a single man stepping out of line.
Soon, the men were within 200 yards of a line of wooden targets. The formation stopped and the first row aimed and fired, immediately reloading after. The second row stepped through and formed in front of them, aimed, and fired. Soon after, the third row followed suit. And after that, the first row was already loaded and moving to the front again.
A sergeant pointed at the mercenaries and their impeccable maneuver.
“That right there is known as ‘Tirer et Avancer’, or Fire and Advance. It is a very advanced maneuver, keeping up fire as they move closer and closer to the enemy. When they get within 100 yards, they charge, which is usually enough to make a formation run by itself.
"You are learning to become that, understood?”
The provincial guardsmen all cheered and got back in the lines, doing a decent enough job staying together. Almost adequate, and it was only their third day!
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Dozens of miles south of Bickenstadt city was a special detachment of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company. They were in a wide open plain, part of the Leibenstadt plains which extended into southern Bickenstadt. All around them were various holes and trenches, all connected in a fractal crisscross network of dug up earth.
An Ottoman engineer hammered a log into place at the mouth of a tunnel.
“Dat is how it is done. You make dis battern here wid de wood and it will keep da dirt from your hair. Does dat make sense?”
A Klarwasser engineer nodded and sketched out the support the men created in his notebook.
“Good. Now get digging. Make sure to not let da dirt cave in using supports. You have…one hundred yards worth of digging left.”
The engineer sighed and grabbed his shovel and lantern before disappearing into the dark hole. The Ottoman smacked his hands together to rid them of dust and noticed something. One of the Imperial engineers wasn’t carrying his materials above his head.
“İmparatorluk! Ne yapıyorsun? Above your head! Not to your side! Do you want holes in da neck?”
The man swiftly raise his materials above his head and ran over to where it was supposed to go. As he began to set it down, he felt a stinging pain on his back.
“You will go back and walk the way again. Broberly dis time.”
The man grunted and did as he was ordered. The Ottoman watched and nodded his head.
“No back talk. Your men are trained well.”
Helmut leaned his head over towards the man and spoke dispassionately.
“Yes, indeed. We spend a lot of time training.”
A loud boom! erupted behind the pair. The Ottoman flinched, but Helmut didn’t even move, he simply traced the trajectory of the cannonball with his eyes. It smashed into the ground, gorging out great chunks of earth as it embedded itself right in front of the target, which was situated on a large mound of dirt from digging trenches.
“You were off by ten°. Raise it by that much.”
The cannon operator saluted and cranked the gun’s barrel up ever so slightly. After the crew had fully loaded, a process which lasted around one minute and thirty seconds. He touched the linstock to the borehole and the cannon fired. The projectile sailed through the air, and the crew held their breath.
The cannonball smashed right through the wooden target, causing it to splinter out and impale the other targets next to it. The crew cheered and Helmut nodded his head in approval.