Chapter 12
October 23rd, 1664. Leibenstadt.
The Baron was meeting with his brother-in-law Ingo von Waffenstadt in the city of Leibensburg.
They had had no trouble so far from the city, so he was happy to meet with him there. It seemed that, after the Empress’s brutal repression of the rebels a few years ago, the people of Leibensburg had no love for her. They were more than happy to welcome the Baron, with his record of generosity and magnanimity, to rule over them.
The fact that he was bringing them democracy pleased some, but most really had no real idea of what that meant. Many of them just voted how they figured the Baron would want them to vote, because he was their ruler, after all, and he was being highly generous to them.
The Baron and Ingo were meeting in the governor’s mansion, in the dining room. In front of the Baron was a plate with pork sausages and a lovely sourdough bread. He took a bite of both and sighed contentedly. It was excellent, far better than the dried meats he had been eating as of late. While on campaign, unless he was on a diplomatic mission, he ate what his men ate.
“So, Johan, why exactly have you called me here?”
The Baron wiped his mouth with a napkin before speaking.
“Ingo, my good friend, it is so nice to see you!”
Ingo waved his hand dismissively.
“Can we skip the formalities?”
The Baron frowned.
“But I like the formalities.”
Ingo rolled his eyes.
“Right, it’s a pleasure, I’m Ingo, etcetera-What do you want exactly?”
The Baron chuckled.
“Excellent formalities, brother. Now, I would like you to pivot some of your production to munitions. Specifically for mortars. A good mixture of solid shot and airburst would be excellent.”
Ingo raised an eyebrow.
“Are you sure? This would cut into the firearms and cannons we can produce.”
The Baron nodded.
“Yes, we need those munitions. I want to bombard the third layer of defenses on an unprecedented scale, and to do that I need a lot of explosives and iron balls.”
He stabbed a sausage with his fork forcefully.
“I don’t want those slavers to sleep a wink without fearing for their lives. And I want to cover the sounds of tunnel boring.”
He sighed.
“I highly doubt we will have as much luck with the tunnels as in the first layer, however, attrition favors us. We can get supplies and men, they cannot. And after taking the first and second layer, we have much of their supplies anyways. Any amount of wasted resources on their part is in our favor.”
Ingo ran his hand through his beard and nodded.
“I certainly see the logic in that, yes. Sure, I’ll make more munitions for you.”
He suddenly looked like he thought of something.
“Right, Johan, did you hear that elven reinforcements have arrived? They’re waiting for the river forces to gather fully again before they do anything, but we’ve got twenty thousand veterans in Bickenstadt.”
He leaned in.
“I heard they even gave us some heavy cavalry. Those men are extremely expensive, or at least that's what Wolfgang has told me.”
The Baron smiled.
“I had not received the news yet, must have gotten lost in the chaos, thank you for informing me. Now, what exactly has the Empress been getting up to lately?”
Ingo looked far more solemn than before.
“She has been razing villages left and right, and leaving messages written in blood. ‘The cost of rebellion, courtesy of the Baron.’”
The Baron shook his head and grit his teeth.
“Of course she has. Brutality is an effective, if ineligant, tool.”
He looked at Ingo very seriously.
“This news is not to reach the men at the citadel. I can’t have any more deserters. I’m tired of executions.”
Ingo nodded.
“Of course. Oh, speaking of executions, what are you doing with the captured men you have?”
“We’re holding them in humane conditions. They are fed and housed, about all you could ask for as a POW.”
Ingo raised an eyebrow
“POW?”
“It's an acronym. Prisoner of War. I plan to ransome them to the Empress when we’re finished with the citadel.”
“If you want, I could take over that duty. My men have been clashing with her forces occasionally up north, I’m sure I could get a messenger to her.”
The Baron twiddled with his wedding ring.
“Yes…that sounds lovely. And before you ask, yes, you can keep a portion of the proceeds.”
“Half!”
The Baron glared at Ingo.
“You will keep a quarter and you will like it. My men are the ones who died to capture them, not yours.”
“But, are Waffenstadt troops not fighting alongside you?”
“Hm...true…you may keep a third.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Ingo thought for a moment before nodding.
“Acceptable. My pencil pushers will do the details.”
“As will mine.”
“Excellent. Now, may I ask the state of our coalition forces?”
The Baron nodded.
“Yes, well, to be honest, it could be better. The Ottoman janissaries took very heavy casualties assaulting the grenadier's quarters, nearly thirty percent. Waffenstadt soldiers haven’t taken too many, or done that much to be honest. Your engineers and artillery crews have more than made up for that, however. The Brayherds are still strong, as are my troops, and the Tlanzomans are begging me to allow them a few human sacrifices.”
Ingo chuckled.
“Seriously? How primitive.”
The Baron frowned.
“Hey now, don’t talk about them like that.”
Ingo’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
The Baron waved his hand dismissively.
“Forget it. What’s important to know is that the men are tired and they need to rest. The artillery crews, however, will not be getting rest.”
Ingo raised his wine glass.
“All the crews need is some parm and more black powder!”
The Baron smiled and raised his own glass.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
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October 10th, 1664. Bickenstadt.
The Empress stood with her hands behind her back, watching her men finish the razing of another star fortress town, Haganhafen, the last one in Bickenstadt. They had taken heavy casualties while attacking the town, as not only did the defenders fight to the last man, but the townsfolk ended up joining in as well, grabbing fallen weapons and attacking her soldiers as they mauraded around the town.
While they could never even hope to beat one of her soldiers in melee, a gun was just as able to kill in the hands of a random peasant as it was in the hands of a professional soldier.
Next to her was Hans Volkner, standing in a similar pose. She smiled and turned to him.
“Hans, I have allowed you to decide our policy for a while now, you know I trust you.”
He nodded, attempted to hide the smile creeping across his face.
“Of course, ma’am.”
“So, what do you think we should do next? We took very heavy casualties here, and we have been raiding nonstop for months.”
Hans pursed his lips as he thought, a mannerism he had picked up from spending so much time alongside her.
“Well…I would say the men need time to rest and recover.”
The Empress nodded.
“Yes, I agree. I am quite pleased with our progress, but if we run the men ragged they will fold like a house of cards at the first real opposition.”
“Yes ma’am, that is true. I was thinking that we hole up in a town, after clearing it out of course, and turn that into our base of operations in Bickenstadt. We need a supply depot in the very least, having caravans moving from Grössenstadt to Bickenstadt whenever we need anything is inefficient, especially with the winter snow there. And with Fergus and his Orkniers attacking our supply lines.”
“Agreed.”
Hans made a look like he just bit into something sour.
“However…I don’t like the idea of doing nothing. Our goal was to relieve the garrison at Frederick.”
The Empress nodded.
“Yes, well, there is only so much we can do without solid logistics. I was thinking we have the light cavalry galavant around Bickenstadt, raiding any settlements they come across and taking whatever they can find until Grössenstadt thaws. After that, hopefully, we will be able to relief the beleaguered defenders”
Hans nodded.
“Sounds excellent, ma’am. They are quite used to it by now, and they are still very energetic. Not much riding to do when attacking star fortresses.”
A group of soldiers tossed lit torches onto the remaining houses, cheering as they caught alight.
“Additionally, I think I will be starting operations in Holenstadt again somewhat soon, after the thaw comes, perhaps. For now, just raids and skirmishing. As usual.”
Hans nodded.
“Of course. I wouldn't know anything about fighting there, been quite a while since I last visited, so I hope whoever is in command is competent.”
The Empress shrugged.
“He is alright. Not as good as I would like, however, the Baron poached a lot of my talent when he raised the flag of rebellion.”
She sighed.
“The highly educated men wanted to side with a fellow academic, I believe.”
As useful as having a highly educated population was, it did have its drawbacks. Higher education correlates with progressive tendencies, and the ability to engage with philosophy meant that it would be easier to spread the ideals of democracy and anti-slavery.
The Empress sighed again.
“Perhaps I went too hard on educating our populace.”
Hans had nothing to say, so he simply shrugged.
“Oh, also, I believe the Bickenstadt Liberation Forces are close to gathering up fully again. We scattered them quite far, but it’s been months now. We must get the men ready for a field battle. They must have rest, but when they are not resting they are to drill. Understood?”
Hans gave her a crisp salute.
“Of course, ma’am. I’ll get right on it!”
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November 8th, 1664. Grössenburg.
“The elves are collaborating with the Baron! We must do something about it!”
A massive crowd was gathered in a town square. In front of them was a fairly regular looking man yelling on top of a box.
“We have had dozens of cases of sabotage these past two months! It must be the elves! They know the Baron wants to free them, the race traitor! Each one is a potential soldier in his army! Each one holds rage in their hearts! They would give anything to kill your sons and rape your daughters!”
The crowd roared in agreement.
“Something must be done! We show the elves who is at the top of the food chain! They must be cowed! We must do something!”
The crowd roared again. He raised his fist as he shouted.
“I say we make an example of them! Hang elves from lamposts! Beat them down into the dirt! Make it clear who is on the top, and who is on the bottom!”
The crowd cheered.”
“Make sure they know the cost of fighting against the natural order! Come! Follow me!”
He jumped down off the box and the cheered crowd followed after him. He brought them to a noble’s estate, that of the late Freiderick Fabersonne. He was killed by an abolitionist extremist last year, and there were many rumors going around that his elves assisted the assassin.
The private guards looked at the angry throng of people, then glanced at each other. The man leading the group raised a rope he had found high in the air.
“Let us in! We will do what must be done!”
The crowd screamed ‘YEAH’ behind him. The guards looked at each other again, then back to the massive, angry crowd. Some people were already beginning to call them race traitors, and many of the people in the crowd were armed with clubs and knives.
They nervously opened the gate and the crowd cheered, flooding in like a racist tidal wave. They rushed over to the servants quarters and broke down the door. Elves screamed as the angry mob began to lay into them with clubs, fists, and feet.
A man dragged an elven woman by the hair outside and threw her to the crowd, who dogpiled her immediately. Her screams slowly began to grow quiet, and soon she lay still, eyes glazed, an expression of terror frozen across her face.
Elves were dragged into the streets by the angry mob, beaten and stomped on all the way. Men threw ropes over lampposts and the elves began to struggle harder, being received with more savage beatings.
Men forcibly stood up an elf and began to tie a rope around their neck. He pleaded to them, but his cries fell on deaf ears. The instigator smiled as he watched the elven man hoisted up by his neck and struggle for a few minutes before going limp.
“Kill the traitors! Kill the subversives! Kill those sneaky fucking elves!”