Chapter 10

『Stop doing that.』

『Doing what?』

『Looking worried. If you look worried, how do you think that makes us feel?』

Ludmila frowned across the corner of the war room table at Liane. Liane frowned back. Was she not allowed to worry?

As she had feared, the Beastmen were sending reinforcements down the Oriculon. There were so many that reconnaissance simply lost count. Based on the number of vessels, four hundred thousand were already assembled and more were still coming. Olga’s forces north of Eastwatch were given a convenient excuse to turn away from the border and towards the city, but they were taking a tremendous beating in the process and had to slow down to allow Elder Lich mana to keep up with Fog Cloud deployment.

The state of general panic that the Royal Army had worked so hard to cultivate had vanished, replaced by the steely discipline and fluid operations that the warrior clans had initially displayed. The newcomers moved with even more confidence than the warrior clans from before and she couldn’t imagine them being so easy to break with the stakes being what they seemed to be.

Additionally, things had become awkward. There were twice as many Beastmen as she had Undead. It might have still appeared to be an Undead horde to the Beastmen, but they would realise that they had out-horded the horde sooner or later.

“They’ve left the southern half of the border wide open,” Marshal Zorlu said from his side of the table. “Would they expose their territory to invasion so easily?”

“It’s not as foolish as it may seem, Your Excellency,” Ludmila said. “It’s not just the border that’s mountains and jungles – everything past the border is. The Undead would take weeks to get anywhere important and the Beastmen can defend their territories with ease.”

They weren’t the Gnolls of The Blister, but she suspected that things would be just as bad from the sheer number of Beastmen that could be mobilised and the vast territory that they were completely free to operate in.

『Shouldn’t Ilyshn’ish have noticed this? Why didn’t she say anything?』

Ludmila glanced at Florine.

『I don’t see why she would. It would probably look something like a Re-Estize levy. From her perspective, there would be one or two people from each village she passes walking by her on the road, and these Beastmen already move around quite a bit as far as I’ve seen. This army only starts looking like one as its members approach their mustering point, which is on our side of the border.』

Ilyshn’ish was out of range for telepathic communication, meaning that she was also too far to notice an overt buildup of military forces. As far as her companion went, all Ludmila could feel was the timid bundle of stress and worry that Ilyshn’ish was whenever she was out of her element, to which she would offer a reassuring telepathic nuzzle once in a while.

The Beastmen used their rivers extensively, so telling everything apart would be difficult at a glance – especially for a Frost Dragon who would have no idea what she was looking at. Ilyshn’ish’s closest comparison would be the ships sailing up and down the Katze River. If asked, she would report what the Beastmen used boats for and how their infrastructure literally worked, which included ferrying people and goods around the Oriculon basin.

“Is victory still possible?” Prime Minister Yorsten asked.

Ludmila wiped away her ‘worried expression’.

“It might get a bit messy, Your Excellency,” Ludmila said, “but yes. I was thinking that this situation may also work in our favour.”

“How so?”

“If we play things right, we can make things seem as if the bulk of the Undead threat has been quelled. Once we finish the reconquest, we can send the remainder of the Undead horde across the border to be destroyed. All that will be left will be the patrols of Death-series servitors wandering the outskirts of the ruined and Undead-infested Draconic Kingdom.”

With less than half of their population surviving, the Draconic Kingdom would be focusing their recovery efforts in the west, far away from their borders with the Beastmen. The frontier defences would be ‘haunted’ and any Beastmen that attempted to get by them would not be allowed to return home. The Human holdouts in the southern provinces would ‘win back’ the Draconic Kingdom as the years passed, which would coincidentally line up with their military’s adaptations to working with their new Undead allies.

It was a shaky narrative, at best. Florine was especially vicious when it came to pointing out all of the ‘plot holes’. Maybe she had hoped to use it for Dreams of Red.

“Will any of the ‘Undead horde’ be left after this battle?” Marshal Zorlu asked, “If we mean to use them as you described, they can’t be deployed in the same way as before because this many Beastmen would quickly obliterate them.”

“That’s something we can make up for after the battle, Your Excellency. The ‘Undead horde’ participating in this battle will be destroyed, but the defeat of the Beastmen will result in a new one. We can also bring in more dominated forces from Katze if necessary. We’ll have that number diminish with each wave until the Beastmen are satisfied that the immediate threat has been addressed.”

“It’s not as if the Beastmen can do anything about it even if they do figure out they’ve been played for fools the entire time,” Liane shrugged. “By the time they notice, the citizens will be safely away and the border secured. They’ll just have to live with the fact that they were screwed out of their conquest.”

Liane jerked to the side as Florine elbowed her in the ribs. It was as she said, however.

Raids and migrations happened because they needed to. Either through direct need or future problems formally addressed through custom and ritual. Tribes didn’t attack their neighbours and thus risk themselves simply because they felt like it. The substantial reduction in the Beastmen’s numbers meant that they wouldn’t need to look to external sources – in other words, raid – for food. It would take them at least a generation to reach that point again.

The only problem she could think of was if the Slane Theocracy finally decided to show up. They wouldn’t be pleased to find their supposed monopoly over the Draconic Kingdom’s affairs broken, and the Draconic Kingdom’s reception would be cool, at best. According to Clara, the Sorcerous Kingdom’s benign approach to the region would be tested by friction over the Draconic Kingdom. As history would often tell, those with power and influence did not give it up without a fight.

Several markers were added to the table as the Elder Liches updated the map. Each marker represented ten thousand Beastmen, and their army was forming into a clear defensive array.

“Isn’t their positioning a bit too perfect?” Ludmila said, “They’re arranging themselves in an exact counter to our advancing forces. Even the regiments organised along the Oriculon are positioned according to the Undead moving twenty kilometres south of the river. Their physical reconnaissance shouldn’t be capable of such extensive reporting.”

“I agree, Captain,” Wiluvien said, “but there doesn’t seem to be an answer as to why it’s happening. None of our squads has reported any signs of divination magic being used. The only other plausible answer is that the enemy has deployed concealed flying observers.”

That could have been anything from scouts with flight magic to Ranger companions. Countless birds were flying around and it was practically impossible to distinguish whether any particular one was a reconnaissance asset. With so many new entries to the conflict, the potential new ideas that they may have brought with them had to be considered…except one couldn’t account for every single possibility.

“They could also be using divination magic and simply concealing its use,” Ludmila said. “We just have to work under the assumption that the visibility limitations of ground Commanders that we’ve been exploiting don’t apply here.”

“Headquarters is of the mind that it does not matter,” one of the Elder Liches at the table said. “The pieces are in play and may be seen by all. It is too late to change the ultimate result.”

Thirty infantry squads, each composed of ten Death Knights, two Death Warriors, two Death Priests and one Elder Lich. Two hundred Elder Liches in addition to them. Most people who understood the sheer power being brought to bear would agree that the Beastmen were doomed.

As an officer on the field, however, she was well aware of the realities that faced them. While a Human nation like the Baharuth Empire didn’t have the assets to resist their current force, the Beastmen most likely did. It was difficult to imagine that they didn’t, considering how vast their territory appeared to be.

Initial skirmishing conducted by Olga had proven that the Beastman hunters could easily destroy Elder Liches. The standard abjurations that were the bane of mundane archery offered no protection on this battlefield, and the bludgeoning damage of bullets was a weakness of skeletal Undead. That meant that their Elder Liches were relegated to supporting roles, primarily through summons. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, as the Counterfeiters deployed in the Draconic Kingdom were ‘built’ as Necromancers anyway, but it did remove the option of direct fire support. Risk-free direct fire support, at least.

Three hundred Death Knights could be tied up by three hundred tribal champions, and the forces supporting those champions would make short work of Squire Zombies and Zombies. The Beastmen also tended to be offensively oriented, putting Death Warriors at risk of being overwhelmed as had happened at Corrin-on-the-Lake. The mana of sixty Death Priests was no match for the countless mystics at their opponent’s disposal.

It was a battle that Ludmila would not commit to if she could help it. Letting the Beastmen go on the offensive and having them disperse across the front would be the prudent move. There were any number of things she could do to pick them apart if she was afforded the time and space to do so.

“I still say that a standoff is in our favour,” Ludmila said. “If we secure the citizens and cut off the Beastmen’s supply lines, they’ll starve in no time.”

“That is undoubtedly the case, Captain,” Wiluvien said, “but our Royal Court wishes the matter of the Beastmen to be concluded as quickly as possible.”

Ludmila held in a sigh. The Royal Court of the Sorcerous Kingdom was highly results-oriented, and the Beastmen were in the way of achieving their desired results with the Draconic Kingdom.

Across the table, Queen Oriculus covered her mouth in a yawn. With an appearance like hers, it was undeniably cute, but Ludmila’s gaze went past the Queen’s shoulder to the entire reason the offensive was guaranteed to succeed.

Once Lord Tian entered the battle, it was over for the Beastmen. It didn’t matter if there were half a million or even ten million, if the Beastmen stood their ground against him, they wouldn’t be Beastmen for long.

She didn’t like the idea of sending him into battle, however. Not only did it mean that the Royal Army was inadequate for the task that it had been assigned, but Lord Tian was fundamentally a good man. He was the type that did not relish the prospect of a one-sided slaughter, seeing it as a waste of life rather than any sort of achievement. Like Ludmila, duty drove him and she knew that duty could take people to places that they didn’t like. She wanted to spare him that experience, if possible.

“How is the evacuation of the citizens proceeding?” Ludmila asked.

“It’s barely been three days since we arrived in Corrin-on-the-Lake,” Minister Soruel answered. “We’ve moved two hundred thousand so far. In terms of area covered, that’s about ten kilometres past the eastern end of the lake.”

That was another problem limiting the Royal Army’s options. It wasn’t so much that their ‘bluff’ – the Undead horde – had been called, but making a stand that couldn’t be broken by that bluff amounted to the same thing. The only way was forward and stepping backwards not only revealed the true nature of the Undead ‘invading’ the Draconic Kingdom, but also exposed the unharmed Humans left in their wake.

Liane was right in that it wouldn’t matter after it was all over, but it wasn’t over yet and hundreds of thousands of the Draconic Kingdom’s citizens were still in harm’s way. In that regard, the Royal Court was justified in pushing for a decisive conclusion to the conflict, as it would permanently resolve nearly all of the strategic considerations that they were juggling while maintaining their façade.

“On the subject of Your Majesty attending the battle at Eastwatch,” Ludmila said. “I hope it is understood that we cannot place the sovereign of the Draconic Kingdom right on the front lines.”

“We understand,” Queen Oriculus replied. “Being able to witness events from afar is sufficient.”

“In that case,” Ludmila nodded and used a plotting rod to indicate a feature on the map, “this hill should offer a view of most of the battlefield. Please do not bring anything or anyone that might make your presence conspicuous.”

“Then We shall go there on our own. With Sebas, of course.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Y-Your Majesty!” The Prime Minister said, “This is highly irregular. So much is already at risk and–”

“The more people there are, the more conspicuous things will be, yes? This is not some pleasant outing where one can bring a pavilion and a baggage train.”

“Then at least let Your Majesty’s servant–”

“No. You lot have enough work to do as it is. Will this be fine, Captain?”

Ludmila looked at Lord Tian, who nodded in return.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ludmila said. “We’ll be using a barge to deliver you to the shore near the hill, so I’m sure a chair can be provided at least.”

“Or Lord Tian can just cradle you in his arms the entire time,” Liane said.

Queen Oriculus stared blankly at Liane for a moment, and then she went red to the tips of her ears.

“Th-th-th-the chair will be fine!”

The Queen scurried out of the war room, trailed by Lord Tian and her courtiers. Ludmila retired to the back of the suite containing the war room with her friends. Once the door closed behind them, Clara shot Liane a look.

“Could we not tease heads of state at formal meetings?”

“Queen Ori–actually, what do we call her? The Draconic Kingdom isn’t a kingdom kingdom, is it?”

“I don’t feel the need to break prevailing conventions,” Florine said, “so long as we understand how things truly are.”

“I’m not even sure if I understand that much,” Liane plopped herself into a cushioned chair.

“Going by how things are structured,” Clara sat down at the same table, “it’s a polity where each race or clan governs its own. Queen Oriculus guides them as the Dragon Lord whose domain they reside in.”

“Each race? It’s only Humans.”

“Because they’ve been reliant on the Theocracy for protection from the Beastmen,” Florine said. “Without knowing that tidbit, they just seem like another Human kingdom. Now that we do know, however, the entire way that the Draconic Kingdom is run and the relationship it has with its neighbours take on an entirely different form. Queen Oriculus goes as far as she is allowed to by the Theocracy with her non-Human neighbours. Now that the Sorcerous Kingdom has come into the picture and the Draconic Kingdom is no longer chained to the Theocracy’s policies, it wouldn’t surprise me if the Draconic Kingdom started expanding.”

“Like…into the sea?” Liane looked out the window at the lake.

“It seems that way. All of their treaties with the aquatic Demihumans off the coast stop just short of being a formal alliance. Given how relations are between them, they probably already treat it as an informal one. Since the Queen claims that our form of government is the fragmented remnant of a government that imitates some ancient form of draconic government, we should at least be familiar with its components if it does come to pass. I think it might serve as a good study for our own country. We’ve been trying to make things work using the ‘broken imitation government’ that Re-Estize uses, but Queen Oriculus apparently knows how the real thing operates.”

“So we’d just stick His Majesty where the Queen is?”

“Well, she did say it’s a government designed for powerful immortals. I can’t think of anyone who better fits the bill.”

“We’ll see, I guess,” Liane said. “I wouldn’t just take someone at their word over a claim like that. Queen Oriculus is probably pretty old, but she’s not that old.”

If true, it did seem like a valuable thing to study as Nobles who were responsible for overseeing territories in a multiracial society. That being said, the Sorcerer King probably had something far superior to some system refined over untold aeons by Dragon Lords in mind.

“Speaking of old,” Liane said as she reached for the plate of cookies placed on the polished cedar table, “how’s that translation thingy of yours coming along, Clara?”

“I’ve been working on it for an hour or two every day,” Clara replied. “It’s mostly scattered notes that I haven’t compiled yet. After applying the principles demonstrated in the local Draconic, I’ve discovered that a lot of things have been missed.”

“Anything neat?” Liane popped a cookie into her mouth.

“It’s a personal diary, but it offers a fascinating window into whomever these people were. The author is a Human and conveys herself in ways that I can understand and empathise with, but, at the same time, she has an almost inhuman perspective of the world.”

Liane stared at Clara while chewing slowly on her treat.

“I’m not sure if there’s any concise way to put it,” Clara said. “Integrated…or maybe fused is a better word? We’ve been fixated on the ‘government’ portion of the Draconic Kingdom, but Lady Yorsten said that their country is one that is meant to be a part of the world. In the life of Elena Gran, we can see what that’s truly like. The ‘Human-centric’ perspective that we possess is nearly absent in hers. In its place is the culture of a society that embraces the diversity of its members. One that doesn’t attempt to homogenise everything into a single set of norms. They understand that individuals can only be what they are, so their efforts are focused on cultivating a highly-advanced degree of appreciation for the world and all of its peoples.”

“That sounds like an absolute mess,” Liane said.

“It would, from our perspective,” Clara nodded. “But this wasn’t something that was achieved in years or even decades. It’s a complex system that originates in an epoch that we have absolutely no knowledge of. Elena Gran’s journal is possibly the greatest treasure uncovered in our history. Even as a diary, it contains proven concepts that would never cross our minds in the present day. In doing so, it also points out many dangerous things that we would similarly never consider.”

“Like what?”

Clara leaned forward on her side of the couch, cradling a warm cup of tea in her hands.

“The way that the world translates verbal communication, for instance.”

“Uh…most people would consider that a convenience,” Liane said. “It facilitates communication between people. That’s helpful.”

“It can be,” Clara said, “but consider how it works. We all know multiple languages, so we should all understand the difference between this ‘translation mechanism’ and true comprehension of language.”

Liane looked up at the ceiling as if counting off points in her head.

“Songs and literature don’t get translated; literary device also doesn’t. Turns of phrase don’t work; neither does layered communication. Relevance of what is being said is hit and miss…I guess you could say that things are being translated in a purely literal sense?”

“That last part is actually wrong,” Clara said.

“It is?” Liane frowned.

“Oh, I get it,” Florine straightened in her seat.

“You do?” Liane’s frown deepened.

“That’s very dangerous,” Florine covered her mouth with her hand in a thoughtful gesture. “One could say that it’s very nearly insidious. The more likely one is to recognise the issue, the fewer indications manifest to inform them of it.”

Liane looked at Ludmila.

“Do you get it?” She asked.

“No,” Ludmila answered.

“I think we all do, subconsciously,” Clara said. “That’s why we tend to expound on things if we feel the need to. Our understanding of language makes us aware of the misunderstandings that can take place, so we endeavour to make sure that what is heard by the other party is correctly understood. Also, as Nobles, we are accustomed to directing others and making sure our policies and directives are carried out as we mean them to be.”

“The world’s translation mechanism is reliant on the recipient’s understanding,” Florine said. “It conveys the closest available thing that the listener understands, and what is conveyed is absent of all of the things that Liane listed. We consider people that only hear what they want to hear a problem, but this problem is orders of magnitude worse. It’s a whole world of people that only hear what they can understand. It essentially entrenches different groups into their respective worldviews, and the fact that the only comprehensive communication generally occurs within a group encourages divisive or even antagonistic attitudes toward other groups.”

“But it’s still better than not being able to understand others at all, right?” Liane said.

“It may seem that way,” Florine replied, “but it’s a ‘gift’ that comes with all sorts of traps. Queen Oriculus’ example with the ‘Draconic Kingdom’ is highly instructive. Even one’s ‘contextual positioning’ influences translation to the point where the benign may be taken as malignant and vice versa.

“Imagine a scenario where this translation thing doesn’t exist. If one meets someone they don’t understand, they are eminently aware of it. If communication is desired, one makes the effort to understand what the other party is saying and they are aware that misunderstandings or misinterpretations may occur. With this translation mechanism, most will tend to take everything they hear at face value. There is no effort put into understanding; no investigation of language, culture, history, physical cues, or anything else that will result in a comprehensive working knowledge of the other party and the full meaning of what they say.”

“That ‘effort’ is a pain in the ass that most people wouldn’t have time for,” Liane noted.

“Which is why the ‘Pan Draconic’ that the Draconic Kingdom uses and ‘High Imperial’ in Elena Gran’s journal are so awe-inspiring,” Clara said. “At first, I wondered why anyone would go to the trouble of coming up with High Imperial and that it would naturally develop into the different languages that the region uses today without its use being arbitrarily enforced. In reality, what the region speaks isn’t ‘development’ at all: it’s devolution. High Imperial is superior to the world’s translation mechanisms for the myriad of races that used it, and it is merely one component of a highly-advanced cooperative that was destroyed for reasons unknown.”

“I dunno,” Liane said, “they had to have had their share of problems, as well.”

“I’m sure that they did,” Clara said, “but this is a personal diary and I doubt that anything beyond the scope of Elena Gran’s life would be included. As far as I can tell, she was just one of many arcanists who helped maintain the Imperial Archive of Lagaš. Her thoughts are more focused on the young man who keeps visiting her at work than anything else.”

Florine seemed to perk up at the possibility of romance.

“When do we get to read it?” She asked.

“When I’m satisfied that the translation has been done properly,” Clara answered.

“So what did we get out of this, anyway?” Liane said, “That people only hear what they understand and the world sucks because of it?”

“That beating people up to establish a dialogue is more efficient than I thought it was,” Ludmila said.

Liane manoeuvred herself behind Florine.

“H-how do you figure?”

“It just works. Almost everyone that I’ve beaten up is one hundred per cent satisfied with their current situation. Or dead. Either way, I cannot honestly say that ‘civil diplomacy’ does any better.”

“She’s probably on to something,” Florine said. “What we consider valid diplomacy may not be viewed the same way by other races and vice versa. Some may be more adept at certain forms of diplomacy than others. Conflict, for instance, exposes many truths that are immediately understood by all parties involved – truths that ‘diplomats’ often do their best to obscure or deflect attention away from. Sometimes, complete fabrications gain ground.”

“Consider it in terms of the ‘Class System’,” Clara nodded. “Every race has things that they are naturally inclined toward. Unless one’s race is naturally inclined toward what we recognise as proper diplomacy, they won’t value it as much as we do. Humans will always try to base any competition or negotiation on ‘vocational’ fields because Humanoid races do not have Racial Class Levels. All else being equal, a Human will tend to have the advantage over a Demihuman in vocational arenas because they’ll tend to have more of the relevant Job Class Levels.”

“People may not be aware of the system,” Florine added, “but they’re not stupid. They know what their advantages and disadvantages are. Humans decrying the lack of ‘diplomacy’ in the approach of their Demihuman neighbours may be viewed as Humans simply trying to arrange things in their favour. A Human country sending a civilian Noble to conduct ‘civil diplomacy’ with a Troll that has lived in a wild forest for all of its life is about as fair to the Troll as an unarmed duel against the Troll is to the Human. There’s simply no contest.”

“Wait, is that what you did in Tob?” Liane asked, “I thought you were just boobing them.”

“In part,” Florine answered, then frowned. “Stop calling it boobing. I used my abilities ‘against’ them only so far as to make it understood that I was on the same side of the table as they were. That I was an official working on behalf of valued citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom; not the representative of a foreign party trying to get something for my ‘side’.

“‘Regular’ Human diplomacy has multiple parties set against one another trying to achieve ‘diplomacy goals’ that are usually whatever they think they can get away with. Things like ‘mutually beneficial agreements’ or ‘satisfactory terms’ can only happen when both sides hold equal footing or the side with the advantage purposely settles for less than what they could potentially get. Usually for some greater objective…which is pretty much what we’re supposed to be doing in the Draconic Kingdom.”

“Well, say what you’re saying holds true,” Liane said. “That’s a problem for us, isn’t it? We’re born and bred to do this stuff. If the Sorcerous Kingdom can’t ruthlessly fling their superior Human diplomats and whatever else at non-Human countries, what do we do?”

“More advanced countries should have official protocols for that sort of thing,” Clara said. “As for everyone else, we’ll just have to find common ground.”

“It’s not as if the vocational academies in Corelyn Harbour are only open to Humans,” Florine said. “If we encounter a Troll country, we could just send a delegation of Troll diplomats.”

Troll diplomats…

Ludmila tried to imagine a Troll amidst a class mostly attended by Noble scions.

“Clara,” she said, “you’re going to need bigger desks.”

“Is that the first thing that comes to mind?” Clara said, “Putting together a curriculum that satisfies both Miss Alpha and Lady Albedo is hard enough when it’s just Humans.”

“Then I suppose we’re back to beating people up to establish a dialogue,” Ludmila said.

“Honestly, I’m almost certain that neither of them would be opposed to that,” Clara sighed.

“Aren’t they sort of like the opposite of one another?” Liane said.

“Not when it comes to this,” Clara replied. “Despite everything else about her, Miss Alpha is the sort to hit things and think about the consequences later.”

“I was wondering what made that hole in the wall of the orphanage classroom,” Florine said.

“It’s a hole now?” A furrow creased Clara’s brow.

“On that note,” Ludmila rose to her feet, “I must go and deliver some violent consequences of my own. Make sure Liane doesn’t try to sneak onto the Queen’s barge.”

“It’s my barge, thank you very much. And we’re already too close to any sort of war zone for my comfort.”

Clara rose from her side of the couch, coming over to wrap Ludmila up in a tight embrace.

“I, for one, am glad this is nearly over,” Clara said. “We hardly get any time together anymore. Fight well, Ludmila.”