Interlude: Temptation
The Command Room at Windsome Castle, Northern Fernest
“Yet more temptations, I see,” Paul said as he read over the document. It was, briefly put, an account of how a mysterious, unknown army had attacked Fort Astora. This was an astonishing turn of events, as no other country would dare to bare their fangs at the empire; at least, not openly. In addition, though Paul had not yet confirmed the veracity of this part, the report said that this mystery army had overpowered the Crimson Knights. That truly caught Paul’s eye. Repeated defeats took a heavy toll on any army, both physically and mentally. The Crimson Knights might be famed for their raw power, but Paul was sure they weren’t the exception to the rule. If the Seventh Legion marched now, they could plausibly take even Fort Astora. Successfully doing so would mean securing a powerful foothold from which they could oppose the empire. With Fernest so outmatched at present, the possibility held far greater importance than simply recapturing a fort.
“As it happens, I am told that the north is now largely stable,” Otto remarked. It was so as though Otto was egging him on that Paul couldn’t help a wry smile.
“So what do you think, Otto?”
“About what, my lord?”
“Don’t play games. You know what.”
Otto was quiet for a moment, then said, “If I had to pick a side, I would be against it.”
“You would, would you?” Paul sighed. “Why?”
“Firstly, we are simply outnumbered. At present, we can only mobilize fifteen thousand soldiers. We would face an estimated force of seven or eight thousand standing against us at Fort Astora. I don’t need to tell you, my lord, that when laying siege to a fort, it is standard practice to bring a force at least three times that of your enemy’s. A victory for our side would be a tall order, even considering the difference in morale.”
“Very well...” Paul said. “I might have guessed you’d say as much. And secondly?”
“Logistics, my lord, and let me begin by saying I believe this is an even greater problem than our lack of numbers. While it’s true that the north has stabilized, our supply of rations remains an issue.”
“It’s giving us trouble, is it?”
“Frankly, yes. The United City-States of Sutherland’s economic blockade had the most significant impact on the north. Thanks in part to our reclaiming of those lands from the empire, the common folk likely wouldn’t mount an insurrection at this point. However—” Otto stopped short and stared directly at Paul.
Paul rubbed his bald head, sighing deeply. “I think I see where you’re going with this,” he said. “If we march now, we’ll have to requisition food supplies. It’ll be like throwing kindling on a smoldering fire.”
“Quite so, my lord. And food isn’t the only thing we’re short on.” Otto held out another document to Paul, who took it and read through its contents. Their stocks of warhorses, weaponry, and more—all things they would need in battle—were insufficient. Otto must have seen this conversation coming and put the document together in advance. His organization was phenomenal.
Damn, I wanted a go at them, though, Paul thought, looking back at the original report. There was no question that the Crimson Knights were the weakest they’d ever be, and Paul knew all too well that such golden opportunities came few and far between in war. He appreciated just how difficult it was to get Alfonse to agree to anything, but given the Seventh Legion had now successfully reclaimed both the southern and northern regions for Fernest, he didn’t think it was too much of a stretch to imagine that this might have swayed Alfonse’s sentiments. He suspected that if only Cornelius put in a clever word, there was a solid chance Alfonse would give them permission to mount an attack.
The problem of feeding his people still remained, but there were always the capital’s stores—carting them to the north would take time, but if they borrowed only what they needed, it would tide them over for now. In which case, Paul thought, he ought to march, even if it meant subjecting the common folk to hardship for a time. At the same time, though, he also knew he ought to be shoring up the political situation here while the Crimson Knights were unable to fight.
“By my calculations, my lord, we have enough to send a force of seven thousand without resorting to requisitioning food from the common folk,” Otto said, as though he could hear the thoughts that plagued Paul. The suggestion was ridiculous, though.
“Otto, have you forgotten what you just said? I would’ve thought you’re a bit young to be going senile, but...”
“Of course I haven’t,” Otto replied. “But as with any situation, there are exceptions.” Then, he smiled.
“You don’t mean...” Paul began, half-despairingly, “not Major Olivia again?”
Otto’s smile grew wider. “Very astute, my lord. Yes, you see it seems that the ‘Death God’ is very well known these days. We can hardly not put that reputation to use.”
“It’s one thing to say that, but aren’t you pushing her too hard?”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes, as it happens, I do. As you seem to have forgotten, allow me to remind you. That girl, however strong she may be, is only sixteen. Were she a noble’s daughter, she’d be happily enjoying her childhood.” While the rest of the Seventh Legion barely clung on in the Battle of Carnac, Olivia and the Independent Cavalry Regiment under her command had carried them all to victory. To cap it off, they had taken the enemy commander out of commission, leaving the Crimson Knights with no choice but to retreat. They continued to form the core of the Seventh Legion’s pursuit force. Paul appreciated that incorporating an element of fear into their strategy was eminently sensible. In the fight at Fort Caspar, the imperial soldiers had been so terrified of Olivia alone that they had actually rushed to surrender. It was laughable, but it really happened.
Yet Olivia was still only human. Although she was young, Paul wondered how the weariness must be weighing on her. While he saw Otto’s point, it was a plan he was loath to agree to.
Otto, for his part, looked at Paul with trepidation. “We’re past thinking like that, my lord,” he said. “I’m afraid that Olivia just isn’t some ordinary girl. She’ll skip off to any battlefield we send her so long as we keep her fed. Any concern you feel for her is entirely misplaced.”
“‘Keep her fed,’ Otto?” said Paul incredulously.
“My lord, please. Over the past year and a half, our situation has improved dramatically for our army considering the war we’re caught up in. Having said that, things remain very touch-and-go. As I told you once before, whether we’re talking about a young girl or an old crone—we have to use what we have. That’s all.” Seeing that Paul’s patience grew thin, Otto continued hammering in his point. “Specifically, I thought we could produce banners with the Valedstorm crest—perhaps, shall we say, a hundred or so. All we have to do is order Major Olivia to march with said banners raised. It’s inexpensive, and the results should be spectacular.” As he finished, another smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Paul thought idly that considering his nickname “The Man in the Iron Mask,” Otto was a man with a surprisingly expressive face.
“We’ll have to talk to the field marshal first, whatever we do. Besides, even if we were to put your plan into motion, the star of the show isn’t even here.”
“Ah, yes. Major Olivia is in the capital, is she not?”
“Aye. Though she should be back before long...” said Paul, sinking back deep into his chair and allowing his eyelids to droop closed.
It was a few days later that the urgent report from Neinhardt arrived, rendering all Paul and Otto’s schemes in vain: the Helios Knights were marching out at last.
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