Chapter 686 — Defensive Tactics

The scent of war was drawing near, yet for the Cecil Empire as it stood now, this was decidedly not the best moment to fight one.

At Longwind Citadel, the towering walls rose between hill and plain. Bastion ramparts stretched for dozens of kilometers into the ever-colder autumn wind, glimmering with a pale gold sheen under the brilliant light of the giant sun. The runic stones set into the walls flickered faintly with magical halos, wrapping the entire fortress in a shield of energy that seemed to exist and not exist at once. Watchful soldiers stood along the walls and in the sentry towers, their eyes fixed on the direction of the Typhon Empire.

Inside the fortress, a company of newly arrived soldiers was marching past the barracks in a loose, slovenly file. The Cecil Legion instructor charged with their training stood at the roadside, his expression immaculate, but on the wall not far away, a veteran of the citadel who had noticed the recruits could not help shaking his head. "These men can't fight a war at all... Rounding up a few bandits back home, maybe. Here, against the Typhonians? Seven or eight of them tied together wouldn't be enough to die properly."

"The Cecil Legion's drill manuals will have them useful fast enough—at least they'll learn what an order is," another veteran said beside him.

"That still takes training time. These conscripts were probably holding hoes and pitchforks the day before yesterday..."

Clad in full military dress, Ma Qi walked the walls with a hand resting on his sword. The veterans' talk reached his ears, and the recruits' bearing did not escape his eyes.

After completing his inspection, the citadel's commander returned to the command post in the castle quarter. His adjutant—a sharp, capable young man with black hair and brown eyes—was already waiting there.

"General," the adjutant stepped forward and saluted, "the scouts have sent back intelligence."

"Mm," Ma Qi nodded. "The Typhonians are on the move again?"

"A group of engineer-mages is building extra walls, stables, and barracks in the hills west of Winterwolf Keep. It's a sizable effort. How many men it can hold isn't clear yet, but they've certainly sunk at least four new wells."

"...The Blacksteel Knights or the Iron River Knights are about to arrive. Both are units that specialize in heavy shock assaults on fortresses," Ma Qi said in a low voice. "The Typhonians shouldn't be able to wait much longer."

The young adjutant said nothing, neither afraid nor shaken, his face perfectly calm.

Ma Qi secretly approved of the young adjutant's reaction. Then he turned to the table behind him and picked up a report from its surface, glancing it over.

"...The last batch of private soldiers that could be scraped together anywhere nearby has arrived at the line as well..." The citadel commander sighed softly. "After them, I'm afraid the whole Eastern Frontier won't be able to muster even a single thousand-man unit."

The situation was worrying, but facts were facts—manpower was stretched to the breaking point, and this was all the defensive strength Longwind Citadel had.

The Empire had just come through a year-long civil war and a disaster that had swept across half the Holy Spirit Plain. The old kingdom's main forces had been ground away in battle after battle. Now, apart from a handful of surviving elites, the only troops left to call upon were the Cecil Legion of the Southern Frontier—and at least half of those had to remain in the country to keep the postwar order. The number of soldiers that could be sent to Longwind Citadel was limited. Higher command had already sent every elite unit and every powerful weapon it could muster, but Ma Qi knew it was still not enough.

The Typhonians, too, kept pouring in reinforcements—and in the form of mixed corps of mage legions, knight orders, and transcendents. These were not ordinary men who could be cut down easily by common thermal ray rifles and a few medium-caliber fortress guns. To deal with them, either the citadel's elite garrison would have to double, or the Iron Throne itself would have to be hauled to the front line.

Neither was available. Ma Qi had done everything in his power, mobilizing the nobles' private troops of the Eastern Frontier and adding the small mountain corps sent in support from the Northern Frontier, and it had only just barely plugged the gaps in the line. But under a strong assault, those gaps would likely be torn open within two days.

He had to find a way to strengthen the citadel's defenses.

Ma Qi's gaze moved across the operational map beside him, drifting slowly over the buffer zone along the two nations' border, over the Typhonians' Winterwolf Keep and the several outposts that had been mapped so far.

The first principle of defense is to protect oneself, and there are many ways to protect oneself: make yourself invulnerable to blade and bullet, or eliminate the threat before it can strike, or... make the enemy afraid to attack at all.

The citadel's defensive strength might not be increased, but he could try to make the Typhonians believe its garrison was still growing.

In the midst of his brooding, a bold idea gradually took shape. Ma Qi looked up at his adjutant. "Have the mountain corps' reserve regiment disguise themselves as merchants and laborers, quietly carrying their banners and equipment. Within two days, send them out of the city in batches and assemble them in Caron Valley to the northwest."

The adjutant was taken aback, momentarily at a loss. "And then?"

"Then change back into mountain corps equipment and re-enter the city through the north gate—make a big show of it when they come in, just don't overdo it."

Two seconds later, the adjutant grasped Ma Qi's intent. The young man's face lit with sudden understanding, and then he looked at the general with unconcealed admiration. "Yes—that's a fine plan! I'll see to it at once!"

"That's not enough. If we're putting on a show, we do the whole show," Ma Qi added at once. "The Typhonians are building barracks near Winterwolf Keep, aren't they? So will we—set up camps north and south of the citadel, dig wells, move part of the conscripts into the new camps, and have them light fires and cook there. Also send a man to Count Robert's domain to borrow his carriage train, for transporting 'grain and forage.'"

"Yes!" The adjutant straightened and gave a military salute, but before leaving he suddenly looked worried again. "But General, will this really fool the Typhonians completely?"

"It'll scare them for a while, and after that they'll certainly react—but that doesn't matter. Delaying their attack is enough," Ma Qi said unhurriedly, though his eyes remained on the map beside him. "The engineering corps in the rear is working around the clock laying temporary rail, and the Iron Throne is nearly repaired. As long as the Typhonians hesitate for a time... they won't be able to crack Longwind Citadel."

...

The Cecil Empire, Holy Frost Rest.

Preparations for the large-scale relocation had already begun, and reports on the capital move piled higher and higher on Gao Song's desk.

The coronation ceremony was over. The nobles' ceremony of signing away their authority, along with the transfer of command over the old royal knight orders, the Household Guard, the Royal Shadow Guard, and other forces, had also been completed. The newly established Bureau of State Affairs, after a period of adjustment and adaptation, had begun to find its footing, bringing the situation in Holy Sunir under control. The provisional government's mission was hereby declared ended, and according to the plan Gao Cen had set in motion, the relocation was next on the agenda.