Fifty thousand combined — West and South.
Every available soldier from the standing armies had been mustered for this campaign against the western natives. It also served as a show of internal discipline for the Westerners watching.
Which meant we needed to demonstrate overwhelming force.
The Western soldiers would only follow us with confidence if we showed them exactly what the South was capable of.
For the first engagement, I wanted a victory as one-sided as possible.
So the moment we crossed the border and stepped onto the steppe, the staff officers convened for an operational briefing.
"However close the three tribes may be, they're not close enough to die for one another."
"Meaning?"
"They're in the process of holding a Grand Plains Council to elect a paramount chief, but the three tribes' home territories are still separate."
In other words, defeating them piecemeal was still an option.
And the first target was the Aikamad tribe.
"The Aikamad have their settlement roughly seventy kilometers from the western border."
"Population?"
"Approximately fifty-four thousand. Quite large, as western native settlements go."
Comparable in scale to the great tribes of Genghis Khan's era.
Naturally, that many people didn't all crowd into a single village. The structure was one large central settlement surrounded by satellite villages scattered within a radius of several dozen kilometers.
"And the central settlement alone is said to house nearly twenty thousand natives."
"Then we hit the center first."
A pre-dawn raid.
A declaration of war? Did I owe that to people who crossed the western border whenever they pleased, plundering property and killing civilians without so much as a warning?
Declarations of war are ultimately about building justification. For barbarians with blood already on their hands, the formality was unnecessary.
The plan: open with a devastating barrage from the 88mm field guns the Design Bureau had recently delivered, inflicting catastrophic losses before their shamans could prepare any rituals. Then, as the enemy scattered in panic, drive in infantry armed with machine guns.
"No survivors."
"But... no matter how quickly we suppress them, some will inevitably flee."
"That's why we're using a mobile force — Imperial Guard and military trucks."
The Imperial Guard, with their Aura, and the military trucks could move far faster than any ordinary person. We'd use that overwhelming mobility to seize the enemy's rear in advance and sweep them from both directions simultaneously.
Could barbarians caught off guard by an 88mm and 76mm barrage at dawn mount any effective response to a machine-gun-led encirclement?
I didn't think so.
So: the truck-and-Imperial Guard mobile force moves first to seal off the enemy's rear.
Numbers weren't the critical factor here.
This was open steppe — nothing to hide behind.
On terrain where concealment was impossible, even a handful of soldiers with machine guns could cut down fleeing enemies wholesale.
And so, at three in the morning the following day.
The moment we entered Aikamad territory, the mobile force of Imperial Guard and vehicles pushed to maximum speed, swinging wide around to the enemy's far side.
"Any reaction from the Aikamad yet?"
"None, sir. It seems they've doubled their usual watch after hearing we were coming, but there's been no significant movement."
"Makes sense. They've never faced our weapons before."
Surprisingly, night raids were uncommon in pre-modern military history — not out of any gentlemanly agreement to let each other sleep, but because a night raid is far harder to execute than it sounds.
The uncivilized steppe at night is dark. With nothing but faint moonlight, you can barely see your hand in front of your face.
Marching in formation through that darkness, without a light source, is an ordeal in itself.
We weren't exempt from those constraints.
"This engagement will involve only the 1st Division and the 2nd Division's artillery."
That was why I hadn't tried to move every unit at once for the opening battle.
The Western forces were left to observe from the rear. Only the battle-hardened 1st and 2nd Divisions — veterans of multiple campaigns — were committed.
And marching wasn't the only challenge. Once you reached the enemy position, you had to fight in near-total darkness — no friend-or-foe identification, no sense of direction, no ability to react to variables, no way to see where the next attack was coming from.
And in those conditions, close-quarters combat against barbarians who could take a spear through the skull and keep fighting?
That was suicide. Trade one blow each, and the last ones standing would be the savage warriors.
'That's exactly why they're sleeping so peacefully.'
It wasn't that the barbarian warriors had never dealt with night raids. It was the complacency bred by past victories — the assumption that night fighting was their domain.
"Let's correct that assumption."
Our army had no reason to engage them in close quarters at all.
When one side fights at melee range and the other fights at range, the disadvantages of a night raid simply cease to exist.
"Yes, Your Excellency!"
H-hour: three in the morning.
On cue, the divisional artillery began to move.
By two-thirty, the army had closed to within three kilometers of the settlement.
In the darkness, the only sound was the rumble of field guns rolling into position.
One hundred guns in total.
An artillery force assembled with a single purpose: to obliterate the tribe entirely.
"Your Excellency — report from the mobile force! They've completed construction of a basic temporary position using military vehicles!"
"Good."
Viewed from the rear, the South's 1st and 2nd Divisions looked every inch a proper army.
A hundred field guns arrayed in a clean line at three kilometers' distance. Ten thousand soldiers spread in a loose arc around the settlement.
The enemy had no counter to ranged fire, so the formation itself was closer to the Napoleonic Wars than the First World War — but somehow that made it feel more imposing, not less.
'There's a reason 21st-century nations still hold parade reviews with perfectly dressed ranks.'
To the Western forces watching our backs: a reassuring shield.
To the enemy staring down our barrels: something they would not dare approach.
That was the image I wanted for our army.
It was satisfying to see it taking shape.
"Reaction from the enemy settlement, sir! They appear to have detected our approach!"
I activated night-vision magic and sight-enhancement magic. Through them, I could make out a figure on a watchtower shouting something.
"So they have someone who knows night-vision magic as well."
The settlement lit up from within. Warriors moved about inside; some were searching for horses. One figure was heading toward the very center of the settlement.
Probably going to wake the shaman and ask for a ritual.
"Hmm. They don't look particularly alarmed, though."
For a night raid, the enemy's response was remarkably composed.
The distance probably gave them a false sense of time — they seemed to think the battle was still a ways off.
"Let's give these barbarians, who've forgotten the Empire's grace, a taste of gunpowder."
The only thing that could move ten thousand soldiers gathered here was a single gesture from me.
Without hesitation, I pointed at the settlement and gave the order.
"Level it."
The result of that simple gesture was anything but simple.
Like ripples spreading across still water, the command reached every corner of the formation in an instant.
And finally, at the very front of the line — the moment the order reached the soldier holding the flare—
"Flares, fire!"
Fweeeeee—!
A sharp whistle split the silence of the night sky.
And then, dozens of small suns bloomed overhead.
The curtain of night was torn away, and the field guns that had been hiding within it were suddenly, all at once, exposed. The barbarians' eyes went wide at the sight of a hundred guns standing in a single line.
The flares' harsh light faded just enough to bear looking at.
"All units — fire!"
The horizon turned red.
A hundred shells tore through the night sky in unison.
***
"The attack begins shortly. Everyone face the Aikamad settlement."
About an hour before the battle. South's officers gave that order to the Western soldiers and spread out along a ridge overlooking the field.
Ten kilometers from the battlefield. A position with a clear view of the Aikamad settlement.
The Western soldiers obeyed — the South's command structure held authority over the Western forces as well.
But none of them understood why.
"In the middle of the night? Staring at that settlement?"
A dark cluster of buildings lit by only a few faint fires.
What was there to see?
"Come on, they must have a reason."
"Yeah... probably."
Most of the soldiers watched with skeptical uncertainty.
They might have doubted anyone else — but these were the people who had created the machine gun, a weapon more miraculous than magic itself. They had to have something in mind.
And their expectations proved exactly right.
Fweeee—!
Night turned to day.
At the same moment, the thunderous roar of the artillery rolled over them and hammered at their chests.
"Wh-what is—"
The Western soldiers had shielded their eyes from the flare's blinding light. When they lowered their hands and looked back toward the settlement—
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM—!
A hundred shells struck simultaneously. The interior of the settlement vanished beneath a wall of smoke and fire.