The wedding was over.
He had thought the day would come when he could spend a happy time with Daniela, eat some sweet food, and do his utmost to make a child.
Instead, he found himself irritated by the fact that none of that was possible. The moment the wedding ended, they had to talk about war. Really.
*I want to spend time with Daniela!*
*Shouldn't I be with my bride?*
*Shouldn't I?*
"There has been no separate report from Dorgon?"
"No, Your Grace. He only said that he would soon begin the campaign against House Leily in the South."
"Would it only get in the way if I went down myself?"
"Given Dorgon's nature, he has likely already set the operation in motion. Please trust him and leave it in his hands."
Still, I should have a relief force ready. Can't leave it at that.
"Leo."
"Y-yes, Your Grace."
"I need a contingency relief force prepared. Have three hundred soldiers ready to march at a moment's notice."
"I-I will see to it."
Of course he trusted Dorgon.
When it came to seeing the grand picture, no one could match him. And because handling the army itself might prove difficult for Dorgon alone, he had sent James along. James was not as strong as Dorgon when it came to grand strategy, but there was no one more skilled at managing troops on the ground.
"If any word comes regarding this matter, report to me directly and immediately. Understood?"
"It shall be done."
*I'm worried. Terribly worried.*
—
"I believe the Grand Duke's concern stems from facing a new enemy in the South. Would you agree, Sir James?"
"I would. Though I wonder — can we truly defeat them with only fifteen hundred soldiers?"
"We can. The operation to overcome those southern fools is already underway."
Dorgon smiled with brimming confidence. James felt a flicker of unease, but resolved to trust him.
Above all, from the little he had heard of Dorgon's plan, his instincts had not once whispered that they might lose.
Already, the rear of House Leily's domain was beginning to writhe under the nomads' assault.
"I hear Darmian's forces have already launched their attack."
"That man... handling the nomads can't be easy."
"Ah, not at all. Word is he's already being called Sub-Khan."
"Sub-Khan?"
"Yes. Our Grand Duke is the Great Khan, and Darmian is called the Sub-Khan."
"That man was always better at creating the right conditions to win than at winning the fight itself."
Dorgon read the letter that had arrived and spread the map before him. The latest map of House Leily's domain.
He began removing the flags placed on the map one by one.
The enemy's advance was naturally aimed southward, but the nomadic forces that had come from House Barth were tearing apart the rear.
"Then let us cross the Corridor, seize one or two bridgeheads, and wait."
"Wait?"
"We'll have a great deal of running to do before long."
"Well... I'll follow your plan, Lord Dorgon."
The nomadic force numbered roughly three hundred. But with House Barth's soldiers joining the effort, the total swelled to more than double.
The moment the operation was decided, they split into two columns and struck at House Leily's rear without delay.
At the very front was Darmian — commander of the North's foreign legion.
"If this operation succeeds properly, the North may grant us titles."
His words stirred the men to excitement.
The nomads were filled with a fierce will — never to go hungry again, and to be recognized by someone who mattered.
"The Grand Duke does not care for plunder or massacre, but my thinking differs somewhat. We will slaughter two of them completely."
"Why?"
"To plant fear. It is a regrettable thing, but there is no other way."
The first target was the Gotri Gate — the direct passage between House Leily's domain and House Barth's.
Storming fortifications was the nomads' weakness, but a lightning assault was another matter entirely.
"We move the moment we cross Gotri Gate."
"Splitting into two columns, then."
"Care to make a wager?"
"Chakatai. What kind of wager?"
"Who reaches the center first?"
"Ha ha ha! Fine. And the penalty?"
"Hmm... a flick on the forehead?"
"Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
The Gotri Gate was not closed. It stood wide open.
The reason was simple.
The gatekeeper at Gotri had never once been told there would be fighting.
The foolish assumption that even if war broke out with the North, no soldiers would come from the South.
Of course, had the gate been shut, they would have found another route.
"Don't waste your energy — straight on to the next target!"
"We peel off here! Leave a few soldiers at Gotri Gate and move immediately!"
The southern foreign legion split into two columns and advanced in their respective directions.
About a week before the Grand Duke's wedding,
Darmian had taken ten villages within the Gotri Gate.
The other column led by Chakatai had razed more than ten villages as well.
"We should spread some deliberate rumors."
"What kind?"
"Surrender and you live. Resist, and every last person in that village dies."
"Isn't that a bit too mild?"
"Do you have better words?"
"There's a phrase the nomads love best. 'Every man taller than a cartwheel will be put to death.'"
"Good. When we heard those words ourselves, they were terrifying — but now that we're on the same side, it feels rather comfortable."
"We'll proceed with that."
The rumors that leaked from Darmian's army struck through House Leily's domain like a hammer blow.
The soldiers left guarding the rear were gripped with fear.
And indeed, the villages that refused to surrender were all reduced to ash by Chakatai's forces.
"W-we surrender."
"Has the deadline we set not already passed? Did we not say to declare surrender before we arrived?"
"It took us too long to reach a decision among ourselves. So please, just this once, show us mercy..."
"I am sorry, but a rule is a rule."
"Th-then..."
"Kill every man taller than a cartwheel. Leave not a single one alive."
Every village that had not surrendered was burning,
while every village that had offered immediate surrender was spared.
"Is it not still too late?"
"You met the deadline properly. Our forces will rest briefly in your village — we ask for your cooperation."
"Y-yes, of course..."
Dorgon's strategy was not built on attack alone.
The letter Darmian had received also instructed him to demonstrate a clear and deliberate distinction.
The war funds received from House Barth began to flow into the surrendered villages.
The villagers, far from resenting it, welcomed the money House Barth was distributing.
"We'll rest here tonight, so bring out whatever you have! The coin is right here!"
"Gold coins — are those gold coins?"
"Of course! We'll leave four gold coins behind, so bring the soldiers some water and food."
Dorgon had anticipated this.
A village that surrendered rather than fighting to the last would not think to poison the supplies or drag things into a war of attrition.
And the more money flowed into House Leily's domain,
the more Darmian's forces could be made to look like a Liberation Army — that was the intent.
When you give, give generously.
That was the point Dorgon had emphasized.
"Still, we've smashed nearly twenty of them. Is this really all right?"
The main army should be starting to move soon.
House Leily's rear was already rendered useless.
A lightning war of speed.
Nearly two weeks had passed since the invasion of House Leily's domain, and Darmian had yet to lay eyes on a single Leily soldier.
"Hmm, we're almost at the objective now."
Darmian soon met up with Chakatai and merged their forces.
All the while wondering why House Leily had done absolutely nothing.
"Do you have any idea how many villages have already fallen? The castle is in an uproar over the lack of food! And everyone who could have responded has already surrendered!"
The head of House Leily was furious.
Several villages in the southern region had been left in a state where no one could live.
It was urgent to send forces to stop them —
yet the mercenary company of House Darapont simply stood and waited.
"Then allow us to send our own army."
"If you do that, who will hold back the North's main army?"
"Do you have any idea how badly our domain has been ravaged, compared to that main army?"
"That is no concern of ours."
"Turn your forces south immediately! Right now!"
"Then the North's main army will march straight in here."
No matter how furiously the head of House Leily raged, it made no difference.
Targo, the mercenary company commander of House Darapont, was simply watching for his moment.
This level of sacrifice had already been within his calculations.
But our forces are still intact.
Well-fed, well-paid. Ready to fight — all clear.
"Report, Your Grace! The North's main army has begun its descent!"
"How many heads?"
"Approximately one thousand — five hundred fewer than our own."
"One thousand?"
Forcing a two-front war had apparently kept the main army's numbers thin.
Targo's plan was straightforward enough.
Eliminate the North's main army first, and the southern forces would withdraw on their own.
The two must not be allowed to link up.
The war had begun hastily from the start, leaving the North no time to prepare.
In that case, the thing to do was to go and crush the main army first—
"Another report! The army advancing from the south has turned and is riding north at full speed!"
"As expected — they want to link up with the main army."
"The two columns that had split are now merged into one and continuing to move north!"
"And the villages they captured?"
"All of them... abandoned."
Then it's clear! Destroy them before the two forces can unite!
"We march!"
Bring defeat upon the North!