The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 9, Chapter 8
Chapter 8
30th Day, Upper Wind Month
“Are you alright, Your Excellency?”
“I’m good.”
“But your clothes…”
“I’m good.”
Emmad Zorlu limped alongside Baroness Zahradnik as they performed their inspection. It was the fifth time he had been asked the same question in as many minutes since they arrived at the city barracks. Though he kept his face straight through the fact that everything hurt, some things just couldn’t be masked. There were more parts of him that hurt than there were that didn’t, and he had broken and lost more things in the past few days than he cared to think about.
The Draconic Kingdom’s customs generally kept the nobility separate from commoners when it came to several things, and that included their status in the army. Being kept separate from the rest of the men in training wasn’t a law, but the laws that addressed other things created commonly-held beliefs and expectations. As such, Nobles were trained by other Nobles or specially-designated specialists in their houses’ retinues.
Since the qualified individuals no longer existed, Queen Oriculus had asked a favour and had Lady Zahradnik instruct Emmad…except her instruction was nothing that Emmad had ever seen or heard of before.
Between updates on the front lines’ developments and reviewing the men, they would spend their time together in a secluded part of the palace quarter. With so many estates and gardens left abandoned in the wake of Oriculon’s final stand, there were many spots to choose from.
And then, she would beat him up.
It was supposed to be training, but, if anyone had walked in on them and seen what was going on, they would have surely thought he was being brutally murdered in some discreet location. At first, it wasn’t so bad. For the first few hours, he went through drills against a Squire Zombie raised from the corpses of various Beastmen. Death Priests healed the Undead practice dummies after he slowly whittled them down, and then he would keep whittling away. Unfortunately, a few hours of drills was all he had before the Baroness moved on to practical combat.
Like any Zombie, Squire Zombies were slower and clumsier than their living counterparts. This also meant that they were stronger and tougher, as well. This, however, was relative to their level of power, which meant that they moved respectably quickly for someone like him. And when they hit him…
His cheek twitched at the memory of his accrued ‘training’. Any of his hits that landed mattered little to his Undead opponent. Any of their hits that landed broke several bones at once, disembowelled him, or sent his limbs flying. According to Lady Zahradnik, the Death Knight controlling the Squire Zombies was imitating how the Beastmen it had observed fought, making for a ‘reasonable simulation’.
Just one hit was enough to incapacitate Emmad and send him straight to the temples for healing, but for the fact that Miss Luzi was also present. Whenever he was wounded, she healed him and Lady Zahradnik would instruct him to continue. He thought that he was freed from his torment when the Maid ran out of mana, but, then, she pulled out a Wand of Light Cure Wounds. That wand had fifty charges. When those charges ran out, she produced another wand. Her foreign Maid uniform started to become synonymous with a torturer’s garb.
Once each training session came to an end, they used magic to clean the exercise area. It occurred to Emmad that one could murder someone in the middle of the street and not leave a trace of their deed behind.
Yes, relative to his training, the pain he felt now was nothing. At least that was how he convinced himself to continue limping along.
In the mustering field of the palace quarter’s barracks, Captain Sella and his company had divided themselves into dozens of groups, and their training of as many squads of fresh-faced recruits was now in full swing. They were fresh-faced on the first day, at least. On the third day, they looked ten times as terrible as he felt, though no one was being murdered where they stood as he had been. Even Captain Sella and his men, who had resolved to train their recruits hard, looked more than a bit sorry for them.
The source of their torment was, of course, also Baroness Zahradnik, who had come up with a ‘training menu’ for the Draconic Kingdom’s infantry. Emmad stole a glance at the noblewoman walking beside him. She wore a smile while they passed the ranks of exhausted men as they performed their drills. He felt that it would be a lovely smile except for the fact that everyone that saw it believed that she savoured their suffering. Indeed, the recruits – who sighed wistfully at the sight of the young noblewoman on the first day – now referred to her amongst themselves as ‘The Baroness’.
She was a Baroness, but the image that their tone invoked was that of a dark-eyed, dark-haired villainess seated on her dark throne in a dark castle on a dark mountain surrounded by the forces of darkness. He was fairly certain that she knew that the men had attributed that image to her, but he was too scared to ask how she felt about it. Emmad had to admit that it suited her. All she needed was a legendary creature such as a Dragon under her heel.
A long peal of thunder rolled through the dark clouds overhead. Sheets of rain washed over them seconds later. The men continued performing drills, not daring to seek shelter with the Baroness present.
“Captain Zahradnik,” Captain Sella jogged up to them, “should we have the men hold off on their drills for now?”
The recruits froze. They watched with bated breaths, as if expecting Captain Sella to be struck down by a thunderbolt.
“That’s a good idea Captain Sella.”
“R-really?”
“Yes,” Lady Zahradnik nodded. “It’s a good opportunity. Have the men run around outside of the city walls.”
“…but it’s raining. The fields will be churned into mud.”
“I know. Have them carry their practice spears, as well.”
The men glared daggers at Captain Sella as they filed out of the grounds. Emmad did his best not to offer them an apologetic look as they dragged themselves by.
“Your Excellency?”
His head turned at the Baroness’ voice. She returned his look expectantly.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Emmad said, “were you saying something?”
“No, but why are you standing there? We’re going as well.”
“Eh?”
“Conditioning is important,” Lady Zahradnik said. “It wouldn’t do if a Captain couldn’t keep up with his men.”
They jogged out of Oriculon under the curious gazes of the citizenry. The recruits on militia duty looked on in horror. The ones being sent on the hellish exercise stared back at them with a ‘you’re next’ look.
Their course brought them through the outer gates and along the banks of the city’s moat. The men noticeably slowed as their steps were bogged down by the muddy terrain.
“Captain Zahradnik,” Emmad asked, “is there some benefit to this over a regular run?”
“A regular run is fine for conditioning, Your Excellency,” Lady Zahradnik answered, “but a run like this will help you learn how to negotiate difficult terrain.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”
The Baroness pointed to the set of men ahead of them.
“That group bringing up the rear of the column: do you notice any difference in how each member is moving?”
Emmad peered at the loose cluster of recruits, who were struggling through the mud just as much as he was. One man – a soldier from Highfort – did not appear to be struggling at all. He frowned at the discrepancy.
“How is he doing that?”
“It’s something that Rangers do. We have the ability to ignore the mundane effects of difficult terrain.”
We…?
He looked down towards the mud at their feet. Lady Zahradnik was strolling through it as if it was a paved city street. He couldn’t even see how she was doing it – it just happened.
“It’s something that develops gradually,” the Baroness said. “By themselves, people usually don’t notice. In a situation like this, however, the observable difference is stark. You’ll eventually see the soldiers complete the run incrementally faster depending on how far they’ve advanced as Rangers.”
“Have you done this before? I don’t think I’ve heard of anything like this.”
“Apprentice Rangers in my demesne start training at the same age as any other apprentice, Your Excellency.”
“You mean to say that they’re doing this sort of thing starting at six years of age?”
“The training is incorporated into their daily routines. After classes, they go into the forests around their villages to forage and trap. They start hunting around eleven or twelve.”
Was that safe? It probably was, considering how powerful the Sorcerous Kingdom’s army was.
“They have years to train, so it’s not as intense as what your recruits are doing here…well, actually, it becomes more intense, but they gradually phase into it unlike Your Excellency and the men here. Also, since the training is task-oriented and applicable to their daily lives, it’s something that they pursue on their own once they learn the basics.”
“So they’re allowed to forage, trap and hunt…do they pay taxes?”
“They serve the same role as foresters, so the arrangement is similar.”
“What do they do after they become…journeymen? Masters?”
“I haven’t figured out what to call them yet, Your Excellency,” Baroness Zahradnik smiled to herself. “Using guild designations makes a sort of sense since they are apprentices, but it doesn’t feel right. Paladins have Squires and Clerics have Acolytes, so Rangers should have something of their own. After they graduate, they’ll probably follow the same ranking system that I use in the army. Most of them will end up there, anyway.”
The Baroness had suggested that the Draconic Kingdom’s Royal Army begin rebuilding by training auxiliary forces to support their leased Undead security. Rangers that served as reconnaissance were both the most easily achievable and economical option. It appeared that Lady Zahradnik was doing the same for her own people, as well.
Emmad was too short of breath to speak a quarter of the way around the wall. He kept losing a boot to the mud and nearly fell on his face several times. The recruits ahead of him weren’t doing much better.
“I think we should do something about that uniform…”
“I was thinking just the same thing, my lady. Different versions for different climates, as well. Something like that spring dress you brought with you to the city last year.”
“Are you sure? It was a bit daring. People will be able to see your ankles and everything…”
“These uniforms are tailored for the maids in the city. They won’t do for Maids serving House Zahradnik. It will be embarrassing at first, but I’m sure we can get used to it…that’s if you’ll allow your staff to wear flashier uniforms.”
“I-It’s not as if I’m trying to monopolise attention!”
He looked over his shoulder at the two women idly chatting behind him. Lady Zahradnik’s Maid accompanied her everywhere while she was in Oriculon, even on their trek through the rain and mud. She wore a uniform customary to Maids from the north with black-and-white fabrics and thick, layered skirts. It was soaked through with the rain and its frilly hem was stained with mud. As for Miss Luzi herself, she was visibly hampered by the terrain, but, like the Baroness’ ‘apprentice Commanders’, she was much stronger than she looked.
Baroness Zahradnik and her Lady’s Maid continued chatting throughout the march. The men ahead of them occasionally stole glances at them over their shoulders as they fought their way through the mud. A woman with heavy, rain-soaked skirts was bringing up the rear, so they didn’t dare falter. Emmad wondered if that part had been calculated, as well.
An hour later, they dragged themselves back through the gates of the palace quarter. Once they reached the barracks, most of the men fell onto the rain-soaked grass of the mustering field. He thought it was admirable enough that they didn’t collapse on the streets on the way in.
Emmad’s stomach sank as the Baroness turned her cool gaze upon the expended men.
“Captain Zahradnik,” Captain Sella made his way over to stand with them, “Any luck with what we talked about on the way here?”
“Countess Wagner said that the Empire was more than happy to liquidate their surplus,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “Honestly, the reorganisation of the Imperial Army over the past year is a gift that keeps on giving.”
“How long until the equipment arrives? The faster we get started on archery, the better.”
“I think they’re packing everything up in one shipment. A postal officer will notify you when it arrives.”
“That so? I’ll be looking forward to it then.”
“Before we get going,” Lady Zahradnik said, “did you take a look at those manuscripts the Marshal brought out yesterday?”
“I did,” Captain Sella nodded, “but I can only make sense of a few of the pages.”
“I see. Well, there’s no big hurry for that part. I was just hoping that you army veterans could decipher them now that you’re well-seasoned.”
The manuscripts that the Baroness spoke of were bits and pieces of martial knowledge stored in the palace archives. Adamant that the Draconic Kingdom had its own unique ‘school’ of combat, she sent Emmad to find what he could between daily training and review.
He followed Lady Zahradnik back to the palace. Captain Sella’s voice bellowed out as they stepped onto the road and started up the hill.
“Get off your asses and pick up those spears! Back to drills!”
“EH?!?!”
“Don’t ‘eh?!’ me! Our enemies ain’t gonna wait for us to catch our breath at the end of a march!”
Winded shouts of men thrusting their spears drifted through the air. Emmad shook his head.
“Is pushing the recruits that hard necessary?” He asked.
“It gets easier, Your Excellency,” Lady Zahradnik answered. “Right now, those recruits are city folk starting from zero. The way that the Draconic Kingdom uses urban centres as recruitment hubs means that the soldiers of Highfort also started from the same point. They don’t come from some outstanding pedigree or benefit from a privileged upbringing, so everyone understands that they, too, can become as strong as the ‘Heroes of Highfort’. Once they start making tangible gains, their motivation will improve…or they could grow lazy and useless, but I’m sure your officers know what to do about that.”
“The Highfort Garrison fought hard battles to get to where they are, though.”
“They did,” the Baroness replied, “but the recruits don’t need to begin with life-and-death battles. Once they’re grounded in the basics and meet a certain standard, you can start thinking about how to challenge them. Well, maybe I’m being too whimsical. Ultimately, it’s a budget like any other. For the moment, the Royal Court of the Draconic Kingdom has only allocated enough to lay the groundwork for a reformed army: you won’t be able to do what I’m putting Your Excellency through for a hundred thousand recruits. There are still all those other things we’ve spoken about to address, and they all demand financing and personnel.”
Thus far, everything they discussed seemed like a long list of distant dreams. In addition to training Rangers to support patrols of leased Undead, there was the engineering corps, air cavalry, higher integration of divine and magic casters, naval forces, military academy and a short list of other things which seemed to grow longer over time.
To put it bluntly, Lady Zahradnik described what the Baharuth Empire had and the Royal Court also wanted it. Then he was allocated a small fraction of the Draconic Kingdom’s eviscerated budget to turn it into a reality.
This, of course, was impossible. It had taken the Imperial Army over a century to become what it was in the present day and, even if the Draconic Kingdom had unlimited resources, there were many aspects of a military that took time to cultivate. All he could do was make sure their domestic security needs were met, a fraction of the Rangers that they needed were trained, and a rudimentary engineering corps was put together to help with the various infrastructure projects that were long overdue. Beyond that, he could only pray that the country prospered and the budget was allowed to expand.
Just before they reached the palace grounds, Lady Zahradnik’s steps slowed for a moment before she picked up her pace.
“What happened?” He asked.
“A Message from the war room,” she answered. “Our forces positioning to attack Rivergarden are being intercepted.”
Despite the feeling of urgency, the war room was hardly a hive of frenzied activity when they arrived. Several Elder Liches armed with plotting rods moved markers on the map around, while others floated above the table taking notes. Even the living staff members looked more curious than concerned.
“How long did it take?” Lady Zahradnik asked.
Emmad frowned, then took a closer look at the map. Across the Oriculon, to the southwest of Rivergarden, the shore was littered with markers indicating Beastman forces. Wiluvien handed her baby to the Elder Lich standing behind her, and then she picked up a plotting rod leaning against the table.
“A little over five minutes, Captain,” Wiluvien replied. “The Beastmen conducted an amphibious assault while we were staging.”
“How many did they lose?”
“None, as far as we can tell,” Wiluvien raised her rod and pointed to the site of the battle. “High altitude observation counted ten vessels that are roughly the same size as the Draconic Kingdom’s river barges. We estimate that each one carried around two hundred Beastmen.”
“More warriors, then…or is it the same group from before?”
“No, the ones that stopped the first wave are still dispersed along the Forst River. This group came from further east.”
“What’s our count of vessels near Corrin-on-the-Lake now?”
“Four hundred ninety-seven. They appear to all share the same rough dimensions.”
Did that mean that the Beastmen could launch an assault of a hundred thousand? After the fall of Eastwatch, they had taken everything up to Rivergarden with shocking speed. The Draconic Kingdom knew that the Beastmen had ships, but they didn’t know they employed them so extensively.
“How large does a country need to be to be able to commit five hundred vessels to an invasion?” Lady Zahradnik murmured.
“Headquarters can only make comparative guesses,” Wiluvien said. “In terms of displacement, the only country that can match what we’ve seen in the Draconic Kingdom is the Holy Kingdom of Roble, and the Holy Kingdom is a maritime state. The river networks in Re-Estize and Baharuth are minor relative to the ones in the Draconic Kingdom. With how many vessels we’re seeing here, plus the idea that this Beastman invasion is a ‘migration’, we can only assume that the Beastman country that the Draconic Kingdom is at war with – if they even considered it a war in the first place – utterly dwarfs the Human nations of this region.”
Emmad bit his lip as his eyes went over the markers on the map, then the occupied provinces of his homeland. Queen Oriculus made no secret of the fact that she believed that the Beastmen used the Draconic Kingdom as a ‘hunting preserve’, which was evidenced in the systematic way that they managed their raids. Her subjects, however, wanted to believe that they were more than a convenient, self-replenishing and self-managing food source.
“What will you do now?” He asked.
“The Death-series squads’ orders will remain as-is for now,” Lady Zahradnik answered. “Going by the measured response to these two offensives, the Beastman Commanders are trying to get a feel for the threat that we represent. Since they hit the second wave while it was still gathering, I can only assume that they’ve deployed reconnaissance forces, as well. Commander Linum, did we detect anything along those lines?”
“Yes, Captain,” the Half-Elf Commander shifted her plotting rod. “Scouts of various species are spreading out from where the two battles took place. I can’t imagine that we’ve detected all of them, but based on the ones that we have, they’re going as far as the first line of villages and returning to report their findings.”
“Did they attack any of the Undead that we scattered about?”
Wiluvien’s lip twitched slightly.
“We lost a Cow-type Zombie Beast. The Beastman who attacked it was probably disappointed to find that it wasn’t edible, and the Elder Lich that was dominating it is annoyed that they’re now one short of a full complement.”
As a part of the ongoing ‘illusion’ that was being woven, an additional contingent of Elder Liches had brought tens of thousands of weak Undead from Katze that fell into the ‘Human settlement’ category to place in the depopulated villages along the front. According to Lady Zahradnik, populating Human farms with the Undead Beastmen that they had been building up throughout the counteroffensive ‘wouldn’t look right’. He could only assume that she knew what she was talking about.
“Have you been able to take a look at how they handle their logistics yet?” Lady Zahradnik asked.
“They’re being supplied from the east,” Wiluvien answered. “So far, we haven’t noticed any stockpiles being built. Supplies are going between tribal holdings, and the closest ones to the front appear to serve as distribution nodes. Until that logistical scheme changes, headquarters is reasonably certain that they will remain on the defensive.”
“Even if they plan on staying where they are,” the Baroness said, “they’ll still try to find out as much as they can. We can’t let any long-range scouts break through the front.”
“Yes, Captain. Following recommendations from headquarters, we’ve switched to low-altitude reconnaissance ten kilometres into our side of the front. Cover is poor and intermittent at best, especially since the fields haven’t been sown, so the patrols should be tight enough to thwart any Beastmen below Orichalcum. Anything above that is rare enough that they probably wouldn’t risk them on that sort of task.”
“On that note, what’s our tally for their powerful members so far?”
“It’s difficult isolating them. We can say with confidence that an Orichalcum-equivalent individual leads each regiment…or whatever they call them. Their organisation is distinct from the civilian tribes we’ve been chasing around so far. The sergeants whose forces participated in the battles also estimate that the average mature member of each regiment is at least the equivalent of a Platinum or Mithril-ranked warrior.”
“What does their distribution of mystics look like? Do they have anything that resembles an anti-Undead vocation?”
“It’s roughly one mystic for every forty Beastmen. The Elder Liches haven’t identified any spells above Third-tier being cast. They mostly operate in a back-line support role and haven’t used any offensive spells, and we haven’t seen any uses of Turn Undead.”
“That’s quite lopsided, but I suppose it should be expected…”
“Expected, Captain?” Emmad frowned.
“It’s a general thing,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “Demihumans and Hetermorphs excel at what they are – in a natural sense – but struggle at what they aren’t. The ones that we’re fighting have a natural tendency towards ‘warrior’ vocations, and their capability as casters suffers as a result. A Demihuman race that is a natural arcane caster, on the other hand, would struggle to do well as a warrior.
“Additionally, our observations of the civilian tribes over the past month show that they have roughly one mystic for every twenty. There are more magic casters in the civilian population – think of all the Priests, Alchemists and artisans in your cities compared to the ratio of casters in the army and Adventurer Guild – so it stands to reason that the same would happen for the Beastmen.”
“That should mean Humans can match Demihumans and Heteromorphs, but I don’t think we do.”
“It’s easier to notice the difference in industrial fields, but I suppose you don’t have any convenient references for that. As far as military concerns go, it’s not so straightforward. If you locked a Human Fighter and a Nar Fighter into a cage and had them fight to the death, a suitably-equipped Human Fighter would achieve parity around the Realm of Heroes. Not all Demihumans are equal, however. Goblins are weaker than Humans from the start, while many True Giants are comparable to the average Heteromorph or even surpass them. Heteromorphs similarly have differences between them, with True Dragons being near the top.”
“If that’s the case, then what’s the point in training Rangers for our Royal Army? By what you said just now, a Beastman Ranger would be superior in every aspect until the Realm of Heroes.”
“That’s not what I said,” Lady Zahradnik told him. “I said that if they were Fighters, they would achieve parity around the Realm of Heroes. While both Fighters and Rangers are Warriors, Fighter and Ranger are two distinct vocations. Nar, for lack of a better way to describe it, get a ‘head start’ as a ‘warrior’. This head start comes from a combination of their physical power, size, natural weapons and armour, certain sensory advantages, and general toughness. The thing is that Nar, unlike Gnolls, are not specifically Rangers from a racial perspective. This means that – all else being equal – a Human Ranger is a better Ranger than a Nar Ranger at everything Rangers do aside from melee combat.
“For close combat, you have Death-series servitors. The purpose of your Rangers is to find targets for them to hit. You have a huge border to patrol, so the more Rangers you have, the tighter your security becomes. Additionally, that’s only for warrior tribes. If a civilian tribe attempts to raid your border, a squad of Gold-rank-equivalent Rangers will easily put a stop to them without needing to signal for assistance.”
Had they been doing the wrong thing the whole time? The military doctrines of the Draconic Kingdom accepted that loss was inevitable against their physically superior foe and thus trading lives was acceptable.
In hindsight, the Slane Theocracy never fought that way. Their tactics revolved around preserving the lives of their soldiers, as they considered Human life precious. They relied heavily on summons from magic casters that sheltered behind fortifications and unbreakable defensive formations, wreaking havoc on the Beastmen from afar.
For whatever reason, the Draconic Kingdom rationalised it as something that only the Theocracy could do because it was a strong country with centuries of development behind it. With the revelations brought by Baroness Zahradnik, however, he was starting to believe that becoming independently strong – at least pound-for-pound – was well within the Draconic Kingdom’s grasp.
“Captain,” Wiluvien said. “Now that the front is taking a breath, how should we approach the southern provinces?”
“We’ve barely started scouting them. Headquarters hasn’t proposed anything?”
The Half-Elf shook her head. Baroness Zahradnik sighed.
“I suppose our strategists can hardly craft an offensive without information,” she said. “Well, that’s fine. I’ll be taking a personal look.”
“You will?” Emmad asked.
“A companion of mine will be arriving in Oriculon shortly,” Lady Zahradnik answered with a warm smile. “We’ll have a good idea of how things look by the time the replacement forces from Katze arrive.”
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