V10: Chapter 3

  …

  Interlude: Riegert

  …

  There was no end to the onslaught, the barbarism, and the brutality that unfolded across the lands of the Wardens.

  “Sometimes, I curse my choice to take the center with all its peace and quiet, then I come here to the south and see that I’ve chosen correctly.” Morgan mused and collapsed her telescope, before placing it in a pouch at her vest. She wore a strange mix of clothes. Thick alchemist robes atop plates of Citadel-material armor, which were atop a dark, full-body suit forged from the Citadel’s foundries. If she placed the matching helmet on her head, a seal would form between it and the suit, enclosing and protecting her from various ailments that now pervaded the battlefield. “Where do you need the reinforcements, General?”

  “No need for titles. We’re the same rank, and you know your troops better than I.” I gave her a nod, which she returned, before she came to my desk. I placed my command tent on a hill that looked over a vast plain once used for farmland. We evacuated the people to safety two days ago… and now their village was a charnel house surrounded by trenches, churned mud, and corpses. “Do you want to hold ground, while I conduct reconnaissance, or leave the defense to me?”

  “I’ll take the defense. I need to understand the enemy, and give my troops time to settle themselves. Give me at least two days.” A decade ago, I would’ve scoffed at Morgan’s words. She traversed from Academy lands with her forces to here and just arrived today. Such a long march, even with disciplined troops, would require more than two days. However, the shadow that had heralded her arrival was still above us both. Two days was generous, as she and her army arrived via a flying bastion ready to lay waste to the battlefield. A bastion that allowed mine to land and for its crews to enjoy leave for the first time in a season. “The mages are asking if there’s any sections of the perimeter that they need to keep a particular eye on.”

  “The Forgers are employing a new weapon. A mass of spinning contraptions that spill over the battlefield that explode.” They were the size of a newborn, composed of clockwork mechanisms, and were half as fast as a hunting dog in full sprint. Released in the hundreds at once, from stout airships, they fell onto the battlefield, activated, and sped towards enemy lines. How they discerned an enemy from someone who is not, I did not know. Given the proclivities of the Forgers, I almost wished to not know. “They’re for filling trenches with explosives, but they’re sending so many out that they spill into our perimeter.”

  The battlefield here was between the Forgers and the Wardens. The Wardens were fanatical and had numbers. Weapons from Guardians were flowing straight into their hands. Single shot rifles in mass with a near endless number of bodies was enough to stop the heavy advance of the Forgers. They did not implement as many small arms into their doctrine, preferring cannons behinds sturdy lines of infantry, along with drops of their new devices to scatter any formation. However, the Wardens were much more mobile, and much more willing to die.

  I’ve seen more than a few charges of the Wardens end with satchel-based explosives based off our earliest designs exploding across Forger lines.

  “No attacks from the Wardens? In your reports, you said that we’ll find no armed ones that are friendly here.” Morgan followed me into my command tent. Doctrine dictated that I be in the sky bastion, looking from battles from above, unless I was needed in combat. Given the situation, and the ongoing battle in the horizon, I judged it better to be ready to attack from here rather than ascend and meet with Morgan in her command center. “Why aren’t they attacking us?”

  “Faith and firepower don’t fare well against razor wire.” After reviewing the battles against the Wardens, our King devoted time to creating a defense against their mad charges. It came in the form of spools of steel wire with four-pointed razors, which could easily unfurled across the battlefield for vast lengths. A horse, or just a few soldiers, could take off one end of the container, attach one end of the wire to a post, and then drag the rest of the spool out. Spools of wire were then followed by a moat, earthworks, then a killing field of more wire, trenches, and metal stakes. Layers of defenses nearly fifty fathoms long were between our place on the hill and any enemy assault. The roads leading into the base were constantly watched by both mages and riflemen, as well. “They learned their lesson.”

  We entered the inside of the tent, and Morgan gave a hum of acknowledgement as she sighted the Forger’s creation on the table. Taken apart, save for its core, the explosives of the inert device were already disposed. My specialists who neared the head-sized core had reported to me that they felt… signs of life in the core, and that’s when I halted any further research into the thing. Then, I call for our sole specialist in regards to how minds interacted with magic.

  “Well, it’s not one of the mortal races. Most likely a rat or some other pest. This is closer to necromancy than what I do.” Morgan tapped the core and gave a hum after a moment. Khanrow told me of her talents, on how she was able to use magic to make creatures obey her through needles, wires and lightning, but it was more humbling to see her do it in person. Few Champions had both talent and genius, as well as the drive to train hard and press against the boundaries of magic. “But it might bode ill of their lower caste. They barely view their lower castes as better than pests, no?”

  With those words, a chill went down my spine.

  “I think that they may have already done worse to their frontline.” Morgan stilled at my words, her gaze was wide only for a moment, before she schooled her features. Khanrow warned me that she put on a different mask for everyone she met. I had a feeling that she was trying to seem like a young woman eager to learn in my presence. There was no need. I was ready to oblige her. Going over to a nearby cabinet, next to clerks constantly working to send back information to our Citadels, I perused the folders within until I found the information on the frontline maneuvers of the Forger’s infantry. It was thick with updates with validations from the officers of those assigned to observe. “Their frontline are fully enclosed in armor now. We no longer see their faces. Most importantly, they do not break, and they no longer showcase any tactics we’ve seen them implement in other conflicts. All they do is surge forward to crush the enemies of the Forgers.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Morgan’s gaze hardened at my words.

  “They’re taking the lower castes and turning them into little more than machines. Such a waste. The Forgers we have are the most loyal and productive.” Shaking her head, she turned to me, and then hesitated before speaking. “General Riegert, if you would permit me to do so, I’d like to prepare an operation to seize officers and mages of the Forgers interrogation.”

  I didn’t hesitate.

  “So, long as your potential isn’t compromised, you can do as you wish with your time.” I’ve worked with the newest generation long enough. Gone are the days of absolute obedience and rule. That was for turning peasants into levied soldiers. In this day and age, generals decide strategies, and on the ground officers work with their lieutenants and sergeants to accomplish their duties. What was once a deadly amount of leeway, basically begging to lose soldiers or asking for betrayal, is now a benefit. These new soldiers flourish when their leashes are less tight, and when they are permitted to rise to their fullest potential. “I’ll cover for you. Go and do what needs to be done, General Morgan.”

  I gave her a small bow, which she primly returned, before stalking out of the tent with purpose and vigor filling her veins.

  In a few years’ time, I was sure that she will be the finest general that our nation could field.

  While Ilych became its greatest Champion.

  I’ll need to tell Ilych get along with her.

  …

  Erlan and the rest of the Forgers that fought with my troops against the Death Lord were given the most productive regions for Forgers in my territory. The former lands of the Scholars were mountainous, snowy, and with dark forests. Most of the mining was done by Iterants and by the laborers whose academic scores weren’t that great. There were barely five thousand Forgers, and only a trickle of their people was getting to us as refugees, so I couldn’t have them mining. Instead, the Forgers set up a town in a river valley surrounded by easily-accessed deposits of ore, built workshops that made use of the river’s flow, and I set up a train line straight to the Citadel that provided them with goods and materials they couldn’t produce.

  Once all of that was established, I gave them I gave them their debut, gave them a smattering of contracts to work on, and basically let them figure out everything else. They could go right back to having castes, become anarchists, or anything else, and I wouldn’t mind if they got their payments on time and fulfilled my requests.

  They started off small. Investigating material sciences mostly. I learned the hard way while making trains engines that every piece needed to be just right to prevent disaster. They received the specifications for an alloy, I gave them our current research along with some scholars, and turned them loose so that their racial bonuses could get to work.

  It worked.

  Forger research items centered around lowering the cost of upkeep of their units, as well as lowering the cost of purchasing them. They have expensive, but tough and well-armored units. Their research tree barely increased their armor levels until the endgame. Early-game and mid-game, it was all about reducing costs by finding better alloys, developing new designs of armor that used less material, and more. Their tech-based questlines customized their units further. In one example, the player can decide to go for making armor lighter for a bit higher movement speed, but retain their armor rating, or to use the lighter armor to enable them to put more armor on, thus getting more armor while retaining the same movement speed.

  Now, I was using that tech tree across my society.

  Better buckles for backpacks and stirrups decreased the amount of steel used, while retaining durability. Refinements to the standard nails used in prefabrications with a new alloy that reduced the amount of steel needed per ton of nails by ten percent. Improvements to the drill bits of our lathes, letting them last longer, and put cleaner rifling through our guns. A little more expensive, sure, but I’m willing to pay for better accuracy and longer-lasting machines. Anyway, even though the changes seemed small, when scaled up to tens of thousands of troops, even a few grams of steel off of each soldier will save me money, and decrease the weight they have to carry.

  In short, I was glad that I decided to get the Forgers involved in the campaign, even if I get less than I wanted.

  I disembarked from my transport and raised a hand towards Erlan, who gave me a bow in return.

  Time to play the charismatic king.

  “Erlan, it’s been too long! I see you’re growing well into your new home.” I needled him, and the prideful forger blushed lightly and shifted in his large, brown coat. All the Forgers present were covered up in thick wool coats with fleecing inside, making them look like stout Eskimos. Their homes were made with thick blocks of stone, making them look a bit like square igloos. “Just here to say hello, and inform you of some findings my general made regarding the Forgers. The latter might be better off behind closed doors.”

  Erlan paused for a moment, looking at the number of Iterant guards filing out to flank the two of us. His own guards made sure to keep their guns shouldered. It wouldn’t have helped. Being within five meters of an Iterant pretty much means you can be sliced to bits the moment they want you dead.

  Yeah, same rules as the Children of the Elm’s town.

  They get uppity and stop working for me, and don’t negotiate, my answer are air-strikes.

  Maybe, an armored train would be good, too.

  But, given the number of kids these guys are popping out and how eager they are to send them over to the capital for education, I doubted that’d be an issue.

  “Your majesty, I gave my people an oath to share with them all that I know. If you fear that my people mustn’t know it, then neither should I know.” Erlan answered as I expected to my statement, and I made sure to nod and smile at his statement.

  “A very praiseworthy stance to take. Your people chose well, Erlan.” They had a pseudo-republic. Erlan was voted in as president for life, but he worked with a council that got into power for ten-year terms. The Forgers were meticulous with their societal planning and had everything written down. I read through it a year or two ago and okay’d it after Ayah confirmed it was decent. But that hardly mattered. It was time to make sure these guys were loyal forever, and to get some new infiltrators for Forger lands. “So, I shall do as you request. I’m afraid that I’m the bearer of bad news. Recent engagements against the Forgers have revealed that they’ve transformed approximately half of the lower castes into biomechanical servitors bereft of free will.”

  I gestured to my transport, where a box was being taken out onto the snowy landing strip.

  Or, rather, a coffin.

  Erlan showed some of the fire of his when we were on campaign together at the sight of it.

  “Please, my lord, may I open it myself?”

  I gave him a nod, and to his credit, he didn’t puke until five second after seeing what was underneath all the armor.

  The Forgers definitely had a lot of Scholars working for them now, given how fast they’ve turned their lower caste into little more than bio-computers with organs strapped to bipedal machines.

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