Chapter: 353
The Central Army’s division, boldly setting out, took a brief breather in the Krasius Duchy before facing those doggish nomads. Seriously, it’s a bit harsh to send soldiers straight to the North without a rest before engaging in battle, right? They really need a chance to breathe before crossing the border.
Of course, the northern and western troops have already moved out of the Krasius Duchy and are stationed near the border, so they won’t get to relax too long.
“Everyone’s gathered, I see.”
As the soldiers took what might be their last chance to rest, the high-ranking commanders and staff were called to the barracks of the Vice Captain.
‘Why am I even here?’
I couldn’t understand why I was included in such a high-level meeting. I came when called, but should I really be sitting here?
“The Executive Manager called you, as your evaluated role is to observe the situation of the expeditionary forces. Therefore, you were also summoned.”
Perhaps noticing my confusion, the Vice Captain explained. It’s only logical that they called me; after all, I’m the Executive Manager.
“Thank you for your consideration, Your Grace.”
I bowed my head in thanks, feeling undeserving of such treatment. Honestly, I’m just a guy swinging a sword at the front lines, essentially the farthest thing from a commander or staff officer. I can’t offer any brilliant ideas at a meeting.
Yet they called me likely because my position as the Executive Manager means I should be updated with real-time info, especially since I have a history with Dorgon. I’m truly grateful for that.
“We just received a report from the commander of the Northern Division. There are currently no nomads in sight near the border. It seems they are abandoning direct assaults on us and luring us further into the plains.”
Anyway, the Vice Captain dove right into the main topic he called for.
News that we have to march to the North to eliminate the nomads sounds reasonable. Since we need to enter the North to deal with them, it’s a given.
“That’s surprising. Now, sure, the combined forces in the North and West are tough to provoke, but weren’t there numerous opportunities to attack before?”
The commander of the 2nd Division voiced what we were all questioning.
It’s a given that our forces must head North. The nomads might be unruly, but they aren’t dumb—they likely know the Empire is coming to their doorstep, so they’re probably biding their time.
However, just as the Empire views the nomads’ cavalry as a threat, the nomads are wary of our manpower. As the 2nd Division commander said, had they made a ruckus at the border before we amassed a large force, they could have at least whittled down our numbers a little. But now they’re just quiet?
‘Last time, there was no shortage of chaos.’
If they had been silent earlier, I might’ve thought, “Ah, these guys specialize in patience.” But given how much trouble those bastards caused with their hit-and-run tactics in the last war…
The area north of the Krasius Duchy is an open plain that’s perfect for nomads to wreak havoc. Honestly, they could just shoot a few arrows from a distance, and the Empire would be left with nothing but grievances.
But now they’re silent. It’s a troubling report, even if it means they’re comfortable.
‘Is there turmoil among them after all?’
I suddenly began to think that the situation might be messier than it seems. For the Empire, those hit-and-run attacks are infuriating, but for the nomads, trying to pull off such tactics could lead to getting caught and meeting an unfortunate end. They can always raid border villages, but messing with hundreds or thousands of troops is quite dangerous.
So during the last war, the Khan kept everything tight under his control, and maybe it was because of that many were using their lives recklessly on his orders. I could accept that for now because Dorgon hasn’t reached that level as his predecessor.
But wait, isn’t that self-proclaimed Khan the same one who can’t even keep his camp in check? He seems like a windbag, boasting about being a Khan while failing to maintain order among his men!
‘What the heck is going on?’
No matter how I think about it, I’m lost. I really am not good at strategies or tactics.
“There are no nomads we can interrogate, so we can only speculate right now. Perhaps there’s confusion within the nomadic ranks, or they’re too weakened to pull off any rash provocations now.”
The Vice Captain shared a logical deduction, echoing my chaotic emotions.
Unfortunately, there’s really nothing we can do. We can only make assumptions when there’s information; with no prisoners to squeeze intel from, speculating is just a gamble.
“Five years ago, we had to march into the North burdened by fatigue from the nomadic raids. I don’t know the details, but at least the soldiers are under less pressure this time.”
The former Count Horfelt spoke up in the heavy atmosphere.
His words might seem slightly irresponsible, but they aren’t entirely wrong. The burden on the soldiers who must fight is indeed considerably lighter, despite the high command needing to understand the enemy’s intentions.
“That’s right. Whatever the nomads’ intentions, we cannot avoid confrontation. So the morale of our troops is essential, which means we need to strategize ways to suppress their momentum.”
After the former Count Horfelt spoke, the 5th Division commander nodded along.
If we don’t know the nomads’ weaknesses, we should at least maximize our own strengths. If those guys aren’t bothering us, we should be gearing up in optimal condition to throw a punch. No need to worry about their traps—we’ll just charge straight through!
…Though we shouldn’t completely forget about the enemy’s hand.
*
The place once inhabited by the Gaar tribe.
It’s now a land where you can hear neither children’s laughter nor the bleating of sheep, a spot that was once central in the North. It’s not lacking to be used as a base.
“The Empire’s forces are gathering near the border. As instructed by the Khan, maintain distance while scouting, so that’s all I have for the details—”
“If a force of that size is preparing to march, we can observe it even from afar. Maintain the current distance.”
“Yes, Khan.”
As I watched Kesh leave while bowing his head, I tilted my head back in contemplation.
I felt an unusual sense of calm. No tension, no excitement; ironically, I felt more moved when I declared my resurrection as the Gaar tribe than I do now.
‘It has been three years.’
I sighed softly. Three years since that war ended, three years since the North was silenced.
And now, three years later, I am about to clash with the Empire again—not by my will, but as a decision following that of the hero who led the North.
‘Oh, Khan.’
The North, which had never unified across its long history, the leader of the nomads who once threatened the Empire.
A hero who proved that nomads are not merely victims of merciless extermination by the Empire.
On this day, I find myself longing for his presence more than ever. A day when I want to see a true hero, not someone like me pretending to be one.
“We have lived as dogs, swayed by the Empire’s beck and call. No matter how much we bark, when the leash is pulled, we must bow.”
I recalled those words from five years ago—just before we raised the army. He poured the drink into my cup as he spoke.
“To them, we’re no different from talking dogs. They toss us scraps and keep us in check, and when we grow too numerous, it’s time to get rid of us. If we dare loosen the leash and bite a human, we deserve to be killed—a mere beast.”
I can still vividly remember the shock from his calm description of us as dogs.
Honestly, I was aware of it, but I didn’t want to accept that such words were coming from someone so proud and strong. If the hero himself says we’re dogs, who could deny it?
“Yet within a dog flows the blood of a wolf.”
As I remained speechless, he continued speaking as if nothing were amiss.
“In a time when the concept of settled people didn’t exist, during the days when nomads raced across the continent, we galloped like valiant wolves under the boundless blue sky. Our origins were of wolves.”
“But time has made the plains where wolves could run vanish, and in the end, they’ve strapped a leash on the wolf’s neck. Thus, we have become dogs.”
He said that while gazing up at the sky—a sky that was pure blue with not a cloud in sight.
“Born a wolf, we became a dog. So isn’t it possible to live as a dog and die as a wolf?”
“Our ancestors, our history, our pride flows in this blood and soul. Even if our bodies are persecuted, our blood and soul will not yield.”
I found myself staring up at the sky unconsciously.
“We will shed the leash and become wolves once more—not dogs who bow before anyone but formidable wolves that cannot be trifled with.”
My heart raced. I genuinely believed that he would truly make us into wolves.
“And the day we become wolves, the sky will eternally be blue.”
I believe countless warriors ran with that dream in mind. To become wolves rather than dogs, to look up at the sky alongside him.
In the end, we failed—though it seems we achieved a little something.
‘At least we’re rabid now.’
A smirk escaped me. The Empire must realize we’re weaker now, yet they rapidly mobilized a large army. If they viewed us as weak and foolish dogs, that would have been impossible.
Though we didn’t reach our dreams, we’ve shown potential. The possibility of becoming wolves and biting the Empire’s neck, a future where the Empire can no longer dictate us.
It’s a grim reflection when I think about how close we were to our dreams, but still, isn’t this a decent enough outcome?
‘…Rabid dog, huh.’
I softly closed my eyes. A rabid dog, not on par with a wolf but still not something to take lightly.
“I will run to become a wolf. I will carry the will of the North and run until my heart bursts. But if I die bearing that will, I’ll leave the rest to you.”
At least he lived and died as a wolf. Yet here I am, a pathetic mutt unworthy of being called a wolf. I’m merely barking like a pup, having inherited his excessive faith and will.
And a pup has its own ways of barking.
“Move forward in your way, different from how I stumbled and fell.”
For my tribesmen, for our North, I will march forward in my own style.
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