Serial
21: Counterstrike
December,
15th 32 S.D. 12:29 Darfort, Central Plains
The people of Henron, like the other major clans, had distinct traits that other Astens readily associated with their name. While the Sventa were renown for being well-rounded in all aspects of civil society and combat, Henron was infamous for its autocratic rule and focus on martial matters. Rather than through a sort of aristocracy, their military had become the single body that offered political power, that was, aside from the authority vested in their despot, Heigon Henron. Rank in the army was one’s place in the world, as far as it concerned Henron. As such, there was much pride in being an officer, and as one of the Core Leads for the Henron army, 47 year-old Lisk Vaner Henron especially kept his head held high. Now more than ever before, it remained essential for him to do so, not merely because of his status, but due to his recent failures on the field.
Though he had not anticipated these difficulties, in hindsight it would have been all to expected had he just realized the situation he had been in. They had taken Sventa head-on, and in their first major sortie against the mightiest clan in all of the Central Plans, they had suffered staggering losses. It had scarcely been a mere 24 hours since the battle had ended badly, and already he’d been pulled away from the front-line to report to his superior, the Prime Lead. A chewing out was in all likelihood on its way for him. Nevertheless, Lisk was determined not to appear before command like some demure dog who had fled from battle with tail curled.
He projected himself in swagger and stance as the veteran he was, a man who had seen the realities of war. This image was bolstered by the wound he’d taken during the fight. A bullet had struck him in his right arm, disabling his use of that limb for the time being. He held his arm closely to his chest in a sling. Instead of giving him the appearance of weakness and incompetence, it gave him a certain noble presence as he walked swiftly down the halls, unpained and unencumbered by the hole in his body. He had even switched the side of his sheath to show his willingness to continue the fight regardless of his handedness or reduced dexterity. Still, while Lisk’s countenance reflected his integrity and determination, he had still failed Henron and their soldiers that had fallen. Try as he might to preserve his dignity, he couldn’t avoid this glaring fact, and neither could his colleagues or commanders.
Headquarters for the Henron forces came in the form of Darfort, a frontier military installation expressively located near the Sventa-Henron border. It had been built during his father’s time, and it had seen little use until just recently. While Lisk hadn’t the foresight he desired, at least his predecessors had the good sense to plan ahead in such a manner. He headed to the fort’s third floor as soon as he had arrived, ignoring both the salutes and stares he garnered. Though he had never once set foot in Darfort himself, he had no trouble locating the central chamber where all of the war’s most important decisions emanated from. Lisk pushed open the door, telling himself that dread must give way to responsibility.
The room, a large open space, had a single, long table in the middle. To the sides, various articles spread about, scattered: tactical documents, charts and lists, myriad reports, and a handful of missives. Normally there were supposed to be a number of aides processing these items, but today the central chamber was occupied by only a few. Lisk immediately noted the company of the other three Core Leads - Liveta Henron, Ano Taksat Henron, and Vitna Jas Henron - in their respective seats, as well as the Prime Lead himself, Govan Henron. Standing with his back turned, arms folded, Govan seemed to be studying a map posted just behind the table’s head. None of the other Core Leads appeared to have been talking; it was more than evident that Lisk’s arrival was waited upon. Lisk approached the table and saluted, thumping a closed fist across his chest.
“Ver Govan!” Lisk said, announcing himself. “Please excuse the unconventional salute.”
“Hmm?” Govan spun around slowly and glanced at Lisk. “Sa,” he said, looking over the wound. “It is no matter.”
“A pity to see you so,” Liveta said. “Have things really gone that badly?” she asked.
“He gets no pity from me,” Vitna said aloud. “Pity only worsens an injury, in more ways than one.”
“I came here to report our standing with the Prime Lead. My condition is of no importance.”
Vitna shook his head. “You have always been business before banter, Lisk, but do mind that you have to keep yourself from falling apart in order to do anything. Like I said, no pity from me, but do make sure your pieces are altogether.”
Lisk bristled at being chastised by one 20 years his junior. It irked him that Vitna was not only right in his admonishment but that it was spoken from one so young. Had those words come from the wizened Ano or Govan himself, they would not have stung so deeply. Hearing it from Vitna made it seem as if the man’s youth were criticizing Lisk’s abilities and judgment in consideration of his age. Despite that tension, Lisk moved on.
“I am fine as I yet live. Now, Ver Govan, I assume you would like me to explain our current situation?”
“Sa,” Govan nodded. The Prime Lead was a veritable lion of a man. With a full beard and long, thick hair, his visage was not unlike a maned beast. Adding to this, his imposing stature - a height just shy of two meters - made him a living giant. Every syllable uttered from him was deep and deliberate.
“Recount for us the battle of December 14th in your own words. We have the numbers already, but not the story.”
Lisk had yet to sit down himself, however, he dared not to do so until he had given them all a detailed summary of yesterday’s events.
“At 1000 hours, our forces engaged the enemy, the first division of the Sventa forces. Though Sventa outnumbered our units, we had managed to gain what we thought was an advantage: higher ground. While our archers sat upon the hills, our lightly-armored infantry hung back at defensive positions. The plan I had devised was to induce the enemy to charge us by using sharpshoots to create casualties. When the charge was to occur, the bulk of our forces would mount the hilltops, using canon-fire to eliminate their superior numbers. The sharpshoots were to have pulled back, providing support as our swords would then counter-rush Sventa.
Govan nodded again. “A sound plan, to be sure Lisk. So, what went wrong?”
Lisk hesitated not as he continued. “The enemy, quite unlike themselves, had chosen to rely greatly on their own sharpshoots.”
“Bows or guns?” Ano asked, blinking.
“Guns, Ver Ano. Nothing but guns.”
“Hmm...” Govan mused, his gaze penetrating up into the air. “A most peculiar choice on their part, but what role did they have in the outcome?”
“I do not imagine their sharpshoots would have proven any more of a threat than our own,” Liveta said. “Though we ourselves scarcely depend upon firearms, by all logistical measures, the data shows we should have been more than able to hold our ground.”
“Indeed, by our standard estimate of Sventa’s strength, you would be correct,” Lisk said. “However, these were no ordinary guns we encountered on the field.”
Govan raised an eyebrow. “Explain,” he instructed.
Lisk reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a small, misshapen lump of metal. He set it on the table with a sharp clack. At first his hand covered the object, but he slowly retracted it, revealing a bullet.
“These are the things they used against us yesterday, this one in particular against myself. It may be hard to tell, but you can observe the unusual form their ammunition takes. Unlike the round-balls nearly every rifle uses, these are pointed, at least the one before you used to be.”
“And its significance in battle?” Vitna asked. The Core Leads leaned forward to examine the bullet. Ano picked it up, and they passed it around.
“From what we can judge thus far, these new bullets increase firing range and injury upon impact,” Lisk went on. “Our surviving sharpshoots estimate their effective range and lethal distance to be somewhere between 100 to 150 meters. They can go farther and still cause damage, however. If you are hit by one without adequate protection, you are either dead or disabled.”
Govan walked closer to the table, leaning on its surface with his knuckles. He frowned at all of these assessments.
“Note how similar the original shape must have been to the type of ammunition found in Gandian pistols,” Ano observed. “Those are powerful, dangerous projectiles. However, no such rifle yet exists - or rather did exist - that could fire such objects. We are looking at something completely new here, a threat we have yet seen from our enemies.”
“One wonders if this is something Sventa developed alone,” Vitna said aloud.
“Doubtful. Nearly all of the Central Plains relies on imports for firearms. I see the work of outsiders, Gandians I say, given their proclivity for guns in their own wars,” Levita said.
“Hmm...” Govan stood there, his focus pointed upon the bullet. “Proceed with your report. How did this singular tactic claim 7000 of our forces?”
Lisk straightened up before going on. “We simply had nothing that could reach them. Even our best sharpshoots cannot hit targets as far as the Sventa can with these new weapons. They essentially picked us off from the hill while our shots could do nothing. What is more, they also had canons trained on our position, thus our artillery was not as great an advantage as we could have hoped. I staged a blitz in an effort to root out their snipers. We immediately mounted our canons, thinking to use these in place of our fallen bows for cover. However, I grossly miscalculated their forces; I did in no way anticipate that nearly 70 percent of the Sventa troops were sharpshoots. Even as we closed upon them, there were simply too many arms against us. Our own weaponry and armor were mismatched for them. Though we thought we held the superior ground initially, they smashed my strategy. Seeing that there was no reasonable chance of victory, I ordered a retreat.”
“How soon was that after you sustained that injury?” Vitna asked.
“It was more than an hour afterwards,” Lisk replied with notable restraint.
“I see,” Govan said, pushing himself away from the table. “They have upended us with their most unusual methods. That I shall concede. Were it any one of us, Lisk, the battle would still have not been won, not cleanly. At that point, it is just a matter of how many soldiers are lost or not.” The Prime Lead began pacing back and forth with his arms folded yet again. “This is a battle that we can only succeed in by knowing the enemy’s full strength and their capabilities. In short, we would have had to engage them once to properly plan our counterattack.”
Govan stopped all at once and then turned to his subordinates. He nodded once before going on to elaborate what exactly he had on his mind.
“Sventa has given us this defeat by their own novel ways of war. I expect nothing less from the largest clan in all the Central Plains, but they shall not succeed a second time. Hear me and my words.”
All four of them shifted slightly. Had their commander already devised a course of action to stop their foes? Though he had scarcely heard a few minutes of Lisk’s testimony in addition to looking over the data for only an hour prior, had he really figured out Henron’s response? It wasn’t as if Govan didn’t carry the reputation of a martial genius. He was a quick yet thorough thinker, an intellectual man of combat. Heigon Henron hadn’t chosen him as Prime Lead on a whim, after all.
“We shall act against Sventa as follows. If the Sventa are indeed using firearms for all of their units, we will meet them with armor fit to withstand anything they can throw at us. An advance unit will lead the assault composed of our finest shields. I want every one of those shields equipped with an Agnan Wall.”
The Agnan Wall was a specialty of the Henron. This full-body shield took two hands to bear and covered most of the average soldier’s height and width. A small horizontal slit appeared roughly at eye-level to allow one to see the battle ahead. The Agnan Wall could even stand on its own thanks a sturdy, flippable stand, and in linking others together, soldiers on the field could create temporary barricades. It had proven impervious to arrows and round-balls, and Goven expected it to hold its own against these new bullets. Having dedicated shield units, however, was an unused military tactic for Henron; it was costly in terms of manpower since that meant those soldiers couldn’t technically fight. Still, it would provide an effective rebuttal to Sventa’s reliance on ranged weaponry.
“Swords will follow close behind the shields. The objective is to make it as close to the enemy as quickly as possible. Once the units come to an appropriate distance, the shields will create a permanent barrier, allowing even more additional swords and spears to move uninjured from any possible gunfire. Our melee units will then overrun their sharpshoots. Even if they have advanced weapons, sharpshoots are historically weak to close combat techniques. This fact has not changed. Given their reliance on sharpshoots, it is safe to say they do not have many melee units themselves. Dealing with their smaller numbers shall pose little challenge to us. Vitna, I want your troops to engage this first operation.”
“Of course, Ver Govan. Any particular, tactical reason if I may ask?”
“Quite so,” Govan continued. “This will only work on relatively flat ground. If a sword is not directly behind an Agnan Wall, they will remain exposed to the enemy’s fire. Any type of slope increases that chance. The Sventa’s second division is positioned near Lake Lada, our scouts indicate. The terrain there is most suitable for our attack, and your units are the closest. Additionally, given the lake’s position and size, they will have had to reroute supplies from Sevia and the rest of their lands across a longer path. Consequently, there should be a delay in their receiving troops and canons hopefully. Expect a transport of Agnan Walls shortly, all of you. One more thing Vitna, equip your swords with light shields as well. When they rush Sventa’s sharpshoots, they will still be in the crossfire, and the enemy will be shooting point blank. Everyone must wear their best grade of armor as well. I want the rest of you to defend yourselves only if necessary. Hold back until we receive news of Vitna’s success.”
For the next hour and a half, the five of them hashed out the details of their strategy. Though Lisk had initially felt a great sense of unease regarding this meeting in light of his loss in the previous battle, he now imagined himself restored. Govan’s sharp mind and precise details inspired and reassured the Core Lead. As long as they followed that man’s orders, Lisk and the others would be able to grasp the likes of glory. They could best Sventa, and Lisk could avenge both his pride and his people.
After this gathering of generals came to a close, the central chamber stood still and quiet. All the personnel had left, yet the place was not so empty as to be soulless. On the contrary, there were actually two people who had remained. They’d spent the time listening to the Prime Lead’s discussion in its entirety, though they weren’t really supposed to be privy to a single word. They had not hidden themselves in the shadows but rather in plain sight.
“Why is it that I always get stuck on these far-off, piddly-a*s recon mission?” asked a voice, seemingly from the very air. “This one ain’t even exciting, not like Palostrol.”
Suddenly, a small distortion appeared, as if space itself had been torn ever so slightly. Pure light poured from this gap. Then, all at once, a hand appeared, pushing through this dimensional rift. It exited palm up and seemingly gripped the edge of this hole-like anomaly. With one swift upward thrust, the hand split the hole even wider, like clothe being ripped asunder. A low buzzing sounded off as Einer lifted the cover that had hidden him and Laven.
This camouflage was really an advanced piece of serialization. It enveloped the user and allowed light to enter one end of the bubble and out the other; of course that light never actually penetrated inside the field itself. Instead, it was captured as it entered and rerouted at the correct angle on the opposite end. It remained a brilliant and highly advanced series that kept one optically invisible. The only thing the two of them had to do was merely stand off to the side, unmoving; no one had noticed them in the least.
“What purpose does this serve anyway?” Einer asked his counterpart. The ragged edges of the camouflage’s field were outlined in a blooming whiteness, but that began to fade as Einer quit the series completely. “I mean, if King wants to know how his little test subject is doing, why send us to spy on these guys?”
Laven simply glanced around the room a few times before he sighed aloud. “You always have to be so nosy now, don’t you? Well, it can’t really be helped.”
“Hey,” Einer said, pivoting around sharply. “If I’m going to be sent halfway across the Continent, I’d like to know why.”
Laven smiled as he rubbed his chin. “Why not just ask King yourself?”
“What?! Are we still on about that? Fine! Consider it as if I were asking your opinion, alright?”
Laven shook his head. “Fair enough,” he shrugged for a moment. “But you realize I could only hazard a guess, correct? It’s not as if I possess vast insight into King’s often inscrutable ways.”
“Whatever, just say your piece Laven.”
“Tch... Well, my friend, if I might speculate, King wants to see how Losha will overcome a trial that he himself faced ages ago: the weaponization of serialization. Things are moving along quite faster than I anticipated; I imagined it would have been years before any conflict seriously drew her in. That’s the Central Plains for you.”
Einer folded his arms. “Okay. But why are we here? The girl’s not here, and if you ask me, that’s a bit inconsistent for our mission.”
“Oh yes, you want to know why I had us sneak in here specifically. King knows this will be a critical juncture for the test. In fact, the whole thing may very well pass or fail at this point. What Losha does from here decides the fate and spread of serialization. Will it be the worse tool of war and oppression the world has ever seen, or can it guarantee prosperity for all? The Continent will formally be introduced to serialization during this war. If King is to accurately deem whether or not people are worthy of the art, he needs to be informed of all the circumstances present in the coming days, not just Losha’s.”
Einer scowled as he turned away. “Humph. I can’t see why King even bothers. Just get rid of serialization once and for all and be done with it. Sure these powers we have are great, but perhaps they’re too great.”
“You just want to get to the part of King’s plan where we start taking out other serialists,” Laven said. “If there is a world where serialization isn’t abused, wouldn’t you want to live in it? I think King wants to let Losha attempt to create such a world because the potential rewards are enormous. Since he can essentially destroy serialization at any time, it’s not much to risk either.”
“Bah. Hopey-dopey crap ain’t my style of thinking.”
“I can tell,” Laven remarked. “That’s why I requested that Allon assign you with me.”
“This was all your doing?” Einer cried, spinning around with his finger pointed at Laven.
“I figured you’d at least tolerate it more than re-educating Sambur’s students.”
Einer frowned for a moment, but then he laughed, a bit too loudly. “Well, you’re right on that one. The lesser of two chores. Let’s beat it though. I’m shrieking sick of this place.”
With a shifting blitz, the two of them simply zipped away as if they’d never been there at all.
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