Daybreak:Alpha Chapter

Chapter 5 - Arsenal of Faith

"We did it!"

Sylviane exhaled the exhausted words as she released the tension from her sore limbs, leaving Hauteclaire in control of the flight magic keeping her aloft.

The Weichsel main force had caught up to the retreating Skagen army this morning. The moment Pascal received the news at Nordkreuz, Sylviane had Sir Robert rush them up through a chain of teleportation jumps. It was vital for the representatives of Rhin-Lotharingie -- herself and her Oriflamme Armigers -- to fight alongside their Weichsel allies as much and as visibly as possible in this campaign. Because soon enough, she would need all the help she could muster from them in exchange.

Her father had taught her long ago that when it came to lives of nation-states, there was no such thing as 'free goodwill'.

Everything had a price, paid in gold, in influence, or in blood.

Well, gold did not grown on trees but through the sweat and toil of her people, and she had no intention for Weichsel to dominate the future politics of Rhin-Lotharingie. This left her only one option.

Royal blood might seem an expensive commodity, but her body could certainly spare a few drops.

The battle had seemed simple on paper. The Weichsel army led by King Leopold von Drachenlanzen had numbered 48,000, more than twice the numerical strength of their foes. Furthermore the Skagen Army of the Home Isles, lead by the half-brother of Admiral Winter, Jarl Eyvindur Sigmundsen, had been stripped of its mobile striking power in the decisive Air Battle of Nordkreuz. With supplies cut off and morale sapped by constant raids from Weichsel cavalry, the 20,000 strong Skagen force had been battered and exhausted.

But the Northmen were a tough people bred by the harshness of the arctic winds. Cornered by their Trinitian adversaries, they had fought on like wounded beasts.

Thrice the dreaded Housecarls and Västergötland Adventurers charged the Weichsel lines, their final assault lead by Jarl Sigmundsen himself. Through the smoke of hellish rimefire, the ferocious Skagen onslaught almost broke the Weichsel center. But King Leopold had stuck his courtblade into the ground in defiance, allowing no retreat for either the men or himself. His courageous rally, assisted by a searing countercharge from the Oriflamme Princess, had bought enough time for General von Blumenthal's right wing to pivot around the Skagen flank and smash into them from behind.

With their path of retreat cut off, the ensuing bloodbath had become a massacre.

From her vantage point in the air, Sylviane estimated that at least a third of the Skagen force -- around seven thousand -- had been wiped out. After morale disintegrated and the commanding Jarls fell alongside their Housecarl bodyguards, the less trained militia had surrendered in droves. Only a few small detachments had managed to break out and escape.

The defeat was more than crushing for the Northmen. Their Army of the Home Isles had been destroyed, annihilated. After the loss of Nordkapp, the sinking of their skywhale flotilla, and the burning of their beached North Sea Fleet, this fourth hammer blow would surely put an end to northern resolve.

At least, that was what Sylviane hoped. She needed the military support of her Weichsel allies for the war in Rhin-Lotharingie, and this could only be accomplished once hostilities in the north came to an end.

"Your Highness!" the petite Elspeth flew up from near the ground, her caramel-whipped hair billowing in the icy, blood-scented breeze.

It always struck Sylviane as unnatural how such a cute, innocent girl could seem so comfortable on the battlefield. Elspeth's leather armor and steel spaulders were smothered in blood by all the faces her short blades had gouged this fight. Yet the young girl was... grinning; her large, apple-green eyes marked not by fatigue but the dancing lights of exultation.

"Your Highness!" her bubbly voice repeated. "They've captured Jarl Eyvindur Sigmundsen!"

Sylviane furrowed her brows as her pupils dilated in surprise. That can't be possible! There was no way a Northmen commander of his ranking would even contemplate surrender!

"Someone must've bonked his head unconscious in the melee," Elspeth explained. "But I just saw the Weichsens carrying him off on a stretcher!"

"Then Weichsel has a serious chance of negotiating a swift end to this conflict," the Princess truly believed this time. "Any idea how many other Jarls they've found or caught thus far?"

"They've already counted three dead and one other captured, also injured," the reply came from Sir Robert this time, who had linked back up to communication loop.

The Grand Jarldom of Skagen had only eight Jarls on Fimbulmark Isle. It also bore remembrance that the Northmen leadership marched to war in generations, with their brothers, sons, and even grandsons following close behind. After such devastating losses among their upper nobility, it was impossible to think that they could continue this war.

"Then let's pray for the best," the Princess spoke to the distant horizon.

She would have a voice in the negotiations of course, bearing the royal authority of Rhin-Lotharingie. But it would be Weichsel who made any territorial demands. Her home country was far too distracted to integrate any newly conquered lands.

...Although she wouldn't say no to extracting monetary concessions. For a ruler of nations, there was little money cannot buy, at least in the short term.

In either case, time to call Pascal up.

Her fiancé had been furious when she denied him the opportunity to join the battle. Her excuse was that teleporting an extra always cost more, and Sir Robert needed every ounce of ether he could save for the battle itself. But in reality? She just wanted him to stay out of the fray this time. Unlike Operation Winter Typhoon, this was an orthodox battle for which the King already had a plan, as well as the generals to carry it out.

Besides, Pascal is no great fighter unless he breaks into his jewelry box, and I'd rather he save that for later...

----- * * * -----

The trip up the next day took a series of four teleportation jumps that left Kaede almost ready to vomit. It certainly didn't help that her meager hours of sleep last night further compounded her sleep deprivation. The transit spells then hurled her senses through a repeated cycle of physical sublimation and being flushed down an ethereal whirlpool, which gave a whole new meaning to the concept of 'travel sickness'.

I am never going to get used to that...

"Good Morn... Kaede are you alright?"

As Kaede's pale cheeks sucked in deep breathes of cold, icy air, the Princess who had been awaiting their arrival stepped up to hold the smaller girl's shoulders.

"Yeah, just... give me a moment."

The familiar girl sighed as she felt the soothing warmth of Hauteclaire's aura engulf her once more. Her whispers of thanks to the phoenix came answered by a sympathetic chirp.

"You really did not have to come outside to greet us," Pascal smiled as he took the Princess' hand and gave it a formal kiss before clasping it between his palms.

They were in the presence of Weichsel soldiers guarding the beacon, after all.

"I could use some fresh air from the negotiations and you could use an escort; it seemed a good deal."

Kaede had to hide her grin as the Princess struggled to maintain eye contact during her response. Even for the sake of appearances, Sylviane would never openly admit that she had been waiting just to see him earlier.

...

"Is there a need to sectioned the camp off like this?" Kaede asked a few minutes later when guards at yet another checkpoint waved them through.

It almost felt as if the army was multi-national, with each group having its own partition inside the overall camp. Compared to open-ground bases that promoted camaraderie, all the fences and sentries in this massive encampment felt almost... stifling.

"The term is 'compartmentalization'," Pascal looked back to explain. "It enhances security and limits the chaos inflicted by surprise attacks. With all the illusion, teleportation, and alchemical transmutation spells we have available, just how hard do you think it would be to insert a strike team of infiltrators and saboteurs?"

One of the key tactics of military special operations was 'Insertion', where a small number of elite troops would infiltrate hostile lines to destroy high value targets and/or sow confusion before a major assault. The availability of magic added a whole new dimension into this realm of asymmetric warfare, as commandos could literally appear out of thin air to wreak havoc upon a military base.

"Couldn't they just ward this place in the same fashion as castles? I mean there are thousands of mages in this army."

"--And each with a finite reserve of ether that they need to perform other tasks, including fighting," Pascal highlighted the opportunity costs. "Remember that exposed ether slowly degrade and diffuse their energy back into mana? The magical requirements to keep large-scale wards and barriers continuously running grows astronomical over time. Castles, cities, and permanent fortifications are built over ley-lines where they may benefit from a Projection Focus -- have you read about those yet?"

"They're enchanted devices that uses magic from ley-lines to power wards," Kaede mustered a simple reply.

She had mostly glanced over them. For someone more interested in the far-reaching, sociological impacts of technology, she often found herself bored by the technical, inner workings of 'machines'. To skip past the minute details to see how innovations altered civilizations and shifted cultures was far more fascinating.

"That would be correct," Pascal nevertheless gave her a passing grade. "But remember that natural mana, not processed ether, flow through the spiritual ley-lines that stretch across the land. Without a soul to refine it, mana lack the malleability of ether that would allow them to simply be injected into a supernatural spell effect."

In other words, Kaede summarized, you can't pour crude oil from a derrick straight into the engine and expect it to run...

"This is where the Projection Foci devices come in," Pascal continued on. "They are built specifically for their deployment locale, attuned to the ley-lines each taps by design. They also do not refine the mana itself, as nothing but a soul could achieve that. Instead, the Projection Foci harnesses the magical pressure of the mana stream to energize near-depleted ether cycling through wide-area spell fields."

The mental imagery that Kaede painted was a steam engine connected to a geothermal vent. The machine would utilize natural heat rising from the ground to cycle water into steam and through it, create pressure that translated into mechanical torque.

"But of course, armies in the field have no such blessings," Sylviane tagged on to speed the conversation along as they neared the destination. "So mages can either use their ether reserves to fortify their camps, or they can boost the army's mobility and enhance its combat effectiveness." Then, as she looked back with a grin: "Bet you can guess which choice Weichsel picks."

"Of course," the familiar girl smiled back. The Weichsel army always attacks.

Her magic sensitivity could feel the tingle of layered magical auras as they passed into the innermost camp. Only this small area offered a full assortment of wards that would block teleportation and detect all manners of intrusion, since it protected the single most vulnerable point of failure for a Monarchy State -- the King.

...

King Leopold's expandable cabin -- or at least the outer room -- featured little more than a row of cushioned chairs and a huge workdesk that doubled as a map table. The only decorations were the man-sized Black Dragon Crest adoring the wall behind him, flanked by the judging stares of oil portrait copies on each side: the founding King Leopold I von Drachenlanzen, and his greatest general, the 'Commoner Marshal' Hermann von Mittermeyer.

"Pascal," the smiling figure in his adult prime looked up from a stack of parchment. "It's good seeing you again. How have you been? Brilliant work you did for our country in the Skagen campaign, and your familiar as well," he nodded towards Kaede.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the Landgrave stood sharp to return a knightly salute. Meanwhile Kaede followed it with one of her own, glad to skip the curtsy now that she was an 'Honorary Lieutenant' of the Weichsel army and holder of the Knight's Cross.

"I do wish I could have been here for the battle yesterday as well."

"What, two ranks of promotions in just three months not enough for you?" the King quipped in good humor before gesturing to the whole group. "Please, grab a seat."

"It is not about the rank, Your Majesty. It is about the opportunity and experience," Pascal added as Lady Mari pulled up a chair for her mistress, prompting Kaede to follow suit. "I can learn all about command, leadership, and decision-making from books and lessons, but it is simply not the same as experiencing it in the heat of battle."

"Thanks," he muttered in surprise as Kaede offered his seat before taking her stand behind him.

Even I can be a good little familiar in front of your boss...

"Your insights do you merit, Pascal," the King lit an approving grin as he leaned back with a cup of steaming coffee. "What you just spoke of is exactly why I've sent for General... Professor von Marienfeld, to immediately begin developing a course for 'Command Exercises' using this 'Tabletop Wargaming' concept that we've discussed in letter. It's still far from actual experience, but it will at least put the tactical-track cadets in the spotlight as they formulate large-scale battle plans and respond to the ever-changing conditions of the battlefield."

Kaede beamed as she stole a glance at Pascal. She wasn't sure when he had began this conversation with the King, but it was always nice to see her suggestions receive adoption on a national level. The Prussian General Staff had first developed wargaming, or Kriegspiel, in the early 1800s using metal pieces and dice. But on Hyperion, the availability of magic meant they could enchant dedicated tables to automate the wargame's mechanics -- something not possible on Earth until the advent of the information age.

"Thank you for your support, Your Majesty," Pascal unfurled his own proud smile.

But before he had a chance to continue, the King snatched back the baton:

"So, I'm fairly certain I know what you came here for today. But before you speak of any adventurous fancy, I must know that you're meeting your current obligations."

King Leopold's fatherly smile vanished in an instant as his brown gaze beckoned a stern if not grim shadow.

"How is Nordkreuz doing?"

"It could have been worse, Your Majesty," Pascal sighed as though he really should have expected this conversation. "The final death toll reached just under sixteen thousand -- over one-quarter of the city's original population. Ninety percent of all structures within the city were either destroyed outright or damaged beyond repair, including all port facilities on the lake-side docks. Of the city's defenses, only Headquarters Keep and my estate survived in repairable conditions; the outer fortifications have been reduced to rubble and would need to be rebuilt entirely from scratch."

The faces within the room grew dark and darker as the Landgrave of Nordkreuz recited the aggregate numbers from his countless damage reports.

As a city that thrived from its strategic location, Nordkreuz served as both an important military staging point and the largest trade junction in Northern Hyperion. Yet now, with its fortifications gutted and its water traffic stopped, the city once known as the 'Jewel of the North' had become little more than a lakeside fishing village.

Well, perhaps not quite that disastrous, as Pascal began to list off the 'good news' next:

"But the most important factors are that one, the bulk of the city's population -- especially its richer, mercantile sector -- survived the calamity..."

It wasn't really fair that the city needed its rich more than the poor, but the world was never fair. The most essential resource for the city's reconstruction was money: coins to purchase supplies, hire engineers, and organize labor. Spare muscle always proved easier to find in the aftermath of a disaster; it was the materials and expertise that proved rare.

"--Two, the city held sufficient stocks to survive a long siege, and the bulk of our underground food storage facilities survived. Thanks to General von Falkenhausen's excellent logistical preparations, the army also left enough extra winter supplies and camping equipment that Nordkreuz will have little problem providing for its own refugees."

It'll still be an unpleasant winter for them, but it won't be a deadly one...

Without a shortage of food, water, and shelter, there would be no need for Nordkreuz's survivors to disperse into the countryside; not unless they feared a repeat of the disaster.

"--Three, our decisive victories against the Skagen forces have eliminated any major threats to the city and uplifted the morale of the populace. While there remains a great deal of sorrow, many even feel that their grievances have been avenged by Your Majesty and the army."

That was an optimistic assessment, as Pascal had omitted the outcry that called for the heads of the Skagen leaders. Weichsel's own propaganda certainly didn't help, as they piled on the blame for the Northmen's 'ruthless butchering of a civilian city' in order to draw the spotlight away from their own defensive failures. Nevertheless, it was true that civilian confidence had largely been restored.

Shadows of smile and confidence had returned to the King's lips after Pascal presented one point after another. By now, his eyes shone with light that not only agreed and approved, but stood impressed by the young liege lord still scarce of twenty.

...And that, was when Pascal added his finishing touch:

"In light of these conditions, I have created a system to fund rapid recovery and reconstruction for the city through the open trading of investment funds. All private commerce and industry owners have been invited to publicly speak their business propositions, where they will sell a percentile share of their future establishment in exchange for cash investments necessary for reconstruction. I have also taken initiative to do the same for the housing sector.

For the first time, the King's eyes widened as his mouth opened in silenced surprised. Then:

"You are just full of ideas, aren't you?" he chuckled with astonishment still trailing his voice.

Kaede was now grinning from ear-to-ear. The modern concept of a stock exchange had been established as early as 1600 when the Dutch funded the mercantile ventures of the East India Company, and the concept of 'investment shareholding' traces back even further to ancient times. She had also found hints that some of the Holy Imperium's commerce guilds, as well as the Grand Republic Merchant Alliance in Samara, might practice stock buying and investment trading in a limited degree. But this foundation of modern commerce has yet to establish itself in the militant state of Weichsel.

Since their return to Nordkreuz when she heard Pascal's financial concerns, Kaede had spent many hours inspiring and advising him to create such a system. Although her lack of business knowledge left countless questions unanswered, she had no doubts that the local business experts would be more than capable of filling in the blanks once the idea took hold.

"How are the local merchants and craftsmen liking it?"

The young lord shrugged as he answered his sovereign:

"Mixed, as with any new idea. Some think it is brilliant, some approach tentatively, and some reject it outright, fearing it will rob them of their business' freedom. Overall, the younger generations are more optimistic towards the concept than the older, more established. The guilds are also afraid that it will destabilize the hierarchy; so I had told them that if they want to control the market, invest, because Nordkreuz will rise from the ashes -- with them or without them," Pascal finished with a satisfied smirk.

"Ha-!"

The King had almost burst out laughing. Mirth filled his eyes as his lips and shoulders continued to shake in suppressed glee.

"I'll have to ask the good Cardinal to stay an eye on this project and keep me informed," King Leopold chuckled again before taking another drink from his coffee. "If this works, we'll need to consider expanding operations to the other cities."

"It will not be easy, since any established guild will feel threatened by their loss of market control," Pascal added.

"Well, I'm sure Adele will convince them somehow; she's a resourceful woman."

Leopold spoke his concluding words as though he knew exactly what kind of underhanded if not illegal methods Cardinal-Chancellor Lanckoroński utilized to make ends meet.

His hinting emphasis, however, sent signs of worried concern into Pascal's frown; though it did not last long as the King soon pushed on:

"You are your father's son, Pascal. I could not have asked for a more confident report of Nordkreuz's situation in light of recent circumstances," he nodded with an approving grin. "Thus... onto the main topic then! How many troops do you want?"

The Landgrave blinked back in surprise, and so did the silent Princess. None of them had expected the King to be this straightforward, or this easy.

"I didn't say I was going to agree yet," King Leopold raised a finger to add, as though reading their mind.

Clearing his throat, Pascal decided he might as well play along:

"One company of the Knights Phantom."

This time it became the King's turn to look astonished.

"That's it?"

"I would ask for two, but I doubt you will allow me that."

"Of course not."

It almost sounded as though the King was toying with his subject. But behind his swift reply was a lopsided frown and a pained look in his gaze.

"After the Skagen campaign and the Air Battle of Nordkreuz, I have less than five hundred Phantoms left, and that's including every graduating cadet for this year and the next."

That's only about three full-strength companies... Kaede figured.

The victory Weichsel achieved over the Grand Duchy of Skagen in this short war would cripple the naval and colonial power for years if not decades to come. But in doing so they have incurred heavy losses of their own, especially among the aristocratic cavalry corps that would prove difficult to replenish.