Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 5

“Lord Yuse, it appears that the Highserk Empire army gathered in the city of Saria has started to move.”

“Ah, finally,” responded Duke Yuse Mayard, slowly nodding to his subordinate’s report. The room was bustling with people coming and going, and pieces were being placed one after another on the map spread out before him.

Yuse had already requested reinforcements through magical devices from his suzerain state, Felius, and had sent couriers to villages and cities in the region, beginning the mobilization of the militia.

“Kingdom of Felius will be sending troops led by Lord Winston himself.”

“A Felius as well? They’re taking the threat seriously.”

Winston Felius, the younger brother of the King of Felius, was a battle-hardened commander deeply trusted by the king. Winston’s leadership indicated Felius’s commitment to not relinquish Mayard and was ready to confront the bothersome Highserk army, Yuse concluded.

Looking out the window of his room, Yuse saw a courier galloping through the gate.

“Five years since the last battle, it feels long yet surprisingly short,” he mused.

Yuse, amidst strong opposition, had executed scorched earth tactics and left the former Kingdom of Canoa. He was accused of selling his soul to demons or losing his sanity. He endured the unendurable, persevered through the unbearable, and fortified the border fortresses while training his soldiers. As the suzerain state, Felius had subjected him to numerous humiliating treatments.

All these efforts were for this moment. Yuse was aware that stalling for time was the most they could do at the border. The Highserk Empire, surviving in the furnace of war, was a nation specialized in warfare, with even its farmers experienced in combat.

Yuse, a participant in the conflict, had grossly underestimated the Highserk Empire. The majority held it as a weakened nation due to constant warfare. In reality, it was like a starved wolf, lean yet with sharpened fangs and claws, a painful realization to face. That’s why Yuse had wielded absolute power and prepared for five years.

“Shouldn’t we move the troops from Lake Selta?”

A subordinate pointed at the map, indicating the lake shared with three other countries, including the Highserk Empire. The lake had a substantial naval force. With about 700 men, these sailors would be of little use on land, and Yuse had no intention of deploying them.

“Sailors can’t perform half as well on land. Leave them.”

Besides, the lake required defenses. It was connected to Crest and Libertoa, and more importantly, “it” resided there. When Yuse first saw “it,” he almost lost his composure. Just thinking of Lake Selta brought to mind a report that Crest Kingdom had requested cooperation from Mayard’s navy to deal with “it.”

“Indeed… Crest Kingdom requested our help against ‘it’ after all.”

“Unfortunately, they chose a bad time.”

Even a proper navy couldn’t escape from “it.” Yuse understood Crest’s appeal to create alliance with him, the largest naval power on the lake, especially under the current international circumstances. It wouldn’t hurt to owe a favor.

“Help them, but don’t overextend.”

Yuse then turned his attention to incoming reports. Realistically, border defense looked bleak. Sending troops now would risk being defeated before all forces could gather, and Felius’s reinforcements wouldn’t arrive in time to help.

In such case, the decisive battlefield would naturally be limited. Considering logistics and the burden on soldiers, Yuse pinpointed the most defensible location on the map, the Liref Plains, specifically two high hills in front of the capital, Aidenberg.

“Prepare the stage and have Gerald and his men throw a grand ball.”

◆

The assembled Highserk Empire army overflowed from the fort’s training ground, spilling into nearby open spaces and main streets.

Walm’s unit, a part of the Reglia Battalion, had arrived early. As a battalion experienced in battles against the Libertoa Trade Federation, they were honored to receive words from the Mayard regional army commander in the training ground.

From the outside, it seemed a glorious battalion, but Walm resigned himself to it being akin to a school principal’s speech. The three fools, having enjoyed a flashy night, were pale from lack of sleep and alcohol. It was no surprise. With direct sunlight and reflected heat from the ground, their armor was getting heated, and it was only a matter of time before they felt the discomfort.

If this had been a battlefield, Walm might have cursed, but this was a simple ceremony before the Mayard campaign. Any rudeness could lead to dire consequences. The fully equipped soldiers stood in formation, their eyes fixed on the stage where the commander would appear. The attention was idol-like.

The stage, adorned with battle-hardened gear and 18,000 soldiers from nine battalions, vibrated with intensity. The person of interest, an elderly man with noticeable white hair, stood on the high platform. Despite being of average build, he emanated an undeniable presence. His eyes showed unwavering confidence and intelligence based on experience. His appearance silenced the crowd, and he began to speak.

“I appreciate your gathering here. I am Gerald Berger, commander of this army.”

Gerald Berger, the god of war of the Highserk Empire, had participated in and won every major war for 30 years. Known as the demon of Highserk by neighboring countries, he was respected by even the three major nations of Aleynard Forest Alliance, Garmud Archipelago, and Meilis Republic.

“You are the symbol of our empire’s martial prowess: veterans who have won skirmishes against Mayard, warriors who’ve faced the Libertoa, and those who daily crush monsters in the Demonic Territory.”

His voice, amplified by magical devices, echoed not only across the training ground but also through the streets and empty spaces. Not just the Highserk Empire army, but also the citizens of Saria had gathered to listen to the streets.

“As you know, the former Kingdom of Canoa, deceived by Felius, waged war against us five years ago. But have we returned to our peaceful lives since the war ended?”

Pausing for breath, Gerald continued.

“The answer is no, due to the betrayal of the treacherous Duke Mayard and the Kingdom of Felius. I need not tell you what they did, especially the battalion made up of Saria citizens. But let me remind you. They abandoned more than half of their people when in trouble, burned fields and crops, and stole all food and livestock.”

A typical scorched earth strategy was employed in the former Kingdom of Canoa. The Mayard troops and Felius army retreated to the designated defense line after burning military facilities, residences, fields, forests, and taking all food.

The Highserk Empire, close to victory, faced difficulties transporting supplies deep into enemy territory and had to rely on local procurement. Highserk had established transport lines by combining rivers and warehouses, but the lack of magic bags and carts made further advancement impossible.

Felius and Mayard hoped to lure and defeat the struggling Highserk Empire, but the plan hadn’t worked as the transport lines and food provided by the local eastern Canoa people, though barely avoiding starvation, were keeping the troops alive. However, rebuilding the occupied territory took over five years.

Both the Kingdom of Felius and the Duke of Myard were not mere bystanders. They dispatched their armies several times for the reclamation of the land. However, the Highserk Empire, thanks to an unexpectedly efficient transportation network, managed to hold its ground without collapsing and emerged victorious. Attempts were made to incite mutinies among the soldiers and create rebellions in the cities, but they failed due to lack of public support.

“With the elite of Saria, we will end this five-year war against them. Fear not and crush the enemy! Everything you desire is in Mayard! We’ll show Mayard and Felius! Death to them!”

“Death to them!” the soldiers echoed.

Gerald Berger’s banging on the podium ignited the training ground as soldiers shouted, stomping the ground and raising their weapons. Walm joined in, reading the atmosphere. Some, like Walm, were just fitting in, but most seemed wrapped in fervor.

The speech boosted the soldiers’ morale. The experienced commander was adept at inspiring people, truly a heroic product of the military state and endless conflict.

The city seemed to tremble with the people’s fervor. The Highserk Empire, militaristic in its approach, was aggressive despite many defensive wars. Not everything felt right, but the endless war might end with the downfall of Mayard and Felius. While aware that he might be getting manipulated, a glimmer of hope was beginning to sprout within Walm. A change was on its way.

As the afterglow of the speech lingered, the troops began to move. Bloodthirsty soldiers and excited warhorses began to move as one entity. The curtain was rising on the Mayard campaign.