Chapter 9

Up to the day the raider attack was launched against the army, Hoen and Taran had added a total of thirty-seven creeks, fourteen ridges, and another river to Treverorum’s otherwise sparse map of rolling, untamed Freidaland veldt south of the Trans. There was simply no habitation anywhere in the country away from the Wettar.

“All of this woodland confounds me,” grumbled Taran. “Each one looks like the next.”

“Well, it doesn’t help that they are all roughly the same size. Hmm. Quite a few are probably gonna be cleared at some point, so no use being too exact here; we draw only those large enough and those growing along the major landmarks. For the rest, we polka-dot this whole area to indicate the presence of scattered copses and groves.”

The landscape was well-suited for marauding bands to ambush a large army and then ride away and disappear. In bolder attacks, such as what had just befallen the platoons, the enemy could use mobility and momentum to strike hard. There was no use trying to chase them all over the veldt, so at the meeting with General Spetz some of the commanders argued in favor of digging in, occupying all of the notable features in the open land, such as the hills and ridges Hoen and Taran had identified, but the general was keen on dislodging the enemy from the Trans, as this had been the line from which the attacks were launched and which gave their movements a defined core… and that will need an invasion from practically the entire army. Assembling that many troops to a particular theater, however, will take a lot of time, and none of the commanders could even estimate exactly how long it would take.

What they could do in the meantime, however, was to consolidate several platoons. Ten of those which suffered the most casualties were dissolved, and the rest reorganized into thirty battalions of about three hundred each. Hoen and Taran were taken directly into General Spetz’ tent… not that it improved the perception of them among the troopers and even some of the commanders.

The two of them spent two days in that tent finalizing and redrawing the sketches they made into a coherent map. Four copies of this were then made, one remained with the general, the rest delivered by armed contingent back to the river Wettar, where they sailed downstream to where it empties into the Asage; there, the destroyer Seahorse from Treverorum’s Fifth Fleet was to pick them up and take them to the naval base at Klara along the seaway. From there the three maps shall be flown directly to the imperial palace, one of which sent to the Emperor Faern herself.

The arrival of the maps in Treverorum caused something of an uproar at the imperial court and elsewhere in the halls of power. It was detailed to a degree never seen before.

“It is as a completely different land altogether,” remarked the Emperor to her personal scribe.

Also present with her in the Caesar’s drawing room were the imperial husband and bodyguard and praetorian captain, the imperial daughter and heir apparent, and the imperial son and deputy bodyguard. The daughter was especially piqued. “Mother, this must be the first map of the wilderness I have ever seen.”

“Which should not be the case, child. We had our own map. I had expected you to know your geography.”

“Pardon my oversight, o Mother,” she said with a little embarrassed smile. “I always thought our attention should be more on the South Seas, the Old Realm in particular.”

“No, child. You can forget Sinae, our lineage had been there long enough, anyway. This here country will be of great import in the coming years, nay, it is important now. Hic manebimus optime.”

Before the week has passed, an old battlecruiser called at port of Treverorum itself. Now, the Treverorian navy had no more battlecruisers, electing to build each fleet around two capital ships, a full battleship and a carrier, surrounded by numerous and highly mobile destroyers, without any halfway boats such as cruisers. The old cruisers have either been scrapped, sold, or donated. And this one had been donated to the warlord Five-Moon to be her personal transport.

The Sister was not alone. Accompanying her was the eldest of them five, One-Bloom.

After being received by the imperial house for a grand luncheon, they both ascended to the Upper Library, where one of the other two maps was displayed on the wall. The imperial daughter stood on the floor with the two sisters whilst the emperor herself watched the proceedings from a seat on a low balcony.

“Our port at Klara is a minor one,” said the Daughter. “Why would you suddenly be interested?” This, knowing full well that they simply wanted a foothold for themselves along the seaway.

“Our host is being modest,” said One-Bloom. “Your noble harbor is a large one, I have been told. But it is also one which is not much used by your grand navy, indeed, it seems the Fifth only appeared there after Her Excellency had commanded them to shadow the invasion of Freidaland.”

“Could there be something amiss about our fleet being there, I wonder?”

“No, Your Grace,” Five-Moon was quick to reply. “If anything, we can support your presence by hosting our armies there, mine and my sister’s.”

“I hear Ozhakoland is rather under-equipped and had to borrow a column from our second-youngest,” added One-Bloom. “I have no news whether the promised help had arrived. When it comes to land forces, the contribution of two mechanized armies will always be better than one, and you can count on us to deliver.”

The servants were going around the floor offering sweet tidbits in finest jade bowls as they discussed. One of the treats caught the eye of the younger Sister and she visibly fawned as she took a handful for herself. She washed, no, guzzled it down with the tea. And then another fistful. The Daughter wanted to make a remark over that, but she felt her mother’s stare at her back. Well… a comment over something else will do.

“What do you think of that river there?” The Wettar. Both sisters were startled at the mention of that one detail coming so soon.

“Well…” said Five-Moon munching down the last of the pralines, “…it will be….” Munch. “…a wonderful route into the interior.”

“Did you see those parts that are lightly shaded? It is not navigable all the way.”

“…”

“Our Fifth Fleet finds it much more useful as a landmark.”

“Landmark,” huh? There do not seem to be any more point in putting off a particular topic. “Our sister Four-Leaf can be responsible for anything that happens to the east of the river, as this country faces Ozhakoland itself, where she has a city on the seaside.”

“Yes, esteemed lady. I think you will find it much more convenient to focus on your side of the river, after all, that place leads up to the Trans, where all the excitement is currently ongoing.”

“…”

“This Trans… That is where you are supposed to deliver your goods, am I right?”

“…”

The sisters paused to collect themselves. They knew the empire kept tabs on their every move, but… they weren’t planning on mentioning anything about delivering goods, they didn’t count on Treverorum prying that far. It was One-Bloom who finally spoke up for them both. “We… we pledge to support your designs on the region, Your Grace, Your Excellency.”

“Hm? ‘Designs?’ That is a strange choice of words, coming from you.”

“…”

The emperor herself now addressed the Sisters. “You shall excuse my daughter, she also had a slip of the tongue. What she actually meant is that you are noble ladies and just rulers who are of noble and refined speech. She has a high opinion of you, you see.” To her daughter, “Please stand aside for now, child. Let the vizier bring the gifts first to our noble guests. We shall resume afterwards.”

Hm… “also.”

After presenting the sisters with fine ceremonial swords, a bejeweled saber for the eldest and a scimitar of silvered blade and gilded hilt for the youngest, the emperor summoned the scribe to write a decree to the Fifth and the naval station at Klara, sealed and signed by herself and both warlords, instructing them to receive the joint forces of One-Bloom and Five-Moon and provide support in whatever way they can. The sisters shall primarily deliver hardware to the front, and no more than a few hundred men from the combined army are to land at a time. And yes, they should all arrive by sea.

Later that night, after consulting with her daughter and the advisor of the seas, which is to say, the minister of foreign affairs, the emperor Faern ordered him to wire Port Lilan. The mapping of Freidaland is to stop.

This one meal reminded Taran very much of a New Year’s feast.

Back in Treverorum and especially in Aquileia, at the stroke of midnight everybody sat down to food and drink amidst the roar of fireworks. Out here in the veldt, in the shadow of a large wood, Spetz’ XI battalion was serving lunch in a field kitchen amidst the roar of their artillery pounding the land approaching the Trans. In a few hours another wave of troops shall be sent beyond the current earthworks they have knocked up over the past few days to establish new battle lines. Day after tomorrow, they could start moving the cannons forward, and they will able to fire at the Trans itself.

Taran slumped down on the ground at the foot of a tree to rest after finishing the meal. She had just come in this morning from a sortie as a rearguard. She had been volunteering to go out on missions everyday, and yet the general kept a tight leash on her, as one still regarded as an agent of the census, restricting her to staying with the XI except to cover the other batallions from behind. To be sure, there were minor attempts from the enemy to flank the army, but Taran and her fellows kept driving them away.

Just this past week, for instance, the enemy was about to stage a major ambush on the supply train. A company of them wearing captured army uniforms walked toward one of the trucks, and the raw recruits from Lilan wouldn’t have suspected anything until they were too close, but Taran had the experience and the daring to open fire before they can even touch the truck. The raiders were very much caught off guard and easily scattered after a brief shootout.

Her hard work did not go unnoticed, and the ill will against her and Hoen have quieted down. Nobody had harrassed them as they took their share of food from the kitchen, though the cold stares were still there and nobody wanted to talk to them.

Hoen brought her another tray and settled next to her in the shade. “Are you still trying to impress those guys?”

“I just wanna nap…”

“I keep hearing one thing from these blokes. You should be at the vanguard.”

Not a bad idea, she mused idly.

“A few guys want you to take on an amazon. Seriously, they are being petty.”

“There hasn’t been an attack since that day, right…?”

“Exactly.” He took a spoonful from the serving he had brought for her. “I’m having this if you won’t.”

“Go ahead…”

“It’s not our fault that we are more important than them and deserve to be shielded. If they want to be treated de luxe, they should go back to school and be experts, too. It’s only fair.”

“Somebody’s gonna hear you again.”

“I’m only telling the truth. Look, all of us are equally worked to the bone here. So what if we don’t fight as much as they do? All of us just doing chores more than half the time ever since we crossed the bridge.”

“Uh-huh…”

“What they’re doing here is technically no different from being the hired hands they are back at Lilan. If anything, they are just as liable to get mugged at the Lilan backstreets as get shot by horsey chimps out here.”

“But no amazons.”

“Tch.”

“Hey, I’m just telling the truth.”

“Quit trying to please them, full stop! Anything you do will never be enough.”

“I haven’t even tried being a vanguard, silly. Besides… Maybe I want to see another of your chimps at spitting range again for a change. Talk to them, maybe.”

“Hah!? And for what? Do they even have a language?”

“The brass insist on that Trans every time. A highway is no place to live in, surely there must be someplace the riders are actually coming from. What was that city at the end of the Trans… Blom, was it?”

“Bloomfonten.”

“There must be more of them there. Holding the place down. Likely enslaving the populace. A lot of them must have settled there, even.”

Hoen only stared at her. “What’s with the sudden interest, lad? You don’t mean to smoke a hookah with them and talk peace, do you? No way it’s happening, everybody knows that.”

“Idiot. We are mapping a country. You said we need to note down as many things as we see in a place to make a proper map. They are part of the country.”

And he had nothing witty to say to this. Do you really have to roast me, kid? “D-don’t twist my pronouncements like that!”

She yawned in his face and put a hanky over hers. “Bug off...”

“…”

“…”

“…”

In the end, he got to his feet and left her the tray. “I changed my mind. That lunch is all yours. Eat up, your hunger is getting to your brain.” And he walked away.

“…”

“I am full, dummy…”

She nodded off.

The following day met with discouraging news. The enemy beefed up their forces as soon as the bombardment ceased, and they put up a stiff resistance, some of them toting full auto heavy guns and even a few antitank rounds. The advance of the army has stalled.

At the same time, they were running low on shells.

By sundown, the first casualties have arrived from the front. More flowed in by the hour.

Taran spent the night digging a grave with the other men, and this time nobody complained. But oh… this constant death. It wears down the soul. One needed a way to somehow shore oneself up.

At around ten, after burying the last of the dead and taking her supper, Taran decided to head over to hospital tent, see if she can go as far as seeing patients without ruffling any feathers.

The men sitting at the bedside with their buddies were surprised to see her coming in. The medics and the doctor were tongue-tied. So this is one of the census men the soldiers kept murmuring about. The ivory-tower guys who stayed close to the top brass. The “royal family.” Taran pretended not to see them, looking over each and every one of the wounded. Taking in the scene, the smells…

Remembering that one dead guy she hugged in that old barn.

Somehow the pained look in her eyes transmitted itself to some of those of the patients in bed. Quite a few she recognized, and they recognized, as being with her in some of the skirmishes against the raiders trying to assault the rearguard. Quite a few regarded her with blank stares. She had no way of prying their inner thoughts. And then, she found one man in particular, at the far end of the tent, still growling, still breathing heavily, still bloody from a recent amputation. The stump of his left foot was bandaged and reeked of iron. She stood at his bedside, much to the alarm of the soldiers there. One of them reached her and grabbed her shoulder, but in one quick motion she threw him off of her and twisted his arm in return; the man fell back with cries of pain filling the tent. What a way to lift the spirits of the wounded.

She turned to the men aghast at this ruckus. “You can all report me to the general now. I entered into a hospital tent and raised trouble. Tell him. What you all really want. Make him put me out on the front lines.”

They were all speechless.

“I don’t know the kind of words to say to someone who got blown up, or chopped up, or shot down. There might as well be none. But I know how you feel about me and my mate ever since that amazon attack. If it will actually make you feel any better, tell Spetz to post me at the front!

“As for Vanzyck, I can’t make him go. But he knows how to shoot. Whether we can really keep the enemy from reaching us here, there is no warranty. But the moment they do and shoot at him, he will shoot back. He will shoot with the rest of you! That’s a guarantee!”

“…”

“…”

“So? What d’ya say?”

“…”

She heard one of the guys in bed chuckle. She turned round to see them. A number of them were already smiling. You snakes. Their bloodlust against her and Hoen was bolstering their mood. And at that moment, the men stepped forward and laid their hands on her. She did not resist.

They dragged her to the general’s tent. Spetz met them outside and tried to address them, “Men, stand down!”

Their angry hollers drowned him out. This army is too fresh and green for discipline.

“Why are you adding this mischief on top of our injuries?!”

“Injuries, sir?” went one. “He went into the tent of the injured and made fun of the bedridden! He dared them. To post him at the front. Let’s just do what the punk wants! He’s no loss to us.”

“Wait, wait. The mere fact that he is with Mr. Vanzyck—”

“I am at fault, general sir,” Taran spoke up. “Your men are uneasy. Please hear them out.”

Instead of hearing them out, though, Spetz motioned his own men to wrest Taran away from the crowd and take her into the tent. Once inside, he did not reproach her, only pacing up and down, save for, “What a time of the night to bring me a headache, you dirty lad!”

Well… Taran reflected, I will give him that. I’m sorry.