Chapter 162: Roaring Harrak

“So, tell me, what have you learned?” the king asked.

 

His spymaster picked his notes. The old fox didn’t need them as his memory was pretty much perfect, but old habits were a safe house where the mind could more easily find its focus.

 

“To start with, the weak. Their cavalry consists of exiled nobles from various nations. Their equipment is subpar and they lack tradition, thus cohesion and meaning. As for now, we assess that they will remain a non-issue for the next two decades. The only compliment we can make is that they exist and train hard. Not every city-state can field heavy cavalry, after all.”

 

“I am well aware. Especially not one led by Lord Rollo, who was supposed to join the royal host, hmm?”

 

“Ahem, yes. That’s where the good news stops. The crossbow troops are quite capable. We estimate that their paths and gear gives them unmatched penetration at their step. They are a danger to even heavily armored troops.”

 

“Like our own knights?”

 

“Even during a charge when our defenses are at their highest. My aides and I assess that the effect will only grow in power as their best soldiers take more steps along their path. We are not quite sure how they will compare to experienced archers down the line but we are certain they will pose a greater threat to elites.”

 

“The infantry?”

 

“Best on the continent.”

 

The king lifted a brow but the spy master merely gave an apologetic shrug.

 

“It is the truth. They have the best training and some of the best gear outside of royal guards that could possibly be achieved. No nation on Param would spend so much iron on a single soldier, except for New Harrak, and they have not proven avaricious even by imperial standards. Their performance during the battle was exemplary. We also have several confirmed occurrences of shield wall charges, a technique that was thought lost with the last legacy free companies. When I say they are the best on the continent, I mean it. No other regiment can compare. And there are almost a thousand of them.”

 

“Hmph. The casters?”

 

“If I may, Your Majesty…”

 

The king gave assent and the spy master reached for a drawing. It was a detailed side view of one of those abominable constructs, this one a strange mix of elegance and brutality. The shield array showed an exquisite attention to detail while the front was a hellish maw of blades and spikes, ready to rend shield walls like a ravenous beast of metal.

 

“Those… what do they call it?”

 

“Armored portable shield arrays sir, though the Harrakans use outlander speech, sometimes calling them ‘tanks’ and sometimes, ‘blindés‘.”

 

The king rolled those words on his tongue. Savage languages used on worse things.

 

“What about them?”

 

“They may represent a step up in military doctrine for small, agile, elite formations. For any other armies, they would be thoroughly expensive and impractical. It only works because…”

 

“Of the quality of their individual soldiers, and the expertise of their engineers. You believe those should be considered pivotal.”

 

“Yes. And their fabrication remains shrouded in mystery. I recognize them as heavily modified yries drill machines. They use cores for energy. That version though…”

 

The king held back a shiver.

 

“I thought the yries were peaceful and isolationist.”

 

“Not those. They seem to hold a grudge against Prince Lancer, may Enttiku rest his soul.”

 

“And it was enough to overturn centuries of peaceful isolationism?”

 

“Well, yes and no. Gossiping with the Harrakans revealed that the warring group is led by an individual named Lak-Tak, and that he, and I quote, ‘doesn’t hate humans but sure loves killing them’. His tribe sees him as a lunatic. They fear and respect him in equal measure.”

 

The king sighed with meaning. Once again, the spymaster held the powerful man’s gaze with polite distance.

 

“So the witch found herself a murderous yries and put him in charge of those war machines?”

 

“It is only a matter of time before all their arrays double as a speeding battering ram and there are few men who would stand still with that abomination racing down a slope heading for them; Your Majesty, we must take this seriously. There is also the matter of tactics. Their square formation is not the best to cover space and they can be easily surrounded. However…”

 

“They do not have a clear weakness.”

 

“No. In this regard, surrounding them only means that all of their forces can engage at once. We also estimate that, provided the array is occupied by one of their archmages, they could withstand strategic spells.”

 

“You cannot be serious!”

 

“Head on. And the archmages would no doubt retaliate. Duke EIkart’s mages report that almost none of the Nemeti’s projectiles reached the shield untouched. They were all intercepted and dispersed. ”

 

“About those archmages…”

 

“Sidjin the Fallen Prince, a new Hallurian prodigy named Rakan of the Four Colors, and Elunath’s most talented apprentice who men have come to call the Tide Weaver. They are just as dangerous as we were led to believe. Frustratingly so considering the little effort the witch had to make to rally them to her cause. Insolent luck. In any case, the slaying of Elunath was no fluke. Your Majesty, you have seen what they can do. You have seen the elemental witch fighting from the back of a dragon. Need I say more?”

 

“Indeed not. I know Sangor must have contemplated killing them, yet he has never made an attempt or Jaratalassi would have kept them apart. What can you tell me?”

 

“We know that the Harrakan military is bloated compared to their size. For now, they are little better than an average northern city-state in terms of wealth and population, however. What we did not expect was that as numerous as their warriors are, it is in, shall we say, specialists, that they have the highest numbers.”

 

“You mean the freaks?”

 

“Your Majesty, this term poisons your judgment.”

 

“My mother died on their blades, or have you forgotten?”

 

“Must we have this discussion again?” the spymaster said with sadness.

 

The two men sat in silence while the king mulled over old grudges. The spymaster knew his king put the kingdom before his own emotions. It was only a matter of time.

 

“Very well. The Hadals protect her.”

 

“Not just them. The Harrakan war golem never sleeps and never shuts down. Its sense can pierce through the thickest veil. She is also mostly immune to poison and diseases. All those factors together provide her with a level of protection that even the most powerful of rulers would struggle to equal. I cannot think of a feasible way to eliminate her with any degree of reliability. Militarily, they could be defeated but the cost…”

 

“Would be prohibitive. They made themselves too tough of a nut to crack for the benefits it would bring.”

 

Silence returned to the luxurious tent while the king mulled things over.

 

“This situation is not unlike an abscess no one wants to pierce. Whoever does it will pay a heavy price and get no rewards, but if the situation is allowed to fester, we may see a return of the empire, and this time, its weaknesses will not be easy to manage anymore. Not with the teleportation system. Or the way so many various cultures seem to just… accept her rule. Somehow.”

 

“There is much that could still go wrong. As you said, the witch has united many groups under a single banner, and the peace is only kept by her presence. It would take little for the whole edifice to collapse.”

 

“You told me many times not to rely on the failure of others for my own success.”

 

“Some of those difficulties could be… induced. It would be difficult, considering she has the support of Lady Azar.”

 

“She could be removed.”

 

“She is an old fox with connections who has survived the Baranese court for decades. Underestimating her or the people who surround her would be foolish.”

 

“I am sensing a pattern, old friend.”

 

“And you are correct. I would rather shove my hand in a crimson anthill than send an assassin to Kazar. For now, I believe they should be left to develop because the price of interference would be prohibitive. Besides, Harrak is a thorn in Enoria’s side more than in ours. Better to leave them to grow until their power structure becomes more complex with the inevitable weaknesses it brings. Sovereigns rely on their ruling class, and nobles are always hungry for more. Cracks will appear and when the time comes to widen those cracks, we will have the tools to do so. I will make sure of it.”

 

“Good, because in a hundred years…”

 

“I know.”

 

The spymaster unfolded a map on the table between them. It showed Halluria, now with considerably more detail than there used to be even a year before.

 

“Concerning your other questions, I have talked to the others. We are not certain the project is feasible.”

 

“A fortified city in Halluria would be much easier to defend than half a continent of borders.”

 

“With all due respect, the Northerners disagree. Jaratalassi says that lifting a siege on a city inside of Halluria would be excessively difficult. The risk of early strikes by surviving Hallurians warriors is… non negligible as well, should we send troops now. All for a land we have all seen as inhospitable for centuries. We would be hard-pressed to even find volunteers willing to be posted there. I fear Halluria might remain hallurian for the time being.”

 

“This is the perfect opportunity to expand…”

 

“I am sorry, sire. Our people simply do not wish to expand into that hellhole.”

 

“We are landlocked. This is the only direction open to us. My ancestors and I have been defending our borders for as long as our history has lasted. With Enoria on the rise, this is our best chance.”

 

“I would suggest outposts then. I believe Hallurian civilians might be more receptive to offers of alliance now that most of their warriors have perished. I have contacts among the exiles. We could arrange something alone, carefully.”

 

“If this is the best we can achieve, you have my approval.”

 

***

 

Viv leaned towards her army’s first defection. Jaratalassi stood at a distance, hands worrying a wide-brimmed hat. Viv had never seen it before. It was a nice hat. Very stylish.

 

“If you are certain…” she finally said.

 

The gray-haired Bitter Heart wilted under her gaze. She was red as a lobster, to the point that one of her friends spontaneously came to pat her hand.

 

“Yes… He’s a very nice man,” the crossbow woman squeaked.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

 

“Then you have my blessing. I officially release you from my service and wish you the best luck in, ah, matrimony?”

 

“Courting first!” her friend said.

 

“Well, yes. Fine. And if the old steel trap doesn’t behave…”

 

“Oh, no problem!” her friend said. “We already threatened him.”

 

“Good. Well, good luck then.”

 

Viv stood, announcing the end of the meeting. She still managed to corner Jaratalassi before he could give her the slip.

 

“Stop poaching my soldiers.”

 

“It’s just the one, Viviane. I’ll be good.”

 

“You’d better or the next Harrakan to grace your bed will be Solfis.”

 

***

 

Harrak had lost almost fifty people in a single campaign, with many more wounded. Viv wasn’t sure how she felt about it. The early battles had been difficult but she felt she’d done her best. Some things could have gone better, like the ammunition situation. Some others were, well, they’d gone amazingly well. In theory, most losses happened during a rout, or from diseases, at least in medieval armies so… everything seemed consistent.

 

A part of her whispered it was her fault, that they’d followed her to their death. There had been screams in the wounded tents. The more rational part reminded her she could only try her best and keep going, or find someone better. Problem was, Param was fresh out of outlander archmages with a basic understanding of politics and propaganda.

 

//The convoy is ready, Your Majesty.

//Let us head home.

 

“Alright.”

 

The local armies were filing out of the valley in good order. As one of the smaller groups and the more easily mobilized, Harrak was ahead of the larger troops. The portal was working non stop to transport soldiers away but it was only so wide. She used the opportunity to look back from her spot at the front of the column among her knights, towards the regiments standing between supply carts and yries war machines. Spirits seemed high, perhaps because of the bonus pay that came with more loot. Viv thought they were just jaded, too used to constant death. For Paramese standards, things were fine.

 

A memory came to her, unbidden. It was the mountain of burning corpses left in the trail of the loyalist army after they’d turned west. That was the norm. She was still soft compared to the locals. She didn’t think it would ever change.

 

And then there were the Kark and the maniacs at the end. Harrak was the only nation that returned from the war with more people than what it had started with. Her new minions whispered excitedly among themselves in all their strange variety of skin color and faces.

 

“You think we should learn their languages?” Viv asked the golem as they slowly moved forward.

 

//I believe it will be required sooner or later.

//I also have plans for a new… military unit.

 

“You think the Nemeti will return?”

 

//They will, but not in the same way.

//I’ve discussed it with your daughter.

//Our opinions align.

 

“You guys have discussions on the nature of fate magic?”

 

//Yes.

 

“Without me?”

 

//As shocking as the concept might be, Your Majesty,

//We are fully independent entities capable of engaging in valuable exchanges of information without your input.

 

“Yeah yeah, okay. So what was it about them returning?”

 

//Just as when the Nemeti start winning, they become unstoppable,

//If they do lose as decisively as they have here, the precedent it sets will actually hurt them.

 

“So they can’t do another land assault.”

 

//Or they would do it at a massive disadvantage.

 

“So they might attack by sea next time? Would that work?”

 

//Yes.

//Which is a massive problem.

 

“I don’t think it will happen for a while. We can always resurrect the Harrakan fleet.”

 

Solfis remained silent for a disturbingly long amount of time.

 

“What?”

 

//My programming makes it difficult to criticize Harrak.

 

“So the empire had a shit fleet?”

 

//The glorious empire achieved many victories.

//Such as in Traeste, off the coast of Bokore, or at Centi.

 

“Against rebels?”

 

//Well.

 

“Against rebels, Solfis?”

 

//Yes. Also yes. And pirates.

 

“Huh. And, errr, who are the best sailors around?”

 

//With the fall of the shadowlands, much of the northern cities have lost their naval military traditions.

//Right now, Vizim is the dominant sea power.

//According to the reports I have read.

 

“And Harrak, historically…”

 

//Has struggled to catch up.

//It did not help that, compared to you, the old rulers tended to be less, shall we say…

 

“Receptive of other cultures?”

 

//This statement is correct.

//Your flexibility gives me hope for the development of our future naval power.