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Chapter 379: Forced Hands

After the pre-war negotiations had failed, Governor Mayu returned back to his troops, filled with resentment. As soon as that lowly servant called Fadelio was out of view, the governor’s subordinate lords had made excuses and left for their own forces as soon as possible. Not one of them had even tried to stay and strategize for their victory. At least they could have pretended to follow his command with some vague words like ‘we will await your orders’, but clearly, none of them had any plans of obeying their superiors.

He was still the commander of this army, was he not? Why then did it seem like no one ever listened to him, in no matters? And how could he coordinate the attack of the league if the lords of the league did not even stay to hear his orders?

Silenced from anger and resentment, he marched through the ranks of his warriors, into the temporary tent they had erected for him, and straight onto the seat they had brought along. After his last negotiations with his cousin Corco, he had made sure to carry the largest, fanciest chair he could find. Yet due to concerns from his fellow league members over ‘propriety’, he hadn’t even been allowed to bring it to the negotiations. At least it was comfortable, though that was the least of Mayu’s concerns.

So he sat there, still fuming over the insubordination of his lords. Every step he took on this doomed road, he felt control slipping from his hands, and so, bit by bit, the freezing desperation of the Mayura River’s water returned to his spine. Stunned, his head empty of all coherent thought, he looked beyond the heads of his readied troops and up the opposite hill, towards the enemies who seemed to have cursed him with constant failure.

Thus he sat, until Saniya’s army started to move. With their calm, even steps that shook the ground, they seemed like a flood wave, unstoppable in their advance, swallowing everything in their path.

Paralyzed by the cold that gripped his body, he could only look on and watch it happen.

“Governor, please give your orders.” His attendant’s reminder shocked him awake. Even though his mouth was dried out, he swallowed hard, before he replied in a raspy voice.

“Have our estimates come in? How many did they field?”

As he watched the endless masses uphill close in, he hoped that their impression was done through trickery, or that he simply overestimated their numbers due to his inexperience. Yet through his attendant’s words, he received his cruel verdict.

“Governor, our eagles estimate their total numbers to be around forty-thousand. At least a third of them seem to be proper warriors, and all of them carry professional equipment.”

Again, Mayu received bad news. If his body hadn’t been stiff already, his attendant could have easily seen his fear. On average, any one of the southern lords could muster up maybe six thousand warriors if times were dire. However, their alliance was only temporary after all.

None of his subordinate lords trusted their neighbors, so none had given their all for this war. Even Mayu had left half his troops back in Puscanacra. That was his seat of power after all. If he lost his estate, any victory on the front line would be hollow.

Many lords had thought the same, so in the end, they had only managed to gather around twenty-four thousand warriors altogether. On top of that, they had added another twenty-thousand commoners with javelins, bolas, and nets to break enemy warrior charges. Although the numbers looked comparable to his cousin’s troops, ten of the league’s commoners were barely enough to compare to one warrior.

Meanwhile, the commoners on Corco’s side were far from the usual fodder that other lords would field. Rather, they were known to be fierce troops armed with modern weapons. They had claimed many victories over the years - even against pure warrior armies -and were well-known for their bravery and discipline. These days, everyone in Medala would admit that a Saniya commoner with a rifle was worth almost as much as a warrior from any other estate.

In their haste, the league’s troops had been lured downhill, into a disadvantageous position, and they were outmatched in strength. Even worse, their enemies had longer range. In preparation for this war, Mayu had collected all the information he could about Corco’s previous battles. In all his fights, his cousin would never lead a charge to start the engagement. Instead, every single time, he would abuse the long range of his modern weapons to bait his opponents into unfavorable, costly attacks.

If today, the king chose the same tactics he had used before, he would only advance a few hundred steps before his long-range cannons would start to fire. At that point, Mayu would be forced into a decision: Either make a full retreat, or initiate an all-out charge uphill. Neither option appealed to the governor.

Damn Ogulno bastard. Some family you are! How dare you steer me here, surrounded by reefs, with a mutinous crew to boot! And then hand me the rudder!

Deep resentment brewed within the governor as he looked over to the right flank of his army. Of course he couldn’t see it through the tent, but somewhere over there, Ogulno would stand ready to command his own men. He was one of the few lords who had sent most of his warriors, but it didn’t relieve the governor’s resentment one bit.

After all, what else was his uncle to do? The king wanted his life, so his back was against the wall. If they didn’t win here today, House Ogulno would be the first to suffer. His uncle’s eagerness didn’t come out of a sense of duty or loyalty. All he cared about was self-preservation. As Mayu was brooding over his uncle’s selfishness, a great idea sprouted in his head.

That’s right, isn’t it?Isn’t everyone else acting selfish? So why should I help protect my uncle when he is clearly in the wrong? I have stretched out my neck to save Ogulno, yet what has he done in return? This entire mess is just my uncle’s fault in the first place. His plan, his foreign allies, nothing has worked out as he had claimed.

The only one who benefits is him, and the only one who has suffered is me. Why should I continue to support him? Why not be selfish myself for once? If I help Corco catch him, wouldn’t he go easy on the rest of us in return? Then we wouldn’t need a war, and we could go back to how things used to be!

Inspired by his own brilliant plan, Mayu realized that he didn’t have much time. He needed to order a temporary retreat now, before Corco’s army could open fire. Only then could he work out a more detailed plan and make contact with his cousin’s people.

He had to find a way to get Ogulno into a compromising position, one that would leave him vulnerable to attacks from their enemies. That part was easy. He just had to make his uncle part of some secret meeting, or maybe convince him to escape by himself, since the danger of defeat was too great. Then, he just needed to find a way to inform Corco of their plans, one his suspicious cousin would trust. Ogulno would be punished for his crimes, he would help his cousin solve a problem, and get clemency in return.

More and more, he felt that his idea was feasible. But first, he needed to somehow get this massive, unwieldy army to retreat in the next few seconds. For that, he had to force their hands.

Even though he was their governor and nominal leader, the other lords didn’t listen to his command, not really. Still, his men were the center of their army’s front line. Although the role had been forced on him, it also put him in a position to force the hands of the other lords through his own decisions.

Once the center of their army started to retreat, the other lords wouldn’t have a choice but to follow. Otherwise, they would be split up and broken for sure. Surely, the lords would resent him for his decision in the moment, but that was a risk he was willing to take. So long as he could guarantee their safety and gain some time, he could operate behind the scenes and get them all out of their dilemma. By then, he would not lose one bit of popularity, of that he was sure. Maybe he could even retain the ties between the lords of the league and thus strengthen his political power within Corco’s kingdom.

At once, Mayu had woken up from his lethargy and became active again. Now he had finally found his way out of the river. Just a short struggle and he would be back on solid ground. However, his happiness was short-lived. Before he could even make the first stroke, someone was hell-bent to drag him back into the waters.

As he stood up to give his orders for retreat, he heard the drums of war from his right somewhere speed up their tempo. Soon, more drums joined in all around him. As if they had coordinated among themselves, the warriors of the other lords started to scream, and soon the first estate army stepped out of formation and charged up the hill.

Not once had he considered that the other lords would be so stupid to attack before their hands were forced. What were these idiots doing?

Once again, the governor sank back into his seat. Just as quickly as Mayu had regained hope, he saw it dashed once more. Now, even the leader of the league’s army could no longer prevent the battle. Again, he felt the clammy cold of the river as the seas of bodies closed in on each other. If he didn’t want to look like a traitor, all he could do now was to order a charge as well. The decision had been completely taken out of his hands.

With a dry, disappearing voice, he ordered his attendant to charge up the hill, before he lost all strength in his body. The course of the future was no longer in his hands. Maybe, he thought, it never truly had been.

To his great misfortune, Kuka was a healthy young man in the prime of his life. In other places in the world, or maybe in another time, that would have given him the chance to make something of himself. In today’s Medala however, it meant that even as a commoner, he had the privilege to join in on the noble wars of the upper classes.

Of course, it was a privilege he had never asked for. In other words, he was forced, levied into a war he knew nothing about, like so many other people. In the end, his greatest crime had been that he had simply not been fast enough. When the old neighbor had come back from the city and told him to escape into the hills, he had blown off the old loon’s concerns. By the time he had realized the gravity of the situation, it had already been too late.

Thus, he had been caught by Lord Maygua’s henchmen and dragged along to the war, against his will. He had been handed a weapon he did not know how to use, against his will. And he had been stuffed into a formation he did not know how to handle, against his will. At least over the past few weeks, some older guys who had been levied together with him had taught him how to throw his bola properly, though that had been against his will as well. And now he, together with his teachers, was marching towards the enemies of his lord, against his will.

His mission was as simple as it was impossible: Charge the enemy warriors and pelt them with his bolas to disrupt their lines. Presumably, the noble masters behind him would then use the chance to break into the ranks of their bound opponents, though no one had bothered to tell him that much. That was how these battles usually went in Medala, or so he had heard from his old neighbor who had survived the ordeal once in his youth.

His only personal experience with battle were the warriors who sometimes came through the village. When they got bored or drunk, they would sometimes use their axes to cut down commoners for sport. Apart from seeing such an instance twice, he had never even been in a fight, like most Yaku commoners, let alone a war.

Now that he was in one, he understood even less why the masters loved fighting so much. All around him were screams, and blood. Though mercifully, he could no longer hear them since the first time the enemies had fired their infernal thunder cannons.

Even he, lowly and unknowing, had heard about the lightning miracle over the past few days. Since the gods were on the side of their enemies, it was no wonder that these people could command the thunder. Confronted with such force, he realized that he hadn’t come here to throw bolas at anyone. He had only come here to die.

By now, he was deaf, and all he could smell was the sharp scent of rotten eggs, but a hundred times worse. All that was in front of him was a wall of smoke, so he was almost blind as well.

Fretful, Kuka looked at all the masters behind him, the only thing he could still see. Although he was convinced of his imminent death, he was more afraid of them than he was of the foes up ahead. If he charged now, he would surely die. He knew that. Maybe, he would even offend the heavens for fighting their holy army.

However, those lightning strikes could only kill him at the worst. And maybe, just maybe, the heavens would even be merciful and spare his life. Yet should he oppose the masters behind him, he had no illusions on his chances. He would surely be struck down on this hill if he so much as dared to slow down.

Worse, his masters still controlled the lives of his family, who were waiting for him back in his home, only a short day’s walk from Lord Maygua’s castle. He knew what was done with the families of traitors. Thus, he steeled his heart, and tightened his grip around the leather bands of his bola.

At that moment, a gust of wind ran across the hill. It soothed his fear and cooled his sweat-soaked skin, and it cleared the stink around and fog in front. He felt as if the heavens had granted him one final mercy. Now at least, he could see what was to come.

In front, he saw his lord’s foes. They stood in a neat row in the same posture, as if they were all one man. In their hands, the held countless thunder cannons, all aimed in his direction. One last time he heard the sound of thunder, before the gods took mercy, and the world went dark.