Chapter 685: Defensive Tactics
The scent of war was drawing near, yet for the current Cecil Empire, this was hardly the ideal time to engage in battle.
At Longwind Fortress, its towering walls rose between rolling hills and open plains. The bastion walls stretched for dozens of kilometers, bracing against the increasingly chilly autumn wind. Bathed in the brilliant sunlight of the high sun, the stone ramparts shimmered with a faint golden glow. Embedded runestones flickered softly with magical energy, enveloping the entire fortress in a barely perceptible protective shield. Vigilant soldiers stood atop the walls and watchtowers, their eyes fixed intently on the direction of the Typhon Empire.
Inside the fortress, a loosely formed squad of newly stationed soldiers marched between the barracks. A stern instructor from the Cecil Legion stood by the roadside, overseeing their training with unwavering seriousness. Nearby, an experienced fortress veteran watching the recruits couldn’t help but shake his head. “These troops can’t fight for their lives… They might manage against bandits back home, but facing the Typhon forces here? Seven or eight of them tied together wouldn’t even be enough to die.”
“Those drills from the Cecil Legion can quickly get these rookies into shape—at least enough to follow orders,” another veteran chimed in.
“That still takes time. These conscripts were probably wielding hoes and pitchforks just a couple of days ago…”
Mariland, clad in full armor and gripping his sword, walked along the wall. The veterans’ conversation reached his ears, and the new soldiers’ lackluster performance caught his eye.
After completing his inspection, the fortress commander returned to the command post within the castle district. His adjutant—a sharp, capable young man with black hair and brown eyes—was already waiting.
“General,” the adjutant saluted, “the scouts have returned with intelligence.”
“Hm,” Mariland nodded. “The Typhon forces are making moves again?”
“A group of engineering mages is constructing additional walls, stables, and barracks on the hills west of Winterwolf Fortress. It’s a sizable operation. We don’t know exactly how many troops they can house yet, but they’ve dug at least four new wells.”
“The Blacksteel Knights or the Iron River Knights must be arriving soon. Both are specialized in heavy assault and storming fortresses,” Mariland said gravely. “The Typhon forces won’t wait much longer.”
The young adjutant said nothing—no fear, no hesitation—his face calm and composed.
Mariland silently approved of his adjutant’s steady demeanor, then turned to the reports on the desk.
“The last batch of mercenaries we could muster has arrived at the front line,” the fortress commander sighed softly. “After them, the entire Eastern Territory probably can’t even field a thousand men.”
The situation was grim, but facts were facts—the manpower was stretched thin, and Longwind Fortress’s garrison was all they had.
The empire had just endured a year-long civil war and a disaster that swept across half the Holy Spirit Plains. The kingdom’s main forces had been decimated in successive battles. Now, aside from a handful of surviving elite units, only the southern Cecil Legion remained available. Yet half of those troops had to stay home to maintain postwar order. The number of soldiers that could be sent to Longwind Fortress was limited. The high command had already dispatched the best troops and most powerful weapons available, but Mariland knew it still wasn’t enough.
Meanwhile, the Typhon Empire was continuously reinforcing their ranks with mixed units of mages, knights, and supernaturals. These were not ordinary soldiers who could be easily defeated by standard thermal rifles or a few medium-caliber fortress cannons. To counter them, either the fortress garrison had to double in strength, or the Iron Throne had to be brought to the front line.
But neither was possible.
Mariland had done his best to mobilize noble mercenaries from the Eastern Territory, supplemented by a small contingent of mountain troops from the Northern Territory, barely plugging the gaps in the defense line. Yet under a strong assault, those gaps would likely be breached within two days.
He had to find a way to bolster the fortress’s defenses.
His gaze swept over the operational map beside him, slowly scanning the buffer zone along the border between the two nations, the Typhon’s Winterwolf Fortress, and the few outposts already discovered.
The primary principle of defense was self-preservation, which could be achieved in many ways: becoming impervious to weapons, eliminating threats before they could strike, or… deterring the enemy from attacking altogether.
Though the garrison strength at Longwind Fortress couldn’t be increased, Mariland could try to deceive the Typhon forces into believing the defenders were still growing in number.
After a moment of contemplation, a bold plan took shape. Mariland looked up at his adjutant. “Have the mountain troops’ reserve battalion disguise themselves as merchants and laborers. They’ll carry their banners and equipment covertly and, over the next two days, depart the fortress in small groups to gather at Carlon Valley in the northwest.”
The adjutant blinked, momentarily confused. “And then?”
“Then they’ll switch back to their mountain troop gear and re-enter the fortress through the north gate. Make some noise when they come in, but don’t overdo it.”
Two seconds later, the adjutant’s eyes lit up with understanding. He looked at the general with admiration. “That’s a brilliant idea! I’ll arrange it immediately!”
“That’s not all. The ruse has to be complete,” Mariland added quickly. “The Typhon are building barracks near Winterwolf Fortress? We’ll build some too—set up camps north and south of the fortress, dig wells, and move some conscripts there to cook and fire weapons. Also, send someone to Count Robert’s lands to borrow his wagon trains for transporting ‘supplies.’”
“Yes, sir!” The adjutant snapped to attention. But just before leaving, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. “General, do you really think this will fool the Typhon forces?”
“It’ll buy us some time. Eventually, they’ll catch on, but that’s fine. As long as we can delay their attack,” Mariland said calmly, eyes fixed on the map. “Our engineers are working overtime laying temporary rail lines. The Iron Throne will soon be repaired. If the Typhon hesitate even a little… they won’t be able to take Longwind Fortress.”
Cecil Empire, Saint Suniel City.
Preparations for a large-scale relocation were underway. Gawain’s desk was increasingly cluttered with reports on the capital’s transfer.
The coronation was complete. The nobles had signed over their powers, and command of the old royal knight order, the royal guards, and the shadow legion had been transferred. After a period of adjustment, the newly established Administrative Council had stabilized and taken control of Saint Suniel. The provisional government’s mission was over. According to Gawain’s original plan, the next step was to initiate the relocation.
Saint Suniel was grand on the surface but suffered from outdated infrastructure and entrenched old powers. More importantly, its communication systems were weak, causing delays in commanding the Cecil Legion. It was hardly a suitable place to govern the empire. Yet relocating a capital was no simple matter—not just packing people and goods and moving them. Even if the process began immediately, fully transferring and rebuilding the governing apparatus would take at least a year.
Moreover, Gawain had to consider the temporary chaos the move would cause and prevent it from triggering a chain reaction that the Typhon could exploit.
In the velvet study of Silverkeep, Gawain placed a finished report on his desk. Three grand chancellors sat with him.
“Aiden Alfred has declined the Administrative Council position?” Gawain looked up at Victoria Wilde across from him.
“Yes. He also resigned his court duties and honorary titles,” Victoria replied. “He said he appreciated your offer but is advanced in years and wishes to retire.”
Aiden Alfred, once Prime Minister to Francis II, was a loyal old servant of the Ansu Kingdom. His family had served the Morn royal line since the First Dynasty, faithfully for centuries.
Gawain had hoped to recruit him exceptionally, but the refusal was not unexpected.
“Respect his decision,” Gawain nodded. “Ask if he’d accept the position of director of the Saint Suniel Library. It’s not part of the council, and he can oversee the royal archives. If he still refuses… let the old gentleman retire. The council will provide a pension.”
Victoria nodded. “You’ve thought this through. I doubt he’ll refuse.”
“Now, about the relocation,” Gawain shifted in his seat. “After I return to Cecil City, Victoria and Bertram will manage affairs here. You’re responsible for completing the magic network from Saint Suniel to the Northern and Western Territories, ensuring communication lines are established. Also, all capital nobles must send a proportion of their family members to settle in the southern territories, based on family size. That shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
“Yes. They were prepared when the relocation order was issued,” Bertram Franklin nodded, then chuckled. “Using hostages to secure survival—that’s one of the traditional noble survival tactics.”
“This isn’t just ‘hostages.’ It’s a necessary step to dismantle and reform the old noble powers… Of course, they don’t understand that yet, which is normal,” Gawain shook his head. “It’s okay. Step by step. Hetty, how’s the Kingdom Road renovation coming along?”
“Gordon and his team have arrived in Pompeii. The preliminary materials and personnel are in place. Once the soil survey is complete, construction will begin.”
“Good—that work is critical. Prioritize funding support.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gawain exhaled softly, feeling another task moving forward.
In a feudal kingdom, lords could rule their own lands, but an empire forbade isolated fiefdoms. For a centralized empire, ensuring transportation was the foundation of maintaining order—especially for the Cecil Empire, which was rebuilding from ruins and urgently needed to restore order. Gawain dared to move the government apparatus southward because modern transportation technology could overcome physical distance. Building modern roads was essential to fully leverage new transport methods.
From Saint Suniel to the southern territories, the Gorgon River served as a transport artery, and the Kingdom Road was the main land route. Since last year, Victoria and the former Ansu royal court had been repairing the Kingdom Road, which had lain abandoned for nearly a century, restoring its basic function. But the old standards weren’t enough for the new era’s traffic demands. The recent Crystal Cluster War had also damaged the road along the Gorgon River’s east bank. So, practically speaking, Gawain decided to send southern engineers to rebuild a road connecting the empire’s north and south, based on the old Kingdom Road.
Typhon had their “Imperial Road.” Cecil would soon have one too.
While the construction of the “Imperial Avenue” was underway, Gawain also planned to build a north-south railway line along the west bank of the Gorgon River. Centered on Saint Suniel, this railway would then branch out east and west, forming a new “cross-shaped artery.”
Of course, this would be a massive, time-consuming, and labor-intensive project—completion would take years. But no matter the cost, this cross artery had to be established; it would mark the foundation of the empire’s century-long legacy.
Setting aside how long the new cross artery would take to finish, the north-south railway connecting the southern territories should be completed relatively quickly due to the shorter distance. Once done, travel from the southern lands to the “Old Capital” would be served by three major transportation routes: river, road, and rail. From Saint Suniel to the northern territories, both road and rail connections would be in place. This would make north-south travel across the empire incredibly convenient. On one hand, national security and stability would be strengthened; on the other, the rich mineral veins from the northern mountains could be transported swiftly to feed the ravenous industrial beast of the Cecile Empire.
As for now, although there were no railways or highways between the southern lands and Saint Suniel, the convenience of the Gorgon River and the efficiency of the new mechanical boats meant transportation wasn’t a major concern. The well-developed river transport was one of the reasons Gawain dared to initiate the capital’s relocation at this time.
“There’s one more thing,” Hetty spoke up again after reporting on the road construction progress. “Ancestor, the Iron Throne has been fully restored.”
(End of chapter)