Meticulously Set Trap

http://ncode.syosetu.com/n6483cy/116/

Lancelot felt as if the past few months were a fever dream. Things just kept happening non-stop giving him no time to catch up and understand what was going on. By the time he realised, the situation of his empire changed completely. For the worse.

“Explain,” he said, no longer hiding his frustration from the Prime Minister Bordeaux.

“…Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Thirteen manufactories were attacked – five gun foundries and eight steel mills.”

“How did you allow the situation to deteriorate so badly?! Why have I not been appraised until now?”

He was furious. Critical industry in the West was under assault for a while now and he was receiving the information only now.

“The attacks were not reported. We only found out when we investigated why certain expected shipments never arrived at their destinations.”

To be fair to the Prime Minister, he had himself become aware of the issue only recently. This didn’t change the fact the issue reached Lancelot’s ears too late. And what concerned the young emperor more than the delay, was the explanation provided itself.

“That… also sounds like a major issue. Why was this not reported? What is our intelligence network doing?”

If such major incidents like attack on a manufactory were not reported, it was natural to suspect other important information went unreported too.

“I have launched an inquiry, but…”

“Let me guess… You found nothing.”

“Nothing conclusive. Other than the fact a significant amount of our operatives seems to be unreachable.”

“…Excuse me?”

And just like that, the issue suddenly grew in scope and severity.

“Our spy network at the moment seems to be severely disrupted and full of gaps. The Intelligence Department cannot be relied on at the moment and I had to order additional couriers to be employed in order to deal with the issues.”

This was not the question Lancelot wanted answered. He needed to know *why* the contact was lost.

“That tells me nothing. What had happened to our spies?”

“…There are rumours of treason and defections.”

“What?! Why would that happen?”

Yet another shocking revelation without a hint of underlying causes.

“We do not know. There is no clear evidence. All we have are a few reports that information received is distorted, intentionally incomplete, or just not reaching intended targets.”

“…When will you have an idea?”

This was, again, a major problem. If the information reaching the capital couldn’t be trusted, it would be impossible to make correct decisions inside the government administration.

“I am currently unable to give a timeframe…”

“How do you expect me to rule like this?!”

“Mercy, my Emperor! I beg your forgiveness!”

This was as clear indication as any that this was not an issue of time, Bordeaux obviously had no idea how to solve the problem. This was where Maria decided to intervene.

“Lancelot, please don’t be so angry.”

If the Prime Minister were to lose his position, her own influence over political matters would suffer too.

“If the Intelligence Department can’t be relied on, we’ll just compensate through other means.”

The Empress had always wanted to employ the underground organisations instead of the state’s spy network. These criminal connections were her own and any success thus achieved would be hers alone too.

“Other means? That criminal scum?”

“Of course,” she replied smugly. “The arrangements have already been made, right Bordeaux?”

“Your Majesty, about that…”

This was not a promising answer.

“Yes?”

“…I was told they were otherwise occupied.”

“They what?!”

Maria instantly scowled, she was never one to forgive not getting what she wanted.

“They have also refused the request to manipulate the opinion in the South.”

That was another thing Maria had requested as the Empire’s reputation there suffered due to Rion’s assassination.

“What are these wretches thinking? Do they really think they can defy me and still operate within the Empire?”

Usually, earning the negative attention of one’s own Empress was not a good thing.

“If I were to speculate,” came a tentative answer, “it is probably them who spread the rumour of Rion’s assassination in the first place.”

Maria blinked, lack of comprehension momentarily cutting through the rage.

“Assassinations are supposed to be a secret, that is the whole point of the idea,” continued the Prime Minister, “so how did the news of this one leak into the wider world?”

“Wouldn’t the Wonderland Mercenaries do that to slander us?”

While the Empire had indeed ordered the assassination and been the villain of the tale, it could simply be a case of a pot calling the kettle black.

“My Empress, the question is who spread the rumours in the first place. The Vincent faction? Do they really have the numbers and reach to cover the entirety of the South?”

“Are you trying to say that the criminal scum was hired to work against us?”

“That possibility cannot be denied.”

It was a reasonable guess with the limited facts at hand. Maria was willing to believe it was correct.

“…That has to be a joke. I want them gone, any organisation that goes against me must be crushed.”

“We do not know nearly enough for that, Empress. We cannot even locate their hideout.”

“All scum gather in the slums. Isn’t it obvious?”

“We thought so as well. Spies were sent out. They discovered that while there was once an entity that ruled that place, we can find no trace of any such mob at present.”

The organisation still existed, of course, albeit at much reduced scale and under an official facade. This was why it had eluded discovery.

“They have moved elsewhere then, so what? Just find them.”

“…I do need to mention,” continued the Prime Minister, completely ignoring Maria, “that we obtained the name of their leader though. It is Frey.”

It was, in a way, a very important piece of information. However, the Empire had only been allowed to discover it because Resist had decided keeping it concealed was no longer important.

“And that matters because?”

“Second prince of the Gran Flamm Kingdom was named Frey. That was also Rion’s true name. Did Your Majesty truly not know?”

Only now did Maria understand what the Prime Minister had been hinting at and her face turned pale.

“…This sounds like,” said Lancelot, taking the reins of conversation back from his stunned wife, “the organisation we have been using until now was Rion’s all along?”

“I fear that is so, my Emperor. He did grow up in the slums after all. I also fear he is leading it even now.”

“…I cannot believe this.”

This organisation was instrumental in the creation of Lancelot’s Empire, and of great help in growing the country’s borders, which was why it was still being used despite all the uncertainties surrounding it. If it was really Rion’s, that meant Rion himself wanted the old kingdom to collapse.

“Yet all the intelligence strongly indicates that conclusion. And consequently, we must assume that Rion Frey is still alive and the assassination was never attempted.”

“…Was someone like him seen attacking the manufactories?”

“We have no such reports sire.”

Which didn’t say a whole lot given that all intelligence streaming to the capital was now suspect.

“What about the Wonderland Mercenaries? Anything changed on the southern front?”

“The confirmed opposition facing our armies there comes from Orcus and Hashu kingdoms only.”

No Wonderland Mercenaries then. Expecting them to have disbanded in light of today’s revelations would be wishful thinking, so, the question was, where did they go? Lancelot could no longer tell which of the reports reaching him should he believe in and to what extent. It felt like the ground beneath his feet was crumbling away. Who was behind the fall of the old kingdom really? How had his Empire really risen to power? What was the purpose behind all that upheaval? He could no longer tell and the old certainties left him.

“Worst case scenario,” continued the Prime Minister, “places our Empire in great danger. The criminals have extensive knowledge, and proof, of our various misdeeds. If that were to surface, the trust in the government would collapse overnight.”

Some of these misdeeds had been hidden even from Lancelot. Bordeaux found the nerve to broach the subject only because he feared the personal consequences of unmanaged reveal later more.

“What of our hold on the North?”

“A considerable number of hostages had been sold to the organisation. Naturally, that included members of the northern noble houses.”

“The families made to remain in the lands under Arnold’s control?”

Some noble families, that had hostages taken, had been forced to remain in regions controlled by Gran Flamm and project outward compliance to Arnold’s requests. These were intended as sources of intelligence and potential trump cards in the future.

“These hostages have also been sold.”

“They were of extreme importance, what in seven hell were you thinking?!”

While Lancelot had known these ladies had been forced into prostitution, he had not been told Maria had decided to sell them off to the organisation completely. Out of petty dislike and satisfaction of seeing them beg for mercy in tears.

“…I can only beg my Emperor’s forgiveness.”

Lancelot bit down on his anger. Yelling at the man would solve nothing and, besides, he could recognise Empress’ fingerprints all over this fiasco.

“What are the odds the North will turn on us and side with Albert now the hostages are gone?”

“A lot depends on how we fare in the war. Right now defections would not be universal.”

Not all the families sided with Lancelot because of the hostages. In the end, aristocrats were a ruthless bunch, never shy to sacrifice a family member for the sake of more power and wealth. They would choose the winning side with the hostages either a convenient excuse or a moral high ground to fight from.

“In that case, we simply have to win. What is Arnold’s army doing?”

Last missives from the front had indicated that the army of the Kingdom halted its march just short of the old capital. The hope was that Rion’s death had caused chaos in their ranks. Now it was clear that had not been the case.

“They are building a fortified camp with extensive earthworks.”

“They are digging in?”

“They are. The army camp is situated by a small town called Kios, and the defences are being raised at brisk pace. This looks like an operation prepared well in advance.”

“…A trap then?”

In a normal battle fought over a fortified ground, the Empire would have a decisive advantage brought by artillery.

“We are not certain yet. Nevertheless, the scale of the works in place already would make direct bombardment of Kios difficult.”

“I see.”

The plan seemed to be to pretend to invite a siege, but actually fight a field battle. This was unacceptable for Lancelot’s forces.

“We will have a full report for you soon, Sire. We would be grateful if you held off on dispatching forces until then.

“Obviously. Boris, what is the current status of the Imperial Knights?”

The question was directed to Boris Mars, the commander of that formation.

“We are yet to reach the desired number, Your Imperial Majesty. At present there are five thousand men under arms, only half of which are ready for deployment.”

“Lionel, what of the new model army?”

“Ten thousand recruits, Sire,” replied the man, recently promoted to the rank of Marshall. “Only half are fully combat ready, but the rest are drilled enough to hold their own in battle.”

There was a pretty obvious barb aimed at currently existing regiments, suggesting that even a half-trained recruit of Lionel was more capable than other soldiers..

“What is the composition of Gran Flamm’s army?”

“Five thousand Royal Guards, roughly half raised from Bandeaux fief. Three thousand mounted knights. Twelve thousand armoured men-at-arms on foot. The rest are peasant levies.”

“Five thousand Guards…” muttered Lancelot to himself. He would prefer to have Arnold slain on the field of battle, but with that amount of men directly under the young king, the plan was not feasible.

“Boris, accelerate the training of your knights. We must have them ready for the decisive battle.”
The demand was unreasonable. Lancelot knew that, but he was running out of options.

“As you command! I do, however, worry that…”

“I am aware the demand is not entirely reasonable, but it must be attempted.”

“It’s not the knights that bother me, Majesty.”

It was unusual for Boris to volunteer an opinion unprompted. Lancelot suddenly felt anxious.

“Explain.”

“I believe our overall strategy of luring the enemy in and having them break on the walls of the old capital needs to be abandoned.”

“The reason being?”

“Your Excellency,” said Boris, turning to the Prime Minister instead of replying directly, “how many enemies are we facing in the South?”

“Ten thousand, each of the kingdoms providing half.”

“The aristocratic armies sent by the Gran Flamm kingdom to the northern front, how many there?”

“Similar number, ten thousand or thereabouts.”

The current situation of the North was uncertain, but it had been known that the army that had set out there had initially numbered a touch over ten thousand.

“And what forces oppose our enemies?”

“Each region fields a territorial army five thousand strong. We hold thirty thousand soldiers on the border with Merica, ten thousand in the garrison of Kioto, and another thirty in central reserve.”

Bordeaux was confused and suspicious. All this was well known to Boris and the questions seemed to serve no obvious purpose.

“In other words, seventy thousand of our soldiers cannot take part in a decisive battle around the old capital, correct?”

“Yes, but we can gather the territorial forces to make up…”

The Prime Minister halted mid sentence, finally comprehending what Boris was driving at.

“Why did you stop?” asked Lancelot. “Is there a problem?”

“Sire, without new orders, the territorial forces will attempt to defend the regions they are attached to as first priority. The enemies coming from the north and the south will defeat them in succession before they have a chance to concentrate.”

The existing strategy was, in essence, setting them up to be defeated in detail.

“Impossible.”

“The northern regions might hold on with just a two-to-one disadvantage. The southern front, however, will probably crumble due to the presence of the Wonderland Mercenaries there.”

“How did we end up in this situation?”

Holding the old capital and the central regions was supposed to both mitigate strategic vulnerabilities and provide an impregnable fortress to operate from. Now, it seemed like the plan achieved anything but these goals.

“The original plan called for the territorial army to hold ground while regular troops are dispatched to reinforce and intercept enemy forces. After Camargue… The decision was to avoid future open field battles. This limited the ways in which our own troops could be used. We have also misjudged the enemy’s intentions. We never expected that forces of the Orcus and Hashu kingdoms would join the southern theatre and thus our preparations there have been insufficient. Let this carry on for a few more months and it is hard to say how much territory we will still control. Our fortresses will not hold forever without a supply of food and materiel, regardless of how strong the walls and how numerous the garrison.”

The imperial army had sought refuge behind fortress walls. This naturally made it less mobile, creating an easy to exploit situation for the enemy. A number of southern regions would have likely fallen there by now wiping out the troops garrisoned there. And it would still take weeks before a clear picture of the disaster reached the imperial court. The strongest of castles was bound to fall once the supplies got exhausted. Even the capital, with its copious stores of provisions, was no exception, and it was certainly not self-sufficient. It needed the outlying regions to provide for its demands. And these couldn’t possibly be held with the current approach regardless of how fiercely local forces defended them.

“Really,” mused Lancelot aloud, “just how does he think of these ideas.”

It was now so obvious to the young Emperor that all this had been one grand design. All of it starting when two people had single-handedly shattered an army of ten thousand at Camargue to instil a fear of Rion and aversion to open battles.

“Majesty, we need a new strategy. If not, the Empire will…”

Boris didn’t allow himself to finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. Everybody knew what he meant – the empire would fall.

“Fine. You are to locate the Wonderland Mercenary Corps at all cost. You have a month. If that fails… Abandon the North and the South, scour the border and the regions for any soldiers you can find, gather all the forces, and I mean all the forces at the old capital. We will commit all we have to a decisive battle with the Gran Flamm army.”

“It shall be done, My Emperor!”

These orders were bolder and more direct than Boris had hoped for. Lancelot had clearly made his mind up and, for better or worse, had chosen a path forward. He would fight Arnold head on. He would win. And once the dust settled, he would recover all the land lost. There were no other options worth considering.

Thus, the decisive battle was inevitable. One where the Empire would go all-in for a single last roll of the dice that would decide the fate of all involved.