The Empror's Trap

The real limit came under Emperor Wuzo Camelot, when Camelot faced annihilation. For twelve grueling years, they fought four top-tier nations, peaking at 1.5 million troops. The cost? Nationwide mourning, as the war bled the nation dry and crushed all four enemies.

Camelot could win such wars—but at a price. Kenji knew repeating that would drain Camelot's strength for years.

After Wuzo's reign, it took two emperors to recover from that war's toll. Kenji had no desire to relive that.

So, he needed a plan for these expendable forces.

The cannon fodder itself wasn't the threat. The Holy Church could mobilize armies from allied states, but mobilization took time. They'd likely use Samanjiang's local zealots and western Holy Church-aligned nations to form the first wave—euphemistically called "holy warriors," but in reality, human shields trading lives for time.

These cannon fodder were easy to defeat but would stall Camelot's advance. If the Church bought enough time to prepare, the war's cost would skyrocket.

"Cannon fodder has its uses," Siyue said, "but brute force won't solve this. Their numbers don't matter as long as they fulfill their strategic role. The key isn't just defeating these fanatics—it's leveraging our advantages."

"Explain." Kenji pressed a hand to his nose.

"I don't think we should aim for quick, decisive battles against numerically superior fodder. A decisive battle means forcing a result, which takes time. My suggestion? Speed without engagement. The Red Kite Army's light cavalry is perfect for this."

Siyue smoothed the map, pointing to a region. "For example, here—wide plains with scattered hills. Light cavalry can make brief contact, use our superior gear to strike first, crush their initial momentum, then disengage and flank toward the objective."

"Why?" Kenji asked.

"I've studied the Church's campaigns. Their main forces—Holy Knights and allied armies—are formidable. But most battles rely on poorly trained, ill-equipped fodder. The Church concentrates its strength for a single decisive strike. These cannon fodder are often untrained zealots or conscripted civilians. If we shatter their initial charge, they'll struggle to regroup."

"We could crush them outright, but that would waste time. Instead, let them flounder, then break contact. Light cavalry can harass relentlessly while infantry disengages. We keep pressure on, but avoid getting bogged down."

Siyue tossed her stick aside. "Just a suggestion, big bro. I've never led a real battle, so take it with a grain of salt. But theory has its merits."

"Bring the map closer," Kenji told Lina.

She complied. By lamplight, he studied the terrain.

"If we follow Siyue's plan, we'll need flatter routes with multiple options…"

The Red Kite Army's light cavalry was unmatched, but they couldn't lead major frontal assaults. Terrain favoring their mobility was critical.

"I'll consider your advice."

Kenji ruffled Siyue's hair. She made a pouted face but didn't dodge, letting him pat her head before retreating to her tent.

…

"Such a shame Miss Siyue didn't join the army," Lina sighed, watching Siyue retreat to her tent. Lina herself was a martial specialist, though not a strategist. Her skills suited small-scale operations—like those of the Gray Scales Division—but commanding thousands was beyond her.

Siyue, however, was different. Though she'd rarely seen battle, she could swiftly synthesize knowledge into coherent, logical judgments.

"She's not suited for frontline command," Kenji said with a wry smile. Siyue excelled at strategy, but strategy alone required execution. She could analyze situations but struggled to act decisively. That's why, during his diplomatic mission to the western empire, Kenji had granted her authority to mobilize troops but advised her to delegate to General Balinos. She could make the right calls—if someone else carried them out.

And… Who's ever seen an officer cling to their superior like a shadow? Siyue's social anxiety and clinginess made her unfit to lead independently. Left alone with a unit, the soldiers' morale might hold—but she'd likely crumble first.

"You don't want her in the army either, do you?" Lina asked.

"Of course not. What brother would want his sister to bear such weight? She's fine as she is." Kenji wasn't lying.

Ability aside, he had no desire to see Siyue become a true officer. Bringing her along was precautionary—fear she'd unravel without him nearby. He'd only ask for her strategic insights, treating them as reference points. Letting her command directly would mean lives hinging on her every decision. That burden was too heavy.

"She's always been kind. When I first joined the household, she'd follow me around, sharing her favorite things with me," Lina said, smiling.

Anos siblings had always treated her like family. Despite her status, she'd never felt like a servant.

"Servant? When have you ever seen a servant and master interact like this?" Kenji teased. He'd never put on airs, to the point that strangers often mistook Lina for his wife.

"That's why I respect you, Young master."

"Mm, I like hearing that. Say more." Kenji chuckled, tracing routes on the map.

"After the war starts, what'll you do with Miss Siyue?"

"Keep her by my side."

"Isn't that dangerous? Your command tent won't be far from the front."

"If she's not with me, it'll be more dangerous. The enemy knows I'm here. They'll look for weaknesses—hostage-taking, maybe. Siyue's a prime target. Only my men can be trusted. Especially with you watching over her."

…

A lavish dinner was set in the study—over twenty dishes, each a culinary masterpiece.

This feast was for two.

"Molor," Pluvia said, lounging in her seat like hosting a brother, "today's banquet features a chef I just recruited from the common folk. Haven't tasted his food myself yet—so dig in! No need to be formal."

"Your Majesty honors me," Molor, chief of the Soler tribe, replied with a stiff but earnest bow.

"Pour him wine, Liza," Pluvia ordered.

As Liza filled Molor's cup, Pluvia casually asked, "I heard your tribe's grown since I granted you Kalashige?"

"Thanks to Your Majesty's grace, our people and livestock have flourished."

"Kalashige's only been yours a short while. I believe the prosperity, but… more people already?"

"Not children yet, Your Majesty. We've absorbed refugees from neighboring tribes—Kalashige's fertile lands attract the displaced."

"A blessing, but tread carefully. Integration has limits."

"We'll be cautious, Your Majesty."

"I rewarded you for your loyalty. I hope to see your tribe thrive—next year, I want to see fat, healthy children."

"With Your Majesty's benevolence, they'll be strong. I'll bring them to court next year to share your blessings."

"Looking forward to it," Pluvia laughed, pushing a plate of beef toward him. "Eat more."

"Your Majesty's kindness is eternal. The Soler tribe will serve you faithfully."

Pluvia paused, then smiled:

"You've done well. But… I do have a favor to ask."

Molor froze.

The deer tendon in his hand suddenly lost its flavor…