CHAPTER 193: GRIM HYPOTHETICAL

CH193 Grim Hypothetical

***

Alex frowned for a moment—but in the next, inspiration struck.

"Does anyone know what autotomous reptiles are?" he asked.

Most of the commanders looked confused, exchanging glances. One man, clad in robes that marked him as a mage, raised a hand slightly.

"They’re reptiles capable of shedding and regrowing their tails," he answered.

"And when do they do this?" Alex pressed.

"When threatened, or when they gain some advantage by doing so."

The mage officer’s eyes flickered as the realisation hit. "I see... you think the Kellermans pulled something similar."

"Exactly," Alex confirmed with a nod. "Whatever they’re doing, they either want us to charge into the fray without suspecting anything, or they want to remove suspicion from themselves when things unfold—or both. And what better way to achieve that than by allowing a crippling loss to befall them—one bad enough that we’d naturally let our guard down?"

He pointed at the campaign map laid out before them.

"The major Wildkin tribal territories lie toward the western edges of the desert. That puts them in directly north to our fief, which is why we usually bear the brunt of their raids."

He tapped their fief’s location, then drew his finger eastward.

"But this time, they bypassed us entirely. Instead, they crossed difficult, discouraging terrain just to strike the City of Werth. Does that make sense?"

A thin-faced flag officer spoke up. "We crushed them the last time they raided the Dankrot Plains. Maybe they fear us now. It wouldn’t be strange for them to seek easier prey."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "That theory might hold if it were just snakemen, goblins, or the beasts of the desert. But we’re talking about Orcs, Boz Taurus, Mantisari... do you really think they’d run from a fight?"

The room quieted.

"These are battle-hardened races," he continued. "They live for conflict. They crave it. Either they win gloriously against a powerful opponent or die trying. That’s their way. Why else do you think they’ve raided Dankrot for generations?"

He let the silence linger before delivering the blow.

"The more likely answer? The Kellermans offered up their city to an Orc Chieftain."

Murmurs erupted. Lord Marshal Lawson cut through them with a calm question.

"And what makes you think that?"

Alex met the older man’s eyes, then slowly turned to his father. His gaze swept the table before he spoke.

"Because if I wanted to orchestrate something like this... that’s exactly how I would do it."

A chill crept into the room.

Earl Drake leaned forward slightly. "How would you do it?"

Alex closed his eyes. For a moment, he imagined himself as one of the Kellermans—calculating, ruthless, unburdened by honour, free to use any means... even unscrupulous ones.

When he opened his eyes again, they held a dangerous gleam.

"If I were the Kellermans, I’d understand that our forces can’t match yours head-on. So I’d try to level the field—not by raising my power, since I can’t match yours with that, but by bleeding yours.

"And since a direct attack isn’t feasible, I’d look for something—or someone—to keep your forces occupied. Something you can’t ignore."

He gestured to the forest marked on the map.

"First, I’d seed goblins into Dankrot Forest. I’d even make sure the Law Guardians knew what I was doing."

He shrugged.

"Given their obsessive neutrality, I’d bet they wouldn’t lift a finger to stop it. After all, they’d consider it a problem between nobles of the Empire. And once the goblins began to overrun the forest, and earn the ire of the forest, the Guardians wouldn’t intervene on the goblin’s behalf either. They’d expect the forest’s natural ecosystem to deal with the infestation."

"However, by the time this happens, the goblins would have already swelled in number. Two things will occur. The beasts displaced by the goblins’ presence will naturally migrate out of the forest—since they can’t move deeper into the more dangerous inner rim—and begin to terrorise the citizens of our Dankrot Plains.

"Similarly, the goblins, for the same reason, will look outward to the Dankrot Plains for easier and more suitable human breeding mules."

He paused.

"This will invariably force the Fury Army to divert troops to quell the beast tides and goblin raids. And unlike within the confines of the Dankrot Forest, containment will be far more difficult across the expansive terrain of the Dankrot Plains."

Alex’s right index finger began to tap against the table. His eyes turned cloudy, gaze distant, lost in thought.

"Second... I would head north, into the Ironmourn Desert, and strike a deal with one of the Orc Chieftains. I’d offer them a staging area from which to launch a more effective campaign into the Dankrot Plains—pulling the Fury Army away from their fortified installations and into the kind of direct, open confrontation the Orcs favour.

"If I offered up a significant location to the Orcs, say, the City of Werth, once the Orcs raze it, I could play the victim and shroud my actions in sympathy. At the same time, I would have drawn the Fury Army into my own territory, where I could stifle their supply lines at will... crippling their momentum and exhausting more of their war potential."

The tapping stopped briefly, only to resume moments later.

"Another benefit of this tactic? It wouldn’t prevent the usual northern horde of Wildkin from raiding Fury lands, which would further stretch and scatter the Fury Army’s forces across multiple fronts."

He looked up, voice firm now.

"With a three-pronged assault from Wildkin and Beasts, spreading the Fury forces dangerously thin, if I were the Kellermans, I would strike in this moment. Flank the Fury Army’s repositioned troops and carve deep into Fury lands—capturing territory before they had the time or resources to respond.

"In doing so, the Kellerman Earldom would cease to exist. In its place would rise the Kellerman Marquisate. And if all goes according to plan, the Fury Family—particularly your direct forces, Father—will be weakened so severely that retaliation in the near future becomes nearly impossible.

"A future that any competent strategist, with foresight and ruthlessness to carry out this plan, could use to implement a robust defence network around the seized territory. After all, a rising Marquisate is far more attractive to outside talent than a declining Earldom backed by a beaten decentralised noble house."

A tense silence fell over the war room. Uneasy glances were exchanged, no one daring to speak—until Lord Marshal Lawson broke the silence.

"Young Master Alex," he said, voice low but steady, "you have painted a very... distressing picture that we cannot afford to ignore. That said, in order to defend against the scenario you’ve outlined, we would need to reposition our forces—potentially leaving ourselves vulnerable to other threats."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Is there a way for you to prove—or at least provide some evidence—that points to the Kellerman Family actually putting this plan into motion?"

A heavy pause.

"We need certainty before we can deploy countermeasures. As it stands, we’re still bound by duty to offer the Kellermans our support, as one of the Empire’s Guardian Families."

Everyone turned toward Alex, awaiting his response.

The youth, for his part, stared blankly at the war map laid across the table.

Then his eyes sharpened.

A small, knowing smile spread across his face.

"Why don’t we just ask them?"

***