I had to figure the plan was compromised. Everybody seemed to know everything the second anyone said it, so I’d be crazy to think this would be any different. Gacha nonsense or not. I certainly wouldn’t trust my life to the dev’s laziness. It was time to implement my plan. And with a little luck, draw out the traitor. I had a feeling that catching the traitor was locked behind some kind of progression gate, but there was still hope.

  Which is why I had made damn sure that Miyuki understood how to manage the signals before we arrived. She’s only a Two Star, so I was worried it would be too complicated for her. It turned out that “Bits of cloth” didn’t trigger the bar on using non-Tower tools, and “If you see X, hold up Y” was also okay. Rikka was a little more on the ball, but her job was counterintelligence. If someone tried to sneak up on Miyuki, they wouldn’t even know how they died.

  As for finding them a good hiding spot… a couple of mountain ninja didn’t really struggle on that one. They picked a high tower with a good view of the countryside. Interestingly, though the tower had a door, there was no way to open it. They just scaled the exterior, like the absolute bosses they were. I might not be willing to gamble my life on dev laziness, but I had no trouble believing the Devs would be too lazy to create an interior for every random tower.

  Truso, at least, looked somewhat less murderous when I hired a major fraction of his total available mercs. I even went nuts and hired all four of the Three Handers. I’d done some thinking about them, and there were a couple of places I wanted to stick ‘em.

  The gatehouse and by the big cistern. Yep. I hired mercs to guard the city. Just. You know. In case. Those huge swords were absolutely pointless in a big field battle, but in a smaller area or defending a door? They could be a real pain. Leaving aside my entirely rational anger about how much they cost, they did represent something far, far worse.

  Turns out giant fantasy swords are nonsense. All those big swords from Final Fantasy? Nonsense. Buster Sword? Nonsense. Soul Calibur? Nonsense. Sephiroth’s sick giant katana? Nonsense. Perhaps worst of all, the Dragonslayer from Berserk is also… simply not practical.

  I mean, half of the cast of Bleach would be crippled. Horrible to think the Keyblade was somehow more practical- no, no, mustn't dwell. Mustn’t dwell.

  We set off in a big formation. I wanted to drill directly down the chain of villages to the riverside, but I decided to add an extra stop for Mr. Bacciato’s special reward. I say drilling down, it was more rolling like a particularly slow moving landslide.

  I spread out my pike troops into the fields on either side of the road and swept them forward. My crossbows and matchlocks stayed mostly on farm wagons. As did Radz. I don’t think anyone realized what she was. It’s hard to tell how much awareness the NPC’s have of my Awakened.

  I had worried about the troops moving cross country managing to keep up with the farm wagons, but it turns out I had it backwards. The fields had been cleared and burned. The Pikes strolled across with no trouble at all. The farm wagons, however, weren’t built for speed and neither were the farm horses. The only holdups were when the pikes had to jump over a wall, but it wasn’t a big problem. Sometimes there was even a gate.

  I kept an eye out on the tower. No signals yet.

  We hit the first village and Othai stepped up to make her announcement. It was like she fired the starting gun on some kind of time trial. The peasants came out of the house like they had been on starting blocks, carrying their few possessions, loading up waiting wagons (that hadn’t been waiting a moment ago) and generally being little speed demons.

  A pair of flags went up. I checked with the telescope and, yep. Same as last time.

  “Pikes form up and block the road. Crossbows, matchlocks, line the walls on either side please. Thank you. Othai, get ready to wade in if needed. Versai, bodyguard me.”

  “My Lord?”

  “Yes, Othai?” She seemed to be straining against something.

  “Matchlock troops don’t have shields, my Lord.” She ground out, looking like every word took an immense act of will.

  I looked at her blankly for a moment. Yes. Obviously they don’t have shields. They don’t have horses either, or pineapples. But then it clicked.

  “You, musketeer, best time from that wall to to that tree. Go!” I pointed, and he hauled between them. He wasn’t the fastest guy I had ever seen, but he was moving about as fast as the pikes did. I bit back a selection of swears.

  “Matchlock troops! Move up the field as far as the wall will allow. Fire on the raiders and fall back after each volley. Fall back far enough that you will have time to reload and fire again. Repeat until you are back with the crossbow troops!”

  Othai smiled slightly. Interesting, interesting! Was this an exploit? I had known for a while that the Awakened were, to put it extremely mildly, unwilling to volunteer information. In fact, with a very few exceptional circumstances, they seemed to follow a “don’t speak unless spoken to” rule.

  Obviously the Six Stars had a lot more latitude on this, but even they tended to be pretty reticent. I thought it was the relationship system. And trauma. Versai’s “I DON’T want to talk about it,” workaround relied on me asking yes-no questions. This was something else.

  “Any other useful facts about our troops that I should know, Othai?”

  “Pikes only remain static in combat if they are resisting a cavalry charge, are holding a flank, or are waiting for ranged support to finish their work. If infantry charge them, they counter charge. They also charge crossbows, matchlocks, artillery, whatever. The solution to ninety-nine percent of Pike Problems is to charge at it, and stab it a lot from twenty feet away.”

  She took a deep breath and pressed on.

  “If they do retreat, Genudan troops are well drilled enough to stage a fighting retreat without breaking formation. It’s very slow, of course. Extremely slow. But they can manage it.”

  “VERY good to know! Hmm.” I tried to think of how to arrange my much less mobile crossbow troops. I’ve got to assume that friendly fire isn’t switched off… I looked at my troop arrangement and swore.

  “PIKES, ADVANCE! Everybody on the LEFT side of the wall, cross behind the pikes and get on the right hand side of the wall. Matchlocks, when you are all on the right side, your previous orders still apply. Crossbows- DAMN!”

  The first axe and shield raiders came roaring over a short rise, charging at the advancing pikes. They ate a thin volley of musket fire, but there just wasn’t the weight of fire that would be needed to really break the charge. Fortunately, they had help coming. The muskets retreated and reloaded a lot faster than I thought they would have managed. They got off a second volley, and then the pikes began their charge.

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  Goddam stupid, stupid mistake! Just because the Awakened can’t target each other doesn’t mean that these mercs can’t catch a stray off eachother. And old guns are crazy inaccurate too.

  The crossbows and muskets were shifting over, but I kept my eyes on the pikes. I had seen them fight as a block before, but this time I had deployed forty onto the road, holding the others as a reserve. It wasn’t just the front row of pikes that stuck out. The back rows all extended forward too, reaching through the ranks to present an entire thicket of steel heads.

  Logically, I knew the pike formation was good, but eventually defeated by better weapons and tactics. I knew that. That eroge chess game had surprisingly detailed historical notes for each piece, as well as what I am sure was historically inaccurate art.

  Logic got told to get bent as I watched it play out in person. It was like watching a tidal wave crash. It seemed impossible that anything man made could stand up to it. Certainly nothing with a mere two or three feet of reach. Even with their shields, the raiders were helpless. No matter how many spearheads they blocked, there was always more pressing for a gap. And they did press!

  Once the first clash had been made, the pikes changed from a rapid march to a slow one. I could see each mercenary planting their feet and pressing forward. They didn’t just stop the incoming raiders, they pushed the formation back. I was puzzled until I saw the shields start to shift. The pressing spears forced the shields out of position, leaving the raiders open. The mercenaries didn’t need much of a gap.

  By the time the next group of raiders made it over the little rise, every axe and shield wielder was dead. A handful fell to the matchlocks, most fell to the pikes.

  “Pikes, retreat to your starting position and reset. We are running the same operation again. Matchlocks, good.” They had already moved into position. I had a bit of a headache about what to do with the crossbows, then figured I was overthinking. A little positioning, and the matchlock troops were attacking at a more perpendicular angle to the road, and the crossbows a more acute one.

  It probably wasn’t optimal, but it did mean that the bandits would spend a whole lot more time under fire before they clashed with the pikes, and then they could enjoy getting shot in the back and flank.

  The next round was spear and shieldmen, with a smattering of crossbows in support. “Take out the archers first.”

  The musketeers hardly needed to be told. Before the crossbowmen could get their foot in the stirrup and draw their strings back, a sheet of lead swept out and hammered them. The second rank stood in a checkerboard pattern, their long barrels stretching out past the front rank. They volleyed while the first rank reloaded. Then the front rank brought their muzzles up, and fired.

  There was a few seconds between each volley, but it didn’t matter. After three rounds, the crossbows broke and ran. The one archer who got their bow up shot his bolt almost directly into the dirt. Couldn’t blame them for running. After three rounds, there weren’t many left.

  The ones who ran got shot in the back. Neither Genuda nor Verton had any reason to let them live. It still felt cold as hell.

  The spearmen were stuck. It… wasn’t really funny, but it was kind of funny. They tried to stab at the matchlocks, but their spears were only about seven feet long. Nowhere near enough to reach them. But they didn’t dare turn and charge at the Pikes, because then they would be the ones getting shot in the back. The look of panic was ugly.

  “The Pikes will advance and clear those bandits. Crossbows, remain where you are. Matchlocks, fire on the spearmen.”

  It was ugly. But this was only going to end one way. All I could do was make sure they didn’t linger, and damn the heartless scum that left enough soul in them to feel afraid.

  Another batch through the meat grinder. I reset again. I liked having the matchlocks out front, but I was worried about leaving them with so little support. Oddly, the crossbows shot faster. It felt wrong, but they did. So the crossbows got moved up near-ish to the matchlocks and I left the pikes at the bottom of the road with plenty of room to build momentum.

  There were two more waves. I was sure I didn’t arrange my troops optimally, but it just didn’t matter. We so badly outnumbered them, no sane raider would have attacked in the first place. All my careful positioning was purely to keep my casualties at zero. Once again, Othai was proven correct- the more you bring, the less you lose.

  “We pick up the package for Mr. Bacciato?”

  “Yes, my Lord. It appears to be a firm package wrapped in burlap and tied tightly.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “My apologies, my Lord. I don’t know. For some reason, despite being tied with a bow-tie knot, the package remains completely sealed.” Othai looked muleish.

  Quest item, cannot be damaged. Got it.

  I had the sudden image of strapping a load of them on like armor. But that would be silly. Probably.

  The waggons started rolling up the road towards the first village we cleared. We escorted them along the way, just in case. Turned out there was no need- as soon as we cleared out, a small detachment of Genudan mercenaries marched in and forted up. The road gently glowed for a second. And that was that.

  The next two villages went much the same. There were a few changeups in rader composition, but the numbers were pretty static. Which led to a bit of a realization.

  “They are losing… say, on average, eighty raiders per village.”

  “Yes, Tower Master?” Versai didn’t see where this was going. Othai did.

  “Can’t be many of them left, my Lord.” A hint of relief and a hint of suggestion? She was doing a lot of work with just a few words.

  “Assume the ones we saw on the beach are the reinforcements that will be attacking the fort… well, I don’t really know how many functional raiders they still have. But even if the Mayor threw open the gate and Truso slit his own throat, it seems like it can’t be enough. Just the civilians alone would be enough to drown the raiders in their spit.”

  “That is correct, my Lord.” Oh there was weight in those words. Othai was straining every fiber of her being against the restraints the game set on her.

  “It won’t be just Hosk raiders coming up the river. They will have reinforcements from Ko’Ras.”

  “That is certainly a possibility, my Lord.”

  Ah, caught a big piece of it but not all of it.

  “And the ‘demons’ backing Ko’Ras?”

  “You certainly see their priests in more places than you might think.”

  Hmm. Not quite right. But I’m not sure what else it might be. I let it drop until we reached the village Mr. Bacciato pointed out. That one was a brutal fight- not for us, for them. Which made me even more nervous.

  The village was centrally located on the map. Not the center, but there were five roads leading off of it, and on the eastern side was a ridge that would provide cover to any raiders until they were practically on top of us. Defending the villagers would be, should be, difficult.

  It wasn’t. I did the thing you shouldn’t do- I fought on top of the civilians. I just wedged my wagons into the streets around the town square, keeping the villagers kettled up inside. Then I lined them with my crossbows, shields proudly facing outwards, and stuck my matchlocks up on the roofs with strict orders to only fire at the backs of the enemy, and under no circumstances were they to let any sneaky archers get shots off on them. Fire and move, that was the order of the day.

  As for my pikes? I just stuck ‘em in the middle of the square. Once I knew which road the raiders were coming down, I pulled the wagon out of the next road over and sent them to flank. It was a mess. An absolute mess. But it was worse for the raiders than for me- I had Miyuki feeding me route info, and they were lost in the dense stone buildings of the village.

  It was an abject slaughter. Like watching someone run into an ambush over and over again. They lost a hundred raiders in that battle. There wasn’t going to be a Hosk at the end of all this. I knew that there hadn’t been a Hosk for an… unknowable length of time. But watching an entire people slowly exterminate themselves, unable to deviate from their set route, furiously determined to do what they truly did not want to do.

  It messed me up. And I knew we were a long way from done.

  “What did Mr. Bacciato have in store for us?” Versai had dug out the goods as soon as the wagons were rumbling north. We didn’t have to escort them the whole way, now. Convenient.

  “I’m not sure. I’m sorry Tower Master, I can’t make heads or tales of it. It came in this crate. It was sealed, but I opened it just in case. I kept the seal itself intact though. She showed me a wooden chest roughly the size of a file box. It was wrapped in iron bands, and the lock had been, quite literally, sealed with lead. Which didn’t stop Versai from smashing it off its hasp.

  “I don’t recognize the seal. Othai?” I handed it over.

  I’ve never heard a cat sing The Yellow Rose of Texas at an EDM pace, but I imagine that would be at least similar to the noise Othai made. Eventually she settled down into incredibly detailed threats including (but not limited to):

  Strangulation via the small intestine,

  Strangulation via having the lungs crushed,

  Being beaten to death with their own feet,

  Being beaten to death with the feet of their kin,

  Being set on fire and fed to themselves until they ate themselves to death,

  Being stabbed with as many forks as can be made to fit into and on a human body,

  The ‘Soldonian Cure’ but backwards,

  Torn apart by wild hogs,

  Torn apart by wild hogs while on fire,

  The ‘Soldonian Cure’ but it will take six weeks,

  Pike the long way, and-

  Five pikes the long way, then set on fire and fed to wild hogs.

  At that point I more or less tuned her out. After a while I got bored. She was still going strong, the benefit of a mercenary career, but I cut her off.

  “Othai, write it down and submit a memo. If practical, I’ll add it as an action item to the scramble. Now. What seal is on it, and what is in the box?”

  “It’s a Genudian diplomatic seal. By law, enforced by our armies, the chest should be completely inviolate.”

  “Any chance of a super weapon in there?”

  “None, my Lord. Just internal communications between the Council of the Cantons and our local military advisors!”

  Ah. We got Truso’s mail, courtesy of Mr. Bacciato. I’m sure this is fine. I opened up the chest. One letter. And one heavy pouch that smelled faintly of bitter almonds.