Chapter 673
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Chapter 673
The tolling bell warned of approaching Defiled invaders, but Bulat was already ready and waiting on the battlements with the full strength of District Twenty-Threes militia behind him.
The sun shone overhead as they watched the approaching clouds of dust, and Bulat hoped that the stubborn families who ignored the warnings to gather in the district were at least smart enough to hide in their homes. The plan was simple enough, for warnings to go out whenever the Defiled broke through the Western Wall, as this left the commoners anywhere between an hour to thirty minutes to get to relative safety inside the districts, but some people were just plain daft and valued cold possessions over living relatives. As if staying behind to guard their homes would keep the Defiled from robbing, raping, and pillaging to their black hearts content, but there was nothing Bulat could do for them now except pray.
Ready crossbows!
Though he only took a moment to make sure his bolt was secured in place, Bulat cursed beneath his breath when he raised his eyes again and saw just how much ground the Defiled had covered. Mounted atop garos, gajashias, ursadons, and all manner of other horrific beasts, these Enemy outriders were here for blood and closing fast. They were still off in the distance and moving in loose formation, but while he had word that the Imperial Army was hot on their heels and ready to contain this outbreak, Bulat and the good people of the district were on their own for now. A shame this wasnt the Bekhai district, where even their commoners were well-versed in the use of spear and longbow, or one of the other three districts under Bulats mayorship which he was familiar with, because he had a hand in their training and knew their militias could hold their own. Alas, this was a district further south in what the higher-ups had taken to calling the contested zone. Not contested by the Defiled, but by North and Central, as neither side wanted to take sole responsibility for guarding these outlying districts which sat smack dab in the middle of both Citadels.
The soldier in Bulat understood why. Though the bossmans people designed the districts as walled settlements to be defended, the Imperial Army could hardly spare enough soldiers to guard every last one. The army barely had enough bodies to man the entire Western Wall, and some might argue they didnt even have that, seeing how the Defiled were able to find weak points to overrun with nothing but sheer speed and power. While the army could respond quickly enough to retake the walls from Defiled control, the Enemy wasnt interested in holding their ground, not when so many easy targets lay within an hours ride of the Wall, with the promise of more bloodshed and slaughter further east.
Even if there were enough bodies to go around, the districts lacked the requisite supplies and infrastructure to support the number of soldiers needed to man the walls, which was why the bossman had planned on building independent garrison camps all along the border as well. Those were still under construction, having taken a backseat to rebuilding the vital harbour in SuiHua which had been burned to a crisp by Huanhuzis raiding fleet. The new harbour was a technological marvel made of reinforced concrete just like the district walls, but its sturdiness made little difference now that the harbour was under blockade again by the same half-badger bastard, whose pirate fleet sailed in and out of the Azure Sea without a care for all the fishy beasties lurking within their dark and unwelcoming depths. This meant most ships were too busy chasing pirates or escorting supplies to ferry soldiers up and down the Western Wall, which in itself was a risky proposition seeing how the river doubled as a moat and left transport ships vulnerable to attack by land.
A good thing the Defiled werent here in full force then, with only a raiding party a few hundred strong, but even with some eight-thousand militia at his back, twenty four soldiers under his command, and four strong, sturdy walls to defend, Bulat did not like his odds. The catapults were worthless here, as this small number of riders could avoid anything he lobbed at them, so the fate of this District lay solely on spear and crossbow, as well as the terrified commoners wielding them.
Hold! he snapped, seeing so many of his militia already aiming down their sights. Idiots one and all, with weak, commoner arms that struggled to lift their heavy crossbows even on the best of days, yet still they were dumb enough to hold them high before the Enemy came into range. If I see one bolt fly before I give the word, Ill toss ye over the side and send ye out to fuckin fetch it back. The threat earned him a few nervous chuckles, but Bulats glare promised them that he damn well meant what he said, and the nervous laughs gave way to focused clarity. Remembering their training, a few sheepish stand-outs lowered their weapons and the rest followed suit, as they had yet to receive their orders to aim.
An order he should give right about now. First Rank, Steady!
The front row raised their weapons and picked their targets, and as the Enemy cavalry passed the marker, Bulat bellowed, First Rank! Loose! Five hundred crossbows hissed in fury as they released their deadly payloads, but the Enemy was not so naive as to rush headlong into the storm. Scattering across the fields, they split off in multiple directions to surround and converge upon the district, causing far too many of those bolts to sink into empty ground, but if the Enemy could adapt their tactics, Bulat could as well. Second Rank, steady!
Thanks to Bulats gruelling drills, the second rank was already in place, but it still took precious seconds more than it should have before they were fully ready. Loose!
Another five-hundred bolts flew out to greet the Enemy, and this time, a good portion of them even connected, but Bulat had no time to appreciate the view. Instead, he snarled and snapped at his people until they remembered their training while reloading his crossbow. The third rank moved faster than the second, with some even giving their slower second rank comrades a helping hand, dragging them back from the front if they were too slow to move themselves. For good reason too, because by now, the Enemy was so close even their commoner eyes could make out the Defiled grins stretched across ugly Defiled faces, and nothing moves a man like fear and purpose. The training helped, but it was mostly fear and desperation driving them now, and while they might have cut and run if they were out on a battlefield, these men and women of the Empire had their homes and families behind them, two things they could not so easily abandon.
The bossman was brilliant and generous, but he could also be a real bastard sometimes. He sold these commoners a dream of land-ownership and prosperity so that theyd bring their children along to inherit their wealth. Now, these dumb schmucks had no choice but to fight, and fight they would, because to do otherwise would be to see all their dreams and loved ones go up in fire and smoke.
Third Rank, steady and loose! The bolts were off even as the words left his lips, but there was no time to check their handiwork. The first rank was still reloading their crossbows, cranking away at their levers with the utmost effort to slowly draw the strings back. Bulat could load his crossbow with one hand if need be, but these commoners were not blessed with Martial strength, and as such could only rely on gears and levers to make up for what the Heavens denied them. Were these the militia Bulat had personally trained, he had no doubt the first and second ranks would already be ready and waiting, but as Ma liked to say, if wishes were fishes then no one would ever go hungry again.
There were less powerful variants of the crossbows for commoners to use, but those were only good for hunting small game. You needed a lot more power to stand any chance of killing a Defiled tribesman, and even more to kill the mounts they rode upon, so the bossman made sure the militia were equipped for the task. Even then, the cunning Enemy had let their ursadon riders head in first, the lumbering, bearish creatures leading the charge and all but ignoring the shower of bolts which glanced off their thick skulls or got stuck in their blubbery hides. A few were down and out thanks to some well-placed or lucky shots, but there were still far too many Defiled riders converging on the walls for Bulats tastes.
All ranks, wait for your targets and loose at will!
Some militia were faster loaders than others, so the first Defiled tribesman to draw close to the wall was greeted by seven crossbow bolts to the chest, and maybe two dozen were gifted to his snarling, lizard-like mount. Eight more riders died on approach, because while the garos were more than capable of jumping the walls, they couldnt make that vertical height without slowing down to jump, which made them prime targets even for commoners who couldnt move or think as fast as Martial Warriors. Putting his crossbow aside, Bulat aimed his axe-gun at a leaping garo through the built in murder holes and pulled the trigger. His shot took the beast clean through the chest just before its talons left the ground, and its corpse crashed headlong into the wall. The rider snarled a guttural curse before the militia turned him into a pincushion, and a small cheer rang out as the militia celebrated their minor victory.
First and Second ranks! he shouted, wishing these idiots would shut up and listen for his orders. Spears! To arms!
Enough of them were lucky enough to have their weapons in hand when the first wave of garo riders landed on the wall, all fangs and fury as they set upon the defenders with merciless rage. Thankfully more than half the attackers just barely made the jump, not because the garos werent up to the challenge, but because they didnt have enough room on the battlements to find footing. Many chose to land on the jutting crenellations, which then crumbled under their weight just like Cixis team of construction wizards designed them to. Though the fall wouldnt kill many of the attackers, it forced the Defiled raiders to attack in staggered groups lest more come up short and fall back down, an advantage Bulat was happy to have. If left unchecked, even a dozen garo riders could clear this wall of its fifteen-hundred defenders, but with so many targets to choose from, Bulat and his Warriors had free rein to engage on their own terms. Hurling himself at the closest rider, he buried his axe in the garos neck while it was snapping at someone else, and he tried very hard not to see if the beasts jaws came away bloody. The bossman wasnt the only one who could be a real bastard, because Bulat mightve saved a life if hed acted a second sooner, but he didnt. He waited for his chance and killed the beast cleanly before driving his fist into the riders temple with an audible crack. An easy victory, but he had no time to bask in satisfaction as he was already moving towards his next target with deadly intent.
Pick your targets and work together! Drive them back!
Pran got there first, bellowing as his hammer sent beast and rider tumbling to the stone battlements. The nearby militia reacted too slowly to kill the rider where he lay, but the beast was not so lucky. Though several spears glanced off its thick hide, three bit deep into its flank, throat, and spine, but despite its mortal wounds, the garo was not yet finished. Writhing and snapping as it struggled to its last breath and took two unfortunate bastards to the grave with it, men too stubborn to let go of their weapons to let the creature die out. A year ago, Bulat would have thought this enough to send any commoner screaming for the hills, but the good people of this District held fast, for they were fighting not just for their own lives, but the lives of everyone they held dear, which gave them the fortitude to advance upon the rider without so much as a prayer for their fallen friends.
No wait. The idiot fop had two sons, insufferable, snotty nosed brats who took after their father, but even then, Bulat would mourn the loss. Children were a treasure, or at least thats how he felt now that he was going to be a father soon.
Dei An was safe and sound back in their home, with plenty of Khishigs to keep her safe throughout her pregnancy, which still had many months to go before the baby was due. Besides, these Defiled raiders were targeting the less defended stretches of the Western Wall, while the Bekhai district Bulat and Dei An called home was located directly east of the Northern Citadel. For it to come under attack, the Citadel would already have to be overrun, at which point the district walls and Khishig defenders might as well be a paper hat in a rain-storm. Shed come out fine though, he knew this in his bones, because the Mother made precious few people as tough as Dei An. Were it not for her pregnancy and his firm insistence, she would have probably made up some excuse to come along with him, even knowing there were too many districts with too few Warriors to go around. Shed have been on him to do something too, since these brave people had been abandoned by their mayor, because for all her disdain for how the Empire treated their own, she was as kind and generous to outsiders as she was to the people of her home village.
Course, this made things tricky when people sought to take advantage of her kindness, but they stopped coming around as often after she had the last one run out of town by the Khishigs. A grand woman, his Dei An, that she was, sweet as sugar and tough as nails, and Bulat missed her dearly, but pining over her wouldnt bring her here and there was work still yet to be done. Finding the Khishig leader again, he studied the mans face until a name finally came to mind. Yorhu, right? Son of Gasu and Yindi?
That I am, the man replied, with what looked like the ghost of a smile. Not to say his lips were smiling, but rather than he looked like he would be if he were capable of showing human emotion, as the Khishigs were a strange lot. You have need of my assistance, Old Bulat, son of Maira and Dagen?
A jokester of a Khishig, a miracle of Heaven as it were. Dei An explained it to him, that the traditional greetings between Bekkies included parents and spouses to emphasize how one had roots in the mountains, and that there was no need for Bulat to mention anyones relatives when they met again, but he couldnt help it. If a man was gonna introduce his parents to him, the least Bulat could do was show he remembered their names, though it always came out as a question. That I do. Ye mind taking a few Khishigs and gettin a tally of the dead and wounded? Not like knowing would change things, but it seemed like the right thing to do. And err... could ye find someone to scribe fer me?
That I can and will, Old Bulat. Again, that ghost of a smile appeared as Yorhu offered a martial salute, and Bulat couldnt make heads or tails of the man. No matter though, so he went back to work and when the scribe arrived, a fresh-faced Bekkie too young to grow a beard, Bulat narrated a few thoughts regarding concerns to bring to Cixi, Consort Luo, and maybe even the bossman regarding the district defences. A second district wall for example, or raised platforms for dedicated crossbowmen, and training for javelins and throwing axes. Wouldnt take much to improve the odds in their favour, and maybe itll save a few lives in the process. This wasnt the first district to come under attack in recent days, nor would it be the last, and he shuddered to think how many poor commoners had already died to Defiled blades.
Which is why when the young Bekkie scribe, who turned out to be Amal, son of Yorhu and Cirinas, read the casualty report out loud to Bulat, he could scarcely believe his ears. What was that, now? Say those numbers again?
Seven hundred forty three dead, three-hundred ninety eight critically injured, one-thousand eight-hundred thirty four wounded but mobile. Blinking in confusion, Amal held out the sheet and pointed at the numbers as if to prove he was reading it right. See?
I was surprised as well. Yorhus ghost of a smile was gone now as he regarded Bulat with a critical eye. The boy has yet to tell you the best part. Go on now.
Yes sir. Nodding like chicken pecking grains, Amal smiled and said, Of the four-hundred odd Defiled who attacked, one-hundred eighty-five were killed. No wounded or prisoners there, as any Defiled left behind would have been killed on sight.
Having always had a gift for numbers, Bulat did the calculations in his head and came up with surprising results. Four militia died for every Defiled killed, though that number could shift up to six if every single critically wounded combatant were to die. Making it five militia to one Defiled would be realistic, and while it seemed like a terrible trade at first glance, this was coming from the perspective of a trained soldier. When Bulat joined the army, he was told to fight the Enemy with one concept in mind, that the life of an Imperial soldier was worth ten Defiled. This assumed of course that the Enemy was attacking a fortified Imperial position, just like they were now, so five to one odds against the Defiled was akin to a slaughter in his eyes, except now, the roles were reversed. If it cost five commoners to kill one Defiled, and ten Defiled to kill one soldier, then fifty commoners could ostensibly overpower one Martial Warrior.
Had someone asked him yesterday, Bulat would have wagered good coin that one Martial Warrior was worth significantly more, but the important thing to note was that there was only one Martial Warrior for every ninety-nine commoners, as they made up one percent of the population. However, most of these Warriors belonged to noble families, and most werent anything special either, not necessarily stronger than your average Defiled, just able to take advantage of things like static defences, disciplined coordination, and forged steel equipment. Knowing this, Bulat was forced to re-evaluate the disparity between Martial Warriors and commoners, because unlike the Defiled, your average commoner could also make use of tactics, fortifications, and equipment, like the spears, crossbows, and catapults the bossman taught them to craft and use.
So really, one Martial Warrior was worth far less than fifty commoners, as even a Peak Expert like Nian Zu would die from a bolt to the neck, and this was without taking into account the sheer economic power the commoners held if they all rose up as one...
Indeed, Yorhu Sent, nodding in unspoken agreement. As you told those valiant souls outside, they can indeed stand tall with pride, for they hold far more power than anyone ever imagined. They will no longer bow so easily to others, not while Warriors like Old Bulat stand on their side. The ghost of a smile returned, and Yorhu shook his head. I sometimes wonder if young Rain understands the implications of his actions, realizes the change and bloodshed his efforts will bring. I believe he does not, that he is naive and foolish yet blessed by the Mother Above. What do you believe?
He knows, Bulat answered, knowing it without even having to think. Hes always been one to champion the downtrodden, and I think hes been planning this all along. The schools, the training, the equipment, even paper money, all of it was geared towards putting more power into the hands of the common people. Whats more, Bulat believed the Mother Above agreed with his plans, for the balance of power was shifting away from the Imperial Clan. Even the nobles of the outer provinces were beginning to grumble about the Imperial Clans complete absence from the war effort, with their only contribution being cold hard coin, coin which the outer provinces paid them in taxes. Perhaps the Imperial Clan was banking on the fact that the Defiled would forever be a threat, but if two-thousand commoners could fend off four-hundred Defiled, ten million could certainly fend off one million, and a hundred million commoners might even be enough to drive the Defiled back out of the Western Province.
The logistics of feeding that many people on the move could get tricky, but sharper minds than Bulats could probably figure it out, right?
The bossman had known this all along, he must have. He was never one to boast much, so why else would he dare to make that very claim? He announced as much to the whole army before riding out to reinforce Castle JiangHu with ten-thousand irregulars at his side, because he believed he was about to prove what armed commoners could accomplish. A good thing his results were overshadowed by the miracles that took place and his injuries that followed, but even now, the bossman was still stepping up efforts with training and recruitment using the Imperial Scion Liu Xuande as his mouthpiece, and when his plans finally came to fruition, he would have a million strong army of Irregulars at his beck and call, which was a lot less laughable than it was yesterday.
One million could easily grow into ten, and ten into twenty, and Bulat shuddered to think what it would be like to fight against a numerically superior force of commoners using Imperial equipment and tactics. The bossman had already proven he had the technology needed to raise fortifications quickly, and now hed proven that commoners could be turned into an effective fighting force with only a modicum of training. Were these trained Irregulars manning the walls, Bulat would daresay they might even get away with three or two to one odds against the Defiled, a ratio that would shift sharply if they were supported by more than twenty-four Martial Warriors, like say the three-thousand commoners turned Martial Warriors who were now calling themselves the Legates Stormguard.
Add in the Bekkies with Lieutenant General Akanai to command them, and Falling Rain might have enough power to overthrow the Emperor himself, and damned if Bulat would not stand with him. Whether he wanted to or not, the bossman was going places, because if old Bulat could put all this together, the Emperor certainly could too, and few despots cared to leave threats to their power unanswered.
Mother in Heaven, Bulat prayed, Watch over your son, Falling Rain, for these trials and tribulations may be too much, even for someone as blessed as he.
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Chapter 673
The tolling bell warned of approaching Defiled invaders, but Bulat was already ready and waiting on the battlements with the full strength of District Twenty-Threes militia behind him.
The sun shone overhead as they watched the approaching clouds of dust, and Bulat hoped that the stubborn families who ignored the warnings to gather in the district were at least smart enough to hide in their homes. The plan was simple enough, for warnings to go out whenever the Defiled broke through the Western Wall, as this left the commoners anywhere between an hour to thirty minutes to get to relative safety inside the districts, but some people were just plain daft and valued cold possessions over living relatives. As if staying behind to guard their homes would keep the Defiled from robbing, raping, and pillaging to their black hearts content, but there was nothing Bulat could do for them now except pray.
Ready crossbows!
Though he only took a moment to make sure his bolt was secured in place, Bulat cursed beneath his breath when he raised his eyes again and saw just how much ground the Defiled had covered. Mounted atop garos, gajashias, ursadons, and all manner of other horrific beasts, these Enemy outriders were here for blood and closing fast. They were still off in the distance and moving in loose formation, but while he had word that the Imperial Army was hot on their heels and ready to contain this outbreak, Bulat and the good people of the district were on their own for now. A shame this wasnt the Bekhai district, where even their commoners were well-versed in the use of spear and longbow, or one of the other three districts under Bulats mayorship which he was familiar with, because he had a hand in their training and knew their militias could hold their own. Alas, this was a district further south in what the higher-ups had taken to calling the contested zone. Not contested by the Defiled, but by North and Central, as neither side wanted to take sole responsibility for guarding these outlying districts which sat smack dab in the middle of both Citadels.
The soldier in Bulat understood why. Though the bossmans people designed the districts as walled settlements to be defended, the Imperial Army could hardly spare enough soldiers to guard every last one. The army barely had enough bodies to man the entire Western Wall, and some might argue they didnt even have that, seeing how the Defiled were able to find weak points to overrun with nothing but sheer speed and power. While the army could respond quickly enough to retake the walls from Defiled control, the Enemy wasnt interested in holding their ground, not when so many easy targets lay within an hours ride of the Wall, with the promise of more bloodshed and slaughter further east.
Even if there were enough bodies to go around, the districts lacked the requisite supplies and infrastructure to support the number of soldiers needed to man the walls, which was why the bossman had planned on building independent garrison camps all along the border as well. Those were still under construction, having taken a backseat to rebuilding the vital harbour in SuiHua which had been burned to a crisp by Huanhuzis raiding fleet. The new harbour was a technological marvel made of reinforced concrete just like the district walls, but its sturdiness made little difference now that the harbour was under blockade again by the same half-badger bastard, whose pirate fleet sailed in and out of the Azure Sea without a care for all the fishy beasties lurking within their dark and unwelcoming depths. This meant most ships were too busy chasing pirates or escorting supplies to ferry soldiers up and down the Western Wall, which in itself was a risky proposition seeing how the river doubled as a moat and left transport ships vulnerable to attack by land.
A good thing the Defiled werent here in full force then, with only a raiding party a few hundred strong, but even with some eight-thousand militia at his back, twenty four soldiers under his command, and four strong, sturdy walls to defend, Bulat did not like his odds. The catapults were worthless here, as this small number of riders could avoid anything he lobbed at them, so the fate of this District lay solely on spear and crossbow, as well as the terrified commoners wielding them.
Hold! he snapped, seeing so many of his militia already aiming down their sights. Idiots one and all, with weak, commoner arms that struggled to lift their heavy crossbows even on the best of days, yet still they were dumb enough to hold them high before the Enemy came into range. If I see one bolt fly before I give the word, Ill toss ye over the side and send ye out to fuckin fetch it back. The threat earned him a few nervous chuckles, but Bulats glare promised them that he damn well meant what he said, and the nervous laughs gave way to focused clarity. Remembering their training, a few sheepish stand-outs lowered their weapons and the rest followed suit, as they had yet to receive their orders to aim.
An order he should give right about now. First Rank, Steady!
The front row raised their weapons and picked their targets, and as the Enemy cavalry passed the marker, Bulat bellowed, First Rank! Loose! Five hundred crossbows hissed in fury as they released their deadly payloads, but the Enemy was not so naive as to rush headlong into the storm. Scattering across the fields, they split off in multiple directions to surround and converge upon the district, causing far too many of those bolts to sink into empty ground, but if the Enemy could adapt their tactics, Bulat could as well. Second Rank, steady!
Thanks to Bulats gruelling drills, the second rank was already in place, but it still took precious seconds more than it should have before they were fully ready. Loose!
Another five-hundred bolts flew out to greet the Enemy, and this time, a good portion of them even connected, but Bulat had no time to appreciate the view. Instead, he snarled and snapped at his people until they remembered their training while reloading his crossbow. The third rank moved faster than the second, with some even giving their slower second rank comrades a helping hand, dragging them back from the front if they were too slow to move themselves. For good reason too, because by now, the Enemy was so close even their commoner eyes could make out the Defiled grins stretched across ugly Defiled faces, and nothing moves a man like fear and purpose. The training helped, but it was mostly fear and desperation driving them now, and while they might have cut and run if they were out on a battlefield, these men and women of the Empire had their homes and families behind them, two things they could not so easily abandon.
The bossman was brilliant and generous, but he could also be a real bastard sometimes. He sold these commoners a dream of land-ownership and prosperity so that theyd bring their children along to inherit their wealth. Now, these dumb schmucks had no choice but to fight, and fight they would, because to do otherwise would be to see all their dreams and loved ones go up in fire and smoke.
Third Rank, steady and loose! The bolts were off even as the words left his lips, but there was no time to check their handiwork. The first rank was still reloading their crossbows, cranking away at their levers with the utmost effort to slowly draw the strings back. Bulat could load his crossbow with one hand if need be, but these commoners were not blessed with Martial strength, and as such could only rely on gears and levers to make up for what the Heavens denied them. Were these the militia Bulat had personally trained, he had no doubt the first and second ranks would already be ready and waiting, but as Ma liked to say, if wishes were fishes then no one would ever go hungry again.
There were less powerful variants of the crossbows for commoners to use, but those were only good for hunting small game. You needed a lot more power to stand any chance of killing a Defiled tribesman, and even more to kill the mounts they rode upon, so the bossman made sure the militia were equipped for the task. Even then, the cunning Enemy had let their ursadon riders head in first, the lumbering, bearish creatures leading the charge and all but ignoring the shower of bolts which glanced off their thick skulls or got stuck in their blubbery hides. A few were down and out thanks to some well-placed or lucky shots, but there were still far too many Defiled riders converging on the walls for Bulats tastes.
All ranks, wait for your targets and loose at will!
Some militia were faster loaders than others, so the first Defiled tribesman to draw close to the wall was greeted by seven crossbow bolts to the chest, and maybe two dozen were gifted to his snarling, lizard-like mount. Eight more riders died on approach, because while the garos were more than capable of jumping the walls, they couldnt make that vertical height without slowing down to jump, which made them prime targets even for commoners who couldnt move or think as fast as Martial Warriors. Putting his crossbow aside, Bulat aimed his axe-gun at a leaping garo through the built in murder holes and pulled the trigger. His shot took the beast clean through the chest just before its talons left the ground, and its corpse crashed headlong into the wall. The rider snarled a guttural curse before the militia turned him into a pincushion, and a small cheer rang out as the militia celebrated their minor victory.
First and Second ranks! he shouted, wishing these idiots would shut up and listen for his orders. Spears! To arms!
Enough of them were lucky enough to have their weapons in hand when the first wave of garo riders landed on the wall, all fangs and fury as they set upon the defenders with merciless rage. Thankfully more than half the attackers just barely made the jump, not because the garos werent up to the challenge, but because they didnt have enough room on the battlements to find footing. Many chose to land on the jutting crenellations, which then crumbled under their weight just like Cixis team of construction wizards designed them to. Though the fall wouldnt kill many of the attackers, it forced the Defiled raiders to attack in staggered groups lest more come up short and fall back down, an advantage Bulat was happy to have. If left unchecked, even a dozen garo riders could clear this wall of its fifteen-hundred defenders, but with so many targets to choose from, Bulat and his Warriors had free rein to engage on their own terms. Hurling himself at the closest rider, he buried his axe in the garos neck while it was snapping at someone else, and he tried very hard not to see if the beasts jaws came away bloody. The bossman wasnt the only one who could be a real bastard, because Bulat mightve saved a life if hed acted a second sooner, but he didnt. He waited for his chance and killed the beast cleanly before driving his fist into the riders temple with an audible crack. An easy victory, but he had no time to bask in satisfaction as he was already moving towards his next target with deadly intent.
Pick your targets and work together! Drive them back!
Pran got there first, bellowing as his hammer sent beast and rider tumbling to the stone battlements. The nearby militia reacted too slowly to kill the rider where he lay, but the beast was not so lucky. Though several spears glanced off its thick hide, three bit deep into its flank, throat, and spine, but despite its mortal wounds, the garo was not yet finished. Writhing and snapping as it struggled to its last breath and took two unfortunate bastards to the grave with it, men too stubborn to let go of their weapons to let the creature die out. A year ago, Bulat would have thought this enough to send any commoner screaming for the hills, but the good people of this District held fast, for they were fighting not just for their own lives, but the lives of everyone they held dear, which gave them the fortitude to advance upon the rider without so much as a prayer for their fallen friends.
No wait. The idiot fop had two sons, insufferable, snotty nosed brats who took after their father, but even then, Bulat would mourn the loss. Children were a treasure, or at least thats how he felt now that he was going to be a father soon.
Dei An was safe and sound back in their home, with plenty of Khishigs to keep her safe throughout her pregnancy, which still had many months to go before the baby was due. Besides, these Defiled raiders were targeting the less defended stretches of the Western Wall, while the Bekhai district Bulat and Dei An called home was located directly east of the Northern Citadel. For it to come under attack, the Citadel would already have to be overrun, at which point the district walls and Khishig defenders might as well be a paper hat in a rain-storm. Shed come out fine though, he knew this in his bones, because the Mother made precious few people as tough as Dei An. Were it not for her pregnancy and his firm insistence, she would have probably made up some excuse to come along with him, even knowing there were too many districts with too few Warriors to go around. Shed have been on him to do something too, since these brave people had been abandoned by their mayor, because for all her disdain for how the Empire treated their own, she was as kind and generous to outsiders as she was to the people of her home village.
Course, this made things tricky when people sought to take advantage of her kindness, but they stopped coming around as often after she had the last one run out of town by the Khishigs. A grand woman, his Dei An, that she was, sweet as sugar and tough as nails, and Bulat missed her dearly, but pining over her wouldnt bring her here and there was work still yet to be done. Finding the Khishig leader again, he studied the mans face until a name finally came to mind. Yorhu, right? Son of Gasu and Yindi?
That I am, the man replied, with what looked like the ghost of a smile. Not to say his lips were smiling, but rather than he looked like he would be if he were capable of showing human emotion, as the Khishigs were a strange lot. You have need of my assistance, Old Bulat, son of Maira and Dagen?
A jokester of a Khishig, a miracle of Heaven as it were. Dei An explained it to him, that the traditional greetings between Bekkies included parents and spouses to emphasize how one had roots in the mountains, and that there was no need for Bulat to mention anyones relatives when they met again, but he couldnt help it. If a man was gonna introduce his parents to him, the least Bulat could do was show he remembered their names, though it always came out as a question. That I do. Ye mind taking a few Khishigs and gettin a tally of the dead and wounded? Not like knowing would change things, but it seemed like the right thing to do. And err... could ye find someone to scribe fer me?
That I can and will, Old Bulat. Again, that ghost of a smile appeared as Yorhu offered a martial salute, and Bulat couldnt make heads or tails of the man. No matter though, so he went back to work and when the scribe arrived, a fresh-faced Bekkie too young to grow a beard, Bulat narrated a few thoughts regarding concerns to bring to Cixi, Consort Luo, and maybe even the bossman regarding the district defences. A second district wall for example, or raised platforms for dedicated crossbowmen, and training for javelins and throwing axes. Wouldnt take much to improve the odds in their favour, and maybe itll save a few lives in the process. This wasnt the first district to come under attack in recent days, nor would it be the last, and he shuddered to think how many poor commoners had already died to Defiled blades.
Which is why when the young Bekkie scribe, who turned out to be Amal, son of Yorhu and Cirinas, read the casualty report out loud to Bulat, he could scarcely believe his ears. What was that, now? Say those numbers again?
Seven hundred forty three dead, three-hundred ninety eight critically injured, one-thousand eight-hundred thirty four wounded but mobile. Blinking in confusion, Amal held out the sheet and pointed at the numbers as if to prove he was reading it right. See?
I was surprised as well. Yorhus ghost of a smile was gone now as he regarded Bulat with a critical eye. The boy has yet to tell you the best part. Go on now.
Yes sir. Nodding like chicken pecking grains, Amal smiled and said, Of the four-hundred odd Defiled who attacked, one-hundred eighty-five were killed. No wounded or prisoners there, as any Defiled left behind would have been killed on sight.
Having always had a gift for numbers, Bulat did the calculations in his head and came up with surprising results. Four militia died for every Defiled killed, though that number could shift up to six if every single critically wounded combatant were to die. Making it five militia to one Defiled would be realistic, and while it seemed like a terrible trade at first glance, this was coming from the perspective of a trained soldier. When Bulat joined the army, he was told to fight the Enemy with one concept in mind, that the life of an Imperial soldier was worth ten Defiled. This assumed of course that the Enemy was attacking a fortified Imperial position, just like they were now, so five to one odds against the Defiled was akin to a slaughter in his eyes, except now, the roles were reversed. If it cost five commoners to kill one Defiled, and ten Defiled to kill one soldier, then fifty commoners could ostensibly overpower one Martial Warrior.
Had someone asked him yesterday, Bulat would have wagered good coin that one Martial Warrior was worth significantly more, but the important thing to note was that there was only one Martial Warrior for every ninety-nine commoners, as they made up one percent of the population. However, most of these Warriors belonged to noble families, and most werent anything special either, not necessarily stronger than your average Defiled, just able to take advantage of things like static defences, disciplined coordination, and forged steel equipment. Knowing this, Bulat was forced to re-evaluate the disparity between Martial Warriors and commoners, because unlike the Defiled, your average commoner could also make use of tactics, fortifications, and equipment, like the spears, crossbows, and catapults the bossman taught them to craft and use.
So really, one Martial Warrior was worth far less than fifty commoners, as even a Peak Expert like Nian Zu would die from a bolt to the neck, and this was without taking into account the sheer economic power the commoners held if they all rose up as one...
Indeed, Yorhu Sent, nodding in unspoken agreement. As you told those valiant souls outside, they can indeed stand tall with pride, for they hold far more power than anyone ever imagined. They will no longer bow so easily to others, not while Warriors like Old Bulat stand on their side. The ghost of a smile returned, and Yorhu shook his head. I sometimes wonder if young Rain understands the implications of his actions, realizes the change and bloodshed his efforts will bring. I believe he does not, that he is naive and foolish yet blessed by the Mother Above. What do you believe?
He knows, Bulat answered, knowing it without even having to think. Hes always been one to champion the downtrodden, and I think hes been planning this all along. The schools, the training, the equipment, even paper money, all of it was geared towards putting more power into the hands of the common people. Whats more, Bulat believed the Mother Above agreed with his plans, for the balance of power was shifting away from the Imperial Clan. Even the nobles of the outer provinces were beginning to grumble about the Imperial Clans complete absence from the war effort, with their only contribution being cold hard coin, coin which the outer provinces paid them in taxes. Perhaps the Imperial Clan was banking on the fact that the Defiled would forever be a threat, but if two-thousand commoners could fend off four-hundred Defiled, ten million could certainly fend off one million, and a hundred million commoners might even be enough to drive the Defiled back out of the Western Province.
The logistics of feeding that many people on the move could get tricky, but sharper minds than Bulats could probably figure it out, right?
The bossman had known this all along, he must have. He was never one to boast much, so why else would he dare to make that very claim? He announced as much to the whole army before riding out to reinforce Castle JiangHu with ten-thousand irregulars at his side, because he believed he was about to prove what armed commoners could accomplish. A good thing his results were overshadowed by the miracles that took place and his injuries that followed, but even now, the bossman was still stepping up efforts with training and recruitment using the Imperial Scion Liu Xuande as his mouthpiece, and when his plans finally came to fruition, he would have a million strong army of Irregulars at his beck and call, which was a lot less laughable than it was yesterday.
One million could easily grow into ten, and ten into twenty, and Bulat shuddered to think what it would be like to fight against a numerically superior force of commoners using Imperial equipment and tactics. The bossman had already proven he had the technology needed to raise fortifications quickly, and now hed proven that commoners could be turned into an effective fighting force with only a modicum of training. Were these trained Irregulars manning the walls, Bulat would daresay they might even get away with three or two to one odds against the Defiled, a ratio that would shift sharply if they were supported by more than twenty-four Martial Warriors, like say the three-thousand commoners turned Martial Warriors who were now calling themselves the Legates Stormguard.
Add in the Bekkies with Lieutenant General Akanai to command them, and Falling Rain might have enough power to overthrow the Emperor himself, and damned if Bulat would not stand with him. Whether he wanted to or not, the bossman was going places, because if old Bulat could put all this together, the Emperor certainly could too, and few despots cared to leave threats to their power unanswered.
Mother in Heaven, Bulat prayed, Watch over your son, Falling Rain, for these trials and tribulations may be too much, even for someone as blessed as he.
Chapter Memenove(l)bi(n.)com
Chapter 673The tolling bell warned of approaching Defiled invaders, but Bulat was already ready and waiting on the battlements with the full strength of District Twenty-Threes militia behind him.The sun shone overhead as they watched the approaching clouds of dust, and Bulat hoped that the stubborn families who ignored the warnings to gather in the district were at least smart enough to hide in their homes. The plan was simple enough, for warnings to go out whenever the Defiled broke through the Western Wall, as this left the commoners anywhere between an hour to thirty minutes to get to relative safety inside the districts, but some people were just plain daft and valued cold possessions over living relatives. As if staying behind to guard their homes would keep the Defiled from robbing, raping, and pillaging to their black hearts content, but there was nothing Bulat could do for them now except pray.Ready crossbows!Though he only took a moment to make sure his bolt was secured in place, Bulat cursed beneath his breath when he raised his eyes again and saw just how much ground the Defiled had covered. Mounted atop garos, gajashias, ursadons, and all manner of other horrific beasts, these Enemy outriders were here for blood and closing fast. They were still off in the distance and moving in loose formation, but while he had word that the Imperial Army was hot on their heels and ready to contain this outbreak, Bulat and the good people of the district were on their own for now. A shame this wasnt the Bekhai district, where even their commoners were well-versed in the use of spear and longbow, or one of the other three districts under Bulats mayorship which he was familiar with, because he had a hand in their training and knew their militias could hold their own. Alas, this was a district further south in what the higher-ups had taken to calling the contested zone. Not contested by the Defiled, but by North and Central, as neither side wanted to take sole responsibility for guarding these outlying districts which sat smack dab in the middle of both Citadels.The soldier in Bulat understood why. Though the bossmans people designed the districts as walled settlements to be defended, the Imperial Army could hardly spare enough soldiers to guard every last one. The army barely had enough bodies to man the entire Western Wall, and some might argue they didnt even have that, seeing how the Defiled were able to find weak points to overrun with nothing but sheer speed and power. While the army could respond quickly enough to retake the walls from Defiled control, the Enemy wasnt interested in holding their ground, not when so many easy targets lay within an hours ride of the Wall, with the promise of more bloodshed and slaughter further east.Even if there were enough bodies to go around, the districts lacked the requisite supplies and infrastructure to support the number of soldiers needed to man the walls, which was why the bossman had planned on building independent garrison camps all along the border as well. Those were still under construction, having taken a backseat to rebuilding the vital harbour in SuiHua which had been burned to a crisp by Huanhuzis raiding fleet. The new harbour was a technological marvel made of reinforced concrete just like the district walls, but its sturdiness made little difference now that the harbour was under blockade again by the same half-badger bastard, whose pirate fleet sailed in and out of the Azure Sea without a care for all the fishy beasties lurking within their dark and unwelcoming depths. This meant most ships were too busy chasing pirates or escorting supplies to ferry soldiers up and down the Western Wall, which in itself was a risky proposition seeing how the river doubled as a moat and left transport ships vulnerable to attack by land.A good thing the Defiled werent here in full force then, with only a raiding party a few hundred strong, but even with some eight-thousand militia at his back, twenty four soldiers under his command, and four strong, sturdy walls to defend, Bulat did not like his odds. The catapults were worthless here, as this small number of riders could avoid anything he lobbed at them, so the fate of this District lay solely on spear and crossbow, as well as the terrified commoners wielding them.Hold! he snapped, seeing so many of his militia already aiming down their sights. Idiots one and all, with weak, commoner arms that struggled to lift their heavy crossbows even on the best of days, yet still they were dumb enough to hold them high before the Enemy came into range. If I see one bolt fly before I give the word, Ill toss ye over the side and send ye out to fuckin fetch it back. The threat earned him a few nervous chuckles, but Bulats glare promised them that he damn well meant what he said, and the nervous laughs gave way to focused clarity. Remembering their training, a few sheepish stand-outs lowered their weapons and the rest followed suit, as they had yet to receive their orders to aim.An order he should give right about now. First Rank, Steady!The front row raised their weapons and picked their targets, and as the Enemy cavalry passed the marker, Bulat bellowed, First Rank! Loose! Five hundred crossbows hissed in fury as they released their deadly payloads, but the Enemy was not so naive as to rush headlong into the storm. Scattering across the fields, they split off in multiple directions to surround and converge upon the district, causing far too many of those bolts to sink into empty ground, but if the Enemy could adapt their tactics, Bulat could as well. Second Rank, steady!Thanks to Bulats gruelling drills, the second rank was already in place, but it still took precious seconds more than it should have before they were fully ready. Loose!Another five-hundred bolts flew out to greet the Enemy, and this time, a good portion of them even connected, but Bulat had no time to appreciate the view. Instead, he snarled and snapped at his people until they remembered their training while reloading his crossbow. The third rank moved faster than the second, with some even giving their slower second rank comrades a helping hand, dragging them back from the front if they were too slow to move themselves. For good reason too, because by now, the Enemy was so close even their commoner eyes could make out the Defiled grins stretched across ugly Defiled faces, and nothing moves a man like fear and purpose. The training helped, but it was mostly fear and desperation driving them now, and while they might have cut and run if they were out on a battlefield, these men and women of the Empire had their homes and families behind them, two things they could not so easily abandon.The bossman was brilliant and generous, but he could also be a real bastard sometimes. He sold these commoners a dream of land-ownership and prosperity so that theyd bring their children along to inherit their wealth. Now, these dumb schmucks had no choice but to fight, and fight they would, because to do otherwise would be to see all their dreams and loved ones go up in fire and smoke.Third Rank, steady and loose! The bolts were off even as the words left his lips, but there was no time to check their handiwork. The first rank was still reloading their crossbows, cranking away at their levers with the utmost effort to slowly draw the strings back. Bulat could load his crossbow with one hand if need be, but these commoners were not blessed with Martial strength, and as such could only rely on gears and levers to make up for what the Heavens denied them. Were these the militia Bulat had personally trained, he had no doubt the first and second ranks would already be ready and waiting, but as Ma liked to say, if wishes were fishes then no one would ever go hungry again.There were less powerful variants of the crossbows for commoners to use, but those were only good for hunting small game. You needed a lot more power to stand any chance of killing a Defiled tribesman, and even more to kill the mounts they rode upon, so the bossman made sure the militia were equipped for the task. Even then, the cunning Enemy had let their ursadon riders head in first, the lumbering, bearish creatures leading the charge and all but ignoring the shower of bolts which glanced off their thick skulls or got stuck in their blubbery hides. A few were down and out thanks to some well-placed or lucky shots, but there were still far too many Defiled riders converging on the walls for Bulats tastes.All ranks, wait for your targets and loose at will!Some militia were faster loaders than others, so the first Defiled tribesman to draw close to the wall was greeted by seven crossbow bolts to the chest, and maybe two dozen were gifted to his snarling, lizard-like mount. Eight more riders died on approach, because while the garos were more than capable of jumping the walls, they couldnt make that vertical height without slowing down to jump, which made them prime targets even for commoners who couldnt move or think as fast as Martial Warriors. Putting his crossbow aside, Bulat aimed his axe-gun at a leaping garo through the built in murder holes and pulled the trigger. His shot took the beast clean through the chest just before its talons left the ground, and its corpse crashed headlong into the wall. The rider snarled a guttural curse before the militia turned him into a pincushion, and a small cheer rang out as the militia celebrated their minor victory.First and Second ranks! he shouted, wishing these idiots would shut up and listen for his orders. Spears! To arms!Enough of them were lucky enough to have their weapons in hand when the first wave of garo riders landed on the wall, all fangs and fury as they set upon the defenders with merciless rage. Thankfully more than half the attackers just barely made the jump, not because the garos werent up to the challenge, but because they didnt have enough room on the battlements to find footing. Many chose to land on the jutting crenellations, which then crumbled under their weight just like Cixis team of construction wizards designed them to. Though the fall wouldnt kill many of the attackers, it forced the Defiled raiders to attack in staggered groups lest more come up short and fall back down, an advantage Bulat was happy to have. If left unchecked, even a dozen garo riders could clear this wall of its fifteen-hundred defenders, but with so many targets to choose from, Bulat and his Warriors had free rein to engage on their own terms. Hurling himself at the closest rider, he buried his axe in the garos neck while it was snapping at someone else, and he tried very hard not to see if the beasts jaws came away bloody. The bossman wasnt the only one who could be a real bastard, because Bulat mightve saved a life if hed acted a second sooner, but he didnt. He waited for his chance and killed the beast cleanly before driving his fist into the riders temple with an audible crack. An easy victory, but he had no time to bask in satisfaction as he was already moving towards his next target with deadly intent.Pick your targets and work together! Drive them back!Pran got there first, bellowing as his hammer sent beast and rider tumbling to the stone battlements. The nearby militia reacted too slowly to kill the rider where he lay, but the beast was not so lucky. Though several spears glanced off its thick hide, three bit deep into its flank, throat, and spine, but despite its mortal wounds, the garo was not yet finished. Writhing and snapping as it struggled to its last breath and took two unfortunate bastards to the grave with it, men too stubborn to let go of their weapons to let the creature die out. A year ago, Bulat would have thought this enough to send any commoner screaming for the hills, but the good people of this District held fast, for they were fighting not just for their own lives, but the lives of everyone they held dear, which gave them the fortitude to advance upon the rider without so much as a prayer for their fallen friends.No wait. The idiot fop had two sons, insufferable, snotty nosed brats who took after their father, but even then, Bulat would mourn the loss. Children were a treasure, or at least thats how he felt now that he was going to be a father soon.Dei An was safe and sound back in their home, with plenty of Khishigs to keep her safe throughout her pregnancy, which still had many months to go before the baby was due. Besides, these Defiled raiders were targeting the less defended stretches of the Western Wall, while the Bekhai district Bulat and Dei An called home was located directly east of the Northern Citadel. For it to come under attack, the Citadel would already have to be overrun, at which point the district walls and Khishig defenders might as well be a paper hat in a rain-storm. Shed come out fine though, he knew this in his bones, because the Mother made precious few people as tough as Dei An. Were it not for her pregnancy and his firm insistence, she would have probably made up some excuse to come along with him, even knowing there were too many districts with too few Warriors to go around. Shed have been on him to do something too, since these brave people had been abandoned by their mayor, because for all her disdain for how the Empire treated their own, she was as kind and generous to outsiders as she was to the people of her home village.Course, this made things tricky when people sought to take advantage of her kindness, but they stopped coming around as often after she had the last one run out of town by the Khishigs. A grand woman, his Dei An, that she was, sweet as sugar and tough as nails, and Bulat missed her dearly, but pining over her wouldnt bring her here and there was work still yet to be done. Finding the Khishig leader again, he studied the mans face until a name finally came to mind. Yorhu, right? Son of Gasu and Yindi?That I am, the man replied, with what looked like the ghost of a smile. Not to say his lips were smiling, but rather than he looked like he would be if he were capable of showing human emotion, as the Khishigs were a strange lot. You have need of my assistance, Old Bulat, son of Maira and Dagen?A jokester of a Khishig, a miracle of Heaven as it were. Dei An explained it to him, that the traditional greetings between Bekkies included parents and spouses to emphasize how one had roots in the mountains, and that there was no need for Bulat to mention anyones relatives when they met again, but he couldnt help it. If a man was gonna introduce his parents to him, the least Bulat could do was show he remembered their names, though it always came out as a question. That I do. Ye mind taking a few Khishigs and gettin a tally of the dead and wounded? Not like knowing would change things, but it seemed like the right thing to do. And err... could ye find someone to scribe fer me?That I can and will, Old Bulat. Again, that ghost of a smile appeared as Yorhu offered a martial salute, and Bulat couldnt make heads or tails of the man. No matter though, so he went back to work and when the scribe arrived, a fresh-faced Bekkie too young to grow a beard, Bulat narrated a few thoughts regarding concerns to bring to Cixi, Consort Luo, and maybe even the bossman regarding the district defences. A second district wall for example, or raised platforms for dedicated crossbowmen, and training for javelins and throwing axes. Wouldnt take much to improve the odds in their favour, and maybe itll save a few lives in the process. This wasnt the first district to come under attack in recent days, nor would it be the last, and he shuddered to think how many poor commoners had already died to Defiled blades.Which is why when the young Bekkie scribe, who turned out to be Amal, son of Yorhu and Cirinas, read the casualty report out loud to Bulat, he could scarcely believe his ears. What was that, now? Say those numbers again?Seven hundred forty three dead, three-hundred ninety eight critically injured, one-thousand eight-hundred thirty four wounded but mobile. Blinking in confusion, Amal held out the sheet and pointed at the numbers as if to prove he was reading it right. See?I was surprised as well. Yorhus ghost of a smile was gone now as he regarded Bulat with a critical eye. The boy has yet to tell you the best part. Go on now.Yes sir. Nodding like chicken pecking grains, Amal smiled and said, Of the four-hundred odd Defiled who attacked, one-hundred eighty-five were killed. No wounded or prisoners there, as any Defiled left behind would have been killed on sight.Having always had a gift for numbers, Bulat did the calculations in his head and came up with surprising results. Four militia died for every Defiled killed, though that number could shift up to six if every single critically wounded combatant were to die. Making it five militia to one Defiled would be realistic, and while it seemed like a terrible trade at first glance, this was coming from the perspective of a trained soldier. When Bulat joined the army, he was told to fight the Enemy with one concept in mind, that the life of an Imperial soldier was worth ten Defiled. This assumed of course that the Enemy was attacking a fortified Imperial position, just like they were now, so five to one odds against the Defiled was akin to a slaughter in his eyes, except now, the roles were reversed. If it cost five commoners to kill one Defiled, and ten Defiled to kill one soldier, then fifty commoners could ostensibly overpower one Martial Warrior.Had someone asked him yesterday, Bulat would have wagered good coin that one Martial Warrior was worth significantly more, but the important thing to note was that there was only one Martial Warrior for every ninety-nine commoners, as they made up one percent of the population. However, most of these Warriors belonged to noble families, and most werent anything special either, not necessarily stronger than your average Defiled, just able to take advantage of things like static defences, disciplined coordination, and forged steel equipment. Knowing this, Bulat was forced to re-evaluate the disparity between Martial Warriors and commoners, because unlike the Defiled, your average commoner could also make use of tactics, fortifications, and equipment, like the spears, crossbows, and catapults the bossman taught them to craft and use.So really, one Martial Warrior was worth far less than fifty commoners, as even a Peak Expert like Nian Zu would die from a bolt to the neck, and this was without taking into account the sheer economic power the commoners held if they all rose up as one...Indeed, Yorhu Sent, nodding in unspoken agreement. As you told those valiant souls outside, they can indeed stand tall with pride, for they hold far more power than anyone ever imagined. They will no longer bow so easily to others, not while Warriors like Old Bulat stand on their side. The ghost of a smile returned, and Yorhu shook his head. I sometimes wonder if young Rain understands the implications of his actions, realizes the change and bloodshed his efforts will bring. I believe he does not, that he is naive and foolish yet blessed by the Mother Above. What do you believe?He knows, Bulat answered, knowing it without even having to think. Hes always been one to champion the downtrodden, and I think hes been planning this all along. The schools, the training, the equipment, even paper money, all of it was geared towards putting more power into the hands of the common people. Whats more, Bulat believed the Mother Above agreed with his plans, for the balance of power was shifting away from the Imperial Clan. Even the nobles of the outer provinces were beginning to grumble about the Imperial Clans complete absence from the war effort, with their only contribution being cold hard coin, coin which the outer provinces paid them in taxes. Perhaps the Imperial Clan was banking on the fact that the Defiled would forever be a threat, but if two-thousand commoners could fend off four-hundred Defiled, ten million could certainly fend off one million, and a hundred million commoners might even be enough to drive the Defiled back out of the Western Province.The logistics of feeding that many people on the move could get tricky, but sharper minds than Bulats could probably figure it out, right?The bossman had known this all along, he must have. He was never one to boast much, so why else would he dare to make that very claim? He announced as much to the whole army before riding out to reinforce Castle JiangHu with ten-thousand irregulars at his side, because he believed he was about to prove what armed commoners could accomplish. A good thing his results were overshadowed by the miracles that took place and his injuries that followed, but even now, the bossman was still stepping up efforts with training and recruitment using the Imperial Scion Liu Xuande as his mouthpiece, and when his plans finally came to fruition, he would have a million strong army of Irregulars at his beck and call, which was a lot less laughable than it was yesterday.One million could easily grow into ten, and ten into twenty, and Bulat shuddered to think what it would be like to fight against a numerically superior force of commoners using Imperial equipment and tactics. The bossman had already proven he had the technology needed to raise fortifications quickly, and now hed proven that commoners could be turned into an effective fighting force with only a modicum of training. Were these trained Irregulars manning the walls, Bulat would daresay they might even get away with three or two to one odds against the Defiled, a ratio that would shift sharply if they were supported by more than twenty-four Martial Warriors, like say the three-thousand commoners turned Martial Warriors who were now calling themselves the Legates Stormguard.Add in the Bekkies with Lieutenant General Akanai to command them, and Falling Rain might have enough power to overthrow the Emperor himself, and damned if Bulat would not stand with him. Whether he wanted to or not, the bossman was going places, because if old Bulat could put all this together, the Emperor certainly could too, and few despots cared to leave threats to their power unanswered.Mother in Heaven, Bulat prayed, Watch over your son, Falling Rain, for these trials and tribulations may be too much, even for someone as blessed as he.Chapter Memenovelbin.com
