The Rural Officer Who Was Once a General

Part 1, Chapter 18

A white-gold tent—symbol of a Grand General, used only by the greatest commanders of the Khanate.

Inside sat the Supreme Commander of the Western Front and one of the Hundred Generals, Bartei Borgum.

Known as a ‘Commander of One Hundred Thousand Households,’ he was so acknowledged in skill that he had even married the Great Khan’s daughter—a power among powers.

“May I come in?”

Rakula’s voice came from outside the tent.

Bartei rose from the long sofa he had been sitting on and asked,

“Have you come as my beloved niece, or as the ‘Witch of the Steppe’ who lost a hundred men to some backwater fool?”

“…Naturally, the latter.”

Rakula hesitated a moment before answering, perhaps unwilling to say her own moniker aloud.

“Come in.”

“Yes.”

Rakula pushed aside the tent entrance and stepped inside.

The air in the white tent was thick with the smell of blood.

“So. What is it, General?”

Bartei said as he sat back down on the sofa.

“I would like to request permission for deployment.”

There was no proper chair, so Rakula remained standing as she spoke.

“Deployment? Wasn’t that bald old bastard refusing to send you to the battlefield?”

“That bald old bastard died a week ago. You're my direct superior now, General.”

“Is that so? Must’ve been hit by a stray arrow or something.”

“You killed him. For making advances on a female officer under your command."

“Hmph, I must’ve had a bit to drink if I don’t remember. No matter. A steppe native who’s lost their pride is worth less than a corpse—no need to remember what happened to such a fool. Heh heh.”

"And it's not about going to another battlefield. It's about the operation that was put on hold because General Tsuitan died before he could give his approval."

“Hmm. That, I do remember.”

Bartei licked his lips.

“You wanted to go back to that damn backwater. And this time, drag your own body along.”

Bartei looked into Rakula’s sharp eyes for a moment before continuing.

“How many do you plan to take?”

“If I could have my way, I’d like to take all 7,000 under my command…”

“You didn’t think that would actually happen, did you? Of course not. Whether you leave it to that one-armed man or someone else, your forces are the most crucial in defending this area. They can’t be moved lightly.”

Seven thousand was over one-tenth of the total troops deployed on this front.

This place served as a key strategic position, so pulling all her forces out was impossible.

“If we succeed, we can strike their rear—or at the very least, sever their front line.”

“You were defeated by fewer than thirty of those Imperial bastards, and you’re speaking of success so easily?”

“I will succeed. No matter what.”

“And if you fail?”

“I’ll offer my life.”

“Hahahaha!”

Bartei burst into laughter.

“Forget it. Your aunt would try to kill me if that happened.”

He kept laughing, wiping away the tears that had slipped out.

“Hah… paperwork really doesn’t suit me, does it? Fine, go ahead and try it. But you can’t take all 7,000. Leave behind enough troops to hold this area until your operation is over.”

“Yes, General.”

"Hey now, you should call me Uncle, Uncle!"

Bartei chuckled as he sank back into the sofa.

“Ahh… I can already picture Pipin’s twisted expression, you know?”

***

“…Are you really planning to come along?”

Rakula looked at Turg with a displeased expression.

Of course, in past battles, he had performed admirably even with just his left arm.

But where they were headed now, the young officer who had defeated him even when he was whole would be waiting.

“Hmph, who else but I, your axe, Rakula-nim, will strike down the enemy? I cannot entrust you to those greenhorns. I will take the vanguard. Please grant me this chance to reclaim my honor, not just yours but mine as well.”

“…It’s not really my place to object.”

“Thank you!”

As Turg bowed repeatedly, Rakula casually waved her hand and checked the troops set to deploy.

“1,000 light infantry and 500 heavy infantry.”

The light infantry were mostly new recruits or soldiers of slave origin.

They would only serve a numerical role, but against Aide’s soldiers, that would be enough.

‘There’s no way they didn’t prepare for this.’

It was likely Aide had reinforced their numbers, but even so, if they hadn’t noticed any troops leaving the front, it couldn’t be a large number. At most 400—probably much fewer.

In that case, they'd be overwhelmed by this force.

Last time, she’d been careless and failed to capitalize on her numerical advantage, but she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

‘And I’ve got the heavy infantry too.’

The chaotic skirmishes in the forest would be handled by them.

They were among the elite—veterans who’d been through plenty on the battlefield.

“500 light cavalry, 200 medium cavalry, 200 mounted archers.”

With the Khanate’s pride—the cavalry—Aid would crumble, and any follow-up rear attacks or a severing of the front line would be simple.

A separate force with nearly 1,000 cavalry?

That was something no one outside the Khanate of Raman would dare attempt—a bold, unpredictable maneuver.

After the forest skirmishes were done, a cavalry feast was bound to follow.

“200 archers, 200 rangers, and finally, 200 for supply and miscellaneous tasks.”

A force of nearly 3,000 would cross the forest, destroy Aide, and crush the Empire’s Eastern Front.

Just thinking about it gave her a thrill.

If this operation succeeded, she would surely earn the rank of Hundred Commander.

‘Not some trivial, foul moniker like ‘Witch of the Steppe,’ but a new name entirely.’

They said monikers were given, not chosen—but she thought ‘Heroine of Grass and Steed’ had a fine ring to it.

If that name stuck, the Ulus she’d receive would be unimaginably vast.

She might even be granted all the land reclaimed from the Empire.

Look at her uncle by marriage—despite lacking Khan blood or the eyes of insight, the honor and Ulus he’d received as a Hundred Commander were enormous.

Even compared to the other sons-in-law of the Great Khan, Bartei’s Ulus was unmatched.

It might even be larger than what her youngest uncle or father had.

'Hehehe.'

She hadn’t even started marching yet, but Rakula was already savoring the taste of that plump, easy-to-pick fruit.

‘Sweet… so very sweet.’

Of course, she also had some idea of just how bitter the aftertaste might be.

“All right, let’s go!”

The march was carried out cautiously at night.

Even though the area had been secured nearby, there was still the risk of being discovered.

After walking quite a bit into the forest, the swamp came into view.

“We’ll cross at daybreak. We can’t determine the exact position, and we might be spotted. No talking or unnecessary noise.”

The soldiers of the Khanate nodded silently in the darkness.

They quickly calmed their horses to keep them from making noise, then entered tents designed to muffle sound as much as possible.

Just in case, all the tents, horses, and even the sentries were camouflaged.

When morning broke, Rakula realized it had been the right call.

“There are two watchtowers over there.”

Two watchtowers, each as tall as a three-story building, stood right next to the swamp’s crossing point.

“Persistent bastards. It hasn’t even been a month and they’ve already built towers.”

“Turg, were the rangers in the enemy unit last time were here?”

“It was a reed field, so it’s hard to say for sure, but probably not.”

“Then that means reinforcements have arrived.”

Rakula turned to the rangers who were scanning the towers through their telescopes.

“The enemy?”

“Two rangers and three light infantry in the eastern tower.”

“Three rangers and four light infantry in the western one.”

“No other buildings or troops detected.”

“Got it.”

Rakula looked at both towers and closed his eyes.

“So, twelve in total, huh?”

The enemy had the high ground and cover. Their own path was limited, and veering off could mean falling into the swamp.

“Might’ve been tough for them.”

Rakula licked her lips.

“Have ten rangers circle around the swamp and signal with a mirror. Then the archers will turn those bastards into porcupines. No need to reply.”

The soldiers of the Khanate nodded silently.

Among the two hundred deployed rangers, the ten most skilled assassins crossed the swamp at a point beyond the watchtowers' line of sight.

The lead assassin climbed a slightly tilted tree, then barely managed to brace one leg against a small rock in the center of the swamp. From there, he threw a rope—handed to him by the others—over a bent tree on the opposite side.

Thunk.

The hook at the end of the rope bit several centimeters into a branch, securing it firmly.

Whoosh!

The lead assassin tossed the other end of the rope to another assassin perched on the tree behind him.

“Hup.”

A barely audible, restrained grunt slipped past his lips.

Ting.

The second assassin, gripping the rope, leaned backward and pulled it taut.

Tatatat.

The third assassin ran along the rope as if it were flat ground, arriving at the bent tree on the far side.

As he slid down the tree, a thick spear whistled through the air beside him.

It had been thrown by the fourth assassin.

He drove the spear diagonally into the swamp's edge, then wrapped the rope around it.

Gripping the spear tightly to keep it from falling over, he gave a firm nod.

Screeeech!

One by one, the remaining nine rangers hooked curved metal rods over the rope and crossed the swamp.

Having successfully crossed, all ten assassins silently positioned themselves behind the watchtower with expert precision.

One of them carefully took out a small, palm-sized mirror from his cloak and angled it to catch a sliver of sunlight filtering through the dense forest canopy.

Flash.

The warm beam of light bent and shot toward the direction where Rakula and the others waited.

Only two people noticed the signal.

“Now. Fire.”

Rakula, whispering quietly to the archers—quiet enough not to be heard even from where she stood.

And—

“…Was that just now…?”

Blathyun, atop the western watchtower, finally spotting that tiny glimmer.