“I don’t know the status of Landolin military history and tactics, but I assume it’s something similar to what’s happening on Melosia. You must’ve had conflicts within Landolin and have watched what’s happened with the Narthani against the Iraquiniks and the Fuomi.”
A disgusted look flashed over Gaya’s face. “Too many of our leaders continued to delude themselves that what was happening on Melosia had nothing to do with Landolin. Even the invasion of Caedellium didn’t faze the blindest. The only attention our leaders paid toward our military was how to deal with traditional methods of warfare on Landolin. The southern third of the continent is mainly open prairie and rough country not the best for farming. A major part of Jahmnor’s economy is raising horses, cattle, and krykors for sale to the other Landolin kingdoms. Jahmnor’s army also relies heavily on horsemen. They are fearsome fighters in open terrain, but when they’ve tried invading kingdoms to their north, their armies met infantry blocks and turned back.”
“Infantry? Muskets, pikes, or both, like the original Narthani organization when they came to Caedellium?”
“Both. On Landolin, it’s been less than two lifetimes since we used mainly pikes, with only a few muskets. We’ve slowly changed to more muskets, but Landolin has lagged behind Melosia, where all the realms are phasing out pikes. Our leaders are once again oblivious to how fast military tactics and weapons are changing. If anything, you have accelerated things even more. We have unconfirmed reports of the Narthani using observation balloons on Amalor. One of our spies in Jahmnor reported a company-size Narthani unit that looked much like your dragoons—men who rode to battle and fought on foot.”
“Only a company?” asked Yozef. “That doesn’t sound like a major change in their cavalry tactics. Maybe they’re experimenting, or your spy didn’t correctly interpret what he saw.”
Gaya shrugged. “Maybe, but the balloons were confirmed, and it’s only reasonable to assume anything new the Narthani faced on Caedellium has led them to try and implement it themselves.”
“Even so,” said Yozef, “if the Narthani have one and a half corps in Amalor and Jahmnor, that’s maybe 90,000 men. Let’s assume Jahmnor will have enough horses to equip Narthani cavalry units. How many men could Jahmnor put in the field for a war?”
“At least 300,000 horsemen, maybe as many as 700,000 if they were older and younger and with poor-quality horses. They also have infantry mainly used for occupation and construction. They’re not considered serious military assets, but if the Jahmnorese mustered all of them, that could be another half a million men.”
Yozef didn’t like the way the Landolin scenario was shaping up. “You know, Rhanjur, if the Narthani are serious about incorporating all of Landolin, there’s a good chance they’ll send even more troops. The Jahmnorese might impulsively attack, but the Narthani will try to meticulously plan. Your best chance might be right now, with the four Landolin kingdoms together striking Jahmnor before the Narthani become too entrenched.”
Rhanjur glanced to one side as if wanting to spit. “There’s no chance of that happening. There’s too much distrust among kingdoms, plus each will hope nothing happens or that somehow their kingdom will be spared. But even if they were to cooperate, I’m not sure I can support what you suggest. What if the four kingdoms attacked together and were defeated? It would mean the entire island falls quickly, instead of taking many years.”
Yozef thought for several moments before he sighed. “You may be right. It was a quick thought I take back, but some kind of alliance is still critical if not to attack first, then to defend. What are the chances of that?”
“The question was still unsettled when I left Munjor. Panhan borders both Jahmnor and Munjor. We have a history of coordination against Jahmnor, so it is generally assumed we will come together against the combined threat of the Narthani and the Jahmnorese. Mureet is problematic. Many of us believe they will join an effort against a southern invasion, but it may not come until the invasion is underway, making their help less effective. Naskin almost certainly will never join. There’s too much ill will from past conflicts. Also, by being the farthest from Jahmnor, they are more inclined to be oblivious to the threat or to hope the more southern kingdoms fight and win.”
Yozef sighed again and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, Rhanjur. You’re in a bad spot, similar to where Caedellium was a couple of years ago. Of course, the details are different because Landolin is so much larger and your population so much greater, but the basic situation is almost the same. We had eighteen clans not all accustomed to cooperating and certainly not ceding to a central authority. You have four nations but more serious past conflicts than the clans had. Still, you need to find a way to work together.
“We certainly will not commit Caedellium to support you in a major way. Our people suffered so much during the war that they need a time of peace and recovery. Plus, what could we do? Our population is small compared to the Landolin kingdoms. Even if we agreed to send a few regiments of dragoons, they would be insignificant for the scale of fighting liable to occur.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” said Gaya. “For the type of warfare your people used against the Narthani, they may be the best in the world. Any capabilities that add to our ability to resist are important, even if they might seem small. There’s also the possibility of your people training ours, assuming our leaders wake up in time.
“Probably more important than any numbers is your reputation. News of the Narthani defeat on Caedellium is only slowly spreading throughout Anyar, but I made sure the leaders and people of Munjor know all of it. I confess I may even have enhanced the details such that the events have begun to take on a mythical character. Don’t believe the news hasn’t spread among the Narthani, despite their efforts to hide what happened. At least for a time, any Narthani troops facing Caedelli will be worried even before a shot is fired.”
“That may not make much difference if the enemy has ten times as many men as our magical Caedelli warriors,” said Yozef.
“True, but your people’s presence at the right time in the right place could turn a battle.”
“If, maybe, under the right circumstances . . . I’m afraid that’s not a very compelling argument for us committing men.”
“There’s something else that may be even more important in the long run,” said Gaya. “The Munjorian military is proud, both the leaders and the common soldiers. They might initially not take it well if Caedelli units were fighting alongside them, no matter what the Caedelli reputation. However, I believe that once our people saw yours in action, pride would stiffen their resolve to match or surpass the legendary Caedelli.”
Yozef didn’t immediately respond. He conceded Gaya’s last point might be the most significant. Morale and pride were siblings for a military unit. During his gamester days on Earth, he had read of the importance of morale on an army’s effectiveness. It was one of Sun Tzu’s primary bullet points that an army with high morale will defeat a more numerous foe with lesser morale. He remembered watching a YouTube video discussion on the merits of having some units be given special recognition. A marine general argued that to enhance the reputation of one unit inherently risked other units feeling inferior. An army colonel countered diplomatically that the argument was a cop-out. The goal should be to make every unit feel special. He then offered a theoretical experiment to the marine officer.
“If you take two hundred men and randomly divide them into hundred-man forces and then tell one of the groups they were selected because tests showed they would be superior fighters, and then pitted the two groups against each other in real or simulated warfare, what would you predict to be the outcome?”
The marine officer hemmed and hawed before conceding the group not told they were special would have no chance. He quickly went on to argue it was a specious scenario, but the point was made.
Yozef understood and sympathized with Gaya, but it didn’t change his opinion. “That may be true, but it
doesn’t change the fact that Caedellium will not send troops to fight the Narthani on Landolin.”
Gaya’s face fell for a moment, then he recovered. “Well . . . I had to try, and I’m sure you expect me not to give up. However, neither do I believe that Yozef Kolsko would sit by and do nothing while the Narthani slowly, or quickly, incorporated Landolin into the Narthon Empire. I expect that even while we were talking, your mind was working through what Caedellium might do to help.”
Yozef’s blue-gray eyes were as cold as a winter blizzard in the mountains of Vandinke and Bultecki provinces. “You may be right in this case, but I would caution you not to believe you can predict my thinking.”
Gaya appeared unfazed, but Yozef noted that the two smaller fingers of the Munjorian’s left hand quivered up and down as if playing a piano trill.
“But?” said Gaya with an expectant tone, implying Yozef’s response wasn’t complete.
The meeting with Gaya and the request for help were no surprise to Yozef. He had expected something like this as soon as word came that the Narthani fleet had bypassed Caedellium, heading farther south.
“I’ll have to speak with my advisers and a few key hetmen before any commitment is made. Any help would have to be in the area of supplies. Although Balwis is justified in restricting the sale of animals until his new clan is reconstructed, most of the other clans expanded their herds dramatically in the hope of eventually exporting to Iraquinik and Landolin.”
“I understood that many of your herds were slaughtered to feed your people and keep the animals from the Narthani during the last phase of your war,” said Gaya.
“It’s true the number of animals was reduced, but there were still more left than traditionally raised on the island. Remember that the Narthani stopped all export trade for eighteen clans for several years. The animals didn’t just stop breeding. In a few clans with mountainous regions, tens of thousands of dressed animal carcasses were stored in deep ice caverns after partial brining. In addition, more tens of thousands of animals . . . well, maybe hundreds of thousands, I don’t know the exact number, were driven out of the path of Gullar’s army. When the fighting stopped, the herds were dispersed back to where they came from and resumed breeding.
“I don’t know all the details of the traditional methods of preserving meat here on Caedellium, but I’m sure we can export tens of thousands of cured carcasses a year. As for wheat, grain is not as easily stored long term, so farmers have been growing for only local consumption. I can encourage the clan hetmen to plan for increased wheat planting, but implementation would be slow until we confirm export markets.”
Gaya took on a pensive look. “Hmmm . . . I’m thinking about ways to store wheat long term. There is a type of dried bread our ships take on long voyages. I’ve never eaten it myself, but I’ve heard ships’ officers talk about it. They call it sofel. It’s supposed to keep almost indefinitely. I don’t know what it tastes like, but it can’t be too bad.”
Hardtack, thought Yozef. Must be something like this sofel. He remembered novels and movies about sailing days on Earth. The Hornblower series, Mutiny on the Bounty, Master and Commander. Also, a book series he had read. He thought the author was Stirling, Drake, or maybe both. A story about an officer named “Raj” something or another who was uniting nations on a planet that had lost contact with the rest of humanity. The Raj character was leaving on a campaign, and the quartermaster service tried foisting off improperly prepared hardtack. Something about needing to be baked twice, but it was baked once and already infested by insects.
“That’s something we can both look into,” said Yozef. “I’ll have someone talk to our bakers to see if we can make this sofel or some other version of bread that would keep for at least months and maybe years. If that’s possible, then we can figure out ways to store large quantities away from pests. That would be another source of food for shipping to Landolin. Of course, the long-term storage might be your problem. We could ship wheat and barley immediately after harvest. However, some of the same constraints will hold as for meat. We wouldn’t go into full production until there is a guaranteed market, and you would need to pay for getting the infrastructure in place for large-scale production.”
Gaya’s face showed more animation the longer Yozef talked. “I think I can guarantee markets for everything you can export to Landolin. Food is not a critical factor at this time, but if full-scale fighting breaks out with the Narthani and the Jahmnorese, then production and distribution are bound to be hurt.”
“I think you can see a problem, Rhanjur. Landolin may eventually want all the food Caedellium can provide, but you can’t say for certain when that demand will develop. A disconnect is likely between when you want the shipments and the time it takes Caedellium to increase production and get the food to you. That time lag could be as much as a year.”
Gaya’s previous enthusiasm waned. The lines on his face seemed to come and go as they talked.
“There must be a way around this. If you couldn’t begin shipping for a year, it could be too late.”
“I suppose we could store more completely cured meat in the ice caves and then ship to Landolin when it’s needed, but the meat would have to be paid for in advance. The same for any of this sofel we produced.”
“I can’t commit Munjor on my own authority,” said Gaya. “Neither can I speak for the other three kingdoms. However, I believe we can work something out. I can get messages off to Munjor as soon as there is transportation.”
Yozef looked thoughtful. “Caedellium only has a single sloop being tested at sea and the crew properly trained.” He smiled. “It represents our entire navy, so I wouldn’t yet risk a long open-sea voyage. However, I can speak with the Fuomi ambassador about whether one of their sloops could carry a message. In fact, that brings up another topic. Right now, the information flow between Caedellium and Landolin depends on unscheduled ship traffic. It would be to both Caedellium’s and Landolin’s benefit if regular communication could be scheduled. The Fuomi might be willing to help, but what about Munjor and the other kingdoms? Could you and they commit sailing vessels on regular routes?”
“I’ll have to check, but I’m sure it can be worked out, especially once trade is regular. It’s an outstanding idea. I wish I’d thought of it.”
All right, thought Yozef, let’s don’t get back to kissing ass.
“We both know we’re each getting something we want. Caedellium needs more trade and updated information on what’s happening on Landolin, and you’ll get food and see it as a way to keep us involved, whether we want to be or not. I’ll talk to the Fuomi ambassador about sending the sloop to Munjor. You should prepare whatever letters and reports are needed to send to your leaders.”
“I think for this, I’ll have to go myself,” said Gaya. “Oh, my staff and I will work on written reports until I leave, but words on paper will not be enough for the convincing and politicking that my family and I will have to do. I’ll probably need to be gone several months and possibly more, but I’ll send a ship back as soon as Munjor agrees to regular message exchanges between us.
“Of course, there are more needs than food in wartime,” Gaya said. “Gunpowder use might increase faster than we can produce it. We would like another source.”
Yozef smirked. “You mean you haven’t figured out how we make gunpowder from bird shit? I figured you would’ve solved it by now. I assume you have spies on Caedellium.”
“Knowing something is possible to make and even having some hints how it’s done doesn’t mean it’s always easy to take the last steps,” said Gaya, unabashedly confessing to spies as if all parties knew they spied on all the others.
Yozef’s gesture waved away the problem of spies. “I think providing you with gunpowder is the easiest thing we’ve talked about so far. We can quickly expand production and ship it to you, store it here, or both. There is no storage problem, except keeping it free from moisture as much as possible and not having it blow up on yo
u. We can arrange production on an immediate payment basis.”
“Assuming this goes reasonably well, there’s going to be a huge flow of gold and silver to Caedellium,” said Gaya.
“Yes, but we may also take some other payment in exchange. For many reasons, Caedellium needs more skilled craftsmen. We have projects where we simply don’t have enough workers with specialized skills. The populations of the Landolin kingdoms are far larger than Caedellium. We can take some of the payment by having workers move here. They would have to come willingly. If they have families, they would come, too, and have to realize it was a long-term move.”
Gaya slid a finger over one edge of his oiled goatee. “What kind of craftsmen are you talking about?”
“Blacksmiths, gunsmiths, shipwrights, experienced miners, apothecaries—young ones, anyway. I’m sure there are more, but those are my first thoughts.”
“What are these projects you need them for?”
“That’s our concern. Your concern is how to pay for what we’ll send you. An obvious question is, how would you know which people to send us, and how can you evaluate our needs? We may have to send representatives to Munjor and the other kingdoms to help make the evaluations and selections. I suppose they could also serve as our ambassadors.”
“I’m sure we can work this out,” said Gaya.
“There’s something else,” said Yozef. “We lack knowledge of Landolin, its kingdoms, and the internal politics. I’d like to send people from Orosz City to talk with you and others. Probably the same for the Iraquinik kahsaks.”
“It would be easier for all of our interactions if our embassy moved to Orosz City.”
Yozef had expected the comment.
“I’m sure we’ll work that out, but let’s start with what we’ve discussed so far. I’ll let you know what the Fuomi say about the sloop.”
A Dubious Peace Page 13
