In war, the importance of seizing the initiative is a universally acknowledged truth.
Whether through diplomacy or combat, breaking and subduing the opponent early on carries a profound impact.
This effect isn’t limited to physical damage.
Losses in prestige and morale can ripple through the intangible aspects of warfare, often outweighing the immediate costs.
Even nations with inferior resources or strategic positions can gain massive advantages if they successfully seize the initiative.
Two prominent historical examples of this principle are the Mongol victory at the Battle of Kalka River and the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
“Both were tactical and strategic masterpieces, at least initially.”
Subutai’s Mongol forces crushed the coalition of Russian principalities in their initial foray into Russia, securing a decisive victory.
Similarly, Japan launched a surprise attack on the U.S. Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor, sinking numerous battleships and decimating its air units.
Both achieved remarkable tactical success, allowing them to conduct highly advantageous campaigns in the years that followed.
“Of course, their fates ultimately diverged dramatically.”
The lesson to be learned? It’s not just about winning the opening move—it’s about seeing it through to the end.
A victory that’s incomplete or poorly managed can easily lead to disastrous repercussions.
The Mongols obliterated the field armies of the Rus, rendering their subsequent conquest nearly uncontested.
Japan, however, failed to deliver a definitive blow, leaving key American infrastructure and assets intact.
This allowed the U.S. to rebuild its navy and, as history famously recounts, exact devastating retribution.
“We must emulate the Mongols, not the Japanese.”
With this understanding in mind, I began crafting our strategy.
What we needed now was a decisive example—a clear demonstration of power that would make other lords hesitate to oppose us.
The ideal target would be formidable and well-known.
Striking down a minor noble would be insufficient to leave a lasting impression.
Instead, we needed a prominent adversary whose defeat would send a resounding message:
“This is the strength we wield. Band together if you wish; it will only ensure your destruction.”
“At least we have the necessary forces ready,” I muttered, piecing together our grim but necessary plan.
Despite the challenges we faced, the foundation had already been laid.
A battle-hardened, elite army forged through over a decade of combat in the north.
Cutting-edge line infantry tactics, unmatched by any neighboring power.
An exemplary cadre of experienced officers and commanders, sharpened in the crucible of war.
A seemingly endless supply of resources and funding to sustain the campaign.
To top it off, we had recently introduced new weapons that further enhanced our army’s capabilities.
The Central Army, in its current state, was arguably the strongest fighting force on the continent.
And with 40,000 soldiers at our disposal, we could overwhelm almost any noble’s private forces with ease.
Victory wasn’t just likely—it was inevitable.
The real challenge would be minimizing our own casualties while delivering the strongest possible message.
“So, who would make the best target for such a demonstration? Any suggestions?”
The answers came quickly.
“The Barelmud family is a good candidate. They’re relatively close to the capital.”
“The Kirchheis County is also a viable option. Strategic and symbolic.”
“What about the Roengram Duchy? Their new head has a reputation for being an insufferable tyrant.”
Barelmud, Roengram, Kirchheis.
Each of these powerful noble houses could muster thousands of troops and stood within a week’s march of the capital.
They were perfect candidates for our first move.
“Choose one, and we’ll crush them,” someone suggested.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“We’ll crush them all.”
The room fell silent as my decision sank in.
“Prepare to face them all,” I continued.
“We’re a force the size of an army corps. Do you think we’d impress anyone by conquering just one measly estate? No. We’ll engage multiple targets at once and emerge victorious against all of them. Only then will they realize the futility of resistance.”
“What I want is a scenario where we utterly dominate a powerful foe.”
A situation where, on paper, the fight should be evenly matched, yet one side effortlessly crushes the other.
To achieve this, at least on the surface, the enemy’s visible strength had to appear comparable to ours.
“Targeting a single duchy or county? Who would take that seriously? If it’s clear from the outset that we’re bound to win, what’s the point?
Not only will we fail to intimidate the nobles, but they’ll just scoff and dismiss us entirely.”
I scanned the map, calculating distances and positions.
“Let’s see. Roengram is to the south, while Barelmud and Kirchheis are westward?”
“Yes, sir. Of the two western regions, Barelmud is closer to the capital.”
“Then we’ll start with the furthest one and work our way closer. We’ll send royal decrees in the king’s name to all three. The message? Something like, ‘Your father has been arrested for treason. You are ordered to appear in the capital for investigation.’ It should do the trick.”
The basics of warfare often involve defeating the weaker enemies first through isolated engagements.
Having assessed the terrain and distances, I decided to target the isolated duchy of Roengram first.
There was another reason, too—its proximity to my hometown.
If I delayed and the enemy decided to take hostages, my parents could be at risk.
And if anything happened to them, my brother Julius would undoubtedly lose his mind.
While usually reserved, he became utterly unhinged when anything involved our parents.
That kind of fury could derail our entire political strategy, so it was better to preempt any such disaster.
“When should we send the decrees?”
“Not immediately,” I replied.
“How long do we need to prepare the supplies and have the troops ready for a campaign?”
“It’s hard to say exactly, but I’d estimate about two weeks. Procuring rations from the markets should be quick.”
“Then send the decrees in five days. We’ll time it perfectly.”
A swift response
Calling in a team of expert scribes and Foreign Ministry personnel, we quickly had the royal decree drafted.
It was a flawless document, complete with all the royal etiquette, phrasing, and formality expected of such correspondence.
To top it off, we affixed the royal seal we had taken from Carl VII, making it indistinguishable from an official letter issued by the monarch himself.
The bait cast, the trap set
At the appointed time, we dispatched the decree southward.
The response came back swiftly—and colorfully.
“Summon me to the capital? What nonsense! Tell them to get lost and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine!”
It was a tirade laden with expletives, but such a reaction had been anticipated.
Enough time had passed since the executions for news of the capital’s events to reach the surrounding regions.
Anyone with an inkling of what we had done would naturally refuse.
“Good,” I said, “Order the central army to march.”
The royal decree had served its purpose. It wasn’t meant to persuade but to establish legitimacy.
By refusing, the duke had essentially extended us an invitation to march on his lands.
A swift campaign
Within hours of receiving the reply, a force of 25,000 troops set out.
Exactly 12 days and 22 hours later, the Roengram Duchy was under our control.
The new duke and his family were promptly captured.
The news spreads west
It didn’t take long for word of Roengram’s swift fall to reach the western duchies.
“What? Carolus attacked Duke Roengram? That fat and complacent fool?”
“No, my lord. It was the newly ascended head of the house.”
“That accursed rebel seeks to eradicate the noble bloodlines entirely….”
A chilling realization
Barelmud, one of the remaining powerful dukes, was caught off guard.
Having narrowly avoided the catastrophe in the capital by retreating to his estates to handle family matters, he had already been shaken by news of the executions.
The idea that the rebels were now extending their claws beyond the capital struck him with a sense of dread.
“First the capital, now the provinces…. What in blazes is their next move?”
The gears of war turn, and the stakes rise as the flames of rebellion and defiance engulf the kingdom.
Barelmud Duke, shrewd from years in the political arena, immediately grasped the gravity of the situation.
He could see that Carolus’ ambitions weren’t merely to consolidate power but to dismantle the very fabric of the kingdom’s noble hierarchy.
Though the motivations behind Carolus’ relentless aggression remained unclear, the stakes were unmistakable—to remain passive was to invite annihilation.
The Call to Arms
“We can’t afford to wait and see,” the Duke declared.
“If Roengram has fallen, we could be next. That dog Carolus won’t be satisfied with just one victory.”
“Mobilize the levies! Begin conscription and prepare for war immediately!”
“And send out calls for reinforcements. We’ll need every ally we can muster, especially Count Kirchheis. Cooperation is our only chance.”
United in Desperation
Within hours, messengers returned with critical replies.
“Count Kirchheis has pledged his forces! He’s raising his army as we speak!”
“Filhaim, Nyben, and three other houses have also declared their support! Reinforcements are already on their way!”
The Gathering Storm
The Duke’s forces quickly swelled.
Combined with support from neighboring fiefs, the coalition amassed a force of 46,000 soldiers.
For a hastily assembled army, it was a remarkable accomplishment—though one couldn’t help but wonder how such a force had been withheld from the front lines in previous wars.
“Your Grace, reports from the scouts! The central army is approaching, less than two days away!”
And thus, the armies of rebellion and resistance collided as the Kingdom’s Civil War erupted into full force.
Neither side could have predicted how bitterly the events would unfold.
It would not be long before soldiers on both sides echoed the same refrain.
“War truly is hell.”