A little rewind in time.
At the headquarters of an organization located somewhere in the great grasslands.
“They sent this from the Allein branch?”
“Yes. It’s said to be written by that Ishmael. The same Ishmael who authored The Wealth of Nations and Leviathan.”
“They were told to send support to protect this land, and yet… only two books?”
The leader of ‘Carmen’ and chieftain of the largest tribe in the great grasslands, Mahdi Lisan, swallowed a sigh.
A mixture of mild irritation, a touch of frustration, and a similar degree of curiosity.
“The branch manager of Allein… was Kalia, right? She wasn’t the kind of woman to be stupid. She must be quite confident in this.”
“Shall I send a letter of protest?”
“No need. More importantly, check the contents first.”
To be honest, he wasn’t not angry.
But he was the leader of a great organization.
He knew well enough that there was nothing to gain from being swayed by every little thing.
While others were sending funds and launching diversionary operations in the rear, all they sent were books?
Surely, they must have been convinced this would be of immense help to have done so.
In that case, the top priority was to understand the source of that confidence.
“This seems to be a commentary on how to manufacture weapons and bombs…”
“And this one… a scripture? No, it seems more like a theological treatise?”
“A theological treatise?”
“Yes. It seems to advocate stricter adherence to doctrine and total obedience. It presents the holy war as something sacred. Roughly speaking, that’s the content.”
“Let me see it.”
The chieftain opened the book titled A Guide to Defending the Faith.
As the leader of the organization, he was also well-versed in religion, so understanding its value wasn’t difficult.
‘Is this meant to stir up the other tribes, not us?’
The organization does not believe in religion.
More than anyone, they know how misguided it is to worship a goddess.
It’s the same for their tribe.
As the core of Carmen, most of the members are part of the organization.
Aside from a few outsiders, they don’t even attend weekend services.
But ordinary nomads are the complete opposite.
Living such harsh lives, they rely on faith all the more.
Compared to settled peoples, many are so deeply religious it borders on fanaticism.
‘In these troubled times, if persuaded well, there’ll be no shortage of those ready to take up arms.’
This guidebook provided a method to weaponize their faith.
To consume their beliefs and will as fuel to drive out invaders.
[“Do not spare the effort in guiding those who disobey and resist the Church. It is the rightful duty of any follower of the Goddess to correct those who stray from the path.”]
“And for those stubborn unbelievers who cling to false beliefs, offer not tolerance but the sword.
Make them atone for their sin of heresy with their lives.
Let them realize through their flesh the price of turning their backs on the divine.”
By urging adherence to doctrine and scripture, the book persuades its readers and calls them to military action.
It nurtures and inflames the faith of those afraid of dying and hesitant to fight against foreign forces, pushing them willingly onto the battlefield.
It justifies it all as divine will.
The contents are specialized in raising morale—an essential element in any battle.
And it will surely be effective in uniting the often-scattered nomads.
‘If enough people gather, we can apply the tactics described later.’
In this harsh situation, the book even contained strategies and tactics for fighting with all available strength.
It detailed how nomads—lacking firepower, training, and control—could go up against a regular army.
[Always move with a strict hit-and-run approach.
Once you’ve inflicted enough damage, focus solely on retreat—don’t force additional attacks.
An obsession with victories and annihilating the enemy can instead cause irreparable harm to your own forces.]
[In any operation, prioritize supply lines first, then supply depots and garrisons.
Even elite troops can’t last long without supplies or shelter.]
It was essentially an expansion of the traditional nomadic hit-and-run and swarm tactics.
Rather than applying it just to localized battles or specific fronts, it applied to the entire war effort.
It leveraged the only real advantages the nomads had—geographic familiarity and mobility—to their fullest potential.
The ideas were familiar, so understanding them wasn’t difficult.
Nor was it hard to grasp their strengths and weaknesses.
‘This tactic heavily depends on the commander’s capability.Still, there’s enough potential for success.’
A commander would need strong leadership, authority, and influence to push their troops into a prolonged guerrilla and attrition warfare.
Without that, they’d risk falling apart from internal strife.
But.
‘That’s not a problem for me.’
Mahdi Lisan met all the requirements.
Wasn’t he the leader of the greatest tribe on the Great Steppe and the head of a transcontinental terrorist organization?
Coincidentally, the rival tribes had just been crushed by Navre and Artium.
He had both the power to silence dissent and the authority to impose his commands.
“I like it.”
Mahdi’s lips curled slightly.
Ishmael, huh.
He had thought the man was just some suspicious scholar—but this was impressive.
To think he’d come up with such an advanced operational plan and even hand it over.
Mahdi had kept an eye on him because of the uncertainty around his identity.
But with this much cooperation, his doubts were starting to fade.
Maybe he should even reward him for his contributions thus far.
‘Come to think of it, wasn’t he close with Kalia?’
If the two of them had that kind of relationship… then giving a bit of support wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Maybe add some seduction into the mix.
A mansion, a farm, and a little financial support—they’d definitely appreciate it.
Well, it’s called support, but it was more like a congratulatory gift and a reward for helping that hopeless adopted daughter finally blossom in life.
“Prepare the warriors. A long war is coming.”
“Yes, sir!”
Mahdi drew his sword and gave the command.
The tribe bowed and followed his word.
To drive out the despicable invaders and protect the organization.
*****
But life never goes the way you expect.
There was one thing neither Ishmael nor Mahdi had foreseen.
“So this is the new weapon we’ve developed?”
“Yes, sir. Would you like to try it?”
“Alright then—whoa?!”
“…This is freaking awesome.”
The Anarchist cookbook Ishmael had sent contained instructions on how to make old-fashioned rocket weapons.
Like the Congreve rocket, Singijeon, or flaming arrows—things that could be manufactured with just basic metallurgy and gunpowder.
They were explosive projectiles that were easy to carry and use.
The book plainly laid out a production method that even nomads in poor environments could mass-produce with ease.
“What are the materials for this?”
“Gunpowder, wooden sticks, and some paper to wrap the gunpowder. Arrowheads are optional but helpful.”
“With that, we can easily get what we need, right?”
Paper was easily obtainable if you didn’t care about quality.
Or you could use bark or cloth scraps.
Wood was everywhere, and there was an abundance of saltpeter—the main ingredient for gunpowder.
A saltpeter mine was buried in the south.
Farming was impossible due to the wrecked climate, but the steppe was rich in underground resources.
According to the tribe’s blacksmiths, as long as the materials were there, production was more than feasible.
If they got cooperation from other tribes, they could easily meet battlefield demand.
In other words.
“How long would it take to arm all our warriors with these weapons?”
“Give us three weeks. We’ll get it done fast.”
“Make it two. I’ll provide all the manpower you need, so get moving.”
A massive cavalry force armed with unguided rockets and explosive arrows was about to be born.
It was the equivalent of an RPG-wielding technical unit descending into a 17th-century world.
“But… how do we light the fuse while on horseback? These weapons need fire, right?”
“That’s not hard.”
Someone might ask: If this kind of powerful troop could exist, why didn’t it ever show up on Earth?
Simple reason.
It’s difficult to manage a flame while riding a horse.
In an age without detonators, you had to light the fuse with a torch or flint.
But doing that while in the saddle?
Even a master horseman would be risking his life.
“Have them learn magic. Basic fire spells can be learned in a week.”
“Ah! That’s clever!”
But this world had magic.
And a lot of simple spells could be learned by just about anyone.
The fuse?
Just chant a spell and ignite it.
That’s it.
Anyone could do it.
It wasn’t even difficult.
Unless you had some rare illness that made you unable to use mana, not being able to do it was the strange part.
“We still have some time. Make sure they’re well-trained by then. No fumbling in real combat.”
“Yes, sir!”
And so, the world’s strongest cavalry descended upon the Great Steppe.
When Mahdi launched his offensive, the once-hopeless war situation flipped in an instant.
To the point where all their careful preparations seemed almost pointless.
BOOM!
KA-BOOM!
“Gyaaaaah!!”
“AIEEE!! FIRE?! WHY IS THERE FIRE?!”
“Those insane barbarians are calling down lightning from the sky!! Run if you wanna live!!”
In an era with no concept of high explosives or explosive ammunition.
A rocket cavalry unit, raining death from above, was a force completely beyond the imagination of their enemies.
When the cavalry of Navre and Artium charged in swinging their sabers, these guys just fired rockets—the exchange ratio was overwhelmingly one-sided.
Even in surprise attacks from the rear or the occasional skirmish, they consistently achieved overwhelming victories, driving the enemy back.
“…At this rate, we might be completely wiped out.”
“Should we retreat?”
“…Let’s endure a little longer. We have to at least hold out for six months, or we won’t even have an excuse when we go back.”
It only took a month and a half before the command of the invading forces began seriously considering retreat.
It was the kind of speed that made you think of the Elance guys living somewhere far away.
*****
“Looks like things turned out well.”
Not long after he’d sent the book, a thank-you letter arrived from the steppe.
They said they were able to preserve both their organization and their tribe thanks to it.
Well, that was a relief for him, too.
If the organization collapsed, he’d be stuck in the Academy forever.
All that hard work sharing knowledge had paid off.
‘Though I didn’t expect a side effect like this.’
He never thought nomads would start shouting “God is great” while wielding rockets… but hey, not a bad outcome.
In any case, if his allies got stronger, that was a win.
But there was a strange note in the postscript of the letter.
What was that all about?
“Miss Kalia.”
“Yes?”
“There’s a line here that says, ‘Please take good care of my foolish daughter.’ Do you happen to know—”
“You don’t need to know! No, don’t try to find out! Absolutely not!!”
Kalia turned bright red and frantically stopped him, so he never got to understand the meaning.
Still, judging by the tone, it probably wasn’t anything bad.
Anyway, how’s that damned goddess doing these days?
With all this chaos going on, she’s probably pissed.
*****
Meanwhile, somewhere far away.
“You… you ungrateful bastard. How dare you defy my will?”