Rise of the Horde - Chapter 667 - 666

Snowe convened his officers after the Lettra barony report reached him, and the meeting had a quality that his previous councils had not possessed.

It was not that the officers were less capable or less composed. The two weeks of campaign had produced in all of them the particular alertness of military professionals who understood that the enemy they were facing operated according to a logic whose applications they had consistently encountered after the fact rather than anticipated before it.

The Horde moved, the Threian force responded, and the response consistently addressed a situation that the Horde had already moved past. The pattern was a campaign’s worth of evidence pointing toward a conclusion that everyone in the room had reached independently and that no one had stated explicitly until now.

The Baron of Lettra was the first to state it, which was perhaps appropriate because it was his estate that had most recently illustrated it. He was contained in his frustration, which was its own kind of eloquence.

Twenty-five years of military and administrative service had given him the discipline to present his assessment without the anger that a less experienced man would have led with.

“They were gone before we arrived,” he said. “Our advance guard reached the estate boundary three hours after their rearguard cleared the northern road. The estate staff confirmed that the occupation was conducted without any harm to the household or the farm workers, that the storehouses were inventoried rather than looted, that the agricultural operations were not disrupted, and that the orcish War Chief communicated his instructions to Harrow with, and I am using my captain’s word precisely, precision and professionalism.” He paused.

“They used my estate as a message and a mechanism simultaneously. They sent a message to the council and they used my response to it as a mechanism for drawing two thousand of my soldiers sixty miles from the junction.”

“Which reduced my force at the junction by four thousand when including the two thousand of my own infantry I assigned to support your reclamation,” Snowe said. It was not a criticism. It was an acknowledgment of the chain of cause and effect that both men were examining.

Captain-General Oswyn of the baronial forces cleared his throat with the slightly deferential care of a man about to contribute an observation that he was not certain would be welcomed. “With respect to the assembled officers, the orcish commander has operated inside our response cycles consistently and deliberately throughout the campaign. Every action they have taken, we have responded to after the fact. They occupy, we march to relieve. They withdraw, we arrive to empty ground. They cross a river with a night maneuver, we find them deployed on the northern bank at dawn. They abandon a capital we expected them to defend and reappear behind our blocking force. They use a noble estate as leverage and withdraw before we can bring force to bear on it.”

The room was quiet in the way that honest assessments produced quiet when they were accurate and the room knew it.

“What do you recommend?” Snowe asked, and the genuineness of the question was audible.

Oswyn took a measured breath. “We stop responding to their moves and start creating situations they cannot respond to. Find the thing they must address regardless of the tactical cost, something that cannot be bypassed or abandoned, and place it between them and the one thing that is genuinely irreplaceable to their entire campaign.”

“The corridor,” Thaddeus said.

“The corridor,” Oswyn confirmed. “Everything else they have done, every bypass and occupation and withdrawal, has been possible because the corridor remained open. Their supply comes through the corridor. Their connection to their city comes through the corridor. Their ability to sustain operations inside the province, regardless of how brilliantly they maneuver, depends entirely on that corridor remaining open. Seal it and they are not maneuvering inside the province. They are trapped inside it.”

* * * * *

Snowe spent the night with the maps. His staff knew not to interrupt him in this state, the general’s focused stillness communicating that the thinking that was happening was of the kind that interruption damaged rather than accelerated. The candles burned low. The waystation’s other rooms held the sounds of an army at rest.

He traced the route to the corridor entrance with the deliberate repetition of a man testing a hypothesis against every variable he could identify. The corridor was a geographic feature, not a fortification.

It had not been fortified on the southern end because no previous operational plan had required it to be. The assumption had been that Threian forces would operate outside the province and that the corridor would be relevant only as an orcish retreat route, the kind of feature you watched rather than blocked.

The assumption had been made before the Horde demonstrated that it did not retreat in the direction that assumptions predicted.

Fortifying the corridor entrance now, with the Horde inside the province and its supply line running through the corridor’s full length, changed the geometry of the campaign with a finality that the Horde’s maneuver doctrine could not address by repositioning alone.

A sealed corridor was not a tactical challenge. It was a countdown operating at the level of supply and endurance, the kind of pressure that maneuvering armies exercised against static defenders but that static defenders could also exercise against maneuvering armies if the terrain provided the right chokepoint.

The corridor provided exactly the right chokepoint.

The plan required two things: the force to establish and hold a fortified position at the corridor entrance against an assault by eight thousand warriors who had already demonstrated they could take fortified positions, and the patience to allow the seal to do its work against an enemy that would certainly attempt to break it before the supply countdown ran out.

He had fifteen thousand soldiers after the Lettra barony operation’s detachment and return. Six thousand at the corridor entrance, nine thousand as a mobile holding force that could maintain pressure from the north and respond to the orcish army’s attempt to break the seal or find an alternative passage.

He drafted the order, reviewed it twice, and called for a dispatch rider at the fourth hour past midnight.

By dawn, six thousand soldiers under Colonel Thaddeus were marching south toward the southeastern highland corridor with the specific and irreversible mission of sealing the entrance before the Horde understood what was happening.

The campaign had been a contest of maneuvers. Snowe had just converted it into a contest of time.