The Art of War (Lore)
The Art of War
For many, goblin strategy is limited to the so-called “green swarm” technique. Until recently this preconception was not unfounded. Yet this has changed with the arrival of Ûraken, a goblin warrior whose ruse is only equaled by his stubbornness. The founder of a military school, he has developed a new art of war for the goblins, art of war that will change the face of No-Dan-Kar, and maybe even the course of the Rag’Narok.
Duty
A strong spurt of blood splattered onto Kiritsû’s mask. For a moment the bûshi gazed at his opponent’s stunned expression, and then he turned away from the soldier, whose lifeless body slumped to the ground. He blocked another dwarf’s swing of an ax while moving back toward his ashigarûs. He heard shouts behind him but he didn’t pay attention to them. Letting out a Lira ken war cry, he did a feint and then skewered the dwarven soldier. Yet this wasn’t sufficient and the boor continued cursing as he fought on. Kiritsû moved back some more, seeking to come back-to-back with his ashigarûs. A new shout was heard behind him while he did another feint. This time his blade hit the boor in the head. Stunned, the dwarf couldn’t parry the next blow and collapsed after a final, deadly wound.
Kiritsû scanned the battlefield around him. Only two ashigarûs were still left with him. He couldn’t even make out the others in the piles of corpses lying all around him. His troops were frightened by the losses suffered. Kiritsû barked orders to reassure them. Fearing their chief more than their enemies, the ashigarûs positioned themselves behind the bûshi, ready to continue fighting.
The dwarves had submerged the Ûraken clan’s lines of defense. Kiritsû could see the Khor warriors’ armor shine in the sun as the earth rumbled under the hoofs of the charging razorbacks. Yet in the middle of the fray the bûshi could see the clan’s standard. The war staff was holding strong and that was all that mattered.
Taking it on himself to change the course of the battle, Kiritsû noticed the last bridge that the dwarves hadn’t destroyed yet. A Khor unit was relentlessly pushing back the goblin reinforcements that were trying to cross the river. Drawing from his knowledge of the art of war, Kiritsû decided that if he managed to take the dwarves from behind on the bridge, then the reinforcements would be able to reach the main part of the fray and would save the clan.
With a simple hand gesture, he ordered his troops to follow him. After a short sprint toward the bridge, he sounded the attack. Busy holding back the ashigarûs who were trying to cross the bridge, the Khor warriors didn’t see Kiritsû’s detachment approaching. Yet the bûshi’s and his companions’ blades bounced off the dwarven armor and the Khor unit rapidly reorganized itself. Within seconds the two ashigarûs were slain and Kiritsû was all alone facing the terrifying dwarves of the Aegis. Once again, the bûshi moved back to avoid his enemies’ blows. The dwarves followed him without leaving him a moment of respite.
Kiritsû smiled. The dwarven forces on the bridge were divided and the last Khor warriors on it couldn’t hold out against the ashigarûs’ pressure. His pursuers tried to return to their position on the bridge, yet Kiritsû followed them and put them to death. He looked around for a unit that he could join.
“Kiritsû-san!”
A bûshi was motioning at him from the other side of the river. At the same time the reinforcements were rushing toward the main part of the fray. Kiritsû wanted to join them.
“Kiritsû-san, your presence is required in the camp!”
Orders are orders. Kiritsû crossed the bridge and followed the bûshi.
A few minutes later he entered the camp’s main tent. An envoy of the Shogun and his uncle Sempai were waiting for him there. Kiritsû bowed respectfully. The envoy cleared his throat.
“You are the bûshi Kiritsû?”
“Yes.”
“Where is your unit?”
“It has been decimated.”
The envoy frowned.
“At least we won’t have to find it a new leader.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Shogun requires your transfer to Klûne.”
Kiritsû preferred to say nothing.
“There,” the envoy continued, “you will take charge of a unit of militiamen and will be under Bazûka-san’s command.”
“Militiamen? Why not ashigarûs? They by far outclass all the fighters of Klûne!”
“Orders are orders. You will participate in a campaign of strategic importance and you will train your men in the art of war!”
“Yes.”
The envoy left. Kiritsû turned to his uncle.
“Have I displeased the Shogun in any way, my uncle?”
“Not at all.”
“Then why am I being punished in this way?”
“This isn’t punishment but an honor.”
“I’ll never manage to command militiamen! This is a maneuver to dishonor me!”
“Don’t worry, you’ll manage. And if you have any trouble, just let me know and I’ll see if I can use my influence to help you.”
Partly reassured, Kiritsû left the tent, then his clan, and traveled to the imperial capital.
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Orders
First day of the campaign.
My uncle,_
I’m sorry to bother you so soon. Be assured that this missive is sent because of a serious problem: this military campaign has neither beginning nor end.
I don’t wish to insult the wisdom of Bazûka, our commander. Actually, everything that has to do with our army’s organization and the enlisting of troops is done precisely according to the art of war. The presence of this illustrious warrior is the only thing that reassures me ever since I arrived here.
Unfortunately, everything else is influenced by the foolishness and disorder that are typical of our cousins of the other clans. The nine militiamen whose command I have been given seem more like a group of bandits than a squad of soldiers. The other hush is and I have to constantly bark orders and reprimand the men so as to be sure that the convoy remains in a state to march.
In effect, this military campaign involves a journey. For a moment I had hoped that our clan had received permission to land on Zoukhoï to destroy the traitors of the Yakûsa clan, yet the time for this visible hasn’t come yet. It’s toward the east that we are marching. And to top it off, we’re traveling over land, which only raises my perplexity. Why can’t the imperial navy transport us? This being said, to answer this question I would have to at least know our destination. For that is the most absurd part of all this: I don’t even know the objective of the operation! Have you ever seen anything more idiotic? I’m convinced that the commander knows the reasons for all this, yet the Emperor has surely forbidden him from revealing them.
How am I supposed to prepare my troops if I don’t even know what I have to prepare them for?
The Trackers of Bran-Ô-Kor
My nephew,
I can understand your surprise an I am aware of the respect that you have for your commander. Yet must I remind you that you are also to show the same respect for the Emperor and his soldiers? You represent out clan through your feats of arms, yet also through your words. Don’t’ forget that the whole Empire’s gaze is turned toward you.
Above all, don’t get your loyalties confused. Tell yourself that the drive you show to serve Bazûka is nothing in comparison to his devotion to serve Emperor Izothop. Don’t stray like that vile traitor Yakûsa!
As for the secret surrounding the campaign in which you are taking part, it is probably acceptable. This is the first large-scale operation in which our clan is participating. It is probable that the Empire’s enemies fear confronting troops commanded by Bazûka. Thus, the army you are a part of is surely being spied on or is infiltrated by enemy agents. War is based on lies. Victory is also achieved through spying. By hiding your journey’s destination from your soldiers, Bazûka is making sure that he preserves the advantage of surprise for as long as possible and avoids being caught in an ambush.
So don’t doubt the importance of your engagement. If it’s any reassurance, I have personally heard that our orcish allies have reported the presence of the clan of trackers among these emissaries, and notably that of Carbone. Even a young bûshi like you has probably heard of this exile and his companions who watch over the canyons of Bran-Ô-Kor. The presence of such glorious individuals can only mean that your objective is of prime importance.
Have trust in your chiefs and follow their orders to the letter.
Preparation
Thirteenth day of the campaign.
We are still advancing toward the east and we will soon reach Barg. Ever since our departure I try to teach the basics of the art of war to my troops at every halt.
Right on the first day I got busy with this task. I asked the war staff to allow my men to bear the colors of the Ûraken clan, yet my request was turned down. I therefore carefully reread the Treatise on Martial Discipline and began their training. I explained to them that they had to vanquish their fear of death, that in reality they were already dead for this is the destiny of every warrior. I must admit that their reaction surprised me a lot. Some snickered, others looked at me with incomprehension in their eyes, yet the attitude of most of them revealed a deep fear, the same fear that I was encouraging them to vanquish.
I was severely reprimanded for having executed those who had dared make fun of me. Luckily the Empire has many troops at its disposal and my request for reinforcements was accepted.
Having failed to harden their minds, I tried to strengthen their bodies. To my great relief the goblins of the other clans seem to be as tough as our ashigarûs. This being said, I quickly realized that this training was useless. My men seriously lack discipline. They only work reluctantly, do their exercises only halfway and never waste an opportunity to shirk away. I can should to them as loud as I want, I can’t get anything out of them.
However, despite this disaster, I’m reassured by how the other bûshis accompany me are doing. Many of them are also leader and they are bumping into the same difficulties as me. I even have the impression that I’m doing a better job that the others. In any case, Bazûka hasn’t said anything to me even though he has watched several training sessions that I was trying to successfully lead. I pray Rat that our first battle doesn’t bring me to shame.
The Army on Campaign
Thirtieth day of the campaign.
I’m sorry that I haven’t written earlier. This letter will probably reach you after the worrisome rumors that you have surely heard. I sincerely hope that you haven’t worried about me too much. As you can now tell, I’m still alive.
You probably know that our army has passed Barg. Following itineraries set out by the merchants of No-Dan-Kar, we marched along the edge of the forest of Diisha at the foot of the Ægis Mountains. Because our mountain-breakers had been taken apart for the journey, we couldn’t rival with the artillery of the Ægis, and Bazûka decided to remain as close as possible to the forest in order to avoid the dwarves. In this he was successful, yet the Wolfen were awaiting us. I continue to believe that we were greatly superior in numbers and that, in spite of the terrain, we should have been able to push back the assailant without entering much opposition. Yet this wasn’t so. It was a true slaughter…
As soon as the first Wolfen was spotted my militiamen ran off. They were so frightened that their green skin turned to a sickly yellow. By the time I caught up with them to rally them, our convoy had already suffered heavy losses. Realizing how precarious the situation was, I ordered a charge, but my troops refused to attack the hunters who were destroying our chariots. Luckily the Wolfen couldn’t resist their killer instinct and charged themselves. This caused my unit to become totally disorganized, yet at least it forced my men into the battle.
My men were petrified by fear and none of them survived this massacre. I nevertheless managed to slay one of the hunters and to finish off another one who was already hurt. Unfortunately, the third and last Wolfen fought me with unrivalled savagery. Alone I wasn’t able to resist and my blood was spilled in this wild land. I thought that I was going to die over there in the dark forest, yet my assailant fled when the read guard arrived in reinforcement.
I would have preferred to die that night. My involvement in this battle is a true disaster. As soon as I’m strong enough I will perform seppuku to avoid you shame. Farewell.
Strategic Imperatives
Forty-third day of the campaign.
It seems that death doesn’t want of me. As soon as my wounds were healed, I asked Bazûka-san for permission to put an end to my days. A few hours later, when I saw my commander enter the hospital tent, I thought that he was here for the ceremony, but I was strong.
Bazûka questioned me on the causes of my failure. I explained how the militiamen of Klûne had fled and what bad soldiers they were. He shot back that the soldiers are never as bad as their leader. This answer hurt me harder than a Wolfen’s claws. Bazûka-san then explained that an army’s strength doesn’t only depend on its numbers on its commander’s competence, but also on its virtue, meaning the relationship between a leader and his troops. I answered that in the clan I never had any problems, that my troops always strictly obeyed me. He then asked me where the last unit of ashigarûs under my command now was. I was about to answer when I realized that its annihilation would only confirm the commander’s remarks. So, I remained silent.
The commander avowed me that thought our had a real objective, it was above all a test. It was supposed to prove to the Emperor that the Ûraken clan could bring order and discipline to the imperial army. It was to prove the validity of our art of war. And to do so, Bazûka needed us, the bûshis of the clan.
I therefore wasn’t given permission to kill myself, for the commander didn’t have anybody to replace me. He gave me the command of a new unity that had arrived as reinforcement and ordered me to lead my troops to victory for the honor of the Ûraken clan. Bazûka-san assured me that he would let me cleanse myself of the shame of defat once the empire has been convinced of the usefulness of our art of war.
You see, my uncle, my shame is so great that I cannot honor the memory of my ancestors. This new command sounds like punishment, a trial that I must successfully pass to find my dignity again – at least enough of it to be able to present myself before Rat. I must succeed!
Izothop and Ûraken
My nephew,
I can understand your feeling of helplessness as well as the difficulty of the situation you are in. This being said, I wonder if your analysis is correct. You haven’t really been defeated since your convoy is still advancing toward its objective. It’s true that you have suffered losses, yet isn’t that something all commanders have to deal with?
Forbidding you from putting an end to your life, Bazûka-san is first and foremost preventing you from being carried away by your hotheadedness. It’s probable that, in his opinion, there is no dishonor to be cleansed of.
On the other hand, I’m convinced that his remarks concerning the importance of your behavior are sincere. There have been rumors galore ever since your commander’s departure, and it seems that Ûraken himself met with the Emperor before naming Bazûka to lead your army. I now know that this meeting caused loud protesting in the other clans. Many still consider our chief to be a deserter and a madman.
I don’t know the exact nature of the deals made between our clan and the Empire, but Ûraken’s involvement in this campaign suggests that we have been called to play a more important role in the march of our nation. To get this honor its probable that Ûraken gave something of high value to the Emperor. Yet out clan is far from being as rich as those of Klûne and Barg. Our only fortune is the art of war.
In exchange for a place next to the Emperor, Ûraken has promised him a whole new imperial army and victory over our enemies. The campaign that you are now waging is to be the proof that he can succeed. Yet he cannot provide this prof without good officers. It therefore seems that with this campaign the Emperor is testing Ûraken, who is testing Bazûka, who is testing the bûshis.
Our clan’s fate depends on your ability to lead your next unit.
Resupplying
Seventy-second day of the campaign.
My uncle,
An event that is so incredible has happened that I can’t help myself from telling you about it: I have seen the goblins of No-Dan-Kar in a brand-new light. Since my last letter everything has gone as planned by Bazûka-san: I have gotten over my injuries and I was given the command of a unit of thirteen marauders. At first, they behaved like a bunch of brats and I didn’t manage to teacher them anything about the art of war. What move, the situation quickly became worrisome. The Wolfen’s attack having seriously reduced our supplies, we had come to realized that we would run out of provisions long before we reached our destination.
We could have entered Bran-Ô-Kor to ask our allies for help, but for some reason the commander decided to continue traveling along the Ægis Mountains.
That’s how, by chance, we discovered a village of Akkylannian colonists. From leagues away we spotted the steeples of their churches. Right away Bazûka ordered an attack, counting on the Akkylannian supplies to replenish our own. When this was announced, I thought that I saw the soldiers mutate right before my eyes as they were taken by an incredible frenzy and a terrifying war cry rose from our ranks: “Grab the prize, grab the prize!” They seemed like a bunch of fierce pirates getting ready to attack a ship.
I must admit that, being troubled by this sudden enthusiasm, I wasn’t a very concentrated leader. My marauders didn’t seem to need me anyhow. They charged with ease, ignoring fear, and slew all the conscripts that got between them and their warehouses with amazing determination. There was something terrifying yet beautiful in their destructive stubbornness. Of course, we were far from the restraint characteristic of an army’s conduct, but I must say that these goblins know how to fight when they really want to.
I have the feeling that the solution is near.
Thoughts
After the pillage, my goblins again became as incompetent as before. I was unable to make them reach this state of rage again. I don’t know how to make them get over their apathy.
I must use the art of war. I must speak the same language as they do. I must understand their goals as if I were an enemy commander. I must give them what they want while forcing them to give me what I want. What do they want? They want riches. And they especially want to profit from them. If I explain to them that a rapid victory will ensure them a rapid return to No-Dan-Kar, then there is nothing they won’t do in my name.
That’s the solution.
The Lie
Eighty-eighth day of the campaign.
We are now in the canyons of Bran-Ô-Kor. We have been joined by orcish troops and Devourers. They look more like hunters than soldiers, and I think that I have recognized this Carbone you have told me about. Our campaign also seems more and more like a hunt than like a military campaign. And only Rat knows what we’re hunting.
Whatever, it doesn’t really matter. I have applied m theories to the training of my marauders. To my great satisfaction it works. As soon as it’s a question of saving their own skins, my troops use rare ingenuity worthy of our best generals. Thus, I have been able to teach them formations and discipline, making them understand that giving in to fear is the best way to get oneself killed. This time they reacted well, especially the young Oxyd, who is more intelligent than the others. Also, I have noticed that the regular Carbur, if he remained calm, was able to suffer many blows before falling. They are good goblins. I regularly lend them my Treatise on Martial Discipline so that they can become familiar with the teachings of Ûraken.
And, to crown this success, I am pleased to announce that I have seemingly become an example for my peers. Many other bûshis have come to ask for my advice and, when he inspects my troops, I think I can see an expression of approval on Bazûka-san’s face. There is no doubt that every day our soldiers are becoming more familiar with the art of war and that our commander will keep his promise.
The Nine Reversals
Ninety-second day of the campaign.
Today we fought in the canyons of Bran-Ô-Kor. In the morning our orcish and Devourer scouts spotted an enemy formation and Bazûka-san ordered us to go track them down in the rocky gorges. Having faith in my unit of marauders, I didn’t hesitate to volunteer to lead the expedition.
The sun was barely beginning to set when we found our enemies. It’s Oxyd who saw them first: two Skorize warriors who were observing our convoy’s advance from a promontory. I remembered their blades, which were carefully folded behind their backs so as not to reveal their presence. They were two; we were fourteen. I ordered the charge and the marauders charged without flinching. Despite this success, I should have noticed that they lacked the conviction that I expected.
The first attack was dreadful. Despite his small size, Oxyd was cut in two by the dorsal blades that were deployed in the blink of an eye. Most of the marauders were wounded and I had a very hard time upholding their valiance. While I was hoping to lead a second, more victorious attack, a horrible cry was heard behind our position. Hideous, patched-up dwarves were rushing at us from a gaping chasm in the rock. Only Carbur and I managed to resist the cold sting of fear. All the others fled. The Skorize chased us and killed two more of us, but I was able to restore order in our ranks. I reminded these cowards that they had to hold strong to survive and I managed to organize an efficient defense against the enemy’s charge. Thanks to our numbers we were able to defeat the two Skorize and I ordered another charge against the dwarves of the Despot, who were already retreating. Yet this was useless, for the marauders refused to listen to me: they were willing to defend themselves, but they refused to attack.
The minions of Mid-Nor fled, taking with them valuable information on our presence and the direction we were moving in. Bazûka-san didn’t like this complication very much. According to him, if the fiends of Darkness reached our destination before we did, then this meant a serious battle ahead.
Unlike what I believed; I haven’t understood the real profit that our cousins of the other clans are seeking. Greed for money is enough to motivate them and push them to defend themselves, yet on a battlefield you can’t just try to survive. You have to kill. It’s like in a duel: if you just try not to lose your sword, you will never be able to kill your opponent.
Faced with this new failure, I have lost all hope once again. Can you help me?
Glory and Honor
My nephew,
Your last letter intrigued me. I have taken care to have a little conversation with one of our few cousins who enjoy the clan’s recognition: Baron Ozöhn.
By listening to him I understood that the goblins of No-Dan-Kar aren’t greedy or avaricious. To them the klû is a means, not an end. The baron made me realize that our cousins grant as much value to social recognition as we do to honor, and that these two notions are closer than may seem. Their wealth is only used to buy titles, just like our feats of arms allow us to rise in the clan’s hierarchy. What others think is just as important to our cousins as it is to us.
I hope that this will help you and, above all, that this letter will get to you in time. May Rat be with you.
Killed in Action
Honorable Sempai,
The imperial army of No-Dan-Kar regrets having to inform you that your nephew Kiritsû was killed in action. I add my sincere condolences to those of our Emperor and I insist on assuring you that bûshi Kiritsû died honorably with his weapon in his hand.
We were waging a hopeless battle, far away from our lands and our brothers, and your nephew was the leader that I had been waiting for. Thanks to him and all the other goblins who died on that day, our army was able to win a decisive victory against our enemies and gain a strategic advantage that will be, I’m sure, decisive in the battles to come.
I particularly insist on letting you know personally that thanks to your nephew’s sacrifice and virtue, among other things, the Ûraken clan has been covered in glory by the Emperor. The success we had in the canyons of Bran-Ô-Kor has allowed us to show the whole Empire the superiority of our art of war. There is no doubt that the Ûraken clans will play a key role in the future of our nation.
We also owe this success to your nephew, the honorable Kiritsû.
Sincerely,
Bazûka
Profits
The shells were falling as if they were rain. With every explosion the night was lit up like on a night of celebration. Yet none of the marauders was in the mood for laughing, not even Carbur. Kiritsû often threw quick glances over the top of the trenches to gauge the situation. The course of the battle wasn’t turning to the goblins’ advantage.
Kiritsû cursed and looked at his troops. They were all terrorized not only by the possessed fighters, but also the number of clones, the noise of the fire-spitters and the imminence of defeat. Kiritsû considered charging the enemy by himself, but the months spent in the convoy had taught him that this kind of undertaking was usually bound to fail. He would have to find a way to encourage his troops.
“Marauders, we have to get out of this trench and attack the fire-spitters of Mid-Nor!”
A shell exploded nearby.
“No way, we’ll be chopped to bits by the clones!”
“So what. If we don’t do it, then our whole army will perish!”
“That’s not certain!”
“Imbeciles! Bazûka and the others are trapped in the canyon. They sent us here precisely to neutralize the fire-spitters. We must carry out this mission!”
Another explosion made dirt rain down on the marauders.
“We’ll be dead before that! I don’t want to die. I want to go home to No-Dan-Kar!”
In spite of the darkness and exhaustion, Kiritsû noticed that this attitude garnered the whole unit’s approval, maybe excepting Carbur.
Another thunderbolt split the sky. Maybe fatigue was playing tricks on him, but Kiritsû could swear that he heard the shouts of the other goblins far below in the canyon being slaughtered by the fire-spitters’ shots. He began to laugh. Carbur turned to him, worried.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just remembered that when I first became a bûshi I dreamed of being in a situation like this.”
“Huh?”
“Yes. Leading my troops into a hopeless battle. Being face-to-face with death and laughing in his face.”
The marauders were becoming ever more worried.
“My sensei,” he continued, “once told me about the siege of Kokyo. The first goblins of the Ûraken clan had been besieged by Yakûsa’s army. They were fighting while outnumbered by a hundred to one. They fought on for days and days against death and fear.”
“And?”
“They all died.”
“And that makes you dream?”
“Today, after all this time, all the bûshis of the Ûraken clan can tell you by heart the names of the 37 last bûshis to have defended the city.”
At the other end of the trench a marauder leaned forward to get a better view of his leader.
“Do you remember their names?”
“Zuriken, Uzuma, Wazami, Mushi...”
“Were they dukes?”
“No.”
“Marquis?”
“Nope, not either.”
“So they were counts?”
“They didn’t have any titles.”
“And you can remember them?”
“They’re heroes.”
One could hear the marauders’ minds thinking while flaming cannonballs continued raining down all around them.
“Do you think we’re at a hundred to one here?”
“It’s as if. They’re shredding us to bits.”
“Do we have a chance of becoming heroes?” Kiritsû smiled.
“I guarantee that if we leave this trench, charge the fire-spitters and save Bazûka-san, then there will be a street in Klûne that’ll bear your name.”
Kiritsû could now see the soldiers’ eyes filled with wonder.
“And all I have to do for that is die?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have to kill any enemies?”
“That would be better.”
“The more I kill, the higher up I am in the list?”
“Yes.”
The goblin immediately got up to charge. The fragment of a shell hit him in the head and splattered his brain all over his neighbor.
“What was his name again?”
“Doesn’t matter, nobody remembers the names of those who die in the trenches.”
“So what can we do?”
“We’ll wait for them to reload. At my signal we’ll charge and we’ll pray Rat that we can engage the clones before the possessed have finished reloading. Once we’re in contact with them, they’ll no longer dare fire at us.”
“We’ll have to kill all of the clones!”
“No, we just have to push to get an opening at the fire-spitters. Simply the possibility of them being engaged will force them to leave their positions. We will be heroes.”
The marauders were ready. Kiritsû turned toward Carbur.
“If I fall, you’ll be their leader.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kiritsû stood up and gave the order to charge. The marauders rushed forward like a single goblin. As planned, the fire-spitters couldn’t shoot. As planned, the marauders engaged the clones of Dirz. Yet during the first assault a blade split Kiritsû’s helmet in two and sent the bûshi flat to the ground, neutralized.
Blood was pouring onto the goblin’s face. Fleeting visions of the Ûraken School flashed before his eyes. In the distance, further below, he caught a glimpse of the main fray. Without their allies’ bombs, the troops of the alchemical empire couldn’t hold out against Rat’s tide. Kiritsû passed out.
The bellow of a horn woke the bûshi up. He was hallucinating. In the canyon he could see a gigantic creature, bigger than the biggest of trolls, being ridden by orcs and a goblin. He was sure that it was Carbone. For a moment he pictured this gigantic creature, harnessed for war and mounted by bûshis. He smiled and had enough strength to turn his head.
A few meters away the marauders were fighting against the fire-spitters of Mid-Nor. Unlike in most situations, they didn’t have the advantage of outnumbering their opponents. Yet they didn’t falter and Carbur was leading them with just as much confidence and virtue as Kiritsû would have done.
Victory!
Notes
The Art of War lore excerpt is from Cry Havoc volume 7.