After lunch, Vig summoned Enrique.
"So."
"Where do you want your estate?"
Enrique pointed toward a tiny speck on the edge of the Caribbean map.
"Here."
"I've sailed across most of the Caribbean."
"I've never seen a more perfect island."
"Nassau?"
The image immediately formed in Vig's mind.
"You've got good taste."
He swiftly promoted Enrique to knight and granted him the two-hundred-square-kilometer island before heading to the council chamber with his attendants.
Not long after the meeting began, everyone noticed the emperor coughing slightly.
The Crown Prince finally spoke.
"Father."
"Let me lead this campaign."
"It's something I should do."
"For your sake..."
"...and for Gregor's."
The Crown Prince...
commanding the army?
Cabinet members exchanged uneasy glances.
For decades, the emperor had personally led every major campaign.
He embodied the army itself.
Replacing him with the heir apparent would undoubtedly affect morale.
The Prime Minister, however, saw matters differently.
The emperor was already past fifty.
Years of constant campaigning had worn down his health.
Sending him into battle while ill posed an even greater risk.
Clearing his throat, he became the first to voice support.
"I approve of His Highness's proposal."
Vig had originally intended to lead the campaign himself.
Then another thought occurred to him.
One day, the empire would inevitably have a new ruler.
Why not seize this opportunity?
It would serve as the heir's final examination.
Looking calmly at Frode, Vig said,
"This enemy consists of nomads."
"I'll give you as many mounted archers as I can—around 2,500."
"If that isn't enough, recruit more locally in Eastern Europe."
"Take your time choosing them."
"Over the next few days, prepare a complete campaign plan."
"We'll discuss it at the cabinet meeting."
"And remember..."
"The empire has just fought two major wars."
"We're short on manpower."
"Avoid unnecessary conflicts with the Balkan kingdoms."
"Even if we defeat them, we don't have enough troops left to occupy their lands."
After the meeting, Frode left the palace and headed for his cousin Leif's residence.
Leif had served since 856, first as a royal guard during the Second Viking–West Frankish War before spending years on campaign.
His battlefield experience was second to none.
After weighing every option, Frode decided Leif was the ideal choice for chief of staff.
Inside the study, Leif poured his cousin a glass of sugarcane liquor.
"I've spent so many years away campaigning."
"My two children barely receive any supervision."
"Their grades are terrible."
"And now we're going to war again."
"I never get a moment's peace."
He flipped through Frode's documents.
"So."
"How do you plan to fight?"
Frode explained.
"In spring and summer, nomadic tribes remain in one place for roughly fifteen to thirty days."
"Once the grass is gone, they migrate."
"The sheep must graze while moving."
"The caravans include elderly people, children, wagons, and ox carts."
"They average only ten to fifteen kilometers a day."
"I've based my plan on what we learned at the Imperial Military Academy."
"The infantry will advance behind wagon forts to withstand light cavalry on open grassland."
"If the enemy refuses battle..."
"...we'll pursue their migration columns instead."
"We'll march thirty kilometers a day."
"They'll never have time to rest."
"The field army will stay in constant pursuit."
"Behind us, the garrison regiments and convict labor battalions will build fortifications."
"We'll construct a fortress every thirty kilometers."
"Little by little..."
"...we'll compress their maneuvering space until they're forced into a decisive battle."
Leif nodded.
His own thinking had been nearly identical.
Taking out pen and paper, he sketched the basic layout of a regimental wagon fort.
He pointed toward the artillery placed around its perimeter.
"Last summer the Imperial Arsenal developed a new cannon."
"It sacrifices some range and power..."
"...but it's much lighter."
"It fires a three-pound solid shot with a maximum range of five hundred meters."
"Perfect for mobile warfare."
"Issue them to the infantry regiments."
"With plenty of archers and crossbowmen, they'll be able to withstand cavalry forces several times their own size."
He added another consideration.
"Your uncle's military treatise discusses the Han Empire's wars against the Xiongnu."
"Whenever the Han advanced deep into the steppe, the Xiongnu poisoned wells using diseased livestock."
"It caused horrific casualties."
"This campaign should include far more water wagons."
"And we should hire more cavalry to locate clean rivers before the army arrives."
Current intelligence indicated that only the Magyars were migrating.
Neither the Pechenegs nor the Khazars were involved.
Leif therefore recommended recruiting every other steppe people available.
"The empire has plenty of money."
"Using nomads to fight nomads..."
"...is an excellent bargain."
The two men worked late into the night before producing a preliminary campaign plan.
Britain simply lacked the manpower for another massive expedition.
Frode therefore intended to deploy only 30,000 troops:
two field infantry divisions;
2,500 mounted archers;
ten garrison regiments.
He also planned to conscript 8,000 prisoners for engineering work while hiring at least 3,000 steppe horsemen for reconnaissance duties.
The expedition would depart in April.
The army would sail to the mouth of the Elbe, transfer onto riverboats, and proceed upstream toward Bohemia.
On March 15, the Crown Prince presented the campaign plan before the cabinet.
No one objected.
The following day, the empire officially entered a state of war.
Once word spread that the campaign targeted nomadic tribes rather than a major civilized power, optimism swept through the populace.
War bonds sold out rapidly as people eagerly sought to profit from the coming expedition.
After three weeks of mobilization, the expeditionary army finally assembled.
One after another, transports departed from the docks of Londinium.
As the nominal King of Pannonia, Gregor was only fourteen years old and had yet to graduate from the Imperial Military Academy.
He was therefore forbidden from joining the campaign.
All he could do was stand beside his parents, watching the countless sails gradually disappear down the river.
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