Chapter 25: War In The Pocket

Sloppy.

That's the only word Chris Fia Arclight can use to describe Leon Fou Marshwell's swordsmanship. It has none of the grace or flare that proper swordsmen would have; no quick movements, no footwork, no technique– just pure force and speed. Unlike the Armor he was famed for piloting, the young man himself does not quite live up to the hype that he's heard from the court.

But he's persistent, getting up every time he's thrown into the dirt. He's adaptive, always trying new avenues of attack after every unsuccessful blow. But above all that, Chris sees the most obvious point that the young man keeps his father, the kingdom's best swordsman, on his toes– his efficiency.

There is no flare or grace to his movements. No skill beyond the most basic. Nothing overt beyond the bare necessary; giving him endurance to last longer than anyone Chris knows of with simple swings that pack enough force behind them to make Chris' father to stay on the defensive. He'd only blocked one strike from Leon, and that single hit was enough to send the older man skidding back with a wince– and he has been dodging every other blow since. It made Chris shudder, to think that Marshwell would have such strength in that frame of his…

Still, force and efficiency were not enough to overcome a Sword Saint with years of experience under his belt. With a flourish of his blade, the elder Arclight disarms Marshwell and pins him to the ground with his blade against the young man's throat. He admits defeat and is hauled up to the applause of the onlookers.

Chris watches as his father exchanges words with the young man before parting, taking that as his cue to go meet him. Questions burn in his mind– what did he think of the young man? What is his character like based off of what he's found? And how would Chris himself compare?

The blue-haired youth traverses through the halls and finds his father massaging his forearms. The older man nods at him as he rushes in, alarmed.

"Father? What's wrong?" the boy asks. "Did that Marshwell boy do something to you?"

"Calm down son, he did nothing wrong." Harvey chuckles. "I simply overestimated my own strength, that's all."

"Overestimated…?" Chris blinks. "Marshwell's strike that you blocked– was it really that strong?"

"It was, yes. Were I any less experienced, he would have disarmed me through sheer strength alone. It's fortunate that I tested him when I did." the elder Arclight narrows his gaze in thought. "That boy– he's dangerous. Plenty of untapped potential waiting to be brought out and honed. And what's more, he is quite the tenacious fighter. I suppose the rumors about him are not too far-fetched as we initially expected."

"He lacked the skill and technique of a proper swordsman." Chris protests. "He was no different than an animal with how he thrashed about during your spar."

"He was put into military service at 13, son. The boy had neither the time nor tutors to hone his skill with the blade." Harvey explains. "He had to survive on a battlefield with what limited skills he had– by that metric, it shouldn't be too surprising that he wouldn't have the same skill with the blade as you and I. Instead he developed his leadership skills and tactical thinking." the older man chuckles. "Indeed, he will prove very useful for the war to come."

"...I see." Chris nods. "It's a shame I will not be able to join you, father; given what you have said, I desire to test him myself."

"In due time, son. In due time." the Arclight patriarch pats Chris' shoulder. "Who knows, you may yet test him after the Luran War concludes."

=X=X=X=X=X=

Preparations for the Luran campaign begin with mobilization of the participating forces and probing strikes on Luran military installations to gather intelligence.

With the entire military theater being in range of Hustler One's comms network, Leon is able to quickly pass the information on to the A.I– who is quick to parse through all of it and offer key strategic notes; such as enemy Armor performance, armament, force disposition, and combat doctrine. He even consults historical texts, only to give up after the first 5 history books he read are all historical fiction involving love in some manner or form.

Two weeks into the war planning, Leon leans away from his paperwork-laden desk to rub at his eyes; feeling more frustrated than tired. In his head, Hustler One chuckles sympathetically.

//"I'll see about getting an abridged version of the various historical texts when I get the time."// the A.I promises. //"It will take a while, however."//

"As long as I don't have to read about a stupidly convoluted love hexagon." Leon bemoans. "Ugh, it's like these people have no idea what 'historical accuracy' means."

//"Truly, humanity has fallen far."// Hustler One commiserates with less frustration and more added humor. //"So, what have you learned about the Lurans so far?"//

"They occupy roughly 25 to 40 floating islands, clustered around the largest dungeon in the region." Leon starts. "They have a large number of forts and fortresses, and most of their cities are fortified so I'll need to modify the blitzkrieg strategy appropriately. They've more or less turned dungeoneering into a semi-industrialized resource gathering operation– and their loot goes to making their Armors; heavily armored but slow moving bipeds with upscaled rifles. Gonna want to capture a few for reproduction later. They also have quad-legged Armors acting as fire support, anti-ship platforms, and command units; so another thing to capture."

//"I find their bipedal armor designs a little odd. Greatly reduced mobility in exchange for, what, better protection? If enough enemy ordinance hits, that armor won't save them."// Hustler One comments. //"And why build such peculiar head parts? It's not as though any kind of air-filtration system is located there."//

"It looks like some kind of gas mask. Really World War 1 chic." Leon agrees. "Well, them being slow as shit plays to our advantage. Our mechs are faster, so we can flank around and hit their backs where the plating's thinnest."

//"Appropriately ruthless. Good."// the A.I praises. //"So, what is your estimations on conquering this 'pocket' kingdom?"//

"Well, the King's goal for 6 months isn't impossible…" Leon hums. "But I'll need to get a feel for the Lurans personally. Then I can give a proper estimate."

=X=X=X=X=X=

The Luran Campaign starts properly a month after Leon's transfer to the Lura-Holfort border, around 2 weeks after the rest of the 422nd arrives; where Leon separates them into 2 spearheads– one piercing through the south border under Leon's command and the other thrusting in from the east is under Lord Arclight's.

Squadrons of 422nd Armors lead the way, paving a path forward for the less experienced Armors and the transport fleets. Armors duel mid-air as airships trade broadsides, the Lurans succumbing to the Holfortans' experience and better training despite their heavier and better-protected mechs and vessels. As losses mount, the Lurans retreat to the fortresses and hunker down expecting a lightning encirclement just like in Carkus.

But having studied their doctrines and understanding their weaknesses, Leon puts the Artillery Armors to work; with single squadrons on ships firing in tandem with the vessel's own batteries, hammering Luran defenses with high-explosive shells and smashing apart whole Armor formations. The quad-legged walkers are the biggest targets– with either artillery, whole squadrons of armors, Leon, or even Lord Arclight personally rushing in to deal with. Only after the defenses have been destroyed and the commander Armors laid low are the Holfortan infantry sent into the strongholds and clear them out.

Taking the cities proves trickier, as there are possible civilians in the buildings while they themselves are fortified with cannons and garrisoned with infantry while the roofs feature cannons and even an Armor. For this, Lord Harvey has command over the general city-clearing force– both Armor and infantry sallying out into the streets to down Armors and overwhelm infantry positions. Leon takes the building clearing; outfitting infantry with armor, shortswords, shields, shotguns, and grenades. They're given orders to sweep through the occupied buildings and clear them room by room, sparing any non-combatants or those that surrender.

It's slow, bloody work, but Holfortan physiology and extensive use of body reinforcement magic goes a long way towards clearing buildings of enemy combatants. Leon personally joins in, leading at the forefront on several building clearings and inspiring the men to fight just as hard as he does to win the war and go home.

But there is progress, however slow. It takes a full month before the two spearheads can reconnect in the central region of the Pocket Kingdom, with a handful of fortresses remaining uncaptured and unbreakable to the barrage of artillery fire that hammers at them. Issues that could be handled at a later date, but both Leon's and Lord Harvey's own reckoning.

Despite this, they have made great progress into Luran; a good 40% of the pocket Kingdom conquered and pacified not counting the still-resisting forts in their backline. They were well on their way to accomplishing the King's 6-month mandate, something that even Lord Arclight found himself astonished by.

With this, the Luran capital is but a few battles and 3 fortresses away. Barring any unexpected complications, Leon updated his estimate on conquering the Pocket Kingdom of Luran to 3 months.

But as they approached the capital and coasted closer to the west border, worries started to come up.

=X=X=X=X=X=

"Gentlemen," Leon announces through the comms of his armor squadron. "You may be wondering why we're being deployed out here and not in that soon-to-be mess of ships and Armors this evening."

"We're to make sure nobody goes running out of the fight to someplace we can't reach?" one of the other pilots ask.

"That, and because ahead of us is the border between the Pocket Kingdom and the Principality of Fanoss if any of you forgot." Leon explains. "The Principality has one hell of a hate-boner for the Kingdom, and us grunts who serve it. We're only here to make sure nobody does anything stupid invites a third country into this war. So no crossing the border or letting any Luran cross it, understand?"

"Yes, sir." is the united response.

"Good. We've got 3 other Armor squadrons deployed for this too, making it a full 20 Armors and pilots. If anything comes up, call it in and handle it appropriately until I or somebody of rank can come in to take control." Leon says. "Make sure to double-check your maps before finding a good rock to hunker down on– don't want to start anything by complete accident. We sound off once every 20 minutes, if you miss even one I'm sending somebody to wake you up or fix whatever malfunction your Armor has."

Leon cross-references his map and finds a good rock to perch on, landing with little fanfare as the rest of his squadron find their own rocks; 3 facing the furball and 2 facing the Principality side of the border– wary of any potential assailants.

It started as a valid concern from Lord Arclight, of their conquest potentially drawing the ire of the Principality of Fanoss. The small nation held a particularly deep-seated hatred for the Kingdom, to the point where they had started multiple wars entirely unprovoked. The last war between them had been bloody and occurred well before Leon's reawakening, lasting for a full year and costing thousands of lives from either side.

The Kingdom had won it though, and extracted decent concessions from them. But it's been well over a decade since, and Leon knows from his past life how difficult it is for hate to dissipate. He wonders now why the Principality would hold onto it for as long as they have, and with such vehemence as well. It was mystifying, really.

So he'd offered the Arclight patriarch a decent-enough solution; a line of Armors under Leon's direct command that would keep watch on the Lura-Principality border during any engagement taking place nearby– to prevent lost Holfortans and fleeing Lurans from crossing. It had worked so far, and placated the Sword Saint enough to not worry despite the loss of Armor strength in the furball. A necessary sacrifice, he was told; much to his confusion.

"One at a time, Leon…" he grumbles to himself, glancing at the time. "Lion-1 to squadron, sound-off."

"Lion-2, no contacts."

"Lion-3, nothing to report."

"Lion-4, all clear."

"Lion-5, all quiet."

Leon hums, leaning into his chair and taking a deep breath. This is gonna be a long night.

=X=X=X=X=X=

"Visual confirmation on the Kingslayer, Viscount Zenden." the bridge technician reports. "White and blue, 8 meters tall, with weapon hangars on its shoulder slots. He's maintaining a vigil on the border zone, with 4 additional Armors within quick-response distance."

"Hmm. Odd that they would station one of their greatest assets on glorified watch duty." the captain of the vessel hums. "Then again, they are a perfidious bunch– those Holfortans."

"Indeed. They haven't yet crossed the border, but it may well be a ploy to lull us into a sense of carelessness." Vandel strokes his beard. "No matter. Are the Armors ready?"

"Aye, Lord; 5 unmarked patrol Armors outfitted with Holfortan parts on their exteriors are in the hangar, ready for sortie." the captain nods.

"Excellent. Call my squadron; we launch immediately." the Black Knight turns and leaves the bridge of the Principality scout vessel with a flourish of his cape. "It's time I test the boy's mettle for myself."

=X=X=X=X=X=

A full hour into their watch and 15 minutes into the aerial fleet engagement, Leon's momentary peace is broken by the appearance of 5 dark shapes closing in on the border.

"Lion-1 to squadron, I'm seeing a squadron of Armors flying to the border." he radios. "Squadron, confirm?"

"Lion-2, confirm– I see 'em sir." comes one affirmation.

"Lion-5, confirm. But they don't look like Principality Armors, though." another echoes.

"Squadron, relay the info to the fleet; Lord Arclight needs to hear about this." Leon radios, then turns on his AC's external speakers at full volume. "Unidentified Armors, halt! You are about to trespass into currently-contested territory! Stop your approach and turn around or we will be forced to engage! We seek no quarrel with the Principality of Fanoss; our mission here is simple border security and redirection of lost personnel! Turn your craft around now or we will be forced to engage!"

For a long moment, there is no response. Then, in the general channel, Leon hears it.

"Then engage, Holfortan scum. Let's see who's the better Armor pilot."

As one, all 5 approaching Armors open fire; tracers lighting up the evening sky and forcing Leon to jink off his perch and find cover.

"Lion squadron to fleet, we're under attack by unknown Armors from the Principality side of the border!" Leon reports, hoping Lord Arclight could hear him. "They opened fire first despite multiple warnings to turn around! We are engaging!"

Leon doesn't wait for a reply, immediately switching radio frequencies to his squadron as he quick-boosts out of cover and returns fire.

"Lion squadron, engage!" Leon orders. "Drive them back into the Principality!" to the enemy Armors, he turns on his external speaker. "Oh, you're gonna be sorry after this!"

"We'll see about that, boy!" the lead mech snarls back. "Come on!"