Glaiftrum War Chronicles The Salvation Strategy of Matthias, the Smiling Strategist
April 16th, Unified Calendar Year 1197
In the capital of the Kingdom of Glaiftrum , Shwerrenburg , at the residence of Viscount Lauschenbach—Matthias von Lauschenbach—
He began explaining the reform plan for the Effenberg Knightly Order to Lazafam and Iris.
“Let me first explain the current situation. As you’ve heard, the standard force of the Effenberg Knightly Order consists of 300 cavalry, 1,200 spear infantry, 1,000 longbowmen, and 500 auxiliary troops including logistics personnel—totaling around 3,000 soldiers. Over the past few decades, this ratio has remained largely unchanged. The main offensive force is the longbowmen, while the spearmen primarily handle defense. The cavalry sees little use beyond routine patrols within the territory.”
The Effenberg Marquisate lies about 100 kilometers south of the capital city of Shwerrenburg . While the northern part of the territory is flat farmland, the southern region borders the Weisshorn mountain range, a dangerous land constantly plagued by Untier—beasts of magic—that rank among the fiercest in the kingdom.
There are people known as “Jäger,” or hunters, who specialize in hunting magical beasts. However, due to the sheer number of these creatures and the vastness of the marquisate, they cannot cover all areas effectively. Thus, the Effenberg Knights conduct regular beast-hunting expeditions into the mountains.
In such mountainous terrain, cavalry lose their mobility advantage because of the rough ground. Additionally, with many large magical beasts like ogres and trolls, heavily armored foot soldiers wielding shields—who are slow-moving—are often easy prey. Therefore, long-range weapons, particularly longbows valued for their high attack power, are preferred.
Spears are also effective since they can strike without getting too close. As a result, the Effenberg Knights naturally evolved to rely primarily on longbowmen and spearmen.
“…One major difference between the Effenberg Knights and other knightly orders is that their forces are organized by unit type—archers, spearmen, etc.”
“Units organized by type? Isn’t that normal?”
Lazafam ‘s question was natural—he didn’t know the military norms of the kingdom.
If cavalry and infantry operate together in the same unit, the cavalry lose their mobility advantage; trying to match the pace of cavalry would exhaust the infantry. It’s easy to see how this would negate each unit’s strengths.
“The Shwerrenburg Knights, as well as the Marktohofen and Nordhausen Knights, organize their units by individual noble households. For example, one knightly house might field a unit of five cavalry, ten shield bearers, and ten spearmen totaling twenty-five men, while another minor lord’s unit might consist of two cavalry, five spearmen, and five archers totaling twelve. Each unit varies greatly in equipment and size…”
Glaiftrum is a feudal kingdom where armies are typically formed by noble families. Even during large-scale military operations, these family-based units often fight independently.
However, aside from the Battle of Fairat, most military engagements by the Glaiftrum army over the past few decades have been defensive battles at Westecke—a fortress city along the border with the Kingdom of Rechtfrank. Upon arriving at Westecke, it became common practice to integrate units by troop type.
While organizing by troop type may seem reasonable, since the smallest military unit is based on noble families, each unit differs in size, equipment, and fighting style. Essentially, they just gather numbers without true coordination.
“So your knights are different? Why is that?”
“First, the House of Effenberg has very few vassals who hold their own territories. Only the baronial house serving as steward and three veteran knight houses have independent lands; all other knights receive stipends instead.”
The House of Effenberg is unique among the nobility of Glaiftrum . Over 90% of the marquisate’s land is directly controlled by the earl himself. In contrast, other noble houses typically only control about half of their territory directly—the rest being held by subordinate lords like counts or viscounts.
“I didn’t know that…”
Lazafam was speechless.
“Why is our house alone like this? There must be a reason.”
I nodded slightly before answering Iris’s question.
“It’s due to the unique nature of the Effenberg Marquisate. This land faces constant incursions from Untier emerging from the Weisshorn Mountains to the south. Many of these beasts are large and difficult to deal with in small groups.”
The Weisshorn Mountains form a massive range marking the border between Glaiftrum and Rechtfrank. They contain numerous “Pnoimaphar”—pools of magical energy that spawn magical beasts.
This region isn’t just home to ogres and trolls but even greater threats—Cyclops-like monstrosities called Kukulops, classified as disaster-level beasts reaching over ten meters tall.
“That makes sense… but I don’t see how that connects.”
Iris tilted her head cutely.
“Normally, a knightly house can maintain no more than about ten soldiers. Even if well-trained, that’s far too few to face large beasts like ogres. Even conscripting villagers wouldn’t help—they lack proper training. Yet, despite being mere knights, those who hold land are expected to defend it themselves, which is why they were granted their territories.”
Under feudalism, nobles have obligations to pay taxes and provide military service to the crown, but managing the territory—including its defense—is left to the local lord. Lords are responsible for defending their lands except in cases of foreign invasion or massive magical beast stampedes—”Ansturm” or “Stampede”—which require royal intervention.
But knightly holdings are usually small villages of around 500 people, making military expansion financially difficult. Also, there’s a risk of losing manpower (both peasants and conscripts) when hunting magical beasts, so many lords avoid fighting unless their own lands are threatened.
As a result, unchecked magical beasts often move toward neighboring villages. While that might suit a lord whose land is safe, it could lead to massive casualties depending on the scale of the targeted holding. From the perspective of higher-ranking lords like counts or marquises, this solves nothing.
Of course, some considerate lords do act. In such cases, they request aid from their superior lords. But if such requests become routine, it becomes more efficient for the superior lord to manage the territory directly.
Additionally, about 100 kilometers south of Effenberg lies the town of Zweilkhorn, which contains mines producing rare metals, refining facilities, and workshops crafting metal goods. Ensuring the safety of the trade road through this area is vital.
Frequent campaigns are conducted to clear monsters along this route, but repeatedly mobilizing multiple local lords’ forces each time is inefficient.
With around 100,000 residents, the Effenberg Marquisate has substantial tax revenues and ample volunteers for military service. Though costly, maintaining a standing army that can hunt magical beasts regularly is more efficient and safer.
For these reasons, the House of Effenberg grants no lands to its knights, instead managing everything centrally and appointing stewards.
“…Because the House of Effenberg manages the entire knightly order directly, it can adopt the most manageable and efficient formation. That is, organizing units by troop type—dividing them into squads of ten, grouped into companies of a hundred. The squad leader is a retainer, and the company commander is a knight.”
At this point, Lazafam voiced his confusion.
“This sounds similar to the imperial army structure. What’s the difference?”
“You’ve noticed something important.”
After praising him, I answered his question.
“The smallest unit in the imperial army is a twenty-man squad. Smaller units like sections of ten and teams of five exist, but those are purely administrative—used mainly for tasks like guard duty or meal distribution rather than actual combat operations.”
“To get back on track: five squads make a platoon, five platoons make a battalion, and five battalions make a regiment. Since the imperial army’s logistics units are separate, a regiment of 2,500 men is roughly equivalent in size to the Effenberg Knights’ active combat force.”
Lazafam and Iris nodded encouragingly.
“A regimental commander gives orders to five battalion commanders, who in turn command five platoon leaders each. Meanwhile, the Effenberg Knights require the commander to issue commands directly to twenty-five company commanders. During a defensive battle where everyone fights together, this system works fine—but in open-field warfare where units are spread out, communication becomes problematic.”
Lazafam nodded thoughtfully.
“I think I understand. Coordinating twenty-five separate units with distinct roles sounds complicated.”
“Exactly. But simply adopting the imperial structure won’t work either.”
“Why not? If each company commander just passes orders down to five subordinates, shouldn’t it be easier?”
Iris asked curiously.
“It would work if every officer from regimental commander downward fully understood the intent behind orders. But if even one misinterprets, it could lead to disaster.”
“But doesn’t following orders solve that? How could someone misunderstand?”
Lazafam tilted his head.
“Suppose the regimental commander tells Battalion Commander A, ‘Draw enemy forces to the left flank defenses.’ Battalion Commander A then instructs Platoon Commander B, ‘Launch a bold frontal assault on the enemy position.’ Now, what happens if Platoon Commander B doesn’t grasp the objective?”
Lazafam thought carefully before responding slowly.
“If he interprets ‘bold assault’ literally, he might launch an aggressive attack… leading to annihilation… which means failing to draw the enemy as intended. Is that the idea?”
I smiled warmly, impressed by his understanding.
“Precisely. It was the battalion commander’s fault for not communicating clearly. But if Platoon Commander B truly understood the operation’s purpose, even if he followed the battalion commander’s orders, he’d realize that merely appearing aggressive would suffice.”
“I see…”
Lazafam nodded in comprehension.
“In contrast, in the Effenberg Knights, where the commander issues direct orders to company commanders and they simply obey, mistakes are less likely. In short, the imperial system assumes that all commanding officers meet a minimum competency level.”
Admittedly, my example wasn’t perfect. This structure only works if the commander-in-chief is capable enough to issue appropriate orders to twenty-five units, and all twenty-five company commanders possess sufficient ability to execute those orders reliably.
“So does that mean the knights under Grandfather’s leadership succeeded because they met those standards?”
“Yes. Your grandfather, Lord Egmont, was an outstanding commander. Having served as commander for many years, he deeply understood his subordinate knights. Likely, he adjusted his orders based on each officer’s capabilities.”
“But then why did Father want to pursue reforms?”
Iris’s question was entirely reasonable.
“I believe your father, Lord Karsten, lacked confidence. Lord Egmont was a warrior highly praised even by the previous king, whereas Lord Karsten was originally a bureaucrat. Due to the sudden deaths of his two elder brothers, he had limited time to gain experience under Lord Egmont. So, perhaps he wanted to change to a system that could function effectively without requiring detailed micromanagement.”
Karsten unexpectedly became the heir eight years ago after both older brothers passed away. His father, Egmont, died three years ago, but had been bedridden for over a year prior. Thus, Karsten inherited the prestigious Effenberg Knights after only four years of preparation.
“I’m starting to get it now,”
Lazafam said, offering a tired smile as the picture clarified.
I nodded and continued.
“The imperial system only functions if each rank clearly understands their responsibilities. Moreover, someone accustomed only to following orders will struggle when suddenly thrust into a role giving them. Naturally, their subordinates—platoon and section leaders—haven’t received education enabling them to interpret vague directives. Success is unlikely under such circumstances.”
Lazafam nodded again.
“So blindly imitating won’t work.”
“Right. But it’s more than that. I’ll skip ahead a bit—could you look at this paper?”
I showed them notes I’d prepared and explained my plan.
It was a preliminary proposal for reforming the Royal Army, drafted voluntarily after the devastating defeat at Fairat.
After about ten minutes of explanation, both Lazafam and Iris looked stunned.
“Did you really come up with all this yourself?”
“How could anyone possibly think this through…?”
I deliberately avoided specifying who created it.
“Regardless, each component should be understandable individually. The key is identifying potential obstacles to implementation and systematically addressing them. Once solutions are devised, they can be integrated into a comprehensive plan like this.”
I had brainstormed alone, analyzed factors, developed countermeasures, and scheduled timelines. These skills weren’t extraordinary for someone experienced in information analysis or consulting in Japan—though specialized aspects might appear superficial.
“For now, better not mention this to the Earl.”
“Yeah. My father probably wouldn’t believe me anyway…”
Lazafam ’s words drew a nod from Iris.
“Exactly. This isn’t something children like us should be thinking up.”
“Well… something might happen soon anyway…”
I murmured softly, just loud enough for myself to hear.