Ken Liu - The Grace of Kings

Mün and Than drank their tea. They found that they were not as angry as they had thought.

“The history books are full of examples of young commanders establishing their authority with the common soldier through terror and discipline. They would put the troops through some silly exercise and then flog or behead those judged insolent. Yet, because I’m a woman, if I were to do this I would be called a petty castrating harpy, a shrew in need of a man’s firm hand. Instead of respect I would only create resentment. Such is the way of the world.

“So, I will need your ideas and help, gentlemen, on earning the hearts of our soldiers.”

On the advice of Mün and Than, Marshal Mazoti immediately abolished the marching drills. “Being able to parade around in synchrony is useless on the battlefield,” she declared, and the assembled soldiers cheered.

Instead, training now primarily took the form of war exercises. The Dasu army was divided into operating units of various sizes. Then they were put through simulated battles involving different scenarios: assaulting a beachhead, defending or taking a fortress, preparing for an ambush in hills and forests. During the war exercises, sword blades and the tips of spears were wrapped with heavy cloth to reduce the chances of serious injury, but other than that, the officers and soldiers were encouraged to make the exercises as realistic as possible.

The new marshal told her officers that their job was not only to carry out the orders of the chain of command, but to improvise on the basis of changing battlefield conditions. Every officer, Mazoti explained, from herself all the way down to a lowly corporal leading a squad, needed to think of themselves as the head of a living organism fighting for survival, and every advantage must exploited. If that involved unorthodox tactics that broke written or unwritten laws of war, so be it. “In war, our only goal is to win.”

Mazoti held cüpa lessons and promoted the game throughout the army. Whether playing the game really improved strategic thinking or not, the effort sent a message that valor and strength alone were not enough, and had to be accompanied by tactical thinking at all levels.

The war exercises, due to their realism, took a heavy toll on the soldiers. Everyone had bruises, and more than a few men suffered broken bones as they fell into pit traps set by the opposing side. Sometimes mock battles were lost when one side was fooled by “enemies” who dressed up as civilians.

For the most part, the soldiers did not complain; they were rewarded for quick thinking and bravery during these exercises. Soldiers received bonuses or had their pay docked depending on how well they performed, and officers were promoted or demoted based on their display of tactical brilliance.

Even the most realistic war games could only do so much. To further the soldiers’ training, Mazoti sent small detachments on raiding missions to pirate havens in the islets to the far north. These skirmishes gave the men experience of real warfare that could not be obtained any other way. Whatever booty they captured they got to keep.

She wasn’t just teaching the officers and foot soldiers; she was also teaching them how to teach. The Dasu army was going to have to grow a lot if the snake was going to swallow an elephant, and she needed to install values and practices that would scale.

But training was not the only thing Mazoti focused on. The marshal also held meetings with small groups of ordinary soldiers to hear their concerns. These meetings, suggested by Than and Mün, were based on the administrative experiences of Lord Garu and Prime Minister Yelu, and they were as effective with the fighting men as they were with ordinary citizens in Zudi and Dasu. Mazoti improved the food served in the mess halls and asked Kuni to increase the pensions that would be paid to the families of those who died or were wounded in battle. After one man complained that he did not have good shoes for marching in tough terrain, Mazoti spent months studying various designs for shoes used by the other Tiro states — her army, after all, was composed of deserters from all over Dara — and made the best one standard equipment for Dasu.

Many veterans of the rebellion had come to Dasu because the other Tiro states rejected them: They had lost hands or limbs in war, and most commanders deemed them no longer useful. But thinking of Muru and the others, Kuni accepted these men into his army — if they wanted to continue their military careers — and he was prepared to debate Gin if she objected; he didn’t want to interfere with the marshal’s authority in military affairs, but this, he felt, was a matter of principle.

Somewhat to his surprise, Mazoti simply nodded when he brought up the topic.

“You’re not concerned about their less-than-perfect bodies?” he probed.

“We all have experiences that shape us,” Mazoti replied, and would say no more.

She worked with the craftsmen and inventors Cogo had recruited to Dasu to create new harnesses and mechanical devices that could replace some of the functionality of lost body parts. The tension in mechanical hands made of bamboo wrapped in cloth could be adjusted with ox sinew until the owners could wield spears effectively, and soldiers who lost a leg could recover some field mobility with spring-loaded peg legs that adjusted to the terrain automatically. These devices were expensive and had to be custom-made for each, but Mazoti considered it money well spent to extend the careers of battle-hardened veterans. In return, the veterans admired the marshal and pledged their lives to the cause of Dasu.

Lady Risana came to see the marshal.

Gin wasn’t sure what to make of the visit. She knew that Kuni’s new wife was one of his trusted advisers, and it was said that Kuni relied on her judgment when he received conflicting counsel. But Gin had only seen her dance with Kuni sometimes, after dinner. She had certainly never heard Risana express much interest in war.

To her relief, Risana did not attempt the kind of small talk that Gin dreaded. She simply stated her purpose.

“Marshal, I think you should make use of the women of Dasu.”

A large number of women had come to Dasu to seek their fortune at Kuni’s call, many with specialized skills: herbalists, cosmeticians, dancers, weavers, dressmakers, entertainers, and other tradeswomen. Some had come with husbands; others were independent and single, either by choice or having lost their families during the rebellion.

Gin was confused. “I will. A marching army draws them naturally, like carrion drawing vultures.” She was thinking of the unofficial camp followers that every army needed and had to tolerate: laundresses, cooks, prostitutes, and so on.

But Risana shook her head. “I don’t mean that.”

Gin regarded her coolly. “Few women have the strength to draw a standard bow or to wield a five-pound sword effectively. What would be the point?”

Instead of answering her, Risana walked over to the corner of Gin’s room, where a bamboo flagpole leaned against the wall. She took the pole and laid it across the gap between Gin’s desk and the windowsill. Then she leapt onto the pole, as graceful as a siskin alighting on a branch. She twirled in place on the tips of her feet; the slender bamboo pole barely dipped.

“Lightness can be an advantage,” said Risana, “especially if you need to be in the air.”