Ultimate Gamer System: Factory Must Grow!-Chapter 100: Broken Protocol

"They really came prepared, god damn it," Dorio muttered under his nose, peeking from between the bushes at the rear guards patrolling the outskirts of the massive camp.

This wasn't the sight that Dorio expected to see, not anytime soon at the very least.

The time for raising armies had yet to arrive. For now, he assumed everyone would keep playing the forever game, trying to outmaneuver each other for the showdown that was never to come.

And while he knew better than to expect the future to remain as it always was, under no circumstances did he expect someone to start deploying their whole armies to the field yet!

'The worst part is, they are doing a really good job at holding back the news from spreading!'

Up until the day before, Dorio was perfectly full of himself, expecting to arrive at the gate before anyone else so that he could prepare the ground for his crossing over.

Naturally, he would have to wait a bit for Julian's prisoner to arrive, giving him a pass to the other side and a way out once the job would be done…

But with more than two days left before the scheduled prisoner transport, Dorio came to a sudden halt.

For, as it turned out, that bitch Calane had already deployed her whole army over to this heaven's-forgotten zone!

'This is making things complicated.'

Dorio took a breath before retreating deeper into the bushes until there were enough trees between him and the guards that he no longer had to worry about being spotted.

'Now, what?'

If it was just a few guards, Dorio could easily dispatch them before making his way ahead.

Judging by the tracks left on the main road south, towards the gate, this wasn't just a small group with extremely forward-set guard pairs. This was a proper vanguard protecting the rear of a full-on army!

'It's a good thing I came somewhat prepared, but still…' he thought, turning his head back to cast one last glance in the direction of Calane's army before shaking his head and diving even deeper into the woods. 'It's going to be a pain to deal with them all.'

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

"So far, no changes."

During Calane's absence, Osman took over her spot at the head of the table in the commander's tent.

And right now, he stared at a huge, makeshift map of the area, with all the features reported by the patrols marked on it.

Instead of relying on the old imperial maps, Osman did his due diligence, pushing nearly all of the army's secondary troops on the task and then actively taking advantage of all the natural features to reinforce the camp.

A small stream nearby?

It was long since tapped into with a small, inconspicuous dug-out, allowing a small but steady source of water within the camp.

A relatively sizeable river up to the west?

By now, Calane's front engineers have likely reinforced the beach, making it a great holding point against any attempted attack.

A hill, a narrow path, even a patch of unusually dense trees — all of those would be noted by the guards and then marked down on the map, soon creating a much better piece than what Osman could originally get his hands on.

Obviously, this was not yet the time for all of it to come into play.

All the scouting, engineering, or even setting up the communication corridors between each of the main camp's appendages were all nothing more than just practical training, an exercise for the fresh troops and the experienced mercenaries to learn how to work together and complement each other's shortcomings.

A process many would dismiss, but not Osman, not someone who went through several military campaigns, serving both as a mere militiaman with nothing better than a sharpened rake and no more than a single sentence worth of experience.

"Don't die."

It was with those words that Osman was pulled away from the bosom of his mother at the young age of fourteen, only to fill the gap in the line of some noble owning him.

A noble whose name Osman never could recall, given how he died in said battle, leaving all of his wealth and lands for his enemy to grab.

Osman lived the life of a militiaman until the day his achievements advanced him to the rank of soldier, where he faced pretty much just more of the same.

The food would be scarce, often forcing the troopers to look for all sorts of creative and morally ambiguous ways to supplement whatever scraps their generals would throw them. It would only be before the battles that they would be fed properly… and even that wasn't a solid rule, but one that would easily be broken if the circumstances required it.

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Disillusioned with life as a soldier, Osman left as soon as his contract was up, switching over to the mercenary branch, expecting the professional soldiers to have it a bit easier than those enslaved to the job by their feudal lord.

And while true to a degree… Mercenaries had to cope with their employers often putting them in the greatest heat of the fight with great disregard for their own lives.

As a soldier, Osman was still a lord's asset, quite an expensive one at that. As a mercenary, however, while he generally could expect to get a bowl of hot soup or porridge on a daily and consistent basis, he paid for those comforts with a much greater personal risk of injury or death.

That's why, after all of those experiences that shaped him, now that he was in the employ of a girl that not only had all the money but also all the means in the world to establish proper supply lines, Osman allowed the reins of his fantasy to go free, putting all of his creativity towards the goal of creating a military that actually worked.

Worked not only from the perspective of a goal-oriented commander but also from the perspective of a common soldier.

'This is the only way to get those green guys to match the level of the enemy elites,' Osman would reason as he arduously studied the map in search of every potential natural feature for his army to exploit. 'If we can't match them in ability, we have to beat them with morale.'

Which is precisely why most of Osman's initiatives would ultimately serve to improve the lives of the soldiers at the camp.

That's why the fertile hunting grounds now churned out beast carcass after carcass, providing the massive army with fresh food to supplement the jerky they were already running out of anyway. By now, a mere few days in, half of the scouts switched from patrolling mode to stripping the land of everything potentially edible, tasty, or useful for the engineers.

Heck!

With the camp's defenses established, just to keep themselves occupied, the rear engineers already moved on to constructing an inn and some crude barracks that they allowed their fellow soldiers to enjoy at a small price.

'It won't be long before this place turns into an actual town,' Osman thought, staring out through the opening of the commanders' tent into the dark void of the early hours of the night outside.

There were enough candles within the tent for him to keep staring at the map throughout the whole night. Outside of the tent, however, despite all the torches, fireplaces, and portable braziers, the night had firmly established its dominion, covering everything in a thick layer of only slightly broken darkness.

Still, even through the darkness of the night, the night was not at all silent but filled with cheers, singing, and the chatter of all those who were awake.

It was also but a natural evolution brought forth by Osman's reforms, or the one that split the whole army into three elements, dividing the day between each of those three groups and then shifting the timing of their duties accordingly.

Obviously, that limited the number of men Osman could have out in the field at all times, but it also ensured all of his bases would be covered at all times, with no downtime when the entirety of the camp would be asleep and thus vulnerable.

And as if to prove this very concept, even with the sun long gone, yet another group of soldiers, likely scouts, approached Osman's tent.

'More reports?' Osman raised his eyebrow, staring at the group for a moment before turning his eyes back to the map.

Even if they brought some groundbreaking news, they would be stopped outside of the tent, only for one of Osman's attendants to take their report, process it, and then apply the changes born from said report upon Osman's map.

Or so, that's how things should be.

And yet, by the time Osman raised his eyes again, he saw three men out of said group passing by the motionless guards and stepping into the tent as if they owned it… only to then stop on the far end of the table before slamming their fists against their hearts in a salute.

"Fourth reconnaissance, third shift, we've found a suspicious creek with signs of activity."

Osman raised his head before properly tearing his eyes and attention away from the map for the first time in what felt like ages.

"Is that so?" he muttered, taking a second to inspect the newcomers before lowering his eyes back to the map while rocking his hips up a bit to bring the handle of his sword to a position just a little bit more convenient for him to grab on to.

"Yes, sir!" the soldier reported before reaching out to his pocket… and pulling out an insignia of one of the few commanders that actually had practical authority within the camp. "We've been ordered to pass on the summons. His Excellency Barren urgently requests your presence there."

'As if,' Osman almost allowed his eyes to roll as he watched the group break one rule after another of the new, improved military protocol.

If them stepping into the tent was a red flag and the guards not reacting pretty much fully gave them away, then their report, their authentication of it through an insignia, or even the manner of referring to the leader…

All of those things revealed them to be either saboteurs, spies, or assassins.

But knowing their true nature didn't mean Osman had any reason to reveal it right away.

'Normally, I would exploit the information difference to figure out where they are coming from and what's their goal, but this? Here? Today?'

Shaking his head, Osman stood up from his seat.

"Okay, I've got it," he stated as he grabbed his sword by the middle of its sheath before hurrying towards the tent's exit. "Lead the way," he said, passing by the first of the soldiers… while pulling out his sword only to slash the throat of the one just a little bit further away.