5 EK, Ereshu 28 [early November]

Didn’t sleep at all last night. Glad to be through it all, at least. Or all of al-Tatung, rather. Can’t say it bodes well that we’re still barely into this thing.

Oh well. If I had to choose a melee every day and every day in that accursed place for the same duration, I’d backtrack only to look for a couple of new axe-heads.

5 EK, Ereshu 30 [early November]

We’ve seen the beginnings of new farmlands--yes, tended fields--up the road. Or at least our Tao allies tell us this is a road. Certainly the charioteers would disagree.

It sounds like we’re going to stop for a while somewhere in this area. The latest shipments from the supply train need time to catch up, especially with the heightened attacks by brigands, and coincidentally our illustrious leaders have determined that this a good spot for securing the loyalty of more locals. Much as we can all appreciate the prospect of free food--local, rather than being shipped over such far distances--I can’t help but think that taking “tribute” here is going to bite us in the backs later.

The first homestead we’ve scouted is empty. Well, almost--scouts found a large, stone block in the middle with old, old blood on it. The place is apparently abandoned despite this (because of this?). I wonder whether our scouts really ran a thorough search. The Enu among us claim it could be an altar for bull sacrifices, which I suppose would make sense as a few of these Tao share some of our religious beliefs. Not sure I’m convinced, though.

5 EK, Arhi-Shinu 1 [early November]

Scouts’ reports are stranger still. Another homestead found, but empty once again. Looks like the gates were forced open, and there were some old skeletons. Human. This place really did fall into the Deep.

Another bloody altar. And by that I mean blood on another altar. But I’m sure none of it is connected.

5 EK, Arhi-Shinu 7 [mid-November]

We’re moving again. Seems like this wasn’t such a great place for winning hearts and minds at all--no hearts or minds to be won around these parts. Mostly just empty barns and granaries housed by homesteads that look like they’ve been pillaged thoroughly or abandoned for years. Not even much in the way of supplies we can salvage. We don’t exactly have the means to farm the rice ourselves, either, a lot of which, it turns out, has been growing wild for some time.

5 EK, Arhi-Shinu 8 [mid-November]

Scouts found an occupied one for a change. Pitifully few people there, though. No more than thirty, and not much in the way of supplies or other means to support us, save a choice piece of intel: they say there’s a larger homestead a couple days’ travel from here. This one is apparently overpopulated for the amount of land; our new friends attest that these people have been scavenging the surrounding farms and settlements, abandoned or not. Didn’t have anything kind to say about their nearest neighbors.

The army’s splitting for two different campaigns--not sure how I feel about that, to be honest, but we haven’t run into much opposition--with the two armies branching in a couple of places to win more pledges of fealty. Still, our numbers will be smaller here, and frankly I’m not sure how deep in we are. Meanwhile, two units of infantry are towing log-rams to who-knows-where, and my cavalry unit is coming along to drive off any would-be ambushers. It’s about time we started doing this law-and-order thing anyway.

Something is fiercely scratched out immediately after the last line; the original papyrus itself is damaged at this spot. The most qualified people who attempted to decipher this said an oracle wouldn’t have a chance.

5 EK, Arhi-Shinu 11 [mid-November]

Pardon the gap between entries. There was work to be done.

It took us another three days from the my last writing to find the homestead we had sought. We ran into two ambushes along the way. Fought them off handily, but it seemed odd to face that number of warriors where so many residences have been long abandoned. Ran into another occupied farm on the way, but we wouldn’t have known anyone was there if not for one soldier’s sharp ear. They were hiding, scared witless of this other group, which they said numbered more than a hundred able-bodied people. While fearful men tend are prone to exaggerate, we figured a still-maintained homestead would have functioning walls anyway, so we called another two units our way. Delayed us for another day, but the alternative would never have been better.

The homestead looked like it had new walls built recently. Highly makeshift, and not something that would be impressive for a whole town or city, but surprisingly well-defended anyway. What more, they started shooting as soon as they saw coming. Didn’t look like they were going for warning shots, either. Pamaan’s new limp attests to that.

Wicker shields out and blast-horns blowing, we approached their fortifications methodically. No point in dashing men against the walls as we badly outnumbered them anyway. Ramming-teams were guarded by some shield-bearers, while slingers marched behind others. Their archers didn’t have a large height advantage, so our slingers nearly matched them in range; soon we had them pinned down as we were approaching the gates. I can’t imagine regularly hitting one’s mark with stones or lead bullets from that distance, but they’re accurate enough to make great suppression fire, and that’s all we needed. Bonus if they crack a skull open on occasion.

One of the gatekeepers managed to pour oil down on the rammers, but that’s all they managed in defense. It wasn’t exactly a full gatehouse with a barbican, so any Tao who did as much as stretch their necks out risked receiving our fire. All in all, our rammers didn’t have too much trouble doing their jobs. The gates groaned just a couple of times before they buckled.

The other riders and I dismounted as we prepared to enter. We knew we could be fighting in close quarters behind those walls, so being mounted wouldn’t have made much difference. The risk of being pinned down under one’s fallen horse or having the beasts go haywire wasn’t worth the limited benefits of riding with hardly any space. On the other hand, we kept our cleaving swords and axes, namely the sagaru and korazu. Though normally favored by cavalry as cleaving weapons utilize the advantage of the rider’s height, I can attest that these are perfectly good for hacking into light armor as well, and the builders of that paltry wall, we knew, couldn’t have been well-equipped. Early, early in the campaign, when we first realized just how many horses the Tao have, the home country started sending us more cleaving weapons but found its supplies short. The temples were generous enough to donate some of their koru to the cause, but frankly, these blades, weighted for ritually slaughtering cattle, aren’t much good against moving, resistant targets. Terrible balance for post-swing recovery, and taking a swing is ponderously slow in the first place. Of course, a successful blow can take out both horse and rider, but landing one is more a matter of luck than anything else. Doesn’t matter whether the korazu are blessed, donated with the best intentions, whatever--I’ll take my purpose-built sagarum any day.

In we came, haspasu leveled now that we would have more than just arrows to contend with. Still thankful for our heavy armor, for against all expectations, the Tao bastards swarmed us. Never mind the difference in numbers apparent outside the wall; apparently they weren’t about to surrender. Maybe they thought we would retreat if the attack was costly enough--that would be smarter thinking, at least, but they would’ve had to be willing to sacrifice a great number of their own in that case. Apparently they were willing to do that and then some. I’ve never seen peasants, or whoever they were, fight nearly to the last man like that. Hell, most elites don’t fight to so many losses, but there were parts of the battle when we couldn’t access parts of the compound because mounds of fallen Tao blocked our way.

Well, these new walls didn’t do much good, either. They came at us, apparently willing to give everything to keep their freedom or just keep us off their land. Ultimately, they did the former. Sagaru, a couple of different blades, and a great many spears mowed them down till it seemed like only the holes we made in the walls kept the place from flooding with their blood.

With the dozen or so left, we searched the compound for women, children, anyone else as we decided what to do with these. Found none whatsoever. I suppose in their desperation they could’ve rallied all able-bodied members of the homestead against us, and maybe some outside help, but the last couple we had spared said nothing when asked about any other survivors. We held them for a while, searching the place ourselves some more. All we found were enough tools and supplies for plenty of people, run-down houses that still looked recently used, and another one of those large, smooth stone blocks--the dirt all around it nearly as red as where we had fought them past the gate. The reddish dirt made a trail of sorts with many grooves in it. A couple of us tried following for a while, leading up to a part of the wall that looked as if it had been only recently built. We sent some riders around to investigate further, but they said they lost the trail after a while and turned up nothing. I personally doubt it was nothing, but at this point we had more important business to attend to.

After some deliberation, we decided to have the last dozen of the homestead killed. There weren’t enough left to keep managing the place or its farms, at least not with their wives and children mysteriously missing, and we weren’t even going to ask them to join us like those Tao did from weeks ago. All in all, they would’ve just been a liability, maybe giving another party information about us or directly joining a revenge effort.

All of it reminds me of accounts I’ve read of the Horse Lords and their campaign in the south. Whenever we Hashas or our ancestors have marched on other lands, seems like there’s never been a middle ground with the people we’ve invaded: either they kowtow before our greatness, or they go scorched earth, apparently preferring their own death and destruction to our rulership. Somehow it’s all or nothing wherever we go. If this place we’ve emptied out represents the country as a whole in any way, then I don’t like what must be in store for us next, or even what’s in store for them.