I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

Chapter 98: Playing a Balance Strategy? You Deserve That?

“Bang!”

“Clatter!”

Inside the council chamber of the Royal Palace of Ovinia—

King Dast of the Kingdom of Alesia furiously hurled the gilded goblet in his hand toward the ministers below, sending everyone into terrified silence.

“Zarad! Hatika! The two fortresses combined stationed more than two hundred and fifty thousand troops! Centered along the river, they could mutually support each other—strong walls, solid defenses, ample cannons and muskets!”

“I won’t even mention all that! Just those two hundred and fifty thousand—damn it, even if they were two hundred and fifty thousand pigs, the Federation’s army wouldn’t finish capturing them in half a month!”

“And yet you’re telling me—one fortress fell the same day it met the enemy, and the other made a wrong judgment during the rescue and got surrounded? Both combined didn’t even last a week?”

Dast’s furious roar reverberated through the hall; the silence within was so heavy that one could hear a pin drop.

They had thought that since the Kingdom of Ovinia managed to hold on for so long, Seris must be about the same—half a catty, half a pound—but when they faced it themselves, they realized it was only an illusion…

“Goddess! Open your eyes and see what they’re doing! Mobilize all your private soldiers—every last one of them!”

“Right now! Immediately! Draft every healthy commoner into the army! Even if it means filling the ranks with their lives, I want Seris’ army stalled!”

Dast’s eyes were bloodshot, his expression one of near madness as he coldly ordered, “Also, confiscate the estate of Duke Brancard. His entire family will be enslaved, and all property seized.”

“This… is…”

Everyone looked at each other; no one dared to speak for that unfortunate man.

Or perhaps, deep down, they all shared the same thought.

That damned man had persuaded the king to launch this ridiculous war, dragging them all into a pit—his guilt was beyond redemption.

The alliance between the Kingdom of Alesia and the Kingdom of Ovinia—this entire strategy had been the sole design of Duke Brancard.

Ovinia, he claimed, must remain divided, never reunited, or it would once again threaten Alesia.

Thus he proposed a balance strategy.

Alesia, acting as a “third hand,” would balance the military strengths of the two nations, ensuring mutual bleeding.

Meanwhile, Alesia could seize disputed territories while the two were too busy fighting—and even profit by selling weapons and supplies at high prices.

He believed that when Ovinia faced the brink of destruction, its king would have no choice but to accept their actions.

As for the Empress of Seris—if she didn’t wish to antagonize them and risk pushing Alesia into Ovinia’s arms—she would likely adopt a similar approach, perhaps even try to curry favor. Thıs text ıs hosted at novel_fіre.net

He thought of many things—but never once did he possess a clear understanding of his own kingdom’s military strength.

Nor had he expected the Kingdom of Ovinia to collapse so quickly.

Even less did he expect that the Seris Federation could launch a second war right after its unification.

If Mitia could hear their thoughts, she would surely laugh aloud.

The reason Ovinia had been able to hold on for so long was that, from the very beginning, it had kept an extremely close watch on that breakaway regime.

During the Astal period, the gap in strength, population, and army size between both sides had been enormous.

Many had doubted whether Astal could even defeat Ovinia.

Because of that, internal instability plagued Astal, while King Ovinia III always managed to obtain intelligence through spies, infiltrators, and traitors.

Even if they couldn’t steal core technologies, the outwardly displayed firearms, cannon mechanisms, and army reforms were enough to draw inferences.

If you didn’t learn, you’d be beaten.

So when Astal expanded outward and transformed into the Seris Federation, King Ovinia III and his nobles became even more vigilant.

In other words, while Mitia was consolidating power, the Kingdom of Ovinia was also forced to modernize its military in response.

Otherwise, they would never have withstood her ceaseless assaults with new weapons.

Yet under a feudal system, initiative remained stifled—they simply couldn’t keep pace with Seris.

By comparison, what even was the Kingdom of Alesia?

Armed with old-style muskets and smoothbore cannons copied from outdated Seris trade models, they thought they could wrestle with two great powers?

Even if Seris were destroyed, Ovinia—having inherited Seris’ technological achievements—would still have the strength to annex Alesia in turn.

They were never on the same level to begin with.

Only now, their opponent wasn’t Ovinia anymore—but the Seris Federation—and Seris would ensure their defeat was absolute.

She didn’t conquer just their land; she dismantled their flesh, thoughts, and spirit.

With no evident racial bias, fair laws, equal land and labor distribution, and a hierarchy based on class rather than birth—even the Empress herself held no noble title or special privilege.

A government lifted by the common people waging war against a feudal aristocracy—no matter how one framed it, it couldn’t be called aggression.

If anything, aggression had always been a privilege reserved for the nobles.

When the Seris army arrived, they hanged the arrogant nobles and estate owners from the trees, taking their sinful souls with them—

—and in return, they brought land, work, and food to the commoners.

To the toiling masses, this was liberation of both body and spirit.

Of course, such a transformation was only possible upon the foundation of technological superiority~

In the direction of Stark City, the workers’ and farmers’ army advanced after capturing Talian, seizing every village, estate, and castle along their path.

Naturally, they met sporadic resistance.

“Quick, quick, quick! ...”

In the private soldiers’ barracks of a noble’s territory, officers and supervising squads shouted orders as soldiers scrambled to prepare for battle.

The armory doors swung open; under the overseers’ watchful eyes, soldiers grabbed weapons from the racks and collected powder pouches and bullets from the storeroom.

This prevented desertion and misuse, though it came at the cost of reaction time in combat.

Once armed, the soldiers swiftly assembled in formation.

Each took a paper cartridge from the powder bag, poured most of its contents down the musket barrel, inserted a wad, rammed it tight, and dropped in a lead ball.

Then, tilting their guns, they poured the remaining powder into the flash pan, quickly lit the match, blew out the flame, and clamped it under the hammer.

By the time they were ready, the enemy had already appeared in the distance.

The soldiers reformed ranks and raised their guns, waiting for the order to fire.

The coming battle made many of them gasp for air, swallowing nervously.

But the enemy halted before entering their firing range—and began shooting first.

Several soldiers in the front ranks were struck down instantly, and the officer shouted, “Damn it! All troops, advance! Close the distance with the enemy!”

Yet as they moved forward, the enemy pulled back, keeping the gap unchanged.

Finally, the officer had no choice but to order them to fire.

The matchlocks fell, igniting the flash pans.

A series of bang bang shots rang out, smoke billowed across the formation, and many soldiers coughed violently.

Before they could reload, the enemy—who had retreated moments ago—suddenly surged forward.

Within ten seconds, they launched a second volley.

Many soldiers, crouched mid-reload, were struck down by bullets, collapsing in disbelief.

Then came strange whistling from above—the sky rained shells and explosive packs into the camp, detonating in thunderous bursts.

In the distance, soldiers with red stars on their caps grinned with ease.

That formation—so perfectly tidy—was nothing but a lineup of living targets.

They barely even needed to aim.