# **Chapter 14: The Cost of Leadership**

  They rode hard for Badaling.

  Wei's twenty-man escort pushed horses to limits. Two days of forced march across rough terrain.

  Lieutenant Chen rode beside Wei. "What are we expecting?"

  "Unknown. Best case: Zhang held and communications failed. Worst case: garrison overrun, total loss."

  "Middle case?"

  "Fighting withdrawal. Zhang retreating with survivors." Wei studied terrain ahead. "Badaling has poor defensive ground. Single access road. Easy to isolate. If Oirats hit it hard..."

  He didn't finish the sentence.

  Scouts returned at dusk on day two. Young corporal, breathless. "Sir! Garrison still standing! Walls intact! But there's smoke. Lots of smoke. And bodies outside north gate."

  "Oirat or Ming?"

  "Both, sir. Maybe fifty total."

  Wei processed that. Combat had occurred. Casualties on both sides. But garrison hadn't fallen.

  "Zhang?"

  "Unknown, sir. We didn't get close enough to confirm."

  "Move out. Combat speed."

  ---

  Badaling appeared through evening haze.

  Stone walls, smaller than Juyongguan. Adequate fortification but nothing impressive.

  Smoke rising from multiple points. Damage visible on north wall. Bodies outside gate—just as scout reported.

  But garrison flag still flew.

  Wei's escort approached south gate at gallop. Sentries on walls saw them coming. Challenged.

  "Captain Wei Zhao! Regional command! Open the gate!"

  Gate swung open.

  Inside: chaos.

  Wounded everywhere. Medical teams overwhelmed. Soldiers moving with exhausted desperation.

  A captain met them—blood-covered, barely standing. "Captain Wei? Captain Zhao said you'd come. This way."

  He led them through garrison. Past makeshift medical stations. Past soldiers collapsed from exhaustion.

  Damage was extensive.

  They found Zhang in command post.

  He was alive.

  Wounded—left arm in sling, bandage around head—but functional.

  Relief flooded through Wei. "Report."

  Zhang looked up. Exhausted but alert. "Oirat assault. Four hundred cavalry. Hit us three days ago. We held for six hours. Then they pulled back."

  "Casualties?"

  "Forty-eight dead. Seventy-six wounded. One hundred twenty-six functional troops remaining. Out of two hundred starting strength."

  Wei did the math. Thirty-eight percent casualties. Severe.

  "Enemy casualties?"

  "Estimated ninety to one hundred. Twenty-five percent of their force."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "They withdrew?"

  "Yes. We hurt them enough that continuing wasn't worth it." Zhang grimaced. "But we're combat-ineffective. Another assault and we collapse."

  Wei studied tactical map on Zhang's wall. "Why didn't you report?"

  "Communications went down in first hour. Messenger got killed trying to reach Regional Command. I've been consolidating what's left and preparing for second assault."

  "Second assault hasn't come?"

  "Not yet. But they're out there. Watching. Waiting for us to weaken further."

  Wei turned to Lieutenant Chen. "Secure the perimeter. Full defensive assessment in thirty minutes."

  Chen saluted and left.

  Wei sat across from Zhang. "Walk me through it."

  ---

  Zhang pulled out notes. Detailed action report. His handwriting was shaky but legible.

  "They hit us at dawn three days ago. Four hundred riders. Standard assault pattern—center mass with flanking elements. We executed integrated doctrine. Rotating volleys, reserve positioning, breach containment."

  "It worked?"

  "Partially. Doctrine was sound. Garrison commander..." Zhang's expression darkened. "That's where it broke down."

  "Commander Wei Feng. Political appointee. You mentioned him."

  "He panicked. First volley of enemy arrows and he froze. Completely shut down. Couldn't give orders. Couldn't make decisions."

  Wei felt cold. "Who took command?"

  "I did. Informal authority. His second-in-command—Captain Huang—supported the transition. But we lost thirty minutes to command confusion. That's when we took most casualties."

  "Thirty minutes?"

  "Feng was supposed to coordinate reserve deployment. He couldn't. By the time I took over, east wall was already breached. We lost fifteen soldiers containing that breach. If he'd deployed reserves immediately, maybe five."

  Professional failure. Command incompetence under pressure. The type that got soldiers killed.

  "Where's Commander Feng now?"

  Zhang's voice went flat. "Dead. Took an arrow in the throat during second wave. Some soldiers think it came from behind."

  Wei understood the implication. "Friendly fire?"

  "Unknown. Maybe accidental. Maybe not. Troops were angry. He'd gotten people killed through incompetence."

  "Did you investigate?"

  "No time. We were fighting for survival. After Feng died, Captain Huang took formal command. He's competent. Executed doctrine properly. We held."

  "At severe cost."

  "Yes." Zhang looked at casualty list. "Thirty-eight percent losses. Most in first two hours before command stabilized. If Feng had been competent, we'd have maybe twenty percent casualties. Extra eighteen percent are on him."

  Wei studied his friend. Zhang was professional. Disciplined. Not prone to emotional judgment.

  If he was implying Feng deserved what happened, the situation must have been catastrophic.

  "Current status?"

  "Defensively marginal. One hundred twenty-six functional troops. Ammunition at forty percent. Morale fragile. Soldiers know another assault will break us."

  "Can you hold?"

  Zhang met his gaze. "No. Not against another four hundred. We're combat-ineffective. We need evacuation or reinforcement. Preferably both."

  ---

  Wei walked walls with Captain Huang.

  Damage was extensive. North wall showed breach repairs. East wall had makeshift fortifications covering gaps.

  Professional field engineering but clearly improvised under pressure.

  "Captain Zhang saved us," Huang said quietly. "Commander Feng was useless. Worse than useless—actively harmful. When he died, some soldiers looked relieved."

  "You're saying it was deliberate?"

  "I'm saying I don't know and I didn't ask. We were fighting for survival. An incompetent commander died during combat. That happens."

  Wei let it go. Investigation could wait. Survival couldn't.

  "Current defensive capability?"

  "Against raiders? We hold. Against organized assault? We collapse." Huang gestured to troops. Hollow eyes, mechanical movements. "They're exhausted. Terrified. They've lost forty percent of their comrades. Morale is breaking."

  "What do they need?"

  "Reinforcement. Or evacuation. Staying here waiting for next assault is killing them psychologically."

  Wei assessed garrison. Huang was right. Troops moved like walking dead. Functional but barely.

  This position was lost. Not physically—walls still stood. But psychologically. The garrison had broken.

  "We evacuate," Wei said.

  Huang looked surprised. "Sir, Regional Command—"

  "Isn't here. I am. This garrison is combat-ineffective. Holding serves no strategic purpose. We evacuate, regroup with other survivors, consolidate into effective force."

  "Ministry will call it retreat."

  "Ministry isn't watching soldiers die for indefensible positions. We evacuate tonight. Be ready to move in two hours."

  Huang hesitated. Then nodded. "Understood."

  ---

  Evacuation began at midnight.

  Wei organized it personally. Wounded loaded onto wagons. Medical teams supervising. Supplies distributed.

  Professional evacuation. Not panicked flight.

  Zhang supervised rear guard. "Twenty troops. Hold garrison until main force is clear. Then withdraw in good order."

  The garrison filed out through south gate. One hundred twenty-six soldiers moving in disciplined column.

  They looked back once. At walls they'd defended. At position they were abandoning.

  Then they moved south into darkness.

  Wei rode with Zhang at column's tail. Neither spoke for the first hour.

  Finally Zhang broke silence. "First garrison I've ever evacuated."

  "Won't be the last."

  "Is this what command becomes? Deciding which positions to abandon?"

  Wei thought about Qian's withdrawal. About the garrison evacuations to come. "Sometimes. When holding means dying for nothing. That's when command becomes triage—save who you can, accept losses you must."

  "I hate it."

  "Me too. But hating it doesn't change the necessity."

  They rode in silence. Behind them, Badaling garrison stood empty under starlight. Waiting for Oirats to claim another hollow victory.

  ---

  **End of Chapter 14**