N-M #567 - Be careful, Captain!
#567 - Be careful, Captain!
Gentle sunlight shone upon the fields. Near the encampment, in the farmlands, farmers fearfully dragged their families into their thatched cottages and reed marshes.
As Prince Kondé's army passed, the ground rumbled, shaking dust from the rafters.
The bolder ones peeked through the cracks in their doors, witnessing a long line stretching as far as the eye could see along the country lanes.
The farmers couldn't discern the soldiers' uniforms, but most wore black, blue, or gray robes and padded armor, with glittering chainmail on top.
Looking at the colorful banners, the farmers knew they were the Prince's mercenaries.
Once the column had passed, a few farmers cautiously removed their door panels, looked around, and then led their plowing horses or donkeys from their stables, shaking off the pleas of their families, and headed toward the abandoned watchtower to signal a warning.
Soon, thick and thin plumes of black smoke rose from the areas the knights had passed.
Hooves pounded the compacted earth of the King's Road. Prince Kondé's massive frame weighed heavily on a dappled horse, causing the warhorse to pant heavily.
Smelling the acrid scent of burning straw, he looked around, seeing smoke rising from the forests and reed marshes.
The Prince chuckled mockingly. "No wonder we keep getting ambushed. Now I understand why."
"These local villagers are truly ungrateful," a knight accompanying the column couldn't help but exclaim, glaring.
Rakunio, however, cut to the heart of the matter: "It's probably organized by those rats. Those villagers always have relatives and friends in the Holy Sun's Army."
Rats were what Rakunio called the Holy Sun's Army.
However, this time the rats had stirred up the nobles of Hottam County, ruining Rakunio's plans, forcing him to take them seriously.
Prince Kondé, watching the plumes of smoke stretching into the distance, asked his attendant, "Has the vanguard engaged?"
"The last report said they were five miles from engagement. Griffin should be in contact by now."
"I doubt Griffin and his men are a match," Prince Kondé said bluntly to Rakunio. "Send knights to support them. Hold back the column; let the conscripted mercenary knights go first."
Rakunio nodded. "Summon Montus, and send him with ten lancer squadrons and two hundred mercenary knights."
............
"We can't hold them, Captain!"
"Damn it, how long have we even been holding? Stop whining; reinforcements are on their way!"
Grumbling angrily, Griffin ducked behind a large shield, cranking the winch of a heavy crossbow.
Just as he finished loading, Griffin heard a series of rapid whooshing sounds. Dust flew from the plank shield beside him, and the corpse of a comrade collapsed before his eyes.
Peeking through the gaps in the plank shield, he saw Norse horse archers riding along both sides of the road, seventy or eighty meters away.
Between the thickets, streams, and weeds, 1,000 Guardsmen formed two battle lines, one behind the other.
The terrain, dotted with farmland, fences, and houses, made it difficult for the Savior Army to deploy in a broad formation, forcing them to stack their ranks.
From Griffin's perspective, the sight was terrifying enough.
A forest of spears, shimmering with overlapping images, the tips rising and falling like waves as they advanced, armor grinding with a 'shhh' sound. Six hundred spearmen formed a 50x12 square, slowly moving forward.
On either side of the spear wall, the Holy Riflemen, having just completed their volley, followed the *Soldier's Codex*, slinging their rifles over their shoulders. They marched backwards through the ranks, facing away from the enemy, toward the rear.
Behind them, another group of Holy Riflemen stepped forward in unison, raising their rifles and resting them on shooting forks.
Seeing this, Griffin quickly ducked his head back down, only to hear another series of whooshing sounds.
The plank shield shuddered violently, and hot splinters of wood struck Griffin's face.
He immediately dropped to the ground. Looking at the holes in the shield letting in light, he swallowed hard and cursed, "Are you trying to get us killed? So close, aren't you afraid of hitting your own men?"
After cursing, he whistled, nimbly rose from behind the shield, squinted his right eye, and aimed at a spearman in the front rank.
He pulled the trigger, the bowstring twanged, and a spray of blood erupted from the spearman's throat. He fell straight into the ranks.
At the same time, the heavy crossbowmen of the Eagle Regiment fired their bolts.
Nearly a hundred bolts flew, kicking up dust on the dirt road. The fletchings of arrows embedded in fences and house walls still trembled.
A dozen or twenty soldiers in the front rank immediately fell. Some arrows landed at the soldiers' feet, but this had no effect on their advance. Some even continued forward with arrows sticking out of their bodies.
Company commanders waved their lances, shouting at the rear ranks of spearmen to pick up their pace and fill the gaps.
The gleaming spears were now less than 50 meters from the Eagle Regiment's lines.
"Damn it!" Griffin yelled back. "Those in armor, grab shields and warhammers and get to the front! Where are the greatsword and axe men? Prepare to break the line!"
Turning his head, looking through the holes letting in light, Griffin licked his dry lips. This was going to be tough.
In this campaign, Griffin had snatched the vanguard position from Stenberg of the Death Regiment.
To seize the bridge ahead of the Savior Army's camp, he had led a third of a regiment and over three hundred guards ahead.
But Griffin never expected that the Savior Army would be advancing even faster than they were.
Before they could reach the bridge, the enemy had already crossed and were ahead of them.
The Eagle Regiment might all know breathing techniques, but their stamina wasn't endless.
They could wear armor while marching, but most of the soldiers had been lazy, removing their armor to conserve energy until the battle began.
Considering marching speed, Griffin had tacitly allowed this.
The result was that they were routed in the first exchange by a wave of Holy Winds and a spear charge.
Fortunately, the Eagle Regiment's morale and training weren't bad, and the soldiers who hadn't removed their armor quickly held the line with their shields.
After sacrificing the three hundred guards, Griffin led his men back to the carts, donned some weapons and armor, and the two sides lined up and continued fighting.
But Griffin had to admit that those devil-spawned lightning sticks were truly powerful, keeping them pinned down.
If this continued, they would probably be routed in another quarter of an hour.
Griffin, who had traveled far and wide, had never encountered such a disgusting tactic or such disgusting soldiers.
"Bring our greatswords over... Lost them? Where did you lose them? At the fork in the road? I'll f***ing kill you!" Kicking over a servant, he grabbed an ordinary steel flame-bladed sword, hunched his neck, and gathered with the heavy-armored axemen.
Just as the heavily armored soldiers with large shields were about to move to the front, the advancing Savior Army suddenly stopped.
They were even slowly retreating for some reason?
As everyone wondered, Griffin watched the Norse horse archers charge up, immediately realizing what was happening. He stood up straight with joy, turned his head, and yelled back, "Knights! It's the knights! Our knights have arrived! These horse archers are covering the infantry's retreat."
"Captain, watch out!"
"Captain, what are you doing? Captain!"
Standing among a group of infantry hiding behind carts and shields, Griffin stood out. He was immediately targeted by horse archers riding black, high-quality warhorses.
Of course, Griffin, with so many years of battlefield experience, couldn't be hit so easily. Besides, the plank shield was only a few steps away. Was he supposed to stand there and take an arrow in the back?
Wearing heavy armor, Griffin rolled on the ground, taking only a few arrows.
He was even wearing silk underwear, so they only left a few blood spots on his back.
The horse archers began their classic circling and firing tactics, riding around the infantry and occasionally unleashing a wave of arrows.
But as Griffin had expected, the Savior Army hadn't disappeared from sight before three hundred knights charged through the weeds and farmlands.
Myura's horse archers immediately abandoned Griffin and his men, engaging the knights instead.
Lances chased horse tails. Myura's horse archers would occasionally feint a shot, or drag the mercenary knights toward the other side.
Once the mercenary knights turned to chase the Savior Army, Myura would immediately turn his men around and unleash a wave of arrows on the mercenary knights.
Finally getting a chance to breathe, Griffin, with arrows stuck in his back, began to give orders:
"Everyone put on your armor immediately! These farmers are no joke; they're harder to fight than vampire pirates! You, go get my greatsword back!"
"The Savior Army hasn't left yet."
"You lost it, you go get it back!" Griffin put his greatsword against the servant's neck. "Are you going or not?"
The servant, with a mournful face, headed towards the place where the greatsword had fallen.
Griffin, ignoring the arrows, climbed onto the roof of a wooden house and looked towards the retreating Savior Army.
They were about to disappear from sight. Trying to chase them now would be difficult. It would be best to wait for the entire army to gather... Hmm?
Griffin stretched his neck, looked up at the sun, and then looked at the Savior Army's retreat path.
They should be taking the road on the west side to cross the river. Why are they running towards the road on the south side?
Wait, no, their guide was scared by the knights and took the wrong road.
"Knight, Sir Knight, they're going the wrong way!" Griffin shouted to Montus, the knight leading the charge. "The river Nauan is to the south, a dead end! A dead end! Hold them! We can crush them after we put on our armor."
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Montus, passing by Griffin, didn't reply, but the squire beside him waved the banner.
Griffin knew that Montus had heard him.
Even if he hadn't heard, the squire would pass on the message.
Wearing a heavy, full-face beak helmet, it was normally impossible to hear anything. Even conversations required shouting.
Seeing Montus leading the mercenary knights while fighting the horse archers and closely pursuing the Savior Army.
Griffin clapped his hands with satisfaction and shouted to the messenger:
"Report back that our army has won a great victory, repelling two enemy companies. Prepare to pursue!"
While Griffin was drafting his battle report, Montus split his forces into two groups. One continued to fight the slippery horse archers, and the other pursued the infantry.
The horse archers also split into two groups, but the other group clearly lacked Myura's command skills and was quickly outflanked, allowing them to chase the Savior Army's two Guards regiments.
Sparse branches overhead blocked the sunlight, and patches of light quickly flashed across the helmet.
Arithug King Ham's heart was pounding as he charged in the second rank. Although he was a wandering mercenary knight, he had never given up on becoming a landed knight.
Everyone who had successfully wiped out two companies of the Savior Army was dead, and no one had received a reward.
As long as he could hold them and bring the main force over, the share of the credit would definitely be significant.
Maybe he could get a fiefdom, or even get a chance to enter the Column of Edicts and become a knight of the Column of Edicts, become a captain of the Column of Edicts, marry a count's daughter, and embark on the peak of his life!
However, Arithug understood that the promotion and conferment of knights were not about fighting and killing, but about human relationships. Gaining the appreciation of his superior, Lord Montus, was the first step.
Thinking of this, Arithug couldn't help but look up at Montus, who was charging in the front rank...
Eh? Where's Lord Montus?
The next second, Arithug felt his warhorse lurch. He subconsciously looked back and saw Montus lying on the ground, blood flowing from his chest, with a huge hoof print on his face.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
Sharp whistles and the sound of popping beans came from his ears. Arithug was stunned to find that a cloud of blood mist suddenly erupted in front of the knights charging in the front rank.
The warhorses screamed, and their bodies collided and squeezed together.
He couldn't even see the enemy in front of him, and the knights on horseback were clutching their chests or shoulders and rolling off their horses in agony.
"What's going on? Where are the enemies..." Arithug shouted loudly to the person next to him.
"Watch out!"
Before he could finish speaking, he felt a huge force coming from his shoulder, throwing his entire body backwards.
If he hadn't subconsciously grabbed the saddle, he would have almost been dragged off his horse.
Pulling hard on the reins, Arithug managed to sit up straight, and then looked back in fear.
Looking back through the eye slits of his bucket helmet, Arithug saw a clear, long groove on the shoulder plate of his left shoulder.
What was that? An arrow? But he clearly didn't see an arrowhead.
The fall of the knights in the front rank triggered a chain reaction, and a group of knights fell together.
Since there were warhorses in front, behind, left, and right, Arithug had no choice but to continue forward.
Controlling his warhorse, Arithug jumped over his companion lying on the ground and howling, and charged out of the thicket.
Leaving the protection of the cool shade of the trees and entering the river beach, the light shone directly on Arithug's face.
Everything in front of him seemed to be shrouded in holy light, and he couldn't see clearly.
He couldn't help but squint his eyes.
But when his eyes gradually adjusted and he saw everything in front of him clearly, his pupils couldn't help but dilate. He immediately pulled on the reins and loudly ordered his warhorse: "Biscuit, stop, Biscuit, stop!"
Horseshoes clattered on the stones, spraying a series of sparks. Biscuit finally stopped, leaving a shallow groove in the ground.
The warhorse snorted discontentedly, a telltale sign he wanted a biscuit, but Arigtu was oblivious, sitting blankly in the saddle.
The other knights had also reined in their horses, standing dumbfounded on the riverbank's high ground.
In the distance, he could see the short-haired infantry advancing down the slope towards the river beach.
But Arigtu had no intention of giving chase.
A makeshift pier had been erected on the river, and large barges lined up, waiting to dock.
The landing planks vibrated as hundreds upon thousands of Salvation Army soldiers, a dense swarm, jumped from the decks onto the pebbles and sand.
They quickly fell into formation and assembled in response to commands, flags, and whistles, organizing their ranks on the river beach.
Not far from the infantry, quartermasters strained against the weight, pushing the Holy Sun chariots into their designated positions.
The Holy Sun chariots formed a subtle, semi-circular arc in front of the densely packed ranks of spearmen.
With planks laid horizontally across the chariot bodies, seventy or eighty blue-clad skirmishers armed with helical rifles knelt or stood, firing at them from a distance of nearly 300 meters.
This wasn't chasing remnants of the enemy; it was an ambush!
At least 3,000 Salvation Army soldiers were gathered on the narrow beach!
A knight who realized the situation turned and galloped towards the bushes, shouting, "Quick, go back and report to Prince! Before they get all their troops ashore!"
"What?" Arigtu asked, momentarily stunned.
"Go report to the Prince! Stop them from landing!"
As he rushed past Arigtu, the fellow knight raised his head and shouted, only to have a cloud of blood mist erupt from the back of his head.
A section of spine, laced with purplish blood, was exposed, and the knight's head hung precariously by a thread of flesh.
His pupils instantly dimmed, and he slumped onto his horse, the warhorse carrying his corpse in terror towards the bushes.
Hugging the horse's back in a pathetic posture, Arigtu, like a coward, stuck his backside up in the air, narrowly escaping the whistling bullets and fleeing into the undergrowth.