The chaotic blaze spread uncontrollably.
Snow was torn up in every direction, and from beneath the frozen ground, clumps of hardened earth kept bursting into the air.
The mounted archers surrounding the circular formation moved swiftly, without rest for even a moment.
And the same was true for their bowstrings, which never stopped being drawn.
“They’re pulling back.”
The mounted archers, having loosed a reasonable volley, turned their horses as if repelled by the counterfire from the archers within the formation.
Sir Rutger watched this with a conflicted expression.
Keldric and the knights had been prepared to rush in and sever the mounted archers’ flanks the moment an opening presented itself.
But there had been no such opportunity after a few volleys, the mounted archers would simply retreat.
Thanks to the fierce resistance from the formation’s archers, they had pulled back early. Otherwise, they likely would’ve kept pressing until their quivers were empty.
Still, Keldric couldn’t shake his doubts.
Even with the intensity of the return fire, the enemy hadn’t suffered any real losses.
It felt suspicious, how easily they were pulling back. Keldric tilted his head and asked:
“Why are they retreating?”
“That was likely the goal to deepen our soldiers’ fear,” came the reply.
One didn’t need to crash into the circular formation to know how solid it was.
Charging in recklessly would only lead to getting bogged down.
Then the soldiers would drag the riders off their horses, and that would be the end of them.
So the Lysian mounted archers focused first on instilling fear.
“…They’re ruthless.”
“Indeed. That’s how the Kakars of the eastern highlands fight. The Lysians learned from them.”
Keldric clicked his tongue at their brutality.
The tactics of the Lysian mounted archers resembled hunting more than war.
Hunting isn’t just about finding a beast and shooting arrows at it.
It begins with tracking the traces, the patterns learning where the beast drinks, where it grazes.
Only then does one nock the arrow to the string.
And so, the one-sided battle quieted for a moment.
From within the circular formation, pained groans continued to rise. Seeing this, Sir Rutger raised his voice.
“Pull out those who can no longer fight! Sir Lothar has established a field hospital!”
A single rider dashed off to relay Sir Rutger’s orders, and soon, several soldiers emerged from the formation.
The wide circle grew slightly smaller.
“It might be best to fall back like this…” Sir Lothar said with a tight throat.
Keldric agreed. Back in Schafendorf, they had withdrawn after the initial clash, hadn’t they?
“If we pull back now, we’ll be giving them an opening,” said Sir Rutger, shaking his head.
What he was aiming for was simple.
“Horses, unless they’re warhorses, tire faster than you’d think.”
The mounted archers were on horseback and horses tired quickly.
After a single sortie, the horses would return frothing and skittish.
Of course, the enemy would switch out their horses. But they couldn’t do that endlessly.
“They’ll come again. And when they do we cut off their retreat.”
The Lysian mounted archers were quick, and this was an open plain.
Even if they blocked the rear, there were plenty of directions to flee.
But even on a plain, the area where cavalry can maneuver is limited.
If the enemy tried to flee too far, they could send the main force to wipe out the vulnerable supply lines.
So the mounted archers couldn’t run too far.
That’s where the medium cavalry, anchored by the knights, would move to cut off their rear.
“If they refuse to fight, then we’ll force the engagement.”
In doing so, the mounted archers, caught between the knights and the circular formation, would have no choice but to fight.
The psychological pressure alone would be immense.
Keldric, finally grasping the strategy, gave a small nod.
“Is this the kind of thing that comes from experience?”
It was something Keldric hadn’t thought of himself.
If he’d had more time, perhaps he would have, but in the chaos of the battlefield, there was no luxury for deep contemplation.
He listened intently to Sir Rutger’s swift tactical adjustments.
Every bit of this was invaluable experience an asset for the future.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Bwooo—!
A horn trumpet blared. It hadn’t come from this side of the camp.
Keldric gripped the reins tightly as he watched the mounted archers start to charge again.
Something was tearing through the snowy field in the distance.
A group of mounted archers. They came rushing in, as if to resume the hunt without missing a beat.
“……!!”
The Lysian mounted archers shouted something in a language none here could understand.
Moments later, the horsemen drew near and split into two groups, scattering and beginning their maneuver.
One group immediately surrounded the circular formation and, wasting no time, began raining down arrows.
They intended to press the fear they’d already instilled before it could wear off.
Meanwhile, the other group, having broken off, moved lightly from a distance. Keldric found it difficult to read their intentions.
“Now!”
But what was certain this was the moment. Their firepower was now divided.
Keldric quickly checked his helmet and weapon.
He gripped his spear tighter. A strange heat rippled through the knights who had lined up in formation.
“Barbaric wretches who know nothing of honor or chivalry…!”
“Slay them all!”
It was a thick, palpable thirst for blood. Knights whose trade was death began to burn with fervor.
It was rage and fighting spirit long held back.
Ever since they’d missed Baron Gottfried in Schaffendorf before reaching the Ramdas Plains.
That dense bloodlust now coursed through their bodies, mixed with just the right amount of tension, and the warhorses that had long accompanied them sensed the shift and stood ready to charge.
Bwooo~! Bwoo~!
When Sir Lothar, who stood slightly to the rear, raised his arm, two horn blasts one long, one short resounded from the camp.
It was the trumpet call ordering the knights to charge.
The knights’ battle cries roared across the snow-covered plains.
“Charge! Charge!”
“For Baron Yaben!”
“In the name of the Divine!”
The knights began to move. The sound of heels striking their warhorses’ flanks came all at once.
The wind slicing past was sharper than arrows. Amidst it all, the knights honed their savage intent into something like a deadly blade.
The cavalry followed in behind them. Their banners flapped and whipped in the wind.
Inside his helmet, Keldric’s eyes widened. Harsh wind stung through the eye slits, but he didn’t care.
Tearing through snow was always a rough road. Abellin’s body bounced wildly up and down.
Keldric’s arms tensed as he gripped the reins. His tightly clenched thigh muscles trembled with force.
The knights, who had been watching from a distance, came charging with a menacing aura, causing the panicked royal cavalry to break their encirclement and attempt to flee.
But the archers weren’t idle. They unleashed a frenzied volley of arrows at the royal cavalry, who had now turned their backs.
“Loose—!!”
A loud battle cry erupted from the circular formation. The soldiers, having shifted their round formation into a semicircle, began charging across the already churned-up ground.
They had been relentlessly beaten until now rage fueled them. Everyone could feel it.
“Faster! Move!”
“They’re right in front of us!”
If not now, the chance to encircle them would be lost forever!
Keldric grew impatient. The other knights seemed to feel the same, as shouts of “Hyah!” urging their horses forward rang out incessantly.
The royal cavalry, who had been circling the formation, stretched into a long line. Charging in a group, they were undoubtedly fast.
But evading arrows required constant swerving inevitably slowing them down.
Keldric’s vision completely flipped the moment he and the knights overtook the Rhys royal cavalry.
Ahead, mercenaries armed with crossbows stood ready. Those who had planted Pavise shields in the ground gaped in shock as the knights closed in.
The Griffin Mercenaries. Most began firing their crossbows at the charging soldiers, but a few aimed at the knights.
Keldric and the knights didn’t stop.
“If you’ve got the aim, then shoot!”
The moment the Griffin Mercenaries’ shouted Latinum words echoed, Sir Rutger, leading the charge, suddenly yanked his horse’s reins sideways.
The knights followed suit. Avelin spat violently and cursed.
“Guh—!”