Given the times, there was one question that occasionally crossed the minds of the lords and knights of the Empire’s northeastern region.
What would happen if the nomadic cavalry from the east clashed with the soldiers of the Empire?
The nomads were swift. Not just ordinarily fast they moved cunningly, making full use of their agile mobility.
On the other hand, the overwhelming majority of the imperial lords’ forces were infantry. Heavy cavalry and knights were but a minority.
Given these conditions, the eastern knights concluded that, in most scenarios, the nomadic cavalry would hold the advantage.
They knew this from experience.
When the nomads who could not even speak the same language mounted the horses they had practically dedicated their lives to,
the Empire’s foot soldiers became nothing more than prey.
And once the nomads, having encircled them on all sides, began firing arrows from horseback… the gates of hell would open.
The Principality of Lys was not a nation founded by nomads.
Although there was some intermingling with the Kakar people, the Lys were clearly descendants of the northern barbarians.
Yet the Lys rode horses well, and even made active use of mounted archers.
It was due to the influence of the nomads who inevitably clashed with them from the east and south.
The Hezar, the Kumen, and the Kakar who once ruled over the southern plains had etched it into the bones of the Lys.
To rule the plains, cavalry was essential.
Extremely light, fast, and deadly cavalry.
The Lys learned this.
For one reason only to survive.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
The strategy of the cavalry from the Principality of Lys was simple.
Completely surround Sir Lothar’s forces, then ride in circles around them, loosing arrows as they went.
By doing so, they could force a battle of attrition one that inflicted casualties solely on the enemy’s side. A highly efficient war of wear.
Keldric gazed out at the countless cavalry tearing up the snowy field ahead.
“The number…”
They had said there’d be about a hundred, but now that the fog had cleared from the plains, the Lys soldiers revealed themselves far more than expected. Too many, in fact.
Keldric had never experienced large-scale cavalry warfare before.
Even in the Battle of Schafendorf, the only cavalry he’d faced were a few knights and some lightly armed skirmishers.
Still, Keldric didn’t let fear get to him.
“When have I ever done anything I was used to?”
Everything Keldric had gone through so far had been new, unfamiliar. And yet, he had overcome it all.
This was no different. He would fight in a large-scale cavalry battle for the first time—and he would prevail, just as he always had.
“Sir Keldric. I dried some charcoal. You might be able to use magic,”
Alyssa rushed over just as Keldric was putting on his helmet and bracing himself.
“How much do we have?”
“Enough for maybe three spells…”
Three spells.
Three chances to summon a powerful pillar of flame strong enough to melt the surrounding snow in an instant.
Keldric’s narrowed eyes fixed on the enemy lines in the distance.
It felt strange to see the enemy encampment so clearly the open plains offered no cover.
The Lys cavalry still moved swiftly at the front, overwhelming in both presence and pace.
Some of his soldiers were already visibly unnerved by their sheer numbers.
“Could we stretch it to five spells?”
“We’re short on charcoal. I’d have to dry more…”
“Can you do it?”
“…I’ll try my best.”
“If not, we stick with three. Don’t overdo it.”
Alyssa nodded and hurried off.
Keldric turned his gaze back to the enemy.
The Lys cavalry had stopped, forming ranks.
Among them were support troops who also served as supply carriers.
Half of them looked like conscripted peasant soldiers—but the other thirty or so clearly weren’t.
Though the distance made it hard to see clearly, Keldric realized that the thirty armed men were of a fairly elite standard.
No more than just decent. Most of them were clad in metal armor. Their kettle hats, shaped like pot lids, glinted in the light.
Sir Rutger, who was observing the enemy lines beside Keldric, clicked his tongue in frustration.
“Tsk. They’re a single mercenary company. Their uniforms are more or less standardized.”
Just as Sir Rutger said, the mercenaries in the distance were dressed in strikingly similar attire.
Keldric furrowed his brow.
A force composed of multiple mercenary bands versus a force operating as a single unit there was no doubt which had superior organization.
“Do you think they’ll overcome our advantages?”
“I doubt it. After all, they’re still mercenaries, and when it comes down to it, among those who’ve lived off the same soldier’s wage, numbers matter more than equipment.”
Still, their numbers barely exceeded one hundred seventy, while this side had just under two hundred fifty.
Excluding cavalry, the disparity widened further. It seemed clear they’d need to leverage their superior headcount.
Bwooo~!
As they continued their reconnaissance for some time, a horn suddenly sounded.
“They’re moving.”
Keldric spurred his horse in sync with Sir Lothar. The other knights likewise began to move in formation.
The foot soldiers advanced first, followed by the knights and cavalry.
To facilitate formation, the infantry moved in a loose semi-circle.
Soon, the enemy began to show movement as well. Around thirty mercenaries led the front.
As the distance closed, Keldric was able to get a clearer view of their equipment.
‘Shields?’
They were carrying large shields known as pavises. At their waists hung short swords, and in their hands were crossbows.
One detail that stood out was the emblem on the shields a white griffin on a black field.
Sir Henri, who had been eyeing them closely, suddenly gasped and shouted,
“Damn… That’s the Griffin Mercenary Company!”
“The Griffin Mercenary Company?”
“Don’t you know them, Sir Keldric?”
To Sir Henri’s question, Keldric awkwardly nodded.
He worried he might come across as ignorant, but Sir Henri didn’t seem to think much of it and continued explaining.
“They’re retired soldiers from the Republic of Zenobella. After their discharge, they banded together hoping to strike it rich.”
To the south, in the peninsula, are several republics famed for their maritime trade.
They specialized in training professional crossbowmen and frequently sent them out as mercenaries. Many of these crossbowmen formed mercenary bands after retirement.
The Griffin Mercenary Company was one such group and a fairly well-known one, at that.
Of course, Keldric didn’t know the first thing about them. His gaze fixed on the Griffin Mercenaries.
“Those crossbows… we’ll need to be careful. Zenobellan crossbows are beasts.”
“How powerful are we talking?”
“Up close, they’ll punch through chainmail with ease. Even plate armor… well, it’s no good at close range either.”
Keldric clicked his tongue.
Chainmail had stronger protective qualities than most realized it could stop arrows in many cases.
And yet, these crossbows could not only pierce chainmail, but potentially even puncture plate armor at close range?
Of course, the impact varied depending on the angle and distance. Their crossbows were most effective at medium to short range rather than long.
Still, the sheer power was enough to threaten knights so for foot soldiers, it would be a nightmare.
“Thirty men from the Griffin Company, huh… Looks like Lord Rasau really shelled out.”
Sir Henri exclaimed with mock cheer. The other knights chuckled and raised their voices in response.
“Probably lost everything he had! Guess he’ll have to go herd sheep again?”
“I hear Schaffendorf is short on shepherds someone should set him up with a job!”
“At this rate, we’ll be left with nothing for ourselves!”
“Bah, we’ll just pick the pockets of those Zenobellan pig-bastards! Let’s make a fat haul off them today!”
Thanks to the banter, the creeping sense of dread eased up.
Sure, the crossbowmen were a real threat but it wasn’t like the knights were going to charge straight into their bolts.
Keldric, too, slowly pushed down his growing anxiety. In its place rose a familiar determination.
Bwooo~!
A long horn blast rang out. The advancing soldiers halted and began forming ranks.
They had marched far from camp; the distant Senzer River was now barely visible on the horizon.
Keldric pulled his horse to a stop and watched as the soldiers tightened into a circular formation.
If the knights were to charge, the first priority was to avoid being dragged into combat too early.
“Sir Keldric.”
As Keldric and the other knights organized their ranks, Sir Lothar, clad in full armor, rode up to him.
Keldric gave a silent nod. Sir Lothar nodded in return.
“It seems they’re about to make their move.”
“Right. So it begins.”
As the soldiers settled into formation, a horn call sounded again this time from the enemy.
Keldric narrowed his eyes, staring at the moving Rhisian cavalry.
“Sir Keldric. We may need to act a bit earlier than planned.”
Sir Rutger had come up close and was whispering to him. Keldric, hidden inside his helm, looked puzzled, so Rutger added,
“With the Griffin Mercenaries out there, going purely on the defensive might not end well. Our shields won’t hold under fire.”
“In that case…”
“We’ll need to focus on taking out the crossbowmen first.”
Keldric nodded slowly, beginning to understand. The timing of the charge may have shifted, but nothing else had changed.
They would crush whatever stood in their way. That was all there was to it.
Waaaaah—!!
A thunderous roar of voices rolled across the plain, blanketing the snowy expanse.
The battle on the snow-covered fields had just begun.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
“Draw!”
The archers simultaneously raised their bows.
Jorgen, the captain of the mountain goat mercenary corps, shuddered at the shout coming from behind.
Now, it’s really beginning.
They were going to fight against the Griffin Mercenaries, whom even Jorgen had at least heard of once, and the infamous Lys cavalry.
He was scared. Naturally.
They were elite among elites, proven through and through.
Jorgen was used to cutting down dumb mercenaries, but these guys were anything but dumb.
“Fire!!”
Arrows shot up into the sky. The sound of them slicing through the air rang out sharply.
They became deadly weapons, closely tailing the mounted archers on the move.
But the Lys cavalry were swift.
The mounted archers quickly turned their horses and maneuvered just as swiftly as before.
Fwap-fwap-fwap!
Dozens of arrows uselessly struck the ground, and some of the Lys mounted archers shouted in their own language as they pulled out their bows.
“Those sons of bitches…!”
Jorgen couldn’t understand a word the Lys soldiers were saying.
But he could tell most of it was mockery.
Another volley of arrows flew, but once again the Lys mounted archers turned their horses quickly and dodged.
Jorgen’s eyes trembled slightly.
The mounted archers were closing in too fast.
The distance narrowed quickly, and the soldiers’ circular formation grew tighter.
“Hold your shields tight!”
The shout of a seasoned mercenary shook the battlefield.
The mounted archers, who had been charging across the ground, finally began to circle around the soldiers in their ring formation.
Jorgen swallowed dryly.
The Lys mounted archers visible between the shields weren’t bunched up.
They were spread out in a long, curving line, forming something like a circle.
They nocked their arrows.
Their exotic attire was, for some reason, frightening.
Jorgen had shot a bow before. But contrary to what he’d thought, it took an incredible amount of strength to draw one.
Let alone doing it on horseback.
Jorgen’s tension reached its peak.
“Shit, shit, shit…!”
A mercenary behind him holding a spear cursed under his breath.
Jorgen had to worry whether this madman might stab him in the back.
But such useless worries were a luxury.
What was scarier than a distant spear was the arrow right in front of him.
The mounted archers began circling them.
At some point, their number had reached dozens.
The snow of the frozen plains was torn up.
The permafrost beneath, frozen solid until now, began to awaken from its slumber.
Jorgen gripped his shield tightly. Then he muttered,
“Damn Lys bastards, damn barbarian bastards!”
Twang!
Suddenly, the loud sound of bowstrings being released echoed.
Jorgen’s body stiffened instantly.
Thud-thud-thud!
And then, in that moment, Jorgen nearly dropped his shield in shock.
The force of the arrows striking his shield was no joke.
Most of them bounced off, but some stuck in, their tips poking visibly out the other side.
No one had been hit yet, but Jorgen couldn’t tell how long that would last.
Twang!
The second wave of arrows poured in.
Whoosh!
Some arrows sliced through the wind, making a sharp whistling noise.
It perfectly amplified Jorgen’s anxiety.
Then came the third, and fourth volleys.
It was strange.
The sound of arrows raining down never stopped.
Jorgen’s face slowly turned pale with fear.
‘Those… those bastards…?!’
The Lys mounted archers weren’t regular archers.
Of course, they had no reason to fire in volleys.
They knew.
That if they each fired individually, the arrow rain wouldn’t cease and those hiding behind shields would tremble in fear.
“Kuhack!”
The first casualty appeared.
A spearman near Jorgen was struck by a stray arrow and collapsed.
Actually, Jorgen wasn’t even sure if he was the first.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
It’s… it’s so loud around him.
The sound of arrows tearing through the wind was deafening.
They were shooting strange arrows with holes in them.
Those tore through the air, screaming with sharp, high-pitched wails.
It felt like his eardrums were being ripped apart.
He could almost hear wailing from somewhere.
The screeching arrows added pain to his arms.
And so—
So… he really felt like he was going to go insane.
“U-uaaaah!!”
“Hold your shields! Shields!”
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?! Hold your shield right, you little shit!”
“Fire! Block them from coming!”
Only then did Jorgen realize the surroundings had turned into complete chaos.
He had been entranced by the strange sound of the arrows, but the battlefield was already a mess, stained with the soldiers’ shouts and screams drenched in fear.
Shields were being pounded roughly by arrows. The arrows poured down without rest.
Jorgen couldn’t steady his trembling breath.
His eyes, consumed by fear, stared through the gaps in the shield at them.
“They’re shooting again!”
“Shit, hold on!”
The Lys’ arrows weren’t running out anytime soon.
They were waiting for the right moment for the weak beasts hiding in the cave to finally lose patience and come running out.
The hunt had already begun,
And the prey was Jorgen and the soldiers.
“Arrows! Arrows!”
“Kehuk!”
Chaos had descended on the Ramders Plains.
If you want to live you have to endure.
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