Take Responsibility (5)
From the riverbank to the thickets, the iron roar echoed relentlessly. Thud, thud, thud. Soldiers with at least two or three arrows embedded in their armor raised their shields—stuck with far more—and lumbered forward with heavy steps. As they clambered over tree roots and trampled low shrubs to press on, the centaurs who had been darting through the forest unleashed savage war cries and showered them with arrows.
—Kiiiieeeeeek!!
—Kiiihiyaaaaak!!
Ear-piercing shrieks like a chorus of demons assaulted their ears, followed by a hail of reed arrows. Yet no matter how many times it repeated, the arrows glanced harmlessly off the sun-glinting helmets, armor, and shields. Now and then, an unlucky soldier might take an arrow to the nape and crumple, but the infantry—eyes blazing with battle fervor—never broke stride.
They obeyed only one thing: the orders from the single person commanding from the rear. On this battlefield, the only one qualified to issue those commands.
The imperial princess, Charlotte Laura von Ahenmetis. To her alone.
“Archers, forward…!”
As the infantry absorbed another centaur ambush volley, the archers trailing behind swiftly nocked arrows and loosed at the fleeing centaurs' hindquarters. Most centaurs evaded the barrage, but the weary ones with sluggish steps took arrows to the body, tumbling as several fell.
Yet in the end, neither side inflicted heavy losses in these exchanges. The centaurs, desperate to halt the advance, failed once more, allowing the imperial forces to push on.
After dozens of minutes pouring arrows into them, not a crack in their formation—still holding perfect ranks and files. Even as simulated phantoms, it was a vivid display of what made the empire's soldiers rulers of this continent.
'The Turks who first encountered the Crusader knights thought they were iron men, since their arrows just bounced off.'
It was a real historical example. The Battle of Dorylaeum. During the First Crusade, as the Crusader army marched toward the Holy Land, local Turk forces ambushed them. The Crusaders were scattered and thrown into chaos, and the Turks exploited it, unleashing unilateral arrow barrages for half a day. Victory seemed theirs, but the Crusaders' commanders rallied them, and their heavy plate armor held firm. They weathered the storm without breaking, and as other Crusader units regrouped and reinforced, they turned the tide.
Overall, the Turks were outnumbered, but it was a perfect anecdote for the power of medieval heavy armor.
I was tasting that bewildered frustration those Turk lords must have felt.
'Imperial army OP as hell. Nerf shield arrow block rate already.'
No matter how many arrows we rained down, the phalanx showed no sign of scattering or faltering. The moment their control slipped even slightly, merciless countervolleys and infantry charges struck back. What else could you call these iron monsters?
The battle looked one-sided in their favor, but we weren't dealing real damage—just burning through arrows. Like poking with DoT effects when we wanted burst.
Of course, even pure DoT could grind them down if inflicted endlessly, a hundred or a thousand times. The problem? Our DoT opportunities were finite.
“All cavalry—withdraw no matter what, counter with Parthian shots. Fall back slowly to the camp.”
So how to sustain it? Simple: resupply.
It sounded out of left field and obvious, but it was a time-honored tactic everywhere.
'The centaurs' wagons.'
Nomads reliant on swarm tactics due to low population knew their weaknesses well, so they'd stockpile arrows at bases across vast territories. Using hidden paths, they'd resupply from depots and harass expeditionary forces endlessly—that was the classic nomadic defense.
In this world, centaurs herded sheep and goats in migratory bands, so wagons pulled by bison or themselves weren't uncommon. They'd surely used them in battle before.
That's why, like the scene Johann Beltstein had shown earlier, we'd hauled in wagons to form a temporary camp ring. Frontline units kept firing until arrows ran dry, then rotated back for resupply and redeployment.
Of course, it cost a fortune in points upfront, leaving us outnumbered even after chipping at the princess's forces. Hiding that disadvantage with every trick in the forest had been my strategy so far: splitting units for rotation, maintaining constant fire, never straying far from cover. Even good sightlines? Only shoot from visually unverifiable spots.
Thankfully, centaurs excelled at this, letting us force attrition... but...
'She sniffed it out.'
I knew this princess wasn't just charging blindly into the woods. She wasn't advancing on my troops generally—she was heading straight for my wagon camp.
'Well, I never expected to fool her forever anyway.'
Anyone in her shoes wouldn't just eat arrows endlessly without a plan. Her imperial archers were probably running low too.
I was just surprised she'd pinpointed my position so precisely.
The real issue?
'This is dangerous.'
With points sunk into masses of centaur horse-archers and wagons, I had scant melee troops to defend the camp. If her well-armored imperials overran it, we wouldn't hold long. Even if we did, resupply would grind to a halt, crumbling my tactic's foundation.
I had to slow them, maximize damage. But pushing horse-archers forward to harass rear cavalry or flank-shot? Every gambit failed. The imperials charged like hedgehogs, refusing to halt even as they fell.
To me, they seemed an undead horde.
'Undead aren't really immortal—they just swap in identically dressed guys when one dies...'
No choice but to hold here. Pulling all forces to the camp was inevitable.
Thus, the long cat-and-mouse: us retreating slowly, them pursuing. Finally, both armies faced off before the wagon camp in a forest clearing.
*
While hastily pulling some centaur horse-archers into the camp and straightening our lines in the clearing, I eyed the distant imperial soldiers.
'Still, they're worn out.'
Endless arrows weren't fruitless, even if they didn't kill. They'd taken hits all the way here—damage accumulated on those frontline troops.
Our centaurs were fatigued from galloping and shooting too, but less so than these plodding heavies.
'Infantry-cavalry distance... still that gap.'
The subtle buffer maintained since the river flats. To target cavalry with centaur bows, we'd have to close perilously near the infantry. Firing from just outside charge range? Marginal effective distance.
Charlotte was still preserving it perfectly—protecting her horse from our archers. Impressive, really. Maintaining such precise spacing amid woods and obstacles...
Nothing else to call it but masterful.
“……Sigh.”
As I surveyed from inside the camp, her army—preparations complete—advanced again. I gave a wry smile.
No advantage here at all. Yet laying one final gambit made it feel less like tactics, more like gaming. Amusing.
'Meant to save this... but it's too damn effective not to use.'
I ordered the outer horse-archers to fire. Target: frontal infantry.
They'd caught on, roaring pent-up battle cries and charging the camp with swords and axes, out for revenge now that melee loomed. Our archers alone couldn't stop their fury.
She'd probably commit heavy horse next for the finish, once infantry softened us. Wagons blunted lance charges anyway.
So I bellowed to the reserve unit waiting inside:
“Navek marksmen!”
Behind me, differently armed centaurs raised heads and bows, aiming.
Still too far for the enemy line. We could hit the charging infantry, but not the trailing cavalry—especially not the princess.
The exact range of that initial, seemingly wasteful volley. I'd conditioned her to peg centaur range limits there.
“Target the central banner. The one in the helmet with white plumes...”
Toward the princess in that improbable spot, I commanded the marksmen:
“───Fire!!”
Ping, ping, piiiiing──!!
Unlike standard arrows, near-dart-like projectiles poured from the centaurs' bows.
If they hit true, I'd claim victory then and there.
Because those shots were Navek—Solenarion in imperial parlance. In my past life's terms: flight arrows.
Shorter, deadlier than standard, and far longer-ranged special arrows.