Take Responsibility (6)
With the wind whistling like a spinning top, the world seemed to turn once more. At least under that false ceiling of the virtual space, Charlotte thought so.
“……?”
Right after, a massive shock slammed into her whole body like a blow, and only a split second later did she realize she was falling from her horse. It hit her even later what that gushing crimson spray erupting before her eyes had burst from.
Nothing other than the horse she'd been riding.
“────!!”
The impact of crashing to the ground from the fall rattled her skull viciously. “Hngh……!!” An incoherent scream burst from her mouth, and the warhorse, spewing a fountain of blood while shrieking its gruesome death cry, reared up sharply before collapsing in a heap.
“Kwaaagh…!”
“Guhk…?!”
It wasn't happening just to her. The sharp whir of small objects slicing through the air kept ringing out like a fiendish symphony, and each time, her guards dropped one by one as if struck by something invisible.
If she hadn't noticed the tiny arrow embedded in her shoulder, she probably would have collapsed without even knowing what hit her.
“This……is?”
Seeing the virtual soldiers—devoid of any real sense of self—swarm to protect their commander, and the short arrows that had battered her pauldrons relentlessly, Charlotte muttered curtly.
The taste of sweat filled her mouth. But her relief was short-lived; as the second volley rained down, the whispers of death easily transformed into brutal screams from the backs of her encircling guards.
“……Hng.”
They say if a hole is pierced through your chest, you die without even a proper scream. After the relentless clanging of metal plates, a hissing leak of air sounded once, and another guardsman crumpled before Charlotte's eyes.
Arrows that had savagely dented his backplate rained down, several embedded deep enough to shred his lungs.
“……Ha.”
She knew it wasn't real, but it was an utterly pathetic sight. How in the world……!
If arrows could punch through heavy plate so easily, no one would ever wear it against such foes. In truth, Charlotte had been holding back her cavalry to preserve her horses, not because she thought her knights would be so effortlessly neutralized by arrows.
Cold sweat trickled down her forehead at this violence mocking her assumptions.
Solenarion…. I've heard of it, but this is my first time seeing one…!
A bow fitted with a slender rail, firing short, dart-sized arrows. A weapon whose mastery was harder than even elven bows, prone to mishaps even for experts, and thus rarely used. On top of that, its reload was slower than a standard bow, making it disadvantageous in normal combat.
Yet it existed for two reasons: superior range over ordinary arrows, and—when wielded by strong archers—penetration that could pierce even knightly armor.
I got lucky.
That she hadn't dropped dead instantly like that guardsman was purely because the tiny projectiles had missed her vitals. Even so, with her shoulder and thigh pierced, standing properly was a struggle.
Did they waste arrows at first just to gauge the distance…?
At the start, seeing arrows fly from an impossible range, Charlotte had wondered. The Baron Hebel wasn't the type to waste resources or show off. He was the sort to hide his aces and snipe her with them.
But I didn't think he'd actually do it.
Last mock battle, getting raided from behind by dwarven cavalry? That could be chalked up to standard hammer-and-anvil. But this was different. Ignoring tactical doctrine entirely to pour everything into killing her alone.
Ruthless, if effective. A sure path to victory, perhaps.
But.
That means right now…… I'm in the advantage!
People avoid certain tactics for a reason. This one was a gamble by nature. Betting everything on killing the enemy commander meant that if you failed, your invested resources lost value. The more you committed, the weaker your overall force became.
To field so many horse archers in this mock battle setup—and hire specialists for these exotic darts—proved her judgment right.
It's confirmation my read wasn't wrong…!
Flash back to when she'd entered the forest. Seeing the dust clouds rising straight into the sky, she'd been certain of two things: no fire attacks or ambushes exploiting terrain, and the Baron's main force was weaker than expected.
How? Hard to explain in detail with limited info, but the biggest clue was the dust rising straight up—no wind to speak of, which meant fire wouldn't spread effectively even if lit. The dust scattering uselessly every which way meant constant fluid movement of sizable numbers. And for horse archers unmolested by counterfire, aside from rest, supply issues were the only concern.
If they need to move against a stationary target, that's their problem.
That was her basis. She couldn't be sure about those initial arrows, so she'd trusted instinct there. Nearly dying to it aside, the momentum was still hers.
“Move……please!”
Of course, she couldn't just sit; supported by her remaining guards, she gripped her throbbing leg and shoulder and staggered forward. Even accounting for that agonizingly slow reload, staying put meant another arrow to the head.
Fortunately, no shots came as she retreated farther. They couldn't ignore the infantry assaulting the Baron's carroballista fortress up front any longer. Unless she bled out ridiculously here, the trapped Baron had few options. Likewise, her only play was breaching the fortress.
And with nothing else in play, she was dead certain the Imperial army's superior frontal combat power would win.
*
It's not the worst yet….
Watching the princess escape the sniper fire at the cost of her guards, I thought so. Not wishful thinking—purely objective.
Her strength is timely reinforcements and fluid force coordination.
That shines only when she's on-site directing. Even Napoleon Bonaparte, that military genius, was useless doped up on laudanum for hemorrhoids, napping away his brilliance.
She's great, but no Napoleon. Which means.
“Uwaaaaaah!!”
After eating arrows forever, these infantry charging to smash the wagons in revenge? We had an opening to handle them.
If the front holds, that is…!
Currently blocking the wagon entrance: the centaur noble medium cavalry I'd picked as my guards. Among frontally fragile centaurs, this heavy-armored lance unit could manage a stand-up fight.
The Margrave said he'd beaten that princess once thanks to these guys.
Keep harassing with horse archers, let their spacing widen, then slam these upfront for piecemeal destruction. History's nomadic empires toppled civilized armies that way.
They supplemented with local levies when needed, but here I was using these precious mediums as an anvil. Tears welling up.
Who's to blame? Me, for bringing this mess of a strategy to 'have fun.'
“Waaaaah!!”
“Kieeeek──!!”
Battle cries and man-beast roars intertwined. Black-armored centaurs held a phalanx-like line at mount height with long cavalry lances. Too bulky for tight formation, but they kicked and speared the sword-and-axe-wielding infantry, buying time.
But they won't last. Outnumbered.
Even using wagons as a makeshift fort at the narrow entrance, limits loomed. Small mercy: the infantry were exhausted from all those arrows.
Seizing the gap, I rallied the remaining outer horse archers to the fortress. The infantry's desperate frontal push had stretched them from their rear medium cavalry, with the princess sidelined by wounds.
To reverse this, rout the infantry. My best shot: keep the horse archers circling, targeting unshielded rears.
“Assemble, assemble……!”
Dududududu──!!
True to their mobility, centaurs swarmed in sequentially at my order. With enemy cavalry yet to move, they flanked the infantry besieging the fortress.
“Hi──hya!!”
“Kieeeek──!!”
Hunnic horsemen reportedly shrieked to terrify before loosing arrows. Emitting those fiendish cries in sequence, the centaurs swept the infantry's unprotected rear with a volley.
“Kwaaaagh……!!”
Instead of the familiar thuds into wood or armor, screams dominated. Some dogs turned late to block individually, but in the chaos, casualties mounted.
If the princess stayed out, centaurs could've hunted these ironclads with backs exposed, flipping the battle.
Problem: she wouldn't just watch.
────Bwooooooo───!!
The Imperial trumpet boomed across the field, the unyielding sun glinting off their plate. At last, her hoarded Imperial medium cavalry charged into the fray.
Lances and shields raised, unwavering Imperial knights bore down on the centaur horse archers. Expected, of course. Pull centaurs back, hit-and-run with arrows, survive somehow.
The issue: something odd where they charged.
What the?
The centaur units there had slowed drastically.
Damn…!
Some pulling back en masse had tangled paths. From freely wheeling amid the knights' charge, now their routes clashed.
Enemy hooves hit there? Instant centaur slaughter on the relay screen. Losing them outright? Game over in this uphill fight.
Fine, tangles happen with maneuvers under sudden charge. But how'd they pinpoint the exact spot?
Their bypass angle showed they hadn't just stood idle then charged straight—they'd timed the medium cavalry surge for when my horse archers ravaged infantry, creating chaos. Deliberately engineered the tangle.
If calculated, her spatial awareness bordered on absurd.
Grinding my teeth, I bellowed at the centaurs to flee while redirecting the Nabek marksmen—mid-fire on the assaulting infantry—to switch targets. Desperate bid to blunt the charge.
Somehow, save even a few…. And weaken them while I'm at it….
Some marksmen, Solenarians loaded, obeyed and peppered the mediums with darts.
────Pipipiping───!!
Potent bolts erupted from the fortress, outer centaur archers loosing on the charging knights where unentangled.
Hundreds of arrows in one salvo—not rain, a deluge of death's harbingers—crashed into the unified medium cavalry front. Moments later, the enveloped zone filled with screams anew.
Hiihiihiihing…!!
Horses' endless death whinnies mingled with riders hurled earthward, meat-in-tin-can crunches. Yet the mediums pressed on through the din, lances high to impale the tangled centaurs for the finale.
Trampling comrades' flesh, the mediums surged, sending massive ripples across the battlefield.