Trivial Incidents Often Escalate into Major Affairs (4)
Personally, I consider tactical prowess to be the ability to read your opponent's hand. If I've got a powerfully defended dwarf infantry unit, the princess counters with plain old human spearmen. If I've got those quirky carrobalista carts firing away, she's got run-of-the-mill human archers. And right now, there was something I lacked that she had in spades: the empire's heavily armored knights and cavalry.
They varied wildly in equipment, training, and even the way their horses were bred and raised, but cavalry held inherent tactical value all the same. If you pegged the tactical worth of infantry and archers at 1, I'd say cavalry was worth at least three times that. The speed from riding an animal like a horse, the sheer mass and destructive power from combining horse and rider—these were advantages no other unit could replicate.
And the kicker? This world had next to no cavalry units to speak of. That alone made it the dwarves' greatest weakness, no exaggeration.
'Mainly 'cause dwarves can't ride horses, after all...'
Their solution was those dwarf goat chariots, but chariots were a pain to maneuver by design. Just look at how it flipped from a few arrows—the pulling animal, the rider, the cart itself. Screw up any one part, and the whole thing was neutralized.
There were even goat-mounted cavalry units, which sounded ridiculous, but goats couldn't match a horse's size or power. No way those dwarf goat riders could heavy-armor up like knights. I'd checked before the battle; even basic gear was a stretch for them, let alone proper plate.
Still, it was enough.
"Pull back the chariots and brace for melee!"
Luckily, a creek and swamp ran along the left flank where my dwarf legions were deployed, turning the ground to mush. Not impassable, but tough for heavy cavalry mid-battle. On the right, a low cliff—not sheer, but enough to call it one—and circling around it wouldn't be easy for human riders either. That slashed the odds of her knights flanking and rear-attacking my forces.
"Alright then..."
The carrobalista surprise was done. Now, all I could do was hold until my prepared stratagem kicked in. With the skirmish over, the real battle was just beginning.
The princess's human spearmen charged with a roar, slamming into my shield-wielding dwarves. For a split second, the dwarves buckled under the humans' weight, but their low center of gravity held firm. Soon, swords and axes flashed everywhere as they clashed.
"Waaaaah!!"
"Uoooooh!!"
Dwarves and humans grappled regardless of height difference, tumbling and slashing. That's when the humans' edge over dwarves started showing. Objectively, reach from height and arm length mattered a lot in a fight. Dwarves had brute strength, sure, but their pickaxes and axes excelled at downward chops—not upward thrusts. Miss your mark, and strength meant nothing.
If it stayed close-quarters like this, my dwarves would slowly get pushed back.
But that's why reserves existed.
"Dwarf halberd unit, advance!"
The halberdiers I'd held back charged into the gaps torn open by the clash with her imperial forces. Their short legs made speed tricky, but their mass delivered impact, tangling the front line that had been giving ground.
Still, I knew the real trial was coming. Her cavalry couldn't easily hit the flanks, but the center had only a slight slope—no real obstacles. Meaning her main force of mid-weight cavalry and knights could come barreling straight in.
"Here they come...!"
Her infantry pulled back to make way. Arrows rained down to discourage pursuit. The instant the volley ended, her cavalry struck with perfect timing. It was an absurdly picture-perfect combo crashing into my dwarf infantry line.
*
"Ah...!"
Albert von Beletia, the Margrave of Ruticia, let out a cry without noticing someone approach amid his immersion in the spectator view.
The "Shield of the East" might not get rave reviews for his personality or military chops, but even he could tell that last attack would've been devastating to his vassal.
"A genius after all..."
Genius. In the Military Research Department, the princess was quietly called that. Not just for mock battle skill or her photographic memory—plenty of students had real combat experience before enrolling, and top-tier memory and comprehension were baseline for admission here.
Albert himself sucked at mock battles but had memorized entire fields to pass the entrance exam. And the professors? All prodigies themselves.
Yet everyone called her a genius for her innate knack at seizing opportunities. Same troops, same types, but her reserve timing was always perfect. Not just cavalry charges—the infantry-archer-cavalry link-up in mere moments? You couldn't practice that into existence.
That God-given talent set her apart. That's why she was the genius.
So what did that make Albert, who'd beaten this genius with unfamiliar tactics? He smiled good-naturedly, but he knew the truth: she hadn't gone all-out against him in their mock battle.
Complacency. The top killer of geniuses in any history book. Lucky for her, it happened in a match, not real life.
She wouldn't slack off against anyone now. Tricky business.
"Lost in thought so deep you don't notice someone beside you?"
A husky female voice settled beside him. Hair like northern winter snow, streaked with black marking her house. Wolf-like ears perked atop her head, sharp crimson eyes with beastly pupils...
Only one woman could address a grand noble like Albert so casually.
Erna Skillpinggar Harpagri. Heir to the Baiken Grand Duke's near-kingly power in the north. Albert's fiancée.
"Thought you weren't coming today. What brings you, milady?"
"Don't call me milady."
Arms crossed, she eyed the chaotic spectator orb and asked, "Wasn't planning to come, but the princess picks a fight with your vassal outta nowhere? Got curious. So, what's the deal?"
"Well... um."
As Albert explained, the on-screen chaos intensified. Dwarves barely repelled her mid-cavalry, only for her resting infantry to slam back in. Heavy losses on both sides, morale dipping—some soldiers even looked ready to raise white flags and rout.
At a glance, the dwarves seemed worse off. Her forces pressed relentlessly; mine just endured without counterattacking. Any push triggered ghostly archer harassment. Shields and armor minimized damage, but it grated. Silver lining: her archers were nearly out of arrows.
Dwarf carrobalista occasionally popped out for harassing shots, but that was it. Baron Hebel had no way to finish her infantry or pin her cavalry.
"Wha—you told him to use those centaurs? Figures you'd pull some weird tactic you're into."
"It's making my vassal suffer, though..."
Arms still crossed, Erna watched her mid-cavalry smash dwarves aside or trample them, halberds flailing to cling on. She took a swig from her canteen and said,
"But looks like your vassal's winning."
"...Huh?"
"Look. You know his personality best. If it was hopeless, he'd bail. Him holding on that hard means he's got something up his sleeve."
"That something..."
Albert caught a quick glimpse of the cliff on the dwarf right flank. Perfect spot. Skirt below it, and you'd slip her line of sight.
"No way... the cliff?"
Normal armies couldn't traverse cliffs in force—unless griffon knights or giants who could climb anything. Normal armies, that is.
Those goats packed there? They could scale cliffs.
Next instant, as her mid-cavalry panicked mid-charge, Hebel's battered unit unleashed a full assault. One goal: the dwarf goat cavalry descending the cliff, screen-capped on the orb...
To capture the princess for sure!
"...Oh."
Had she not foreseen that? Gasps erupted not just from Erna, but everyone watching.