Chapter 10
Chapter 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Black Cavalry
-----------------------------------------------------------------
* * *
“Dale!”
That night, it was no surprise when his mother, Elena, came to Dale's room.
“Mother.”
Dale, unfazed, bowed his head calmly to his mother.
“Is it true that you're marching out with your father to subjugate the orc horde?”
“Yes.”
No matter how brilliant Dale's talents were, in his mother Elena's eyes, he was still just a nine-year-old child.
“Let’s speak to your father again.”
And in any world, a mother's heart, worrying for her child, is much the same.
“There is nothing to worry about.”
Dale quietly shook his head at Elena, who could not hide her concern as she spoke.
“I will one day bear the weight of this duchy.”
After shaking his head, he continued, his voice quiet but firm with resolve.
“For you, Mother, for Father, and for my sister, Lije, I must become stronger.”
The Dale of now was not a wretched avenger with nothing to lose. He now had things to protect, and that fact did not dull his blade in the slightest.
Rather, in that moment of reaffirming what he had to bear, Dale's blade was honed sharper than ever.
“Besides, Father and Uncle Helmut will be there, too.”
“Still…”
“You truly don't need to worry, Mother.”
Dale quietly embraced Elena.
“Please, allow me to be able to protect you.”
At his words, Elena softly drew in a breath. Then, a quiet smile graced her lips.
* * *
Two hundred knights from the fiefs sworn to Duke Sachsen answered the summons.
Fifty household knights stationed at the ducal castle.
A total of two hundred and fifty cavalry, along with the elite ranger unit, the ‘Winter Watchers,’ stationed in the White Mountains.
Swift and decisive. The forces the Duke had assembled to subjugate the orc horde were specialized entirely for mobile warfare.
And that night, in the conference room of Duke Sachsen's castle.
“The orc tribes have established a position upstream on the Sachsen River.”
“What are the precise numbers of their forces?”
“Roughly a little under one thousand.”
As the messenger from the Winter Watchers reported, Duke Sachsen nodded silently.
Present, as always, were the vassals loyal to the ducal house, led by Lord Helmut.
The harsh environment of the Demon Lord's domain beyond the White Mountains spared no one, not even monsters. Thus, a large-scale migration of starving monsters—in other words, a raid on the duchy's settlements—was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Considering their lack of supplies, it will only be a matter of time before they attempt to cross the river.”
Lord Helmut Blackbear spoke, synthesizing the given information.
“Indeed.”
Duke Sachsen did not disagree, simply nodding his head impassively.
“Shall we prepare a surprise attack, targeting them as they cross?”
“No.”
However, Duke Sachsen shook his head at Helmut's following words.
“We will strike first, before they can organize their forces and cross the river.”
“And by that, you mean?”
“We will have our cavalry cross the river downstream first, then rendezvous with the ranger unit to launch a surprise attack.”
Duke Sachsen said. For a moment, a look of doubt crossed Helmut’s face.
“But Your Grace, there is no ford downstream on the Sachsen River wide enough for our cavalry to cross…”
“You need not worry about that.”
However, it was the 6th-Circle elven mage, Sephia, who dismissed Lord Helmut’s concern.
“For this battle, Elder Sephia of the Blue Tower has graciously offered her assistance.”
Duke Sachsen continued.
“With my magic, I will form a ‘Bridge of Ice’ downstream, allowing the entire cavalry to cross.”
At her words, gasps could be heard throughout the room.
A bridge of ice strong enough for hundreds of cavalrymen, each clad in heavy armor and riding horses weighing hundreds of kilograms, to cross all at once. It was a feat most mages wouldn't even dare to attempt. But a 6th-Circle water-aspected elven mage was no ‘ordinary mage.’
“Of course, this is the extent of the aid I can offer Your Grace.”
The doctrine of the Blue Magic Tower was one of non-violence and harmony. Yet, the reason she was willing to risk controversy to aid in this battle was singular.
Sephia’s gaze shifted quietly to the seat beside Duke Sachsen. There sat a nine-year-old boy, silently listening to the vassals' meeting.
“Thank you, Teacher Sephia.”
Dale, who had been listening intently, finally broke his silence with a smile.
* * *
Before the dawn sun could even peek over the horizon, the march began in the darkness.
But contrary to his mother Elena's worries, it could hardly be called a ‘battle’ in the strictest sense.
The Sachsen Duchy was endlessly exposed to the threat of monsters and had subjugated them time and again. At a time when Lord Black himself was leading his men alongside Lord Helmut, what orc would dare to harm Dale?
‘Still, to worry for one’s child is, in the end, a mother’s heart.’
Dale thought with a bitter smile. He then turned his head.
Two hundred and fifty knights wore gray surcoats over their black armor. Embroidered on the surcoats was the night raven crest symbolizing the House of Sachsen.
On their sword belts, they wore an arming sword and a stiletto, crossed diagonally, and on their backs, they carried large shields like packs. In their hands, they held lances that were easily several meters long.
Finally, there were the northern warhorses, their armament complete with black barding.
The pride of the House of Sachsen, the ‘Black Cavalry,’ stood ready, awaiting their orders.
“Your Grace, please give the order to march!”
Lord Helmut Blackbear, clad in full plate armor, spoke up.
“Dale.”
At those words, Duke Sachsen quietly turned his head.
“Yes, Father.”
“This cavalry, the pride of our duchy, is the force you will one day lead.”
The Black Cavalry. The destroyers of the battlefield, counted among the top three in the entire empire.
“In other words, these are your knights.”
Dale’s knights.
‘…My knights.’
An army that had never been granted to his past self.
“Give the order to march in my stead.”
At his father’s words, Dale quietly drew a breath. After a moment, he nodded with resolve.
“Proud swords of House Sachsen.”
His voice carried a solemn, heavy weight, belying his nine years of age.
“The time to march has come.”
At Dale's words, the knights raised their lances in unison.
“We obey the young lord’s command!”
“For the young lord!”
“For House Sachsen!”
The swallow-tailed pennons at the tips of their lances began to flutter in the dawn wind.
* * *
A chill raced across the river's surface.
The entire stretch of water, so wide that land was barely visible on the horizon, began to freeze rapidly in the wake of the rushing cold.
‘As expected of my teacher.’
It wasn't a matter of simply freezing it. The ice had to be strong enough for hundreds of heavily armored cavalrymen to cross at once. Moreover, she was even mindful of increasing the friction so the horses wouldn't slip on the ice.
A water spell flawless in both scale and precision. It was a divine feat that the current Dale could not hope to imitate.
“I am always in your debt, Lady Sephia.”
Looking down at the frozen river, Duke Sachsen offered a quiet gesture of respect.
“Thank you, Teacher.”
Dale, standing by the Duke's side, smiled with the bright innocence of a child.
‘A bright smile.’
Was that truly a face a child could make just before a battle with an orc horde? Watching Dale, Sephia’s heart was a tangle of complex emotions.
“As a mage of the Blue Tower, this is as far as my aid can extend.”
With the endless bridge of ice behind her, Sephia bowed her head. In the pre-dawn darkness, the frozen river glittered like glass, and upon it, the cavalry began to cross in unison.
Soon left alone, Sephia murmured the words she could not bring herself to say in front of Dale.
“Dale, please return safely.”
The continent's greatest necromancer and one of the Seven Swords were protecting the boy. Logically, it was nigh unimaginable that Dale would be harmed.
But just like a mother’s heart worrying for her child, a teacher’s heart worrying for her student was no different.
* * *
A light split the dark, pre-dawn sky. It was a fire arrow, signaling the start of the night raid.
A baptism of blazing flames.
The pre-positioned rangers of the ‘Winter Watchers’ loosed their fire arrows in unison, and the swarm of flames arcing across the sky rained down upon the orc encampment.
*Fwoosh!*
“Graaaaargh!”
The orcs roared at the unexpected ambush. The beastly howls were deafening.
“First, Second, and Third Squadrons, charge in wedge formation!”
Not to be outdone, Lord Helmut’s thunderous roar echoed as he commanded the knights under him.
One hundred and fifty knights, divided into three squadrons of fifty, all couched their lances under their arms and began to charge.
Couched Lance. A merciless charge of heavy cavalry, crashing down upon the orcs who were scrambling to form a defensive line in their panic.
The combined weight of a knight, his horse, and their armor was roughly 800 kilograms. Added to that weight was the velocity of a horse at full gallop, all channeled into the tip of a cavalry lance.
Lance charge.
It wasn't even a fight. No matter how tough an orc might be, they were like paper before the impact of a heavily armored knight and horse.
A procession of destruction, like steel trucks pulverizing everything in their path.
And as the offensive reached its peak, Lord Helmut, who was observing the battle from a ridge, raised his voice once more.
“Signal the Fourth and Fifth Squadrons waiting in the rear to charge.”
“Yes, sir!”
At his words, the messenger at his side fired something into the sky.
*Fwoom!*
Something like a firework scattered blue light across the dawn sky. A magic flare.
“Charge!”
At the signal, the cavalry detachment that had circled around to the right flank of the orc encampment began its assault.
A steel storm raged from all sides.
“Watch closely.”
Duke Sachsen, who was also observing the battle from the ridge, spoke impassively.
“This is the power of our duchy's famed cavalry.”
Even amidst the intersecting cavalry charges and staggered deployments, they never broke formation.
The true strength of knights lay not in the martial prowess of a single aura blade, but in the tactical destructive power born from thorough organization.
‘Truly overwhelming.’
Dale quietly held his breath, unable to hide his pure astonishment.
“It’s completely one-sided.”
“It is too early to be complacent, my lord.”
But unlike Dale's admiration, Lord Helmut remained cautious.
‘Well, of course.’
Just when it seemed the field had been ravaged by the successive cavalry charges, another beastly roar erupted.
When all was said and done, the orcs still outnumbered them by more than four to one. Moreover, their opponents were a warrior race, born with a fighter's disposition.
And no matter how devastating a cavalry charge was, it could not be repeated endlessly.
As the cavalry's charge began to falter, the surviving orcs launched their counterattack.
A dense formation using long pikes for anti-cavalry defense. Once the formation was finally established, the subsequent cavalry charges failed to produce the same destructive power as before.
“The surprise attack was quite effective, but the damage was not enough to annihilate them.”
Lord Helmut assessed the situation calmly from the ridge.
“We will first pull back our troops to regroup, then break their formation with successive charges.”
As he spoke, the messenger beside him fired a retreat flare. Simultaneously, the cavalry surrounding the orc formation turned their horses as one.
Swiftly withdraw, regroup, and slam another cavalry charge into them. No matter how strong the orc phalanx was, the outcome of the battle was clear.
It was at that moment.
“Graaaaargh!”
*Whoosh!*
A volley of javelins, thrown with all the orcs' might, rained down on the retreating cavalry.
They were insufficient to harm the heavily armored knights. But a few lucky spears managed to find their way into the gaps of the less-dense horse barding.
*Heeigh!*
One of the horses, struck in a vital spot, shrieked and collapsed. The knight riding it was caught in the impact and thrown from his saddle.
Only one man out of two hundred and fifty retreating knights. He was simply unlucky.
And to finish off the single fallen straggler, several orc swordsmen began to approach.
Towards the prey who could barely move from the shock of the fall.
“One casualty.”
Yet Duke Sachsen and Lord Helmut remained impassive, as if this was within the expected range of losses. As if they would simply watch the knight die.
‘A casualty…’
This was, after all, a battlefield. Victory without a single loss was an absurdity. Dale was not ignorant of this principle.
“—Why are we just watching?”
Nevertheless, Dale asked back.
“A proud sword of House Sachsen lies defenseless before the enemy. Why are we just watching?”
He wasn't waiting for an answer. After asking, Dale pulled on his horse’s reins without hesitation.
He didn't have the leisure to wait for their kind replies.
Simultaneously.
“—Ice Bolt, 「Barrett M98B」, 「8.58x70mm」.”
For bolt-type magic, which relied on speed, incantations were rarely spoken aloud. The very first lesson for fledgling mages at the Tower was the silent casting of bolts.
Moreover, the suffix Dale added was something no one in this world could understand.
Barrett M98B.
8.58x70mm — .338 Lapua Magnum.
A bolt-action sniper rifle and cartridge specialized for long-range anti-personnel sniping.
To others, it would have seemed like a mere string of incomprehensible code.
That was why Lord Black, seeing the suffix Dale added, dismissed it as the whim of a foolish child.
A common mistake of novice mages who misunderstood spells as ‘magic that makes what I say come true’ and arbitrarily inserted words only they could understand.
Even if magic was the materialization of the mind, for something to become a magical incantation, it needed a very distinct symbol shared across eras and cultures.
Without such a powerful image, it could not perform its function as a self-suggestive chant.
It should have been so.
—*Thwack!*
The Ice Bolt, unleashed from his fingertip, traversed an absurd distance and slammed into the orc swordsman's skull.
‘An Ice Bolt? No, that’s not it.’
Witnessing the scene, Lord Black could only hold his breath.
For the essence of death shot from Dale's fingertips was something that could no longer even be called a bolt.