Madrosa Civil War (5)
Thud-thud-thud-thud—
The Szczecin territory forces mounted on camels began pouring out along the main road.
But then, far ahead, they spotted a cavalry barricade made by lashing together long spears.
“What the hell is that? Damn it!”
Calix spat out a curse.
Charging straight in like this would turn them into shish kebabs.
Krout glanced around at the knights and bellowed,
“Form up and prepare for enemy assault!”
“Yes, sir!”
The Szczecin forces had no choice but to slow their pace.
As if they'd been waiting, desert warriors burst out from both flanks.
“Waaaaah!”
“Kill them!”
“Raaargh!”
Gordon remembered he hadn't fired the crossbow he'd loaded earlier and had just kept it slung.
Normally, he'd have released the string out of fear of misfire, but with the battle dragging on, there'd been no time.
Looks like luck's on my side, he thought.
“Grab your crossbows!”
Only then did the soldiers catch on to Gordon's idea, snatching the crossbows strapped to their camel saddles.
“Fire as soon as you're ready!”
Whoosh! Whiz! Whoosh-whoosh!
Thud-thud-thunk!
It wasn't as effective as a volley, but it was enough to make the enemy charge falter.
The knights leaped forward next, followed by the spearmen.
“Waaaaah!”
Clang! Kang!
Even in the chaos, Calix calmly scanned the surroundings.
The enemy numbers were fewer than expected.
It looked like a hastily assembled suicide squad meant just to grab their ankles.
“Krout!”
“Yes, my lord!”
“You handle clearing that cavalry barricade, fast.”
“Understood. Yah!”
Krout launched himself from his camel.
He soared over ten meters and landed lightly, heat haze rising from his entire body.
“A warrior of the gods!”
The nearby desert tribe warriors cried out in shock.
To the desert tribes, "warrior of the gods" meant class 6.
As Krout raised his sword, having drawn up ample mana, a pure white light began to sheen along the blade.
It was the Sword of Light.
Slash—
Thud—
Slash—
Thud-thud-thunk—
The sturdy wooden spear shafts snapped like reeds.
In an instant, the barricade blocking their path vanished.
“Laila!”
“Yes!”
“Break through first with the crossbowmen! Pull back, create distance, and just hold off any reinforcements.”
“Got it!”
As the crossbowmen pushed ahead, Calix and the knights, along with the infantry, formed a U-shaped formation to deal with the remaining foes.
“Tch, these bastards are real tenacious mutts.”
Honestly, Calix's side had the clear advantage in strength.
They had more than twice as many knight-class fighters, and one was even a Sword Owner.
But the enemies didn't care.
They just needed to snag their ankles from camel-back and keep them from fleeing.
Fortunately, killing camels directly was taboo, so most survived unless caught in the fray—but escaping was still damn hard.
Irritation built in Calix's eyes.
That was when it happened.
“Luto Palus!”
Rumble-rumble—
A spell chanted from somewhere made the ground squelch, then melt like chocolate under the blazing sun.
The worst-hit were already waist-deep in the mud, flailing desperately.
“Krout! Pull our guys out quick and toss 'em onto the camels!”
“Yes, sir!”
While Krout and the knights fished out the trapped soldiers one by one, Edirn revealed himself.
“Hapez told me to give it a shot. Said if they're the type to set their own city ablaze, we won't be pushovers either.”
“Thanks. We can retreat without heavy losses now.”
“Cast a frost spell now, and we'd have to amputate their toes. What say you?”
“Let 'em be. Too much damage would hurt us strategically.”
“Got it.”
“Let's scram before reinforcements show.”
“Right.”
Calix and the Szczecin forces drove their camels nonstop for about three hours.
Finally, the main force appeared, waiting atop distant dunes.
As they drew near, Hapez greeted them with a grin.
“Good work. Setting their own city on fire? Not your average madman. Sharan's probably an inferno by now. Streets packed with refugees—how do they plan to handle it? Tsk-tsk!”
“Casualties?”
“Not bad for a long fight. Split into three shifts rotating in, so severe wounds total around a hundred.”
“That? Yeah, we can call it light.”
Behind Hapez, desert warriors stood in formation.
Calix met each one's gaze squarely.
The mood was far friendlier than before.
“Time to run again.”
“How much longer you planning this?”
“You'll know soon enough.”
In the palace of Alm Kadassa, capital of the Madrosa Desert Kingdom, a grand council convened for the first time in ages.
All the chieftains commanding over five thousand warriors each.
But the hall felt emptier than expected.
More than half hadn't shown.
“Northern and southern bastards all no-shows.”
“Spineless lot, bending to the wind. They flocked when we looked strong, now the war's even, so they pull back in fright.”
“But why's our brilliant commander keeps falling back? How many cities lost already?”
“Blame those lunatics crossing the Sea of Death like it's their backyard.”
“What kinda power lets 'em treat the Sea of Death like home?”
“If we knew, they'd be crushed already.”
“Ain't it weird, though?”
“What?”
“Sure, the cities we yielded retreating make sense. But that phantom detachment? They always hit bases of tribes Saladin hates.”
“Hmm……”
“Word is, the detachment's really Saladin's secret force, using this to weaken rivals.”
“For real?”
“Something like that. Judge for yourself.”
Then King Saladin entered.
True to his rep as a martial powerhouse eyeing class 7 in three years, his muscles were terrifying.
The chatting chieftains cut off quick, straightening up.
Cold sweat dampened their backs.
Did he hear?
Thankfully, Saladin said little.
Whether he hadn't heard or was ignoring it, who knew.
Leaning on the throne, arms crossed, he spoke.
“Begin.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. First order: unifying command.”
“General. Step forward and explain.”
“Yes.”
The man who advanced was a stern-faced, square-jawed warrior.
He bowed lightly to the chieftains and spoke.
“Our army faces grave difficulties. We've retreated distances taking three days on camel, lost eight cities.”
“So what?”
“If chieftains agree, assign temporary ranks to senior warriors by experience and skill, clarify chain of command.”
“Talk of command sounds like giving life-and-death power, not just hierarchy. Right?”
“Those repeatedly defying orders or gravely harming combat…… could face severe punishment.”
“Don't dodge. You want us obeying you blindly?”
As tempers flared, Saladin raised a hand.
“Calm down. Think of it as minor sacrifice for efficient warfare.”
“Sacrifice? Why only our tribes bear it?”
Saladin's brow twitched at the bold question.
“What do you mean?”
“Seven of eight lost cities were Rappa, Bareman, Karimad tribes' or allies'.”
“Generals chose strategically best. You'd have held if defended well. Dare question me?”
“Our chieftains sent many to front. Who leads them? Your generals! Yet blame us for defeat?”
“Defeat? Retreating avoids attrition, densifies forces—strategic choice. Losses light. Enemy supply lines doubled. Broaden your view.”
“That 'broad view' empty seats today? A month ago, north-south dare skip? Now? If they misjudge and flip, what then?”
“Those bats won't move till it's clear. Not while we grip East Continent trade.”
“But buying East grain sells thousands sheep dirt cheap.”
“War consumes. Victory recovers more—that's war's charm.”
“If spoils fair, we'll see.”
Calix's detachment camped deep in the Sea of Death, lying low for a while.
After skirmishes, numbers dwindled to barely over 1,600.
Yet their strength had arguably grown.
Organization solidified; loyalty pierced heavens—they'd dive into fire on Calix's word.
Handling spoils helped.
During Sea downtime, Calix sorted loot, selling usable consumables at fair prices.
Unlike war merchants' 4-5x markups.
They risked lives too, sure—but fighters bleeding resented it.
Calix swapped chipped scimitars, broken spears, arrows for shiny new ones.
Not free, but prices nodded to.
“Line up, folks! Yurin’s supply shop is here!”
The stunning Yurin—even by desert standards—manned counter, popularity soared.
“Wanna trade this sword……”
“Sure! Name?”
“Heh, Aljzad.”
“Aljzad…… here. Balance: 23 gold 40 silver. Trade fee…… aw, cheap! 90 silver. Need anything else?”
“N-no. Plenty.”
“Next!”
“Five throwing daggers.”
“One gold total.”
“Here.”
“Got one-gold loot voucher!”
Yurin’s attendants hated her hawking wares.
But her happy smile silenced them.
“Ugh, back home, godmother and Marie'll chew us out.”
“If just nagging…… heard Ricky sniffing Russell's special training.”
“Eek!”