Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: A Bluecoat Beyond Bluecoats (3)
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To the Thracia army, the Bluecoats were practically symbols of victory itself.
Just the sight of them was enough to skyrocket the morale of the entire force. To the infantry, the thunderous hoofbeats shaking the earth as the Bluecoats charged were no different from cries of triumph.
But that was now a thing of the past.
In the last battle, the Bluecoats had been thoroughly ravaged by Astoria's mage corps and crossbowmen.
The thick iron plate armor they prided themselves on was tough enough that ordinary spears and swords couldn't even scratch it. But it wasn't enough to withstand the curtain of fire laid down by the mages and crossbowmen.
-The Victorious 1st Heavy Armored Cavalry
-The Charging 2nd Ironclad Cavalry
-The Undefeated 3rd Heavy Cavalry Brigade.
Thracia's boasted cavalry units had suffered defeat after defeat without achieving any notable feats.
Countless Bluecoats who had cried out for revenge melted away in the Astorian army's barrage.
In just half a year, the elite cavalry brigades had been completely shattered.
Fewer than three in ten Bluecoats survived.
The heavy cavalry forces deployed in the north had been wiped out root and stem.
Headquarters tried desperately to rebuild the broken heavy cavalry strength.
But things didn't go as planned.
Most of the Bluecoats exposed to the Astorians' concentrated bombardment were already battered wrecks.
Some had lost their hearing to the blasts, others a limb.
And the vast majority suffered from mental aftereffects.
The survivors were plagued by severe depression and hypersensitive reactions to noise and flashes.
But the real problem lay elsewhere.
Defeatism had spread like wildfire among the Bluecoats.
They were no longer symbols of victory and glory.
Nor were they the universal key to turning the tide.
Even if they miraculously pierced through the horrific magical barrages and the crossbowmen's dense volleys, how could they break the pike phalanxes of infantry with their momentum already broken? And what of the halberd-armed heavy infantry waiting behind them?
The rapidly changing battlefield environment and every element screamed it out.
-The era of heavy cavalry is over.
The Bluecoats had no choice but to accept it.
The days when they were the stars of the battlefield would never return.
They would never enjoy the same glory again.
Everyone thought so—until a single piece of news rocked the front lines.
"The 8th Legion has completely repelled an Astorian legion advancing on Schrelgrad!"
It came right after the allied forces had suffered a crushing defeat and fallen back to the secondary defensive line.
This was at a time when they weren't even counterattacking, merely forcing the half-shattered legions to hold the line with sheer grit.
No one had expected a victory report.
Even then, the Bluecoats thought it had little to do with them.
They were wrong.
The foundation for the counterattack had been laid by fellow Bluecoats just like them.
-They say the Bluecoats completely razed the Astorian supply trains.
-Not content with inflicting irreparable damage on the Winged Hussars chasing them, they utterly annihilated the mage corps bombarding the fortress, too.
And it was the feat of a single cavalry platoon—not even a company or battalion.
The half-crippled Bluecoats trembled at their brothers' astonishing victory.
From that moment, the mood along the front shifted.
The Astorians hammering the secondary line began withdrawing en masse.
The Thracian forces slowly advanced, reclaiming lost territory.
"This isn't something we took back."
"The enemy just abandoned it."
The Bluecoats, barely shaking off the shock of defeat, voiced their discontent with the command's overly cautious—bordering on passive—orders.
Right then, news of their brothers struck the front lines once more.
"The 8th and 15th Legions have annihilated Astoria's 4th Legion!"
Once again, their brothers were the top heroes of the battle.
The 8th Legion's Bluecoats—only fifty strong—had crushed the Astorian knights and Doppelzoltner, even capturing the enemy legion commander alive.
From that point, the tide turned swiftly.
The Astorians, who had been withdrawing leisurely until then, picked up speed.
There was no more victor's leisure.
The Astorians who had pierced deep into allied territory were now mere routed soldiers, destroying their own precious supplies in their flight.
The entire Thracia army launched a counteroffensive, racking up significant gains everywhere.
The Bluecoats, shaking off their defeat trauma thanks to their brothers' feats, joined in as well.
"It's all thanks to the 8th Legion's Bluecoats."
"The brothers from Schrelgrad—they laid the foundation for victory."
The Bluecoats credited everything to their brothers.
It wasn't empty words. They truly believed it.
And finally, the war came to an end.
Though the war ended, no Bluecoat on the northern front forgot the name of the brother who shone brilliantly amid the despair.
"Lieutenant Yannick, huh? I sure want to meet him someday."
"If I could just ride with him, I could do anything."
The Bluecoats yearned fervently.
And their wish came true far sooner than expected.
-Charge into the barrage on horseback! Beyond the forest of spears, to claim the princess's head! Those who wish to become legends of the Thracia army with me at the manor, come to Schrelgrad right now!
Their hero was calling them.
Every Bluecoat on the front dropped everything and headed to Schrelgrad.
After days of waiting, they finally met their brothers—their hero.
-For Thracia!
The 337 Bluecoats shouted at the top of their lungs, as if reverted to their recruit days.
"Welcome, Bluecoats."
Their hero responded.
Their hearts swelled to bursting at the fact.
"Then let's get right to it."
But that lasted only a moment.
"There are villages near Schrelgrad. Six or so are close enough that if you hustle, you can make a round trip before sunset."
There was no welcome speech, no interview to check their records.
"You pass the first test if you bring back the flags hanging at the entrances of those seven villages by tonight."
He jumped straight into explaining the rules.
"Oh, right—each village has only ten flags. If you're late, there won't be any left, so hurry."
In the end, it meant only the first two in ten would remain.
"We're Bluecoats!"
One of the lined-up Bluecoats raised an objection.
First-come-first-served was for light cavalry. The others nodded in silent protest.
"Aren't Bluecoats cavalrymen?"
"But..."
"Fine. Seems the test format's too bland for you. Let's do it this way."
Jamal. Take your cavalry and chase after them.
"Getting caught by my Bluecoats means disqualification. Losing your flag midway does too. By the way, there might be Astorian stragglers and dropouts around. If you encounter any, handle it like proper Bluecoats."
The Bluecoats tilted their heads.
Whatever.
"Jamal, count to a hundred before pursuing. Ready, begin."
"One, two, three, four..."
The test had already started.
"The lieutenant's Bluecoats are just in uniforms, while we're fully armored. It's unfair."
"Why don't you tell the Astorians that too? 'We're heavy, so go easy on us.'"
"..."
With that, their hero turned and vanished.
"Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five..."
Meanwhile, the Bluecoat called Jamal kept counting.
"...L-Let's go!"
"Hyah!"
The Bluecoats, who had been glancing around, suddenly spurred their horses.
Not all Bluecoats idolized Schrelgrad's cavalry commander as a hero.
Some had come simply to see what the fuss was about.
Ivan Alekov was one such skeptic.
He had no intention of belittling a hard-won victory in tough circumstances, but he didn't feel like hero-worshiping like the others.
If anything, the constant praise from those around him made his stomach turn.
"This is the Bluecoats' test? What a joke!"
He grumbled nonstop.
But he still galloped diligently.
A village came into view ahead.
A single flag fluttered lonely at its edge.
Ten per village, so nine had already passed through.
He was near last, but Ivan Alekov didn't care.
Speed alone didn't make a great Bluecoat.
He grabbed the flag and raced back to the fortress.
He encountered fortress Bluecoats on the way but shook them off somehow.
The early arrivals were visible.
They clutched their flags proudly; some had shrewdly shed parts of their armor.
"Rest freely from horseback."
As he glared at them disapprovingly, the rumored hero appeared out of nowhere and spoke to him.
Behind him stood thirty infantry in garish clothes, their faces clownishly painted white—looking downright sinister.
"Those must be the famous clowns."
"Heard they couldn't pay their ransom, so per mercenary custom, they're serving to work it off."
As he eyed the fully armed Doppelzoltner, more Bluecoats clutching flags returned.
Some reeked of blood.
"We encountered five Astorian remnants but slaughtered them all like true Bluecoats!"
They'd apparently run into the possible Astorian stragglers and dropouts.
"Any injuries?"
"Just a scrape—nothing serious!"
"Good. State your name."
"Artem Rtzen!"
"I'll remember it. Well done."
The earlier arrivals buzzed at that.
"What? Extra points for that, huh."
"Should've hunted some Astorians myself then."
But the commotion didn't last.
"Let's see. Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty. All here."
All sixty Bluecoats returned—some empty-handed.
The lieutenant invariably asked for names from those who smelled of blood.
What a mess. Why mention first-come-first-served then?
Ivan Alekov grumbled inwardly.
At least they seemed to have passed.
It was a snap judgment—and a massive mistake.
"Don't be too disappointed about no flags. Just steal them back now."
The lieutenant instantly split the Bluecoats into two groups for a mock battle.
Mock battle? One side charged wildly while the other fled.
"What is this?! When we go to capture the Astorian princess, suddenly everyone's a sprinter testing who runs best?!"
A Bluecoat who lost his flag protested, but the lieutenant didn't blink.
"I'd use the time yelling to reclaim my flag."
In the end, even the protester rejoined the mock battles.
By the time the chaos ended, night had fallen.
But the Bluecoats forgot the hour.
The fortress garrison had lit torches and bonfires everywhere, bright as day.
"Huff huff."
"Ugh... no feeling in my butt."
"My shoulders feel shattered."
No swords or spears didn't mean the mock battles were gentle. Without weapons, the Bluecoats fought even more brutally with their bodies.
Those who kept—or stole—flags to the end were utterly spent.
Still, they all looked proud.
"Unfortunately, you're out. But since you put in the effort, stick around for the fun show."
The eliminated Bluecoats withdrew to the side, faces shifting from regret to anticipation.
"Bluecoats, battle formation!"
"Bluecoats! Battle formation!"
The NCO called Jamal stepped forward and bellowed.
"Fix helmets!"
"Close gaps! Knees to knees!"
"Flags instead of lances! Hold 'em straight, you idiots!"
"Shut your mouths! Wanna lose your tongues?!"
He barked orders like a real battle loomed.
Thus, a tight wedge formation formed, knees touching neighbors.
"Introduce: the Doppelzoltner, who'll rear-guard the new cavalry unit. Right now, they're live targets."
"...No way?"
"Just pretend to charge and break off. But pure pretend's no fun, right? The clowns are dusted with red powder. At test's end, anyone with clean lances auto-fails."
Ivan Alekov seethed at the constant 'boring, need fun' talk.
After galloping all day, both horse and rider were wrecked.
Charge like this?
"Alright. Now kill each other."
Of course, actual deaths would be my problem, heh.
As he glared at the lieutenant smirking at his lame joke.
Bwooooooo.
A horn blared.
Ivan Alekov unconsciously tightened his helmet strap again.
Just a test, but why so real?
The tension was insane.
Those eyes—it's them.
They're not even Thracian. Do they understand orders properly?
Somehow he'd ended up front rank, clearly seeing the clowns' white-painted faces.
Their signature two-handers were wrapped thickly, but they didn't look effective.
A greatsword's power comes from weight, not cutting.
Worry crept in.
Plus, the terrain bore scars of the last battle—churned earth unfit for a charge.
"Unit! Trot! Canter! Gallop!"
The lead fortress Bluecoats issued commands in sequence, then peeled off.
That instant.
Ping.
A familiar whizzing sound came from somewhere.
They're going that far? Nah, no way.
Way wrong.
Thud thud thud thud.
Arrows rained onto armor.
Damn you crazy bastards!
As he screamed inwardly, the Doppelzoltner closed in nose-to-nose.
They smirked with rouged lips, boldly stepping forward to swing their two-handers down.
Whether he'd finally finished his duties or couldn't sleep amid the commotion, he appeared.
"What a racket. Total chaos."
Lieutenant Colonel Evgen Sanov clicked his tongue at the Bluecoats repeating charges and retreats for the umpteenth time.
"Borrowed the fortress archers, huh? This your plan?"
"Gotta make it feel real, right?"
"Even blunted, from the walls' height, someone could get hurt."
"If they drop from that, they don't deserve the coat."
Eyes tracking each Bluecoat finishing a charge and withdrawing, he replied to the colonel nonstop.
"Promise to halve service time for unhorsing even one Bluecoat. Even elites get worn running all day."
The colonel didn't get my test method.
"Astorians neutralized Bluecoats with tight mage barrages and crossbows. Other kingdoms will copy it soon."
I explained calmly.
"To survive that, Bluecoats must move twice—no, five times more."
"Like you against Astoria's 4th Legion?"
"15th Legion disrupted their mages and crossbows then, but roughly."
The old way—charging horns-blaring boldly—won't survive the evolving battlefield.
"Why use heavy cavalry then? Just light horse."
"If Bluecoats can't adapt, that's what'll happen."
I glanced at the Bluecoats who'd failed early and were spectating.
"See what happens aping knightly honor and pride after one rout?"
Their faces, pretending nonchalance but ears perked, hardened.
"No need for horn-excited chargers dying gloriously. No armor-and-tradition fanatics."
Until moments ago nodding at the colonel's doubts, now they hung on my every word, thoughtful.
"Need ones who'll flee if needed, shed armor and ape light cavalry gladly."
As long as Bluecoats endured, enemies turtle up.
"Need survivors to harass the enemy with me to the end."
That'd be my new unit's iron rule.
Thracia overflows with tough, enduring warhorses anyway.
"If Bluecoats adapt as you say."
Lieutenant Colonel Evgen Sanov stared.
"Thracia gets relentless heavy cavalry that never dies, just keeps charging."
Precisely, all-role all-weather cavalry, but yes—unlike before, survival-focused.
"Done cheerleading now?"
"...?"
"Think I'd ask out of curiosity?"
Obviously he had much to tell the Bluecoats but couldn't as superior.
"You set the stage?"
"Headaching over Astorian remnants. You cleaned 'em under test guise—what's cheerleading?"
Most old commanders dead—perfect to pitch new ways.
"Log arrows and oil as night training."
Then I'm off—good luck.
I smacked my lips at the colonel's waving back.
Perfect guy if he dropped the talentless tactician act.
Anyway.
"That's it for today."
I ended the test.
Night had fallen.
The wheat from chaff was starting to show.
End of Chapter 6: A Bluecoat Beyond Bluecoats (3)