Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: As Gloriously as Fireworks (5)
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When consciousness returned, the first thing Fabian Franz felt was disgust.
Even in his dazed state, the sensation of mud and filthy water seeping into his armor was all too vivid.
Next came the questions.
What is this?
Where am I right now?
What the hell am I doing here?
The questions piled up one after another.
But strangely, his mind refused to turn.
If only he could see something.
But there was only darkness.
-...!
-.....!
Faint noises filtered through the oppressive blackness.
I don't know. I really don't know anything.
He couldn't even begin to grasp the situation.
Whoosh.
Suddenly, his face felt cool, and someone thrust their head in close.
The face revealed beneath the helmet looked familiar.
-.......!
The man's lips moved.
No sound came through.
Woooong.
All he heard was a dull buzzing.
-...!
The man kept moving his lips.
No sound, just endless lip-flapping—it was downright comical.
It reminded him of that mime show he'd seen in the capital once.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, his body was hauled upright.
Fabian Franz, who hadn't even realized he was lying down until that moment, jolted in shock.
And then—
"Gah!"
Excruciating pain hit him.
His whole body felt like it was being crushed, his mind flickering back to awareness amid the agony.
"S-save... me...!"
"Ugh... Somebody...!"
Screams pierced his ears a beat late.
Endless cries laced with pain.
Only then did he look around.
"Wh-what the hell..."
The area was filled with wounded and corpses.
All of them Astorians.
"Franz! Get it together!"
The Champion who'd hauled him up barked at him.
"We're under attack from the front and flanks!"
His mind sharpened, but the words still didn't make sense.
"Flanks? How?"
The light cavalry had fled long ago. He'd seen them scatter in every direction with his own eyes.
"No idea. They just appeared out of nowhere and slammed our left flank."
One thought flashed through his mind.
"What about the enemy infantry guarding the wagons?"
"Can't see them from here."
"Damn it all!"
He finally understood why the Thracian forces hadn't stood and fought, why they'd scattered, and why the Bluecoats had charged alone at the end.
The fleeing light cavalry had been decoys from the start—mere bait without the skill for mounted combat.
The real light cavalry had been guarding the wagons.
The Bluecoats' charge was just a feint to draw their eyes.
They'd been duped. Thoroughly played.
Now he had a rough idea of what happened, but questions lingered.
The enemy numbered barely a hundred, and they were lightly armed light cavalry at that.
Against them, his side had been heavily armored cavalry.
No matter the flank attack, the unit shouldn't have collapsed this completely.
But he soon learned why.
The stench of fish, blood, excrement from the dead—and a faint smell of oil.
Among the screaming fallen comrades and corpses lay charred wooden shards.
Most were shattered beyond recognition, but some still held their shape.
Wheels.
"Wagons...?"
He'd already witnessed the enemy smashing a light cavalry company with burning wagons.
He grasped it instantly.
Looked like they'd fallen for the same trick again.
"Ha."
He could only let out a hollow laugh in disbelief.
When the hell had wagons become such terrifying weapons?
Hmm.
He kept thinking.
No sooner had one question resolved than another popped up.
One wagon?
But there was no time to think further.
"We can't stay here!"
The Champion forcibly yanked him to his feet.
"We have to get out before the Thracia forces circle back!"
Before the words finished, the ground began to rumble.
Dudududu.
To him, it was the all-too-familiar thunder of cavalry shaking the earth.
"Hiiik! They're coming!"
"W-we're dead. All of us."
Men clutched their heads and wailed on the ground.
"Leave the wounded!"
"Anyone who can fight, grab your weapons!"
The Winged Hussars whose spirits hadn't broken bellowed orders.
The former vastly outnumbered the latter.
Even that scant few moved sluggishly.
The mud constantly snagged ankles, and a single hurried step meant slipping.
Fighting was out of the question; staying upright was hard enough.
"Franz! Hurry!"
He mounted some horse—didn't even know whose.
And galloped like mad.
How far did they go?
He glanced back.
"Ah..."
It was a one-sided slaughter.
The Winged Hussars still fighting couldn't maneuver in their heavy plate, while the lightly wounded, agile light cavalry survivors didn't even dare fight.
This wasn't battle.
It was a massacre.
"Franz!"
At the Champion's urging, Fabian Franz spurred his horse onward again.
In that day's battle, Astoria lost sixty-three Winged Hussars and a hundred fifty-two light cavalry. And nine renowned Champions.
But the true loss wasn't the troops.
"Looks like that last victory was just luck. Getting routed like this."
"He's too young to lead the whole army—lacks the experience."
Back in the capital, voices condemning the young Commander-in-Chief grew louder.
The reasons: taking a surprise hit at Kazan and failing to counter Thracia's expected offensive.
"召 him to the capital now!"
"We need to figure out what went wrong to prevent repeats!"
They demanded the Commander-in-Chief's recall.
A flimsy pretext for pulling a front-line supreme commander during war.
"召 Commander-in-Chief Oscar von Nightheart to the capital!"
Yet the young commander was summoned just as Kazan fell within reach.
Thus, Astoria faced the unprecedented crisis of an empty high command amid imminent full-scale war with Thracia after Kazan.
"A great victory!"
Captain Lenin's excited shout drew cheers from the light cavalry.
And it was indeed a great victory.
But we didn't cheer.
"1st Platoon: nine KIA, one severe wound, seven minor."
"2nd Platoon: one KIA, eleven minor wounds. No severe."
"3rd Platoon: nine wounded including severe, three KIA."
Too many dead for that.
Thirteen Bluecoats gone, nearly all with wounds great and small.
Essentially, one platoon wiped out.
It had been inevitable, charging into battle without proper armor.
"..."
Thoughts swirled in my head.
If only.
What if.
Regrets chained together.
I shook them off.
Not the time for what-ifs.
"Recover the fallen's bodies. We're heading back together."
The Bluecoats, faces grim as they awaited orders, brightened slightly.
They'd feared leaving comrades behind.
The dead were loaded onto wagons.
"..."
I took a Bluecoat's protruding hand from the wagon and placed it neatly on his chest.
'Engaged Astoria remnants—five of them. Slaughtered them Bluecoat-style!'
The new Bluecoat recruit who'd impressed me by downing five stragglers during screening. Great horsemanship, bold spirit—assigned to 1st Platoon.
Arttum Lrchen.
I whispered his name silently in my mind.
Garaff, Rohan, Likhov, Nikolai, Oleg, Kirill, Klava, Daviya.
All 1st Platoon members who'd faced the enemy vanguard with me.
No ordinary foes.
Fancy armor, rare mounted combat skills—they had to be notable knights.
Taking them down made their deaths a bit more honorable, maybe.
Who knew.
"Got all the enemy vanguard helmets?"
"Yes, sir. Not a single one missing. Even the chickenhead feather crests—all collected."
Just trophies for their final send-off.
As we gathered the dead, someone poked their head in.
"Yannick."
Natasha.
"I know this face."
She tilted her head and leaned in close.
Her scrutinizing gaze felt unnervingly sharp.
I couldn't stand it and turned away.
"Re-arm and move out! Bluecoats take point!"
At my order, the Bluecoats pulled armor from the wagons and donned it.
Meanwhile, Captain Lenin approached.
"We'll take vanguard on the way back."
"There'll be enemies at the road's end too."
"That's why we should lead. Bluecoats took heavy losses."
A well-meaning offer. It was.
But the others didn't see it that way.
As the captain opened his mouth again—
Thung!
A heavy metallic clang cut through the rain.
Thung!
The mounted Bluecoats—already rearmed—were pounding their breastplates.
"Vanguard!"
"Bluecoats!"
They bellowed in unison, like they were howling in fury.
"No, I meant—"
"Vanguard!"
"Bluecoats!"
"What I—"
"Vanguard! Bluecoats!"
Captain Lenin looked to me like he was pleading for help.
I just shrugged.
"Grr."
The captain groaned once and headed to the rear.
With the enemy pursuit crushed, nothing held us back.
We pushed through the rain without rest.
Astoria holdouts guarded key points, but no real issue.
This foul weather—blinding vision, deafening sound—was a disaster for defenders.
"Trample 'em!"
They panicked and fled at the sight of us appearing from nowhere.
But the storm didn't help us entirely.
Progress was slower than expected.
Mud sapped the horses' stamina fast.
Bluecoats and cavalry, soaked all night, lost body heat steadily—their endurance hit limits.
Battle wounds didn't help.
"That bastard's dropping!"
"Grab him!"
One Bluecoat—the badly wounded one—passed out and fell from his horse mid-gallop.
The others smacked his head until he woke.
But more wounded collapsing was just a matter of time.
"Hold on! Just a bit longer!"
Still, we didn't stop.
The border was close.
A little further, and we'd be in friendly territory.
"Maintain speed! Maintain speed!"
Rest could wait till then.
"Captain! The rain...!"
The downpour eased.
And soon, it stopped dead, like a lie.
"Damn sky!"
Clouds parted; the world lit up bright.
Astoria border legions everywhere—no more cover.
"Almost there!"
I kept urging the men on.
Right then—
Whooooosh.
The world ahead shivered uneasily.
The telltale sign of something I knew well.
Screeeee!
A mana-made calamity rained from the sky.
"Natasha!"
Before I finished, a surge erupted behind me.
Whoosh!
A globe of light shot up from my rear, colliding with the descending disaster over our heads.
Boom!
Fiery shards rained like precipitation.
Undissipated mana fragments exploded everywhere.
"Can't do it twice!"
I wasn't shameless enough to ask her to intercept enemy magic from horseback twice.
"We're there!"
I spurred on, whipping up the men.
Determined to escape magic range somehow.
But it looked tough.
"Captain...!"
Allies' speed was dropping.
No wonder after that night's frenzy—anyone with stamina left would be the anomaly.
Even Thracia's hardy horses had limits; this had pushed far beyond.
Horses exhausted, ground still mud.
At this rate, a second spell would hit before we cleared.
Ditch the wagons now?
The fleeting thought vanished.
No need to agonize.
Whooooosh.
The world shivered again.
"Captain, you go ahead!"
Some anonymous shout.
True, my royal gift horse could outrun magic range in seconds.
Unlike the others, it still had plenty left.
Not that I'd dream of ditching them.
"Scatter!"
About to disperse to minimize magic damage as a last resort—
Woooong.
A massive wave bloomed around us.
Whoaaa!
Dozens of light orbs rose above our heads.
"Barrier magic...!"
Mage battalion-scale protection.
Boom boom!
Enemy bombardment spells smashed into the aerial orbs one after another.
Mana clashes filled the sky with flashes and embers.
Tiny fire shards pattered down endlessly.
"Captain! There!"
A joyous shout.
"Friendlies!"
Indeed, allies beyond.
The 8th Legion I'd figured were hunkered in the fortress, waiting for us.
Dum dum dum.
Toot toot toot.
Drums and trumpets blaring as they advanced.