Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Hook, Throw Down, and Shove (2)
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The opponent for our allied 15th Legion was Astoria's 4th Legion.
They had filled their ranks back to a full 2,000 troops during reorganization, absorbing a flood of fresh recruits to replace combat losses.
The commander was Otto von Bauer, a major and baron. He was the typical noble officer—short on patience and narrow in vision.
Nothing else noteworthy.
He was exactly the kind of foe we were looking for.
Or so Evgen Sanov Major's intel had claimed.
"Everyone, halt! Bluecoats, hold position here!"
I shouted urgently.
Not a single piece of the major's intel had panned out.
Even a rough count showed way more heads than a legion should have, and their crisp, disciplined movements sure didn't scream green recruits.
Combining our 8th Legion with the 15th gave us the numerical edge anyway—though it didn't look overwhelming. No big deal.
But.
"Why the hell are there War Clowns here..."
The infantry in their garish, riotous outfits, massive two-handed greatswords slung over their shoulders, were a somewhat bigger problem.
War Clowns of the battlefield.
Experts at disrupting pike formations and crumbling enemy flanks.
I had no idea why Doppelzoltner—supposed to be off in the Empire—were here, but one thing was clear: even against Thracia's elite brawlers, they were a tough matchup.
That was a somewhat big problem. What came next was a massive one.
A group of mounted knights in full iron plate armor at the Astorian rear.
"Knight order, shit!"
Astoria's knight order was the real deal—a genuine nightmare.
Our 8th Legion had zero countermeasures for them.
No matter how good Thracia was at dogfights, they wouldn't dent knights clad head to toe in solid iron.
"Lieutenant, sir. We're screwed."
Jamal's voice was bitter, like he'd chewed on dung.
I wholeheartedly agreed.
Doppelzoltner as annoying as pikemen, paired with knights heavier than Bluecoats. The worst combo.
"Evgen, you fucking idiot."
The curse slipped out.
If I could, I'd hunt the major down and smash his jaw.
Should've seen it coming when he bragged about his connections.
Shouldn't have bought his "leave the scouting to me" bullshit.
But what could I do?
Water under the bridge. No taking it back now.
Our infantry, battle-ready, clashed with Astoria's 4th Legion.
-Fire!
-Loose!
It started with the archers.
Twang of bowstrings echoed, followed by whistling arrows slicing through the air from all directions.
If only that volley had broken their spirit—but no such luck. The 8th Legion had left most archers back at the fortress as a contingency. We didn't have the firepower.
The enemy archers arrayed against our 15th Legion fared no better.
-Gyaaah!
-Argh!
Two volleys.
Screams erupted everywhere.
-Die!
-You Astorian dogs!
Then the infantry collided.
Thwack, thwack, crack!
The clatter of solid wood striking wood signaled the front lines shoving pike hafts.
Engagement was on, but for now, both sides would just jab and push with those meters-long pikes.
"Hm."
Keeping my eyes on the field, I ran through every predictable scenario.
The Doppelzoltner on the enemy's left specialized in breaking pike lines and shredding flanks.
Until then, they'd shield Astoria's flank from our heavy cavalry.
The knights on their right were most likely tasked with intercepting our heavy cavalry.
Not certain, though.
"Those guys calling themselves knights—aren't they basically heavy infantry?"
"They fight more on foot than mounted! On horseback, we got 'em!"
As someone said, Astoria's knights weren't shock cavalry masters of mounted combat—they were more like mounted heavy infantry.
That didn't mean their horsemanship was worthless for shock charges.
"Too many options. Can't read 'em. Damn it."
Defense, offense—wherever they went, knights were a disaster.
"Die once, die twice—same difference!"
"Right! Bluecoats only go forward!"
The Bluecoats, fired up by the battlefield frenzy, were already bouncing in their saddles.
"Hold position, all of you!"
I ordered them to maintain formation, then rode toward the reserves where the commander and staff were gathered.
"I was just about to send a messenger. Saved me the trouble."
No sooner had I arrived than Evgen Sanov Major—the bastard I wanted to throttle—addressed me.
"My staff and I have concluded the enemy's goal is to pin us down until other Astorian forces arrive."
Staring at that shameless face without a hint of regret left even me dumbfounded.
"The lieutenant and his Bluecoats will handle the knights. Your heavy cavalry obliterated five times their number of Winged Hussars without a single casualty. Surely you can manage the knights."
Spouting nonsense from that gaping mouth.
"...A head-on clash will get all my men killed."
Grit.
My emotions surged without warning; my words came out sharp as shattered metal.
Call it an intercept, but heavy cavalry smashing head-on meant both sides turned to rags, win or lose.
Especially against knights in armor twice as thick as Bluecoats. With similar numbers, we had to avoid a frontal brawl.
"Dodging the enemy out of fear of sacrifice shames that blue coat. Tie down the enemy knights by any means. That's our best shot right now."
Evgen Sanov openly sneered at me.
This prick wouldn't be satisfied until every Bluecoat was dead.
Patience at its limit, I shot him a glance.
"Grant me independent command authority."
Then I turned straight to the commander with my request.
"Lieutenant Yannick! How insolent! Do you grasp the situation?!"
The major exploded like he'd been waiting.
This time, my patience truly snapped. I whipped my head around and glared.
"When the whole army's stretched thin against the foe, what arrogance is—!"
Our eyes met, and the major shut up.
His face drained pale; he flinched like a scared mutt.
Good.
At least he had that much sense.
One more word, and I couldn't predict what I'd do.
"The enemy isn't stalling for time."
Otto von Bauer was short on patience and vision, right?
Seemed like command had half-assed their intel on him.
From the current setup, he wasn't just impatient and narrow-sighted—he was a hot-tempered, aggressive berserker.
"The enemy plans to annihilate our 8th and 15th Legions right here."
They were waiting for the perfect moment to crush our windpipe.
Proof: they hadn't committed the Doppelzoltner or knights yet.
"...Do you have a plan?"
A stiff face, laced with a sliver of hope.
"I'll make an opportunity."
If the enemy commander played it safe, dragging time for reinforcements, we'd have no breakthrough.
But luckily, he showed zero patience for that.
Experience from countless battlefields told me the feral intent lurking in their rear screamed it.
"Don't miss it when it comes."
"How will we know?"
The commander, after deliberation, asked me.
I replied it'd be obvious.
The chance would come in a form anyone could spot instantly.
"Such a irresponsible..."
Irresponsible, as the major said.
"Fine. I'll trust you."
The commander's answer was just as reckless as mine.
A nod.
That gaze brimming with trust hit deep.
Moved me a little.
Commander, you know? You're a better boss than you think.
Handing off to a subordinate without question or quibble—that capacity made him Thracia's finest.
"Commander! No! Only the Bluecoats can pin those knights!"
Evgen Sanov yelped, but neither I nor the commander paid him mind.
"Good luck to you."
"And to you, sir."
For Thracia.
I saluted from horseback and wheeled toward the Bluecoats' reserves.
"Mutual destruction with the knights, huh?"
"Hell, we can do that!"
No sooner had I arrived than the Bluecoats roared.
Not a shred of their morale dimmed against a powerhouse foe.
"I'll take at least one knight down with me when I go!"
"Make it two for me!"
Their eyes said it wasn't bravado.
"With you leading, sir, we'd dive into hell itself!"
"Just give the order! We'll follow!"
Back when they were first attached, fresh off back-to-back defeats, they'd cowered like whipped dogs. Now they were ready to charge to glory for their allies.
"Quiet down. No diving into hell. And no dumb head-on charges against the knights."
I lowered my visor and grumbled.
Battle hadn't even started, yet my helmet felt hot inside.
That was it.
My flushed face was all from that. Not shaken by the commander's faith or the Bluecoats' blind trust.
For real.
"Rest easy in the saddle until orders come."
I ordered them to stand by.
Then I started my habitual counting.
"One."
Trusting an incompetent staffer's boasts: misfortune one.
"Two."
Drawing a berserker as our foe: misfortune two.
"Three, four."
Running into knights and Doppelzoltner: beyond misfortune, straight disaster.
Fifteen, seventeen...
Finished counting, but kept tallying.
Thirty-nine, forty...
Suppressing the parched fury and battle-lust surging from within, over and over.
Not time to unleash it yet.
I wasn't just a trooper now—I was heavy cavalry commander.
No superior to order me, no peers to debate.
Their lives weighed on my shoulders.
I had to stay cooler than ever.
-Uwaaaah!
-Die!
The stalled pike-shoving at the front was tilting our way.
Cracks showed in the enemy line.
Didn't see it, but felt it clear as day.
-Pikemen, open the path—we charge right after!
-Company! Prepare to assault!
Even amid the din, allied officers' shouts rang sharp.
The light infantry behind the pikemen stirred eagerly.
"Doppelzoltner moving!"
Finally, the enemy bared teeth.
"Targeting our left flank! Aiming to roll us up from the side!"
Jamal barked crisply.
My mental count had just passed two hundred twenty-one.
"Hoo."
Short exhale. I turned to the Bluecoats.
"Unit, wheel! Direction: northwest!"
"Formation: wedge!"
"Visors down! Eyes open, lances forward!"
Orders flew.
The Bluecoats, steeling for a suicide charge, looked baffled.
"No enemies that way..."
Jamal, out front, glanced at the direction and flinched.
"No way...?"
I wheeled to lead.
"Bluecoats, advance!"
Two-beat hoofbeats shifted to three.
No more questions.
Just the thunder of hooves at my back.
"Astoria knights moving!"
In sync, their knights surged like they meant to charge us.
But only for a moment.
Their vanguard, bursting from reserves to intercept, suddenly braked hard.
They'd finally clocked our target.
"Unit, pick up speed!"
"Company! Canter! Canter!"
They scrambled to turn and reform.
"Target: enemy flank engaged with our 15th Legion!"
I spared them a glance, then surged ahead.
Toward the gap between fiercely battling legions.
"Again! It's starting again!"
Crazy! He's insane!
Jamal screamed nonstop.
If those screams sounded gleeful, it was my imagination.
Probably.