Chapter 54: Borrowed Knife to Kill
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 54: Borrowed Knife to Kill
“Piole! We have to catch the tail of their right flank, no matter what!”
There were still too many enemy soldiers. The only way to turn the tide was to latch onto the rear of their right flank, which had already suffered near-annihilation. Doing so would naturally allow our forces to form a circle and surround the enemy.
“Don’t fall back! Stop him!”
“Gah…!”
Powell Osborne knew this as well. He cut down one of his own men who was retreating. The soldiers backing away around him wore looks of shock.
“If you run, you’ll die by my hand!” Powell Osborne shouted, pointing his blood-red sword at them. The still-warm blood was a threat in itself.
The hesitant soldiers had no choice but to grip their weapons again and charge at me.
“Fuck!!”
One of them rushed forward, his eyes bloodshot. The tip of his sword was aimed at my horse.
Neigh!
The horse was intelligent. It reared its front legs, forcing the man back, then moved diagonally to make it easier for me to kill him.
The man, now facing me, took an involuntary step back. Still, he was better off than his dead comrade. At least he would meet his end at the hands of the enemy.
“Urk…”
After a moment of faint resistance, my sword slid into the soldier’s body as if cutting through tofu. He grabbed the blade embedded in his torso with his bare hands, but his grip went slack soon after.
When I pulled the sword out, blood spurted like a water gun. The man was already collapsing. I left the corpse behind and spurred my horse on. Unable to wait even for that brief moment, another enemy soldier was thrusting his spear at me.
“Hiyah!”
I twisted my body to dodge, then struck the spear shaft to create an opening. The horse cleverly plunged into the gap. I answered its movement by cutting the throat of the now-defenseless soldier.
The next soldier had his sword hand severed and fell to his knees, only for my horse to rear up and stomp his face. It was as if this horse, which I hadn't even named, could see right through me.
They say horses are intelligent animals.
Piole and the other elite mercenaries poured through the opening I had created. The enemy soldiers, their morale already broken, faltered and retreated before finally turning their backs to flee.
At their head was Powell Osborne. As soon as things didn't go as planned, he had swiftly changed his tune.
“Sir Powell! What happened to shouting at your men not to retreat? Now you’re the first to run! Have you no shame as a knight?”
Powell Osborne glanced back at me with a foul expression, but he didn't stop running.
Fortunately for him, the chaos of the battlefield meant that only a fraction of the enemy was fleeing.
The majority of the enemy soldiers still couldn't comprehend why they were being pushed back by a smaller force. Trusting in their formation and superior numbers, they tried to block my path.
“Allen! Should we give chase!?”
Piole coveted the fleeing Powell Osborne. Capturing the enemy commander, renowned as the Fox of the Battlefield, would bring her one step closer to the dream she so desperately desired.
“Right now, meeting up with the right flank comes first!”
The enemy still outnumbered us. If we were surrounded while chasing Powell Osborne, we wouldn't escape death.
No amount of strength could help you dodge a sword coming at you from behind.
“Ah, shit.”
“There will be other chances! He won’t just retreat and leave it at that.”
“You’d better be right!”
Piole spurred her horse first and charged. Her sword, filled with lingering frustration, was appeased by the blood of enemy soldiers. I stroked the neck of my panting horse and whispered.
“Just a little more. Just a little longer.”
As if it understood my words, the horse let out a hot breath and kicked off the ground. The moment I felt the horse and I were of one mind, its movements etched themselves into my brain as if we had become one body.
Without any command, the horse dodged and trampled the enemy’s attacks. I, too, as if the horse were an extension of my own body, stabbed and slashed at the heads of soldiers targeting it, clearing a path for us to advance.
It was the same feeling of oneness Piole had described.
Of course, Piole was far more skilled. Her horse dodged enemy attacks on its own, exploiting every opening.
Piole took it a step further, ending the lives of her enemies one by one as if playing a game. It was so effortless it almost seemed like they were deliberately offering her their necks.
“Allen!!”
After riding and riding, we finally reached our right flank. They were surrounded and on the verge of being wiped out.
“How…?”
Bolton, who had somehow survived, looked up at me with a face of disbelief.
More men had survived than I expected. Seeing them on their knees with empty hands, it seemed the enemy had planned to take them prisoner. Thanks to that, about half of the vassals appeared to have survived. They were lucky bastards.
The enemy soldiers didn't flee even when I charged in. Judging by how they were hiding their captives behind them, it must have been because of greed.
“Fools.”
“Die!”
The nearest soldier swung his sword at me. Before it could reach me, Piole’s sword flashed past him. Greed was what killed him.
Only after she cut down several more men did fear finally overcome their greed, forcing them to back away.
I raised my sword high.
“Raise your swords! Raise your swords!!”
The fact that my left flank had caught the tail of their right meant we had succeeded in surrounding the enemy. All that remained was a single task: the counterattack.
Our captured allies hastily grabbed weapons from the ground and stuck close behind me. They knew I was their lifeline. I pointed my sword back the way I had come.
“Annihilate the enemy!”
Bwooo—
Piole blew the horn, giving the last prearranged signal. Our forces, now encircling the enemy, charged at them in unison.
Piole and I led the charge, followed by the slightly diminished ranks of elite mercenaries. The enemy could no longer escape. Still, they didn't go down without a fight.
“We still have more men! If we break through their encirclement, we can win! Kill that man!”
The fleeing Powell Osborne had managed to rally a knight and a half-dozen elite soldiers to stand in my way.
He was right. Our forces were depleted due to the near-total loss of our right flank. While we had gained a favorable position through our breakthrough and encirclement, it was too early to declare victory.
If the enemy managed to punch through even one point in our paper-thin encirclement, the tables would turn in an instant.
However, Powell Osborne had made one mistake. If it were me, I would have thought long and hard before showing my face again to a Piole who was fired up from her battlefield achievements.
“Allen! The knight is yours!”
The moment she saw Powell Osborne, Piole spurred her horse forward, naturally leaving the enemy knight to me.
Having made a promise, I couldn't refuse and charged toward him. The knight’s face turned pale as he met my advance.
“Are you ready to join your comrades?”
Meanwhile, Piole shot forward like an arrow. The enemy elite soldiers, coming to their senses too late, swung their spears at her.
In an instant, her horse swerved to dodge. Piole matched its movement, batting away the spear shaft with her sword, then urged her horse into the gap, closing the distance.
The elite soldier hurriedly raised his spear shaft to defend himself, but Piole’s sword was a step faster, grazing past him. That was only the beginning.
“Out of my way! If you don’t want to die!”
Piole was like a wolf among a flock of sheep. She evaded enemy attacks with incredible horsemanship, and when that wasn't possible, she parried their weapons with her sword, never failing to stab into the openings she created.
The half-dozen elite soldiers couldn't stop her.
“I’d never heard that Baron Rasino had two knights of this caliber under him…!”
Powell Osborne, finally forced to face her, gritted his teeth. Piole smirked and aimed her sword at him.
“I’m not the baron’s subordinate.”
“What—!”
Those were Powell Osborne’s last words. Piole charged, parrying his sword, and her horse reared its front legs, trampling him. His chest crushed, he collapsed on the spot.
“We’ve captured the enemy commander! Everyone, surrender!”
The hesitant enemy soldiers finally laid down their weapons only after Piole dismounted, removed Powell Osborne’s helmet, and held it high.
I, who had already captured the other knight and had been preventing the other soldiers from interfering with Piole’s fight, finally lowered my sword.
The battle was finally over.
It was a victory against an enemy that had outnumbered us two to one.
Despite a victory that would be talked about throughout the region, the faces of the vassals gathered again in the command tent were dark. It wasn't just because of their ragged appearances or their broken and battered bodies.
They had insisted on being placed on the right flank, yet not only had they failed to perform their duty, they had suffered a near-total wipeout. As a result, despite the victory, they were in no position to claim any spoils.
They had mobilized vast funds and manpower for this war, only to face the prospect of losing everything without earning a single coin. Some might even have to seriously consider bankruptcy.
Bolton was no exception. As the head of the family with the most political influence among the vassals, he wasn't without resources, but he had also invested heavily to match his status, so his losses were immense.
The bigger problem was that he had barely escaped with his own life, having lost all of his troops.
Now that the enemy army was shattered, it was the perfect opportunity to plunder Baron Debussy’s territory, but he had no soldiers to do it. It was like having a mountain of gold before him but no hands to take it.
On the other hand, I’ve gained quite a lot.
For starters, I had captured two knights who would fetch a hefty ransom. I had also monopolized the glory of the achievement and the credit for the victory. Piole had captured the enemy commander, but she was known to be my squire.
In the end, it became a war for me, and me alone.
And was that all? With the power of Bolton and the other vassals weakened, Segerik would have no choice but to rely on me even more.
For Segerik, the outcome was ambiguous. While the victory in a war he sponsored would further solidify his position as heir, the weakening of his support base would give Ailgar an excuse to continue the competition.
Ultimately, I was the only one who had profited from this war.
I hid these thoughts and offered words of comfort to the vassals.
“Cheer up, everyone. Aren't you the lucky ones? Half of the comrades we were talking with just yesterday have returned as cold corpses.”
Of course, to men tasting a despair so deep it felt like their world was collapsing, my words must have sounded like mockery.
In truth, that was my real purpose.
Bolton bit his lip, glaring at me with reddened eyes. As we began to discuss the post-battle arrangements, he argued forcefully.
“First, we must send a victory report to Polton and request reinforcements. We have too many prisoners.”
The number of captured enemy soldiers was nearly equal to our own. They were docile now, right after their defeat, but they could cause an unmanageable disturbance at any moment.
Nevertheless, I shook my head. Following Bolton’s suggestion would give him time to replenish the troops he needed to plunder Baron Debussy’s territory.
“We cannot afford to waste time. If Baron Debussy learns of this, he will immediately summon more troops.”
Due to our heavy losses, we no longer had the strength to continue the war. The enemy, on the other hand, had only suffered a single defeat and still had reserves.
“Then what will you do with the prisoners? If we release them, they’ll turn into bandits and cause problems. Surely, you don’t intend to kill them all? They may be enemies, but they are our brothers in faith!”
Bolton, who probably didn't even pay his tithes, invoked faith to pressure me. I replied as if I had been waiting for this.
“The prisoners’ ransom will be substituted with an oar-puller contract, and the rights to those contracts will be sold to war merchants.”
Dresden, the largest trading port in the southeast, had a permanent slave auction house. It wasn't far from here, so the war merchants would not refuse such a deal.
The problem was that the prisoners might refuse, given the notoriously harsh labor and conditions. That, however, could be solved by setting short contract terms. Of course, the price for the contracts would be lower.
Right now, plundering Baron Debussy’s territory is the priority.
I hadn't forgotten what was truly important.
With his last resort blocked, Bolton’s face crumpled like a piece of wadded paper. Others sought to recoup their losses in different ways. One of the vassals spoke up.
“Still, shouldn’t we collect the ransom for the enemy commander and the knights? Please send me as the envoy to Baron Debussy. I have some connections with the nobles there.”
He intended to collect a commission by brokering the ransom. At the same time, it was a signal that he was willing to bow his head to me. The defection of one man quickly sowed unrest among the entire group.
It wasn't surprising. Their only way to survive now was to depend on my mercy.
However, there were still those who resisted to the end.
It was dawn that day. When the world was peacefully asleep, someone came to my tent. It was the man named Muel, the first to have bowed his head.
He whispered, his face stiff.
“Bolton is plotting to kill you.”