Chapter 114
Chapter 114
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: Battle of Hatin Forest (6)
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Once Brigadier General Jaeger's attack order was given, the officers of the Reich Empire took the vanguard themselves, joining the melee to secure victory.
The Reich Empire soldiers, seeing this—even though they weren't the ones being pushed back—realized that noble officers were leading the charge.
They figured no highborn would stand at the front unless victory was absolutely certain.
Cheers erupted as commanders cleaved through enemies at the forefront.
"The company commander himself is up front! We'll win this one too!"
"Long live the Reich Empire! Long live His Imperial Majesty the Emperor! Long live Brigadier General Jaeger!"
"Hold on just a bit longer and we'll make it back alive!"
The officers, aware of what Jaeger's dispatch of skirmishers and all-out assault truly meant, could only offer bitter smiles.
And the intent behind the brigadier general's orders, as they understood it:
'If we don't seize victory here, our army is doomed to defeat. Hold the line at any cost and win.'
But such grim truths were for sharing among officers after the war—or over drinks with the troops.
In dire moments like this, where foes surged head-on and only slaughter would do, blindly boosting morale was the most effective tactic. Knowing this,
"No idiot in our company would fail to match even half the heads I've cut, right?! If there's a slacker like that, your company commander will be sorely disappointed!"
"Follow my back!"
"Brave soldiers of the mighty Reich Empire, proud soldiers of Schumacher Company! I, Ben Schumacher, stand with you!"
To rally their men, they donned full plate armor for some protection and swung swords and spears like wild stallions at the vanguard.
The Franco Republic soldiers, terrified by the sight, began retreating step by step, slowly giving ground.
"Crazy bastards, mad fuckers. And they've got less than half our numbers..."
"Shit, why's the arrow and magic support suddenly stopped?"
"Don't know, you prick! No time for that—thrust your spear again!"
Meanwhile, Division Commander Fontpadur watched his far larger force—though not in total rout—being steadily pushed back. He hurled his baton to the ground.
Snatching the sword from his belt, he swung it wildly in frustration.
"Fuck, fuck! Why aren't the knights coming? If they'd done their job, the crossbowmen wouldn't have been decimated! Our infantry wouldn't be getting one-sidedly crushed by fewer than 4,000 enemies! Argh!"
The other Franco Republic officers, hearing this, recalled their academy adage: "In war, the army whose commander loses his temper first loses."
They pressed hands to foreheads, sighing deeply as they thought:
'Fuck, we're totally screwed. What now?'
Even as they racked their brains with no solutions in sight, the Franco knights were being utterly toyed with by Major Anastasia Kerzhit's mounted archers.
Their tactics: sniping horses' flanks from afar to unhorse riders. When formations crumbled from fallen knights and steeds,
they'd ghost in close, ditching bows for cavalry sabers to sever horses' arteries or bludgeon man and mount alike with flails, carving through the knights.
As a result, the Franco Republic's 700-odd knights—who'd boldly wagered before battle on crushing a pitiful Reich brigade in hours—were now a shadow of their former selves, traces gone.
"You barbarian scum, stay back! Mercy! You fucking bastards!"
"Worse than dogs! Curse you filthy pagan cavalry!"
"Hey, Milton, you lunatic! Stop there! Don't charge out!"
The mounted archers faithfully played their role of ankle-biters, methodically whittling down their numbers.
Major Anastasia Kerzhit, saber slashing a foe knight's mount's neck, bellowed:
"Brigadier General Jaeger told me, Anastasia Kerzhit, that we mounted archers hold the most crucial role in this battle! Let's repay his faith and expectations! Complete the mission, no matter the cost! Honorable northern cavalry, grab their ankles and tear them apart with every ounce of strength!"
Her archers roared in response, redoubling efforts to disorient the enemy knights.
Their efforts bore fruit: Brigadier General Montblanc, commanding the Franco knights, lost some judgment amid the whirlwind assault.
Regaining his senses now to abandon intercepting the archers and rush to Division Commander Fontpadur could have turned the tide, despite their losses.
Instead, he issued a misguided order:
"Ignore the mounted archers! Charge and kill those damned Reich knights! They're massacring our crossbowmen and mages right now!"
His original orders from Fontpadur: protect the ranged troops from enemy knights.
A vital task, but pursuing knights meant longer mounted paths,
exposing them more to Reich mounted archers—ill-suited for the current knight brigade's mission.
Unbeknownst to Montblanc, the crossbowmen and mages he aimed to save were already nearly annihilated by their knight nemeses.
Fontpadur, who had commanded 10,000 Republican troops, now had only about 6,000 infantry left.
Brigadier General Jaeger seized the moment, issuing his next order for victory:
"Leave minimal guards for my protection—the rest of you soldiers and officers, join the assault! The whole army seizes this chance to annihilate—no, slaughter—the enemy! Noble or commoner, kill any who don't surrender! Excommunicated Franco Republic soldiers deserve no divine mercy!"
Moments later, the golden eagle banner signaling total assault rose from headquarters.
Skirmishers with flails led, harvesting Franco infantry and officers' lives like reaping grain—swift and merry, smashing skulls.
Spearmen skewered those they missed or drew daggers to end the wretched Republicans' suffering.
"Heads, heads, heads! I'll smash your skull!"
"Die and find peace! No—die and fall to hell!"
"Don't beg for mercy! Just die there!"
Pressing the Franco Republic forces relentlessly, Jaeger's Reich unit seemed to swallow an enemy 2.5 times larger.
Like a snake devouring an elephant, but Jaeger's infantry slowly digested the Republican snails.
Fontpadur, blind to inevitable defeat,
clung to delusions of victory with his superior numbers, issuing pathetic orders in a plaintive voice:
"Fuck, fine! I'll lead my direct command unit from the front! Raise the division flag, my personal banner, and the commander standard!"
Some officers fell into ecstatic illusions that their commander entering the fray would reverse fortunes.
But the tide had turned too far against the Republicans; for their 10,000-strong leader to flip it, he'd needed to act at least an hour earlier.
Yet Fontpadur, to save his family and neck even at the cost of his men's lives,
to avoid scapegoat status after victory—excommunicated by the Papal Court, appeasing mad mobs and vengeful nobles—
"Charge forward! We're taking Jaeger Brigadier General's head!"
made the fatal blunder he shouldn't have in this situation.