Chapter 214
Chapter 214
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 214
Chapter Title: Night Raid (2)
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“It's time to play with fire! What the hell are you doing? Light it all up!!”
“That's the camp where the traitor Ishtaven's holed up. Burn it to ashes!”
“Kill one more bastard if you can!”
My Northern Cavalry subordinates were now dashing everywhere with torches in hand, setting fire to every corner of the Stockholm Kingdom's encampment.
At the same time, any enemies still flailing about got hacked or stabbed to death without mercy.
And if there were infantry clumsily huddled in platoon-sized groups, we'd charge right through on horseback and trample them flat—a scene straight out of hell, if hell had a name.
In a normal battlefield, nearby units would rush in to support when something like this happened. But when you're hit with a night raid and have no clue how many enemies there are, the only tactic is every man for himself.
“You motherless, fatherless scum! Goddamn barbarian bastards!”
“Sneaking in at night like cowards! I'll rip you all limb from limb for keeping us from sleep!”
“Filthy, cheating barbarians! You dirty barbarian scum!”
So the poor bastards targeted by my Northern Cavalry couldn't even dream of support from their neighbors—they were doomed to die without putting up any real fight.
While directing the cavalry, I was slashing away at the enemy from horseback myself. By the time it felt like we'd cut down several hundred foes...
The enemy infantry started bunching up by regiment, slowly building momentum to press us back.
Damn them—if they'd taken it slow and given us more time, we could've wiped out even more...
“All mounted archers, form up around me! Looks like the enemy's finally getting their wits together, so our fun playtime's almost over.”
Regrettable as it was, getting surrounded and dying here would be a dog's death and then some.
Still, looking closely at those regiment formations, it was clear most officers and soldiers alike had bolted out of bed without so much as their armor on.
In other words, out of every ten guys who took an arrow, seven or eight would drop dead or get critically wounded.
Plus, they were just huddling up without closing in properly—seemed like they had no idea how many I'd brought and were being extra cautious...
“Splash oil everywhere, then loose arrows! No need to aim—just fire like mad into any spot where enemies are clustered!”
At that order, the mounted archers grabbed whatever oil barrels they saw lying around, popped the lids, and started dousing everything indiscriminately.
Then they hopped back on their horses and peppered the visible enemy clusters with arrows from their bows.
On a normal battlefield, you'd need to loose nearly ten arrows to drop one soldier. But right now, with no armor on them, the effect was tremendous.
The enemy plunged into chaos once more.
“Fire! It's spreading!”
“Arrows incoming! Shouldn't we charge them now?”
“You don't even know how many there are and you're talking like that? Just hold!”
Keeping them rattled like that meant—of course—the fires spreading across the entire camp went unchecked; they couldn't even attempt to put them out.
What started as scattered little blazes soon roared into an inferno hot enough to scorch the air around us. By the time it was too fierce to easily extinguish...
“Hurl those torches anywhere. We need to pull out before they chase us down.”
My men had already wheeled their horses and were primed to bolt. Just as I was about to make my exit, the Stockholm forces finally clocked that we weren't that many in number.
They pushed hard with spears while hoofbeats thundered from all around us—even though we weren't budging yet.
Lingering here any longer meant risking our heads on pikes.
“I'll bring up the rear! Everyone withdraw! Keep shooting arrows at the enemy as you fall back!”
With that, the Northern mounted archers swiftly broke from the enemy lines.
Watching us go, the Stockholm officers yanked out their swords, pointed our way, and bellowed in fury.
“Kill every last one of those invading dogs! Don't let a single one escape alive!”
“Chop the heads off these cowards who don't know the laws of war!”
“Capture that leader swinging his sword up front first! We'll tear his limbs off!”
At the command, Stockholm soldiers surged toward us like an incoming tide.
But apparently the heavens weren't ready for me to die yet—by the time they closed to spear range, all my men ahead of me had already slipped away.
Seeing that, I whipped my horse around and dug in my spurs, rocketing to full gallop in seconds.
“Pay with your lives for waking us from our sleep, you worthless cur!”
En route, some stabbed spears at me and my horse; galloping at top speed, I batted the shafts away again and again.
“You fuck like that with your wife too? Brain-dead Stockholm idiots. Oh, wait—in your kingdom, that probably counts as top-shelf performance!”
“You son of a bitch!”
“It's fine, it's fine! If you die here anyway, your wife's probably gonna shack up happy with some other guy!”
Taunting away, I accelerated even harder and burst free of their lines. This time, their knights gave chase.
“Don't let that bastard get away, even if you die trying! Hell, we can't let any raiders who dared hit our camp live!”
“These scum deserve to be torn apart! Just try getting caught!”
“Stand and fight, you filthy bastards!”
Instead of obliging, my Northern mounted archers kept loosing arrows back at their pursuers.
Normally, arrows would just ping off armored knights' plate. But tonight? Every shot was landing beautifully.
My archers must've gotten a taste for it, firing like maniacs.
We'd been lying in wait for ages, then tore through their camp—should've been exhausted. But the thrill had us forgetting fatigue entirely.
Hell, watching from the side, it looked like the faster we rode, the more energy we had.
“Dropping like flies with every arrow—music to my eyes! Taste the arrows of Elder Aldap, you dogs!”
“They raid your camp and you can't even lay a hand on 'em, can't even kick right? Bet you're dying of frustration!”
“Rest in peace after you die! You Stockholm tree-hugger shits!”
We ravaged them until we'd emptied every quiver. The knights chased for about ten minutes before wheeling about.
As my Northern troopers laughed their asses off at the sight of them fleeing, Anya rode up and asked,
“Colonel, should we turn and hit their rear now? Arrows are gone, but if we stab back with swords, we could take out a decent number of those enemy knights.”
Tempting offer—really tugged at me.
But pursuing them now would bring us closer to the enemy main body.
Worst case, we'd get skewered by lances from properly equipped knights and end up as human kebabs...
Regrettable, but best to pull back here.
They say to live long and healthy, eat only eighty percent of what your superiors demand, after all.
“Nah. Better to link up with the Reich Empire main force like this. We've racked up plenty of merits already.”
Not only had we scouted their numbers and positions, we'd stormed their HQ, slaughtered hundreds, and set the whole camp ablaze.
That alone should've tanked Stockholm morale straight to hell. We'd done the absolute best a raid could achieve.
Once we'd shaken off their pursuit, I raised my sword high and shouted,
“The Empire will never forget your deeds. So fight with everything you've got in the battles ahead—and seize victory!”
Not a single Northerner held back; they roared their cheers in unison.
Like that, spending every waking hour in the saddle in true nomadic fashion, I returned to the Imperial base.
And upon arrival, I heard news I could scarcely believe—or stomach.
An unexpected twist had cropped up in this war, one I'd never seen coming.
It wasn't the absolute worst—like His Highness the Crown Prince or His Imperial Majesty passing—but...
“Why does the world hate me so much?”
It was disaster enough to make thoughts like that hit hard.