Chapter 89
Chapter 89
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Northern Conquest (7)
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“Colonel, I have a question I'd like to ask.”
“Go ahead, Major Werner. What’s on your mind?”
“Ever since we fought the Turner tribe a year ago, haven’t you always told the knights never to engage those damned horse archers head-on?”
I nodded at his words.
Because I believe any officer who talks nonsense about using knights to take on horse archers from the front doesn’t deserve to be a commander.
“They outmatch us in mobility. If we clash with them head-on, they’ll just run, and we’ll chase their tails only to get picked off by their arrows.”
“But then why are you gathering knights now to fight those horse archers straight-up?”
“Their only advantage is overwhelming mobility. Tie their legs down, and we knights vastly outclass them in defense, offense, and shock power against enemy lines. We’ve got a solid shot at winning.”
As I said, they’ve sacrificed a ton on defense and the impact of frontal assaults.
The reason boils down to their signature tactic: the Parthian shot.
To pull off their Parthian shot—horse archery—they need a huge radius of movement.
If a knight’s horse covers 100 meters in a single charge, the horse carrying an archer firing Parthian shots has to move at least 300 meters.
That’s 100 meters to close in on the enemy, 100 to fall back, and another 100 to maintain distance.
Even though horses have more stamina than humans, carrying a rider’s weight eats it up fast unless you minimize the load.
So they wear the lightest armor possible to ease the burden, leaving their defense paper-thin.
One solid hit from a knight’s heavy mass, and they melt away.
As I explained while riding around, I spotted a knight unit retreating after taking hits from the horse archers.
About 40 strong.
I rode up boldly and flashed the order from the division commander.
“I’m Colonel Peter Jaeger of the Northern Army’s 24th Regiment. Sorry to bother you when your unit’s taken heavy losses, but I need any knights still fit for battle to fall under my command per orders.”
A captain who looked like the senior surviving officer stepped forward.
“Our battalion commander was unfortunately struck by an enemy arrow and fell. The unit’s bled badly too.”
“I know. That’s why I won’t drag everyone along or push too hard. We’re charging just once. Follow me now, and I’ll give you a shot at real glory in this war—like taking Ludwig’s head.”
If time wasn’t pressing, I’d persuade them more.
“I can’t give you long. Just think: if you can still fight, which choice is more honorable? Decide now.”
I had to scour more retreating knight units for fighters, having already taken big losses.
Better to make the pitch and take whoever bites than waste time sweet-talking.
“No—anyone hungry for glory, follow me.”
At that, the uninjured knights, trusting my reputation, followed—about half of them.
This way, I kept sweeping from the left flank to the right, pulling intact knights from retreating units.
Before long, I had over 300 at my back.
Even if they hadn’t been dumb enough to face the horse archers head-on, they couldn’t counterattack at range.
Plus, with archers sniping from afar, knight casualties mounted, forcing many units to pull back after heavy losses.
As I neared the 12th Division’s sector on the right flank, Werner asked,
“Knights usually train together in their units to fight as one. Won’t mixing them like this throw them off?”
True, knight units drill for years to maximize efficiency and ability in sync.
That elite status earns them special treatment in the Empire: like mages, even serfs can start as sergeants if they qualify.
So cobbling together random knights could backfire.
“They’re knights. Surely they can charge with lances and hack the barbarians in front of them. That’s all we need now.”
“As you say, Colonel. Any knight worth his salt knows lance charges on signal. Fail to match pace, and you eat dirt.”
Exactly. Empire knights train to sync with any unit using horse, armor, and lance on signal.
Lance charges are a knight’s reason for being.
In massive battles, dozens of regiments—thousands strong—charge together across divisions.
Any Imperial knight can handle what I need.
Just then, an infantry battalion passed, retreating after damage.
I showed them the same order and asked,
“Mind if we borrow those long pikes you’re using?”
“Understood. Take them.”
“Thanks, Major. I’ll send five casks of wine to your battalion later.”
Snagging infantry pikes with just an order might seem odd.
But the Empire issues all gear—gear for soldiers, NCOs, officers alike.
Legit reasons for damage or loss? No fault. Hence, handed over on sight.
In an army like Spain’s tercios, where you buy your own gear, they’d resist—losing their own cash.
“Infantry pikes are basically lances anyway. The drill manual says use them if no lances for a charge.”
Works because you discard after one use—length matches, good enough.
Now every knight without a lance had one for the charge.
“Fuck these damned bastards! Why us?!”
“Shut it, you buzzing fly-like shits!”
“Cowardly barbarian scum! Face us fair and square!”
Turning toward the shouts, I spotted the flag of the 12th Division’s 7th Regiment— just as Laura described.
Ludwig’s horse archers circled, raining arrows to massacre us.
I wanted to charge in now, but we’d hit nothing—they’d flee at the sight of knights.
Especially since Ludwig was likely among them.
“All hands, tuck lances or pikes under your arms. Prep for charge. On my signal, follow me in.”
They gripped weapons tight, eyes locked on the foe.
One soldier, spirit broken by endless arrows, snapped.
The frontliner hurled his pike and bolted forward.
A tiny crack in the infantry line—and the barbarians whooped joyfully.
“Now! Bows down, swords out!”
“Time to avenge those penned-up pigs in the cities!”
“Slaughter them all!”
They surged like arrows, swords flashing, piercing the infantry formation.
“Fuck! Fuck!! Who the hell ditched his pike?!”
“Mercy! Mercy!”
“That mad bastard who ran! Die alone if you wanna die! I don’t!”
The 7th’s men panicked at mounted swordsmen charging in, morale crumbling—risk spreading.
Ludwig and his thugs dropped their guard for the kill rush.
Now.
“These scum massacred our soldiers and kidnapped innocent Reich Empire citizens for slaves and sex toys! On our knights’ honor, let’s slaughter these filthy heathens today! Charge!”
My followers roared back.
“Trample every last barbarian!”
“No surrender! Just kill ‘em!”
“Avenge the battalion commander, you bastards!!”
To lead these 300+ right, I grabbed a borrowed pike and took point—aiming to wipe the enemy slicing into our infantry.
I’d trained lance charges at the Academy, but this was my first real one.
In war’s split-second life-or-death, a rookie piercing the foe? They’re done.
I had faith.