Conquest, Part 7
The army of Grifort was not weak.
However, their entire doctrine was predicated on fighting alongside mercenaries.
"T-The mercenaries are all fleeing!"
"Stop them, somehow! Damn it, at this rate..."
Grifort was a coastal city-state, and they did not possess many cavalry.
While they boasted an overwhelming number of crossbowmen and elite infantry to compensate, these troops were not accustomed to operating in isolation.
"W-We're surrounded! We'll be wiped out at this rate!"
"Do not falter! Count Pecigen is right behind us! If we retreat, the entire army collapses!"
Grifort's elite infantry were equipped with expensive weapons and armor. Crafted by skilled artisans using rare materials, no expense had been spared on their gear.
Yet, their numbers were few.
"There are too many of them!"
Their designated role was to be deployed at the decisive moment to exploit breakthroughs and devastate the enemy lines.
It was not to stand firm as a bulwark, absorbing relentless volleys of arrows and head-on charges.
"C-Crossbowmen! What are you doing?! Don't run, shoot!"
"B-But they're right on top of us!"
The crossbowmen were only human. They knew all too well that they stood no chance in close-quarters combat against the heavily armored vanguard of the Arcterian army.
According to the battle plan, the mercenaries should have stood before them. They should have bought the crossbowmen the time and space needed to fire and reload their heavy weapons.
But the mercenaries who were supposed to play that role had all fled.
While there were conscripts brought in to swell their ranks, they lacked the fierce loyalty of Grifort's elite soldiers.
They fled alongside the mercenaries. Pecigen's remaining soldiers, still holding their ground, could not bring themselves to stop them.
"Hold the line!!!"
Yet, their cries were hollow.
The soldiers of Arcteria advanced, ready to hand down the sentence of death to those who still failed to grasp the reality of the battlefield.
Army clashed against army. Blood splattered, and flesh tore.
"Mages! Cast your spells at maximum output! Hurry!"
Pecigen, too, was frantically badgering his subordinates.
The collapse of the front line was far worse than he had ever anticipated.
He had believed that as long as the mercenaries didn't flee, this would be an easy victory.
He had believed that even if the mercenaries did run, the enemy was weak enough to be defeated once they reorganized their lines.
He was wrong on all counts. The Arcterian army was far stronger than he had imagined.
"Counterattack!!!"
Even so, the army of Grifort was not fleeing without a fight.
A few clear-headed crossbowmen managed to loose their bolts toward the advancing Arcterian forces.
It was not enough, but it was not entirely futile.
Among the charging Arcterian soldiers, some were struck by the bolts and fell.
"Mages!"
Pecigen screamed in desperation.
Grifort's magical forces remained largely intact. Although some had fled, most of the mages held their ground, their mana reserves fully preserved.
"Fire!!!"
Massive fireballs conjured by the mages surged toward the relentlessly advancing soldiers.
This was a spell thoroughly researched by countless mages. Proven on numerous battlefields, it was recognized as the most efficient method of destruction.
Breaking formations, crushing enemy morale, and rallying allies—it was a display of raw power perfectly suited to the true essence of magic.
"Keep attacking!"
In terms of explosive force alone, it rivaled the initial blast unleashed by the Arcterian army.
While it fell slightly short of the specialized magic bombs crafted with Roselyn's technology, Grifort possessed immense wealth.
They could afford to supply their mages with expensive magical catalysts and field a far greater number of them than their adversaries.
A torrent of flames rained down. Yet, Pecigen could not bring himself to smile.
"...Why?"
The outcome of the battle had already been decided, far beyond the power of a few mages to overturn.
The mercenaries who had already turned tail and fled paid no heed to the massive impact Grifort's mages had made.
The soldiers of Arcteria pressed forward. The infantry of Grifort and Arcteria clashed in earnest.
"No..."
Pecigen could not accept reality.
Grifort's elite soldiers were holding out as best they could, but no single soldier could survive for long when surrounded by three enemies.
They were crumbling. The soldiers he had believed would bring him an easy victory were falling under the enemy's onslaught.
"No..."
Pecigen raised his head.
Edrin Silverline sat atop his horse, watching the army of Grifort without a single trace of agitation.
"Is he just lucky? Or did he already have a traitor on the inside..."
"C-Count! There is no time! We must retreat for now and reorganize our forces!"
Pecigen did not have the luxury of calmly observing the battlefield like Edrin.
He had to flee. To preserve his life, to secure a second chance, he had no choice but to swallow his pride for now.
"On our flank... it's the enemy cavalry. It seems Irene Silverline is leading them."
"...What?"
Grifort was a coastal city. There were no pastures to raise warhorses.
Under normal circumstances, they would not have feared enemy cavalry.
They could have used hired mercenaries to tie down the cavalry, allowing their renowned crossbowmen to pick them off from a distance.
They could have used expensive artifacts or mages to slow the horses down, or simply holed up inside a fortress to neutralize their mobility entirely.
But now, Pecigen had no cards left to play.
"D-Damn it... Damn it all!!!"
The mercenaries had fled. The mages had exhausted all their mana in the battle.
The crossbowmen had been denied the space they needed, and now they were struggling just to escape the enemy infantry clinging to them.
There was no way to stop the cavalry.
"U-Ugh..."
"Count! Count Pecigen! We will hold them off with our lives, you must escape..."
"Aaaaargh!!!"
The elderly count howled, unable to contain his fury.
Yet, this massive battlefield was far too loud and harsh an environment for his anger to command any respect.
Men died. The soldiers of Grifort died in ways that were increasingly meaningless and wretched.
I can do this.
Cutting down enemies as she charged into their ranks, Irene felt a profound sense of exhilaration.
She had doubted him constantly. There had never been a moment when she wasn't trembling with anxiety.
Everything had felt like an illusion. Knowing Edrin's past, there were times when all his achievements seemed like mere smoke and mirrors.
She had wondered if he had only averted wars and won support because he was lucky, or because he had somehow charmed his way into people's hearts.
But not anymore.
"Pecigen is over there! Pursue him!"
The knights riding with her—comrades who had shared life and death—were tearing through the enemy. They were carrying the war to victory.
Is this... actually possible?
Irene did not possess a deep understanding of diplomacy or politics. But combat, war—these she knew intimately.
The weapons crafted by Roselyn, whom Edrin had brought in, yielded staggering results. His troop deployment, the timing of his charges, and his reading of the battlefield all bore the hallmarks of a brilliant strategist.
Irene did not know how he had persuaded Valerian and Eleonor. But she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt how he was winning this war.
War was not won by luck. The battlefield was a place that offered no opportunities to the unprepared.
Edrin was far superior to Pecigen. He was a more capable lord, and a far sharper man.
She had worried. Expeditions were never easy, and she had believed it impossible to win every single war.
But once again, her predictions were proven wrong. Just as she had doubted his ability to forge peace, her belief that he could not win this war was a complete misjudgment.
Now, she had no choice but to believe in him. She had to trust his actions and follow his commands.
"Keep attacking!"
Irene's personal guard rode through the Grifort lines as if they owned the field.
Even the Grifort soldiers whose morale had not yet broken lost all will to fight the moment the cavalry slammed into their flanks and rear, turning them into fleeing prey.
Ah...
Irene smiled.
The enemy forces that had seemed so vast, the army of Grifort that had appeared utterly invincible, were crumbling.
The Arcterian army pressed forward. Even as they cut down the enemy, disarmed the survivors, and took prisoners, they never stopped their relentless advance.
It was Arcteria's victory. It was Edrin's victory.
Edrin, who had not budged an inch from his starting position, watched the triumph unfold without his expression shifting in the slightest.