War (1)
At the end of the Boern Empire's march, the kingdom forces began to appear in the distance.
"Whew, there's a ton of 'em."
"Whoa... am I dying today?"
"Tough luck."
"Doesn't mean they won't hit us."
"You'd deserve it anyway."
The veteran soldiers exchanged words while eyeing the kingdom army, but Tom couldn't hear a thing.
Soon, they'd be fighting those guys. The future he'd been desperately ignoring was now right in front of him. Without realizing it, Tom gripped his rifle tighter.
What if I end up crippled? Or dead...
His experience amounted to a few bandit hunts or barbarian subjugations—nothing major. This was his first real war between nations. Of course, the others here were probably in the same boat. Tom knew that, but it didn't ease the tension one bit.
Should've just stayed home farming.
No use regretting it now—it was too late.
His senior noticed Tom fidgeting nervously with his rifle and called out.
"Hey, Tom. You scared or somethin'?"
"N-no, sir!"
"Bull. You're shaking like a wet rat."
"Honestly... yeah, I'm scared."
The senior clapped Tom on the shoulder at his frank admission.
"Heh, don't sweat it too much. We probably won't even fight directly. Just stick the pikemen out front as meat shields and shoot from behind. Relax."
"What'd you say?"
"Didn't say nothin'. Especially didn't call you a meat shield."
"I'll kill you before I die."
"Don't get so worked up over nothin'. That's why some miller's boy stole your girl."
The surrounding soldiers burst into laughter. The pikeman flushed red, spat a curse, and turned his head forward. The senior looked back at Tom.
"Anyway, chill out."
Tom couldn't fathom the senior's nonchalance.
Doesn't he feel the tension at all?
There wasn't a trace of nerves in the senior's tone, so Tom started to ask. But the man's expression was... off.
Ah...
Forced smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was tense too—just hiding it. Pretending to be fine to lighten the mood.
"We've got guns and cannons, so it'll be fine. You've seen it before. Won't be any different this time."
"Thanks. I'm good now."
"Yeah. Let's live to see home."
Tom glanced around. Everyone else was hiding it, but the tension was obvious.
Couldn't show he was the only one scared in a spot like this. Tom steadied himself and kept marching.
"Brief halt."
The Empire army stopped just outside the mages' range. They took a short rest, awaiting the next orders.
"Empire forces in sight."
"I see. How many?"
"Legion-scale. Roughly 50,000 to 70,000."
"Even match. Any word from other fronts...?"
"Not yet."
The kingdom officers' meeting was in full swing.
"We need a preemptive strike before they dig in."
"We've already formed up. Better to defend—more advantageous, no?"
"If they entrench, it'll be way tougher than now. We strike before it's too late..."
The kingdom army finalized their defensive plans, countdown ticking.
The Empire army advanced on the kingdom positions.
"Magic incoming!"
Spells flew from the kingdom lines but were blocked by the Empire mages' barriers.
-Boom. Thud.
The shockwaves from exploding spells rattled the Empire troops' bodies in the air.
"Hoo."
Tom swallowed his rising fear and pressed forward in step with his squadmates.
"Eyes sharp! Our firepower's superior!"
"Brace for cavalry charge!"
"Keep formation! Rush ahead and you're dead meat!"
The officers' shouts rang out, but Tom's pounding heart drowned them. All he saw was the kingdom forces drawing nearer.
"Cavalry! Ready fire!"
Horse hooves thundered from afar, closing fast. What about their own cavalry? He'd seen them charge ahead earlier.
Tom's squad wielded percussion-cap rifles—faster to fire than matchlocks.
Just like training...
Could bullets pierce armor? Thin plate yes, but theirs? Tom prayed they'd at least hit the horses, halting the charge. He aimed.
"Fire!"
Pulling the trigger released the hammer, striking the cap. Smoke billowed from the muzzle. Horses tumbled, knights rolled on the ground.
But the charge didn't slow.
"Reload!"
Tom reloaded, hands shaking—powder spilled a bit. Calming himself, he finished, capped, and aimed.
"Fire!"
Horses fell again. Matchlock cracks and cannon booms echoed everywhere.
Cavalry numbers thinned, but they kept coming. As distance closed, pikemen advanced, raising pikes against the charge.
Then knights stepped up, halting the remnants. Other sectors holding too? Fleeting thought—next shot prep took priority.
"..."
Officers' yells barely registered. But others moved. Tom followed, not lagging.
Others halted, he halted. Others advanced, he advanced. He fired and marched by occasional orders or comrades' cues.
Thus, they pushed forward.
Ahead, knights swung aura-wreathed blades. Bullet marks scarred a knight's backplate—maybe a friendly sniper. Maybe him.
Enemy knights hit allied lines now. Luck: none charged his spot. Formation kept advancing. Enemy infantry visible at last.
Tom mechanically reloaded with trembling hands, firing on repeat.
Knights cleaved through foe infantry; survivors dropped to bullets or pikes.
"...!"
Shocks hit front, rear, flanks now and then. Comrades fell beside him sometimes—arrows or spell blasts, probably. No time to care. Gaps filled fast; formation pressed on, then halted.
"...Cease...fire...combat...end...!"
Officers' delayed cries pierced through. Tom finally took stock: enemies retreating.
"Cease fire!"
Tom slumped, face dropping into his hand—sticky red coated it.
Mine?
No pain. Adrenaline masking injury? Or someone else's blood?
Breath steadying, reality sank in. Battle over.
"Wooo!"
"We won!"
Cheers erupted. Battle thrill morphed to victory high. Tom waved his arms, roaring too.
We won. And he survived.
"Battle report."
"Yes."
The Emperor reviewed the front-line dispatch.
Five legions marched on Heyrn Kingdom. This report from the 1st—others used old gear; 1st tested new weapons: matchlocks, percussion-caps, cannons.
Results: Empire ~50,000 casualties light. Kingdom ~50,000 hammered hard.
They retreated with heavy losses; Empire crossed the border.
New weapons eval: Low losses thanks to knight/pikeman/mage escorts. Firepower dominated infantry. Couldn't pierce knight plate, but thin spots like gauntlets? Yes—meaningful hits.
Emperor passed the report to the Princess beside him.
"Take a look."
"Yes, Father."
She scanned it.
"The weapons' performance is proven."
"Indeed. Quite fascinating, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"How knights and mages stalemated the battlefield—now upended by infantry arms."
Emperor pondered, then continued.
"The Weapons Research Lab. What a place. Steam engines, guns, cannons—even gunpowder."
"Yes."
"Especially John Brown. He conceived the steam engine, designed the guns and cannons."
"Yes."
"Now I'm interested too."
The Emperor chuckled softly.
"Tell them support won't be spared. Curious how they'll reshape the world."
"Understood."
The Princess smiled in reply.