Anxiety (8)
He hurried toward the watchtower.
"So what's the number?"
He pressed the subordinate who had come to deliver the report.
"I can't be certain, but it looks like more than five hundred."
Five hundred. It was a number that could be called large or small depending on how you looked at it—but if all five hundred of them were cavalry, that changed everything. Five hundred cavalry? Well-trained infantry could handle them.
The soldiers here, however, could hardly be called well-trained infantry. These weren't troops raised for war.
Of course, they had been drilled in advance after reading the barbarians' restless movements, but no one could claim they were seasoned.
He reached the top of the watchtower and looked out toward the border.
His superhuman body, remade through Marrow Cleansing, could make out the figures moving in the far distance with perfect clarity.
"Huh…"
Unfortunately, it was real.
"Get the soldiers moving at once! Shield-bearers to the front rank, spearmen to the rear! Ready the archers as well!"
If only they had more archers… Archery was a hard branch of arms to train.
The subordinate who received the order climbed down from the watchtower. He stayed a little longer, studying the enemy more carefully.
The enemy…
"All of them cavalry…"
How they had managed to bring so many expensive horses filled him with equal parts fury and envy.
"Keep a proper watch. Report immediately if you see any suspicious movement."
He gave the order to the sentry on the tower and climbed down. The irritation was real, but a part of him also thought this might be for the best. Could they hold off the enemy's attack?
In front of her, he had put on a confident face. He had done the same before his father, and before the soldiers.
But he was afraid. This wasn't his first real battle, yet it was the first time he would command a war of this scale.
"Can I do this…?"
No. He had to.
His subordinates relayed the orders, and the soldiers gathered their gear and marched out.
"Young Master…"
"Fetch that box from my office."
"Yes, sir."
He ordered the approaching steward to bring the item. Fear filled the eyes of the soldiers as they strapped on their equipment and headed out.
Even he, a Knight, was afraid—how much more so ordinary soldiers?
Fully armored and equipped, he stepped outside and took command of the troops.
To face the cavalry, they had raised barricades and prepared large tower shields.
"Listen, all of you! Barbarians are advancing on this place even now. You're all afraid. I know. But we still have to fight. Remember the past—remember what it was like when the barbarians plundered us. If we don't fight here, if we don't stop those bastards right here, our families and our friends will be the next targets."
A deep reluctance toward this kind of speech settled over him. But raising morale required it.
"I refuse to let that happen! So I will stand and fight! Remember why you became soldiers! Do only what you've been taught, and we can hold them! Don't be afraid! Raise your weapons!"
The response was less than rousing. Still, it seemed to have landed well enough—soldiers could be seen steeling their resolve.
"We can win! Don't flinch! The Knights will lead the way!"
He finished the half-baked speech and issued his orders. Once the shield-bearers were placed in their designated positions and the formation locked into place, it became a solid wall.
"They're almost here…"
Those damned barbarians showed no interest in scouting their situation or moving with any caution. Watching them close the distance without so much as a pause made his blood boil.
"Hm?"
Their numbers had dropped…?
The enemy force charging toward them had thinned. Some of them had stopped, as if to reconnoiter. Because the defenders had responded so quickly? Or had they simply designated a vanguard?
What came charging was not light cavalry, but roughly thirty heavy cavalry.
"Do not fall back! Hold the line and we can win!"
Judging by the weapons they carried, a full charge was clearly the plan. He shouted again and again for the shield-bearers not to panic, to keep their shields up and hold.
Using the green archers now would be a waste—the main enemy force still hadn't entered range. He held them in reserve and waited for the charge.
"Do not drop those shields!"
The barbarian heavy cavalry wore helmets, so their faces were unreadable, but their speed never faltered. Then shields and lances collided.
Some shield-bearers, unable to withstand the force, were knocked flat. Some lances punched clean through the shields. But the cavalry's greatest advantage—their momentum—had been broken.
"Spearmen! Now!"
The long-spearmen waiting behind the shield wall thrust their weapons at the heavy cavalry whose advance had stalled. The riders tried to wheel and flee once they realized, but their horses turned too slowly, and they had no choice but to take the hits.
Spears struck horses and riders alike. The result was the same either way. Whether the horses bucked in agony or the riders took a spear directly, the cavalrymen began tumbling to the ground. To think they would charge with a mere thirty horsemen.
They had underestimated us badly.
"You think I'll just let you run?!"
He roared with fury and vaulted clean over the barricade. Then he cut down the cavalrymen who were somehow managing to get back on their feet and try to flee.
Mana blazed along his blade as if giving form to his rage, and the riders' sturdy armor parted like paper. Some had already died on the spearmen's points. Once his sword joined the fray, not a single cavalryman escaped.
"Look! We've won!"
Only thirty men—essentially a probe—but a victory still mattered. Combined with the fact that there were wounded but no dead, morale soared.
Hopeful voices rose among the soldiers through the murmur of the ranks.
The morale problem was solved. The real issue was the enemy's main force.
Inside a large tent, ten men sat in a circle.
"The advance party?"
"Wiped out."
The man who received the report burst into laughter.
"Wiped out? They underestimated us, then."
"My apologies. I never expected them to respond that quickly."
Fear was written across the face of the man who bowed his head.
"But you gained something from it, I assume?"
"Yes, sir! Through the warriors' sacrifice, we were able to gauge the enemy's strength."
"Report."
A man of intellectual bearing stepped forward, and everyone focused.
"Enemy numbers are estimated at a minimum of six hundred, a maximum of eight hundred, with a large proportion of shield-bearers."
"So they've prepared countermeasures of their own."
"Additionally, there appear to be at least three Great Warriors present."
Great Warrior—the Lindel Kingdom's word for a Knight.
"The ones who always stand in our way…"
At the mention of Great Warriors, the atmosphere turned cold. The Lindel Kingdom had many warriors, but far fewer Great Warriors than other nations. No one knew why. That was why their wars always relied on hit-and-run cavalry tactics. In a head-on clash, they struggled against nations with more Great Warriors.
"This time we won't be outnumbered in Great Warriors! We can do this!"
"Don't be a fool. Do you really think what we've seen is everything? We have to account for the units that pulled back to the rear."
The man who heard that swallowed hard, as if something had clicked into place.
"Ah. Units that fell back to deal with the monsters, then."
"At the very least, another hundred soldiers. And at least two more Great Warriors."
At the observation from the man who appeared to be the commander here, several of the others bowed their heads.
"It would be ideal if we could annihilate them before those forces return, but that looks difficult."
The force under their command numbered a full two thousand. Adding the supply and follow-up units of one thousand brought the total to a staggering three thousand. Proof that the kingdom was not taking this war lightly—and the reason they absolutely could not afford to lose.
"Yes. The best approach is still to leverage our numerical advantage."
They had just wasted thirty warriors, but learning the enemy's strength had been worth the cost.
"Harass them with arrows for a while. Soften them up."
"Understood!"
One of the men received the order and left the tent.
"What about using the mages?"
This unit had been assigned no fewer than two mages.
"We keep the mages hidden until the very end. No need to tip our hand early."
"That makes sense as well."
With the meeting concluded, the commander rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh.
"Damn it. Can we actually win this?"
Unlike before, the man showed a weaker side.
He had every reason to.
The critical scheme the nation had prepared—the one aimed at the enemy capital—had been discovered and blocked long ago. Another scheme had, unluckily, also been exposed. The unit sent to carry it out had been slaughtered by someone. Not by monsters—by human hands.
According to the investigator who examined the scene, it had been the work of a Great Warrior and a mage.
Which meant the enemy over there also had a mage—and a Great Warrior capable of taking on more than thirty warriors alone.
They had more warriors on their side, but he could not call the victory certain.
"Did they appoint me commander just to cast me aside?"
The suspicion crept in.
Among the subordinates under him, none were truly outstanding or held real influence in the kingdom. Most occupied dead-end posts, or were the sort who rarely obeyed the kingdom's orders in the first place.
Perhaps… perhaps this unit had been meant to lose from the start. Given how many schemes had been prepared, maybe it hadn't been a sacrificial piece from the beginning.
But the schemes had failed. The critically important plan to throw the enemy capital into chaos had been exposed.
What if the higher-ups had changed their thinking at that point? What if they intended to use this opportunity to purge the fools who wouldn't listen? Success would still be a gain for them—and even total annihilation would serve their purposes.
"Hah. No… that can't be…"
He kept denying it, but he couldn't stop the thought from returning.
"I'm a target for the purge…? There's no way…"
Now that it had come to this, he would win. Absolutely, without fail.