Chapter 111
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Battle of Soelden Plains (1)
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One month later, Soelden Plains.
Otto let out a sigh as he gazed at the enemy lines across the field.
"From the left flank all the way to the right, it's packed solid with Rheinpfalz bastards. The scouts from the other mercenary companies said it was around thirty thousand, but damn, seeing it like this makes them look even more numerous."
Our White Beard Mercenary Corps' formation of five hundred men formed a phalanx about eighty meters wide and fifty meters deep.
And thirty thousand was sixty times our number, so even roughly calculating, their formation alone stretched four-point-eight kilometers across...
'No human could take that whole sight in at once.'
Maybe Karin the elf or Lucia the fox beastkin, with their superior eyesight, could see it all?
"Still, our numbers aren't exactly small either, right, Squad Leader Otto? We've got a solid twenty-four thousand."
Otto burst into mad laughter at my words.
"In a situation where our forces are twenty percent lighter than the enemy's, I haven't seen many people laughing like this except for you, Captain. And those types usually end up rising through the ranks. So, if you ever decide to leave the White Beard Mercenary Corps and go independent, take me with you. Honestly, whether you get a barony or a viscountcy, you'd surely toss a knight's title my way, right?"
Otto was my subordinate now, but he was a veteran who'd spent over twenty years as a mercenary and earned recognition for his skills.
Hearing from someone like him that I could make it big made my shoulders puff up with pride for no good reason.
'He's probably trying to ease my tension before the battle.'
And from his voice and expression, it felt genuine.
"Of course, I'd have to snag you some prime egg-laying land like a golden goose."
"Aw, thanks so much."
As we bantered like that, the trumpets signaling departure blared across the field.
"Advance! Charge forward!"
"Time to show them the might of the Medici Republic!"
"Long live His Excellency Medici! Victory to the Medici family!"
I let out a hollow chuckle at those shouts.
Hang on, sixty-five percent of the army you're commanding right now is mercenaries like our White Beard Mercenary Corps—what do you mean your family's power?
Well, technically, they hired us with taxes from their lands and trade profits, so maybe it is their power in a way.
Musing idly like that, the White Beard Mercenary Corps marched toward the enemy in sync.
Squad Leaders, Ten-Man Squad Leaders, and Senior Mercenaries started chewing out the fresh recruits.
"Just do it like we trained! Don't think about stupid crap!"
"You ate the meat and drank the booze yesterday, and we even hooked you up with girls—the bill's gotta be paid, you pizza-faced punk."
"Follow Hundred-Man Squad Leader's orders and you won't die like a dog! So don't think for yourself!"
Chewing out the troops like this before clashing with the enemy wasn't unreasonable—it was to wipe any room for stray thoughts from their heads entirely.
Even I, who'd danced on the edge of life and death multiple times, felt my heart pounding and a quiet fear creeping in now that battle was starting.
If the rookies and greenhorns up front started thinking while staring at the approaching enemy, they'd get gripped by terror and freeze up.
'They know desertion on the battlefield means instant death, and hesitating gets you whipped half to death—but fear doesn't care about rules.'
Once we closed to a certain distance, I drew aura from my dantian and bellowed in a booming voice.
"Martin Hundred-Man Squad, atten-HUT!"
No replies came back, but my voice rang out loud enough for everyone to hear.
"A month ago, some fat-faced exec from the Red Rose Mercenary Corps waddled up and told us we'd barely scraped into the ranks of first-rate companies—what the hell had we even done to deserve it?"
I'd paid back that humiliation with words back then, but I'm the type who holds onto insults for a long time.
So today, right here, I'd settle it thoroughly.
They weren't the enemy, and unlike those Pappenheim bastards who'd screwed our company directly, I had no intention of killing them...
'Even the teachers back at school said it: showing them your success is the best revenge.'
"I told him our company's exploits, and he shut his trap. But wasn't that not enough?!"
The whole Hundred-Man Squad roared back in unison.
"Yes, sir!"
"We gotta smash their smug noses flat!"
"Show 'em what we're made of!"
Perfect answers from mercenaries who live and die by their pride.
"Alright then—in this battle today, we'll naturally be the stars of the show! Let's rampage proper and give those Rheinpfalz sausage bastards a lesson they'll never forget!"
At my shout, everyone erupted in cheers.
Moments later, the enemy entered our range.
Trumpets blared, and every mercenary company under Medici command—nobles' regulars included—bellowed at the top of their lungs.
"Prepare for ranged combat! Mages and archers of each unit—fire first before they do!"
"One more spell, one more arrow—that's what decides victory!"
"Don't leave a single one alive!"
Following those orders, I signaled our mages and archers to step forward.
"Eyes down, stare at the dirt! Lift your head and you'll get an arrow in the face or neck!"
First off, Karin and the archers unleashed a storm of arrows.
Karin especially, being an exceptional archer and sniper herself, issued commands that showed she knew exactly how to handle a bow in this situation.
"Shoot anywhere! Sniping's impossible at this range! Just draw the string all the way and loose at will!"
At around a hundred fifty meters, blindly peppering the enemy was way more efficient than aiming, so that order really showed how well Karin understood archery.
And arrows rained back toward us too.
The shadows from the arrows blotting out the sun looked like black streaks slashed across the sky.
Seeing that, I quickly slammed down my face guard.
"Arrows incoming! Keep your heads down!"
The moment the words left my mouth, arrows poured down on our lines.
"Fuck!"
Some soldiers barely managed a final curse before dying.
"My eyes—aaargh, my eyes!"
I had my head down, worried an arrow might punch through my face guard if I looked up, so I couldn't see clearly, but...
Whoever was screaming about their burning eyes had probably ignored the order and lifted their head.
Dumbass—why don't people listen when you tell 'em something? Tsk.
Even in that chaos, our mages chanted steadily without flinching.
"Flames that burn the foe, Fireball!"
"Lightning, strike down! Thunder Bolt!"
"Inferno! Judge the enemy! Fireball!"
...Magic chants aren't set in stone; they're just a tool for mages to focus by reciting aloud and boosting concentration.
But sometimes hearing them like this makes my head spin.
Still, their power's undeniable, and they're essential, so what can you do?
As spells and arrows flew wild, screams of agony started rising from our Hundred-Man Squad and all around.
"Fuck, somebody help!"
"Hot—it's burning, fuck!"
"Aaaargh, my body—my body!"
The screams of people in death's throes never get easier to hear, no matter how many times.
Some rookies were starting to lose it.
One kept marching forward but wept as he muttered.
"Uwaaaah, this isn't right! No, it can't be!"
A senior nearby slapped him straight and set him right.
"You leave your brains in a ditch yesterday or what? Snap out of it—think survival only!"
Another bolted straight toward me.
Snot, tears, drool flying everywhere, bawling his eyes out—he had his weapon, but his limbs flailed like a ragdoll.
'Rookie training was a bit light this time, but no way did we get idiots like this?'
You don't see total coward trash like this often.
"I wanna go home! This is bullshit, no matter how I think about it!"
I didn't even bother telling him to stop.
No point wasting words on a dead man walking, and no need to stop him.
Hell, better to make an example here—show everyone what happens if you try to desert.
Sad from a personal view, but oh well.
As Hundred-Man Squad Leader now, it was my duty to end this fool's miserable life.
"Outta my way, Hundred-Man Leader! I'm going home!"
"Dumb fuck, the only home you're headed for is hell."
I could lop his head clean off and send him quick, but making an example here meant...
'Slice the waist.'
No aura loaded, just a sword swing across his midsection.
One slash severed his spine clean through.
'No aura and I can still pull off precision like that? Nice.'
Killing a deserter myself was regrettable in a way, but proof of my growth melted those feelings away.
"Suffer and die there, you dumb fuck. You think others grab spears and fight 'cause they're dumb too?"
He just kept shrieking incoherently.
With discipline somewhat restored, I immediately ordered the troops.
"Martin Hundred-Man Squad, brace for enemy contact!"