Chapter 114
Chapter 114
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: Past Traces
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"Save me!"
"Don't push! I said don't push!"
"Move forward, you fucking idiots!"
They had already endured a fifth volley of arrows as they pressed forward. But they couldn't stop. The ones behind were shoving them onward.
And as they cleared away those struck by arrows and advanced, what greeted them wasn't the archers who'd been tormenting them moments ago, but a forest of pikes stretching several meters long.
"Gah!"
One soldier clutched his neck and collapsed as a pike blade grazed his nape. The sheer power of those pikes—nearly twice as long as their own spears—left them unable to even attempt a proper approach, hesitating in place.
The rear ranks pushed forward, but those sensing mortal danger before the pike wall desperately held their ground, causing the entire formation to bunch up right there.
Clang! Thud!
Spear shafts clashed with a deafening racket of wood on wood. And as the enemy's formation began to crumble completely under the unfair reach advantage of pikes over standard spears, I shouted.
"Sound the horn! Swordsmen, advance!"
Bwoooo—
The soldiers sprang into action at my bellow and the cavalry's blaring horn. They thrust their pikes even farther forward, shattering the enemy's lines and swiftly creating gaps through which the swordsmen could pour.
The conscripts suddenly faced a torrent of swordsmen bursting through the pike wall like water breaching a dam, catching them utterly defenseless.
"Wha— Huh?!"
"Wait—!"
Slash!
"Kill them all!"
The swordsmen mercilessly swung their two-handers at these scrawny conscripts armed only with gambesons and spears. Thick, heavy blades cleaved through Wayne's soldiers in an instant.
Farmers who'd never fought before didn't magically become seasoned, brave warriors just by picking up a weapon. They scattered like sheep amid wolves, unable to mount any real resistance as they were cut down.
"Milord! Their cavalry!"
Wayne wasn't a fool; he didn't just stand by watching his center get shredded like mincemeat. Whether to reverse the tide or not, his cavalry burst forth from their lines belatedly.
But the Empire's cavalry had clear limitations. Unless they were elf riders, what could they do against pike formations bristling like hedgehogs, armed with just swords and spears?
I calmed the knights and cavalry clamoring to charge out and counterattack right then.
"As long as we hold formation, they can't break through."
If he'd placed elites up front for a brute-force push to shatter the pike square, the cavalry could've shone. War had no single right answer, but Wayne's choice wasn't yielding good results.
"Cavalry, move only when their cavalry charges... Knights and I will handle Viscount Wayne's knights."
Their lightly armored cavalry couldn't easily pierce the square, but these ironclad behemoths—knights wrapped head to toe and horse alike in heavy plate—weren't something a pike square could take lightly.
That's why I'd been waiting for them to move. To stop the knights from charging the square.
****
"The center's collapsing!"
A cavalryman watching the battlefield cried out, but Wayne just bit his lip. He had twice the numbers and planned to envelop and annihilate them, yet the center hadn't held even that short while.
"Milord! Order the sortie!"
He nodded vigorously, snapping out of his daze at the knights' urging. They hurriedly mounted up.
"Good thing we prepped the barding just in case."
"Damn it... What the hell is that army? Lucas's territory didn't have forces like that until recently."
Griping like that, they still mounted steadily and prepared to charge. While the vanguard cavalry circled harmlessly, unwilling to assault the square, the knights slowly spurred their horses to bypass the battlefield.
"If Viscount Wisilly's army had joined, it'd be easier than twisting a kid's arm."
Rumble, one of Wayne's knights, grumbled. The noble Baron Cassia had connected them to, but he'd bowed out, claiming no justification for intervening. Like Count Osland, he'd promised aid only if they lost the territory war.
And as they skirted the field, Kyle and his knights met them. Kyle at the fore bellowed.
"Haha! In such a hurry? The battle's already turning—trying to change that?"
"...Viscount Lucas."
One knight muttered upon seeing Kyle. Their eyes gleamed. Six against four—they had the edge. Capturing him here could flip the dire situation in an instant.
"Grab him here, and the war's over!"
Clank!
They slammed down their visors and secured their lances. And that played right into Kyle's hands. Holding their knights until the enemy army fully crumbled would win the war. Winning outright here would be even better, of course.
The six knights closed ranks until their horses nearly touched, forming line abreast. They shouted loud enough for Kyle to hear.
"Viscount Lucas! If you're a true knight, you won't flee!"
"Like your lord, you mean?"
Kyle's quip drew roaring laughs from Lucas territory's knights. With preparations done, both sides charged as if by mutual agreement.
Outnumbered heavily at a glance, Rumble still thought victory certain. But then, something black hurtled toward him.
Clang!
"Argh!"
Rumble tumbled from his horse, struck as if by a hammer to the head. No—as if? It was a hammer. Kyle's hurled one-handed hammer slammed into his helm viciously.
"My... helm..."
Thrown with such force, the iron helmet dented but stayed on. And Rumble wasn't the only one hit.
Neigh!
"Urk!"
A hand axe flew into a galloping horse's head, sending the beast shrieking to the ground. Its rider sprawled beside it.
Two throws disabled two knights, sapping the momentum of their lance charge. And unlike the bold start from Wayne's knights, the actual lance melee was pathetically inept.
"Hup!"
Wielding a lance was incredibly tough. Aiming true from a charging horse required endless training.
Even in Cligrove, few could manage a proper lance charge. Among Wayne's knights, Diol had at least learned it properly, but his strike at Kyle fizzled out.
"Wha—what the...!"
Just before the lance tip reached Kyle's chest, his horse staggered sideways. Diol gaped at the horse dodging like a person, but the greatsword that followed left no time for thought.
Clang!
"Ngh!"
Even deflected by his shield, the heavy impact shook his arm. Biting his lip, Diol drew his sword. Two comrades down in seconds, the rest tangled with enemy knights.
'Only I can take this man now...'
Though the territory war started unjustly, now it was his duty to fight for his lord.
"Viscount Lucas! Let's see that skill!"
Steeling himself, he charged boldly. But bravery doesn't decide battles, so Diol kept retreating against Kyle.
'Damn... what strength...'
Wielding a two-hander like a longsword demanded immense power for those swift motions that dazzled Diol's eyes. Before thirty passes...
Clang!
Diol dropped to his knees, head smashed by the two-hander. The helm dented deeply from the direct hit—a blow that mercifully left him alive. Seeing their knights fall threw the soldiers into panic.
"The knights lost!"
"Fall back! We'll all die!"
Kyle's gaze, after felling Diol, turned to the command tent where Wayne waited. With their knights defeated, his crumbling army fully collapsed. Staring blankly at his army's absurdly swift rout, Wayne muttered.
"How... how... With such a huge troop disparity, how do we lose?!"
It defied his common sense. He'd barely fought in wars beyond the successor conflict, but with double the infantry and cavalry, how could they lose?
A shadow fell over the despairing Wayne. Kyle looked down silently.
"Credit for not fleeing. Count Sarisa ditched his army and ran the moment he lost his territory."
Enraged, Wayne screamed.
"Don't think losing here means handing the viscountcy to that bastard girl! Count Osland and Viscount Wisilly have my back! End it here if you don't want their wrath!"
He was bold with backing. But Wayne overlooked one thing: boldness meant nothing if you were dead.
"I won't kill a noble despite the grudge. You're free to go. The other knights and soldiers get ransomed later."
Wayne's venomous glare softened at my words. Expecting humiliation in captivity, freedom stunned him. In disbelief, he asked.
"Really?"
"I don't go back on my word. Let's end this war with ransom payments."
"Thank you! Truly!"
He mounted and fled like a fugitive. Back home, he'd beg Count Osland and Viscount Wisilly for help—but alas, no chance.
Arthur, lurking somewhere, would kill him. Then I'd mourn his death and smoothly install Sisella as successor.
With all forces captured and the viscount himself dead, his heirs would have no choice but to accept my demands.
"Milord! We caught the woman!"
Just then, as I pondered placing Sisella in the viscount's seat and how to use her, soldiers dragged a woman before me. A very familiar face—my wife from my past life.
"B-bro...! It's..."
The baby in her arms had black eyes. Probably from whichever man she'd tumbled with. Desperately, she cried.
"This child's yours, bro! I swear..."