Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Difference in Skill
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‘I’ll have to reward him when we get back.’
And recruit him too. Lenia thought as much while urging her horse onward, all the while keeping an eye on Kyle.
“Commander! We can start turning back now!”
Lenia, who had been staring intently at Kyle, nodded at Edward’s words. She could push a bit further, but if enemy knights slipped into their lines because of it, that would just cause headaches.
“Right... turn back...?”
Right before wheeling her mount around, Lenia glanced at Kyle one more time and narrowed her eyes at the strangely changed scene before her. Suddenly, a fully armed swordsman had charged at him. She had plenty of elite swordsmen under her command, so she could tell right away that the attacker was one of them.
“He’s being pushed back...”
And that Kyle was on the defensive. But she couldn’t ride over there. She was at the center of the wedge formation they were maintaining. If she pulled out now, the lines could crumble.
“Commander! We need to turn!”
At Edward’s shout, Lenia hurriedly readjusted her grip on her lance. Not in a thrusting stance, but as if to throw it.
“Commander!?”
Edward panicked at the sight of her suddenly preparing to hurl the lance, but Lenia focused her mind and channeled aura into it.
A rare ability usable only by a tiny fraction of the continent’s swordsmen and knights—the privilege of geniuses. Aura. It wasn’t the legendary Aura Blade that could pierce and slice steel like paper, but aura on its own was still a top-tier power.
Mana settled into her body, reinforcing her slender frame, while a faintly glowing aura enveloped the lance. Her topaz-blue eyes shimmered even brighter, mana rippling within them.
“Commander!”
Thwack!
The moment Edward’s urgent cry ended, her long, thick lance tore through the air toward the sky.
“Commander! The turn...!”
“Turn back! Wheel your mounts!”
Lenia didn’t even check where her lance had gone before turning her horse. She knew it had hit anyway. But for some reason, gripped by an inexplicable impulse, she twisted slightly in her saddle on the way back to the main lines and glanced toward where she’d thrown it. And then...
“Ah...”
Even from afar, she locked eyes perfectly with Kyle. The lance she’d thrown was embedded squarely in the back of the elite swordsman who had been in front of him.
Though their eyes met precisely, it lasted only a few seconds. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away until Kyle bowed his head.
“Those eyes... they’re so similar...”
In the past, she had known someone with eyes just like Kyle’s. Someone who had helped her in her most wretched moments and taught her how to survive. But she shook her head.
“The name... the build... they’re all too different. It’s just the eyes that match...”
She had searched for nearly a decade but never found him. There was no way he’d show up so conveniently now. Besides, the man she knew had an average build, nothing like this mercenary.
Lenia snapped out of her wandering thoughts and, like the knight she was, quickly regained her composure as she spurred her horse. She had no time for distractions now. Once they returned to the main camp, the count’s enraged knights would charge straight at them. She had to counter with the other knights.
“Milady! The enemy knights are heading straight for our right flank!”
That was the first thing she heard upon returning to the main camp where the commander’s tent stood. A large-scale charge led by the count’s knights was preparing.
Lenia quickly calculated and switched horses. Knight-against-knight combat required thorough preparation. It wasn’t her favorite mount, but she needed a spare for this.
“Don’t clash head-on! Just harass them and keep them from breaking through! The momentum has already shifted to us!”
The count had lost all his attacking forces from the main left flank—about two hundred mercenaries could hold that easily. That meant as long as they defended the main right flank, victory was all but assured.
Snort—
Cligrove’s knights mounted the spare horses that had just been led out to loosen up, rearming themselves. Shields and lances were hoisted up with grunts by the squires, and they raced out to block Sarisa Count’s knights approaching the formation.
“You scum who know nothing of honor! You dare ambush instead of facing knights in proper battle, you filthy dogs!”
Sarisa Count’s knights frothed at the sight of Cligrove’s knights, but they didn’t so much as snort in response. There was no rule anywhere saying knights had to fight first.
“Hah! Where’s the law saying knights must battle first? And you rootless wanderers who couldn’t even find a lord and roamed the streets—you dare speak of honor?”
“What? You bastards!”
Sarisa Count’s knights, many of whom were former wandering knights, flushed red at Cligrove’s barbs. It’s one thing to laugh off an insult from someone superior, but get called out by your actual inferiors, and fists fly.
Thoroughly provoked, Sarisa Count’s knights raised their shields and lances, bellowing furiously.
“Fine! Let’s see who wins! We’ll check if your hides are as cheap as your mouths!”
She’d initially planned just to harass, but Lenia changed her mind. With so many former wanderers mixed in, a head-on clash might work fine.
Teamwork was key in group battles, but how much training could these hastily assembled men have had? How well could they even sync up?
“Commander! They’re...!”
“New orders! Charge head-on and smash them! Sir Edward! Sir Karon! Sir Stendal! Senior knights and I take the front! The rest follow!”
The knights grinned at her words. A chance to trample these nobodies.
“As you command!”
Bwooo—
The long trumpet blared, and the soldiers clashing weapons halted. Knight charges were deliberate and slow. Horses bearing armored men in heavy plate tired quickly. The full-power charges people imagined started around fifty meters out.
Clop... clop—
The slow hoofbeats echoed across the momentarily quiet battlefield. Like tanks colliding in modern warfare. Every soldier’s eyes turned to the knights’ duel.
“Charge! Wedge formation!”
“Show those arrogant fools what we’re made of!”
Both sides began their charges similarly, but formations differed wildly. Lenia’s Cligrove knights formed a triangular wedge, while Sarisa Count’s lined up in a thin rank. And at the tip of Cligrove’s triangle was Lenia herself.
“Full charge! Pick up speed!”
As the distance closed, both sides surged forward, lances leveled at foes. Even here, the skill gap was glaring.
Sarisa Count’s knights aimed at enemy knights; Cligrove’s targeted their horses...
Lance charges in real combat looked simple but were a technique for masters only. Riders had to absorb the impact effectively, stay mounted through it, dodge enemy strikes, and end it in one blow.
And pulling off what sounded impossible were the senior knights at the front with Lenia.
Bam!
The moment sides collided, she—without even a shield—twisted just enough to glance the enemy lance off her shoulder, then drove her own into his horse.
‘Idiot.’
Lenia sneered inwardly as his lance sailed harmlessly past. She and Cligrove’s knights knew from mounted drills: stabbing foes directly with a lance wasn’t ideal.
A slight twist and it missed. Armor might save them even on a direct hit. Most efficient: kill the horse, strip mobility, maybe damage the rider on dismount too.
Neigh—!
The horse, lance through its neck, didn’t die instantly but reared in agony and toppled backward. Screams of men and horses filled the air as clashes continued behind.
“Aaaagh!”
Snort—!
Veteran knights mostly dodged wrecks with skillful riding, but the unlucky or unskilled tangled and fell.
After the first lance charge, both sides hurled broken lances and drew main weapons.
“Die, you Cligrove bitch!”
A knight following from behind charged Lenia in ornate plate, swinging his flail wildly to crush her skull in a reckless assault.
A hulking brute with natural power. As a wandering knight, he’d pulped countless bandits and monsters with it.
Worked fine on those. Problem was facing Lenia. The youngest aura user. The monster expected to become the youngest swordmaster.
“Grahk!”
His wrist severed in one stroke. Despite armor, she’d sliced precisely at the joint. Not the stable neck seam, but the wildly moving wrist—showing the vast skill chasm.
“M-mercy... guk!”
Clutching his stump as he fell, he begged, but Lenia impassively thrust her banner through his throat.
“Woooah!”
“Long live the commander!”
Cligrove soldiers’ morale soared at Lenia’s ferocious display with the bloodied banner; Sarisa Count’s plummeted. She hated soiling the flag, but showmanship was needed sometimes.
After claiming six or seven knights in seconds, Lenia shook blood from her blade and glared toward Sarisa Count.
“Count... your men die, yet you won’t step up.”
“Haha! Look at your so-called lord! Won’t even show his face while you die!”
Overwhelmed by the skill gap, Sarisa Count’s knights couldn’t retort to Cligrove’s taunts. The ex-wanderers were already eyeing escape routes.
The tide had turned. The count’s army was crushed in morale and every other way; knights outmatched and facing defeat. Then, from the count’s main body, a few riders fled swiftly.
“Our lord...!”
It was Sarisa Count and a handful of closest nobles. Knights who’d watched him recognized him despite distance.
He’d abandoned them to flee. While Cligrove’s commander—Count’s own daughter Lenia—fought at the fore.
Clang!
“We surrender.”
Finally, the count’s knights dropped weapons and dismounted. What point fighting without a lord to protect?
“Bind them.”
Cligrove’s messenger overlooking the defeated was drenched in knightly blood.