Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: The Cavalry's Charge
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Huff... huff...
Rough breaths exploded from the horse's mouth and nostrils. The agony of carrying the full weight of an armored rider and barding while charging at full tilt was something no human could possibly imagine.
Even during charges, these beasts usually walked until they closed in due to stamina limits, so this kind of reckless sprint was impossible from the start. But we couldn't afford to stop—we had to spur our mounts harder. Hundreds of elves were thundering after us on horseback, howling that they'd slaughter us. How could we even think of halting?
Neigh-!
In the end, Sir Karon's horse—unable to endure the strain—skidded to a halt and collapsed right there on the spot. It was the beast's way of saying it was done, even if you beat it to death. Probably because Sir Karon was bulkier than the others, his mount gave out first.
"Damn it all!"
"Halt! Halt! Lady! Any further and the horses will drop dead!"
The other mounts weren't faring much better. Sir Karon's just happened to collapse first. A glance back showed the elves were a bit farther off than before, but unlike us, they kept pressing on relentlessly.
The nomadic elves' horses might be slower than the Empire's, but their stamina was superior—no helping that. The one stroke of luck? No spare mounts in sight for them right now.
It would've been ideal if they'd given up here, but they clearly had no such intention. That left us with one option: fight and beat them.
"No avoiding combat, it seems."
Lenia assessed the situation with a calm expression.
"The problem is, they won't want to close for melee."
In close quarters, the knights would crush the elves. These men were melee specialists, living weapons of war. And while we couldn't tell the elves' full armament from here, as scouts, they were likely lightly equipped by comparison.
"If you give us just a moment to recover, we'll charge and smash those barbarians flat!"
Sir Karon pounded his chest with a thud-thud and bellowed. But everyone except him knew it wouldn't be that simple.
Everyone started chattering their own ideas. Have the cavalry strike first to pin them down, then charge. Or retreat slowly, wait for the elves' horses to tire, then counter-charge.
And soon, all eyes turned to me.
"What do you think, Sir Lucas? You're the only one here who's actually caught an elf before."
Sir Edington's question prompted me to lay out the plan I'd been mulling.
"We need to reform the ranks. Put the cavalry up front and the arrow-resistant knights in the rear to minimize casualties. And to conserve stamina, we slow our pace."
Lenia pondered briefly, then eyed me dubiously.
"So, you're saying we retreat while eating their arrows?"
"Not quite."
I shook my head. They wouldn't let us slip away easily. But if we kept retreating in plain sight, soaking up arrows without breaking stride, they couldn't just keep sniping forever.
They'd try to encircle us and cut off our movement. And when they swung around our flanks—that's when we'd split the cavalry wide, charge the elves now scrambling to react, and hit them hard.
If the cavalry pinned them successfully, the knights following close behind would pulverize them. Failure... better not to think about it. I'd have to clean up the mess somehow.
"Hmm... Then we'll need to keep them from bunching too close—some harassing fire, maybe? Leave that to us?"
Sir Edington spoke up. He was right; we needed to stop them from loosing arrows with impunity.
"No. I'll handle that."
I volunteered for the role. Two reasons:
One, my Merlin outpaced and outlasted every other horse here by a mile.
Two, the cloak I wore was werewolf hide.
In the end, I was the only one free enough from their arrow storm to harass them relentlessly, making them feel truly threatened.
"Sir! She's all yours!"
During the huddle, even the collapsed horses had regained some wind. Cavalry and knights mounted up, swords raised in salute as they streamed past Kyle. A mark of respect.
The new formation had cavalry in the lead, knights behind, and Kyle holding the extreme rear, a bit separated. Thirty riders strong, they tore across the plain once more.
"Zaut! They're moving again!"
Targai—Zaut of the Elf Empire's vanguard—grinned at his subordinate's shout. Just two days since the main force crushed the Empire's rabble, and after scouring the area on the commander's orders with nothing to show, finally some results.
"Let's go, brothers of the steppe! Crush these Empire dogs before they rejoin their main!"
"Turn the Empire scum into steppe fertilizer!"
The elves roared at Targai's cry, spurring their mounts. Soon, they had the rearmost Imperial rider in arrow range.
"Turn 'em into pincushions!"
Targai nocked an arrow up front, and the elves followed suit, drawing their short bows—unlike the Empire's longer ones—in unison.
Pheew-
A sharp whistle erupted from their bowstrings, filling the air with a serpentine hiss. The arrows zeroed in on the last rider's back.
Aimed dead at the rearmost horse and rider, the shafts flew with savage momentum, sure to punch through... but the result was nothing like the elves expected.
"Huh?"
"Wh-what...?"
Arrows that could pierce chainmail fell limp, unable to breach a mere leather cloak, clattering harmlessly to the dirt. Targai and the elves rubbed their eyes in disbelief. How?
"Magic beast hide?"
As the elves faltered at the feebly bouncing arrows, Targai bellowed.
"You idiots! Just gonna gawk? Target the ones up front!"
Stunned but with plenty of targets, they spurred forward to aim elsewhere. But the rearmost rider pulled a stunt that threw their plans into chaos.
Screeech-!
The horse slammed to a halt like a cart braking hard. Then, in a blink from full gallop, it wheeled and charged the elves.
"Whoa!"
The elves, ignoring the rear to target the front, yanked their reins in panic. Their prey hadn't just stopped—it turned and barreled toward them, closing the gap in seconds.
"Scatter!"
The clustered elves burst apart like a wildfire. Just one foe, but the acrobatics they'd never seen froze them solid.
But only for a moment. As they scattered, the charging horse slowed to a mocking snort and whinny, then pivoted and rocketed off in its original direction.
"Hah...?"
"What the hell...?"
The elves, scattered every which way, gaped in absurdity before wheeling back. The horse didn't just screech to a halt—it spun on a dime. Even steppe-born riders like them had never witnessed such feats.
"They're fleeing!"
But that wasn't the priority. While they stalled, the Imperials widened the gap again. If these Empire dogs reached their main force unscathed, the enraged commander would have their heads.
The chase resumed: elves pursuing, knights and cavalry fleeing. Laughable, in a way. The knights' horses were reduced to walk-run cycles from exhaustion, yet one hyperactive Imperial rider had the elves darting every which way.
But the humor faded as time wore on—the elves grew anxious. Close for a shot, and the rear rider wheeled away, secured distance, then bolted after achieving whatever goal. Even if they loosed arrows, the knights tanked them with their bodies. Targai's head throbbed.
"Zaut! What now? At this rate, they'll..."
"Damn it! I know!"
The knights were secondary; the real headache was that rear rider's horse. Endless bizarre maneuvers, no sign of tiring, constant pressure. To break this, Targai knew they had to deal with that mount.
Two ways: snipe it dead or encircle to freeze their movement. After a beat, he chose the latter.
"Surround 'em and cut off their moves! Toolooey! You take left! I'll swing right and box 'em in!"
His longtime subordinates got it instantly, splitting precisely: half left, half right.
What they'd forgotten, though: Imperial horses might lack stamina, but their burst speed topped the elves'. And with distances closed for the flank, it proved fatal.
"They're splitting!"
Finally, the moment the cavalry awaited. They'd held steady up front, managing stamina even under arrow fire, for this. As the elves mindlessly overtook them, the lead cavalryman drew his sword.
"The hour is upon us! Riders of the Empire! Crush these barbarians and exalt our name! Who will claim their heads and honor our houses?!"
Knights fought and died for glory; cavalry for house and ladies. Noble sons who loved bragging and flair.
"Baptize your blades in their blood! So when we return, we can boast to every belle in the Empire!"
Bwaaaah-
A blaring horn blast from the cavalryman's hand signaled the charge.
Thud-thud-thud-!
As if their prior pace was child's play, the cavalry surged forward. Under the northern sun, their blades gleamed.