Chapter 105
Chapter 105
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: Maxburg Reeducation (8)
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Scores of Molotov cocktails, impaled on javelins, soared through the air, only for the enemy knights to bat them away with their shields.
But some couldn't deflect the incoming spears, and even those who did found the shattered bottles spilling flaming oil that set both horses and riders ablaze.
The smell of roasting meat, like well-cooked flesh, wafted all the way to us, over a hundred meters away.
Yet the casualties were few. Most of the knights charged on just as they had through our arrows earlier, jeering contemptuously.
"Pathetic! You didn't seriously think this would stop us?"
"Look at them! So lacking in confidence that they're fighting us on foot—knights in mail coats reinforced with metal plates!"
"Your Excellency the Count! We'll win this war for our side. If you claim the County of Kroitel, spare a little for this baron too."
"We'll talk after we've crushed the enemy. Our foe is Siel von Kroitel—a man we can't afford to underestimate."
We kept hurling javelins tipped with Molotovs at the enemy, and each time, their knights blocked the incoming spears with their shields.
Every time a spear struck home, a few knights tumbled from their bucking horses, screaming in agony as the flames consumed them.
At the same time, vast quantities of burning oil splashed across the ground beneath them, but their highly trained mounts pressed forward undeterred, as if the fire were nothing.
As the enemy closed to within thirty meters, I gave the order to my knights.
"Brace the waists of those holding shields! Prepare for impact!"
At my command, my subordinate knights supported the men at the front who gripped their shields.
And then, with a thunderous crash like lightning striking, a thick black smoke reeking of rotting corpses billowed toward us.
The enemy knights' horses across the field lost their heads amid the deafening noise and choking fumes, ignoring their riders' commands.
No—they reared and bucked wildly, desperate to save themselves by throwing their riders.
"Hiiihiin!!"
"Agh!!"
"C-Calm down, Max! This is the battlefield!!"
"You idiot, the horses behind can't stop! Get out of there now!!"
Just as he said, the horses charging from the rear barreled onward with unstoppable momentum, trampling men and mounts alike without mercy.
In the chaos, countless enemy knights in full armor were ground into pulp, reduced to unrecognizable minced meat, losing all semblance of humanity.
Amid that utter pandemonium, the knights began preparing not to fight us, but to battle their own horses just to survive.
"Those who survive, kill the rampaging horses first! Then fall back to base camp!!"
"Return to base for regrouping! Fight the horses!!"
"Calm yourselves! Uphold your honor as knights!!"
They shouted as much, but most were overwhelmed by the terror of the battlefield, out of their minds.
Some young knights were already raving mad; the faint-hearted sought their gods amid the hellish nightmare that no longer felt real...
"Mommy!! I wanna go back to Mommy!! This is hell!!"
"Oh, Lord... God Deus, why do you visit such trials upon us? Your faithful servants humbly beseech you—carry us to the kingdom of Deus."
"Get out of my way! I'm going back! I'm escaping this hellish battlefield!!"
"It's the Count's orders! Obey His Excellency, and we'll survive this field!"
"Shut up! If you don't want to be trampled, we run first!!"
Even knights who lived by honor and pride became terrified children on the battlefield their lord had designed.
And many of those pitiful souls clad in fine armor and weapons were being crushed beneath the hooves of the very horses they cherished.
It was a gruesome sight too horrific to witness with open eyes, but they were merely paying the rightful price.
"Slaughter the dishonorable Maxburg swine! If they cross the border alive, our brothers, families, and loved ones will be raped! Honorable knights, exterminate them!"
At my command, my banner rose high, and thousands of knights surged forward in unison.
Even as we advanced in formation to smash them, only a tiny fraction noticed us and tried to form ranks.
Because...
"Agh! The horse! Max, calm down—I'm your master!!"
"My arm! My leg!! Argh!"
"Run! We have to run! This is hell!!"
...those fighting their panicked horses in the vision-obscuring, acrid smoke could no longer face us.
"Form ranks! Everyone, halberds forward!! Annihilate the enemy!"
"Yes, sir!"
With that, my knights and I charged the foe.
"Long live Lord Kroitel! Long live the Count!"
"I'll grant rest and peace to those cursed with shameful lords!"
"Oh, my lady Susan! For you, I shall claim honor!"
I led from the front, smashing the helmet of the nearest enemy knight with the hammer head of my halberd.
The blow made him drop his weapon in an instant.
Seizing the opening, I drove the dagger from my left side deep into his throat. Hot blood, scorching like a burn, gushed out and soaked my hand.
"I'll take your head!!"
Looking up at those words, I saw some greenhorn swinging an axe at me.
I deflected the flat of the blade with my gauntlet, altering its path, then countered by smashing his helmet with my right gauntlet.
Reeling from the face blow, he staggered. As his jaw hung exposed, I kicked up with my right foot. With a sickening crack, his neck snapped back.
Grinning at the corpse, I said,
"Not a chance, rookie!!"
Surveying the surroundings after that, I saw my knights overwhelming the enemy with our numerical superiority.
"Lord Max, push into their right flank!"
"Lord Brandon, don't worry—hit their left side!"
"Lord Sain, we'll take that one in the center! Three of us, go!"
Next came the fools who couldn't even form ranks anymore, too busy fighting their horses.
Drained from wrestling their mounts, they were child's play to capture alive.
We just tossed ropes over the exhausted, collapsed ones and hauled them in.
In roughly an hour, we'd racked up an astonishing victory with minimal effort.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Reporting to Lord Count Kroitel! Colonel Bierman engaged 4,000 enemy knights, killing 1,000 and capturing another 1,000!"
"Well done. Any other reports?"
"Count Willemheim fled midway and evaded capture, but we took two of his subordinate barons alive."
"Well done. Order Colonel Bierman to prepare for pursuit—mount up and move as fast as possible."
"Yes, sir!"
Even if some miracle let Maxburg win this war, losing so many knights meant he couldn't hold onto his position as Elector anymore.
Because every knight and lord in Romania bore the Emperor's name, and killing 1,000 of them would demand accountability...
His ducal title might scrape by on wartime merits, but the Grand Marshal's seat symbolizing Elector status? Gone.
Moreover, his territory would erupt in peasant and ruined noble uprisings, unable to cope with the sudden vacuum.
Every condition I needed from this war was met. Now, all that remained was to protect my men's lives while driving off the enemy.
"Major Frost! Lead the Imperial Guard out. Tell Ensign Mark this is his chance for lieutenant!"
To my joking words, Frost replied gravely.
"Yes, understood. All hands, attention! The entire battalion moves forward with His Excellency now. Standard-bearers, raise the flags!"
"Flags up! Advance!!!"
I led the base camp troops to the front lines, greeted by the soldiers' fervent cheers along the way.
"The Count's here! We've won!"
"Long live the Count!"
"Sound the trumpets! The Count advances. Shatter the enemy's morale!"
As I marched, majestic trumpet blasts echoed in my wake.
About twenty minutes later, arriving at the foremost lines, the enemy soldiers blanched at the sight of me and cried out.
"It's Kroitel's White Reaper! Damn it!!"
"Golden Fleece Mercenaries! Regroup!! Regroup!!"
"You mad bastards!! Where do you think you're running?! That's breach of contract!!"
"We're already on the brink of annihilation! We'll regroup and return."
With that, the Golden Fleece Mercenaries withdrew under the pretext of regrouping.
Retreating with heavy losses wouldn't tarnish their reputation, but Maxburg would use it to skimp on pay.
Still, fewer elites for us to face? No downside there...
I scanned the troops arrayed before us.
"Centurion, we're done for! Even the Golden Fleece Mercs ditched us. We're..."
"Idiot! What if the Poison Unit back there hears you?!"
"Why not just surrender to Count Kroitel up front?"
"Shut your trap, Jackson! Even if we surrender, no guarantee they'll accept!"
Their morale was in tatters, and for the bigger picture ahead, I needed serfs from territories stripped bare.
More killing now would just be slaughtering innocents and risking my own men needlessly.
With the Duke of Maxburg this broken, he'd have no choice but peace talks.
"Surrender. Those who do will not be harmed further and will be treated with respect."