Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Battle of Esolon Plain (2)
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Esolon Plain.
This plain, located between Celt Barony and Santoburg Barony, had long been a battlefield where countless knights and soldiers clashed.
It lay at the border where our Kroitel Barony—the easternmost territory of the Elaine Empire—met Celt Barony and Santoburg Barony, Romania's westernmost domains.
A river capable of supplying water for armies flowed across the plain.
Most importantly, between this land and our Kroitel Barony, there were no major obstacles beyond some low hills, making it easy for supply trains to march alongside.
However, Celt Baron and Santoburg Baron effectively controlled the plain, so our information on it was scarce.
To address that, upon arrival, I immediately dispatched elite scouts to survey the terrain and enemy positions.
Separately, on the first day, to let the troops recover from the march and stand ready for battle, I ordered the camp set up and gave all soldiers time to rest.
The next day, I joined the soldiers on reconnaissance to grasp the battlefield's terrain firsthand.
Though this was my first battle, I wouldn't take the lead in devising detailed plans. Still, if circumstances demanded my command, I'd need this terrain knowledge.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ After about three days of scouting the lay of the land, we held the final war council.
In the massive tent set up for me, knights who held fiefs like Knight Jack Frost attended, along with Vice, Helmut, Baldt, and several captains.
"Let's begin the war council. Vice! Bring the map!"
At my words, Vice unrolled the map he'd drawn up based on the intelligence gathered over the past few days on the large table.
The map marked our camp's position, the Maron River crossing the plain, and likely spots for the enemy camp.
Looking at it, Heinz spoke up first in a booming voice.
"From the latest reports, the enemy has 3,000 infantry and 50 cavalry including knights. So, as befits knights, shouldn't we have knights fight knights and infantry fight infantry?"
Jack, Bierhill, and the other knights nodded in agreement.
"That seems the safest approach. They're the ones who insulted our honor, but we can't stoop to their level and abandon ours."
"Especially the knights under Celt Baron and Santoburg Baron—they're reputed to be weak. Against our territory's strong knights, their lines would crumble like chaff."
"Yes, nobles fight nobles, commoners fight commoners. Sure, some of our infantry are bastards... but they can overlook that much, right?"
The knights' arguments all had merit.
First off, for a noble of this era, even if the foe insulted your honor, repaying it in kind—dishonorably—was no good choice.
Win or lose, word would spread to neighboring domains: "That guy's an honorless peasant." You'd end up ostracized in noble society.
That could devastate my ties and trade with Free City Hamburg and surrounding lands.
Considering that, abandoning "honor" as Jack suggested wasn't worth it.
Besides, our infantry—without real combat experience—couldn't realistically form a phalanx against knights.
If they did, they'd be trampled by knights charging on horses weighing over 500 to 600 kilos.
"Good, we'll do that. Infantry against infantry, nobles against nobles—that minimizes our losses. Right... so how do we position the infantry? Infantry Commander Baldt!"
At that, Baldt—the one I'd temporarily put in charge of infantry and archers for this war—spoke up.
"Yes. Our infantry and theirs will likely clash on the plain about 200 meters from the Maron River. We'll array like this."
Baldt then positioned our infantry right in front of the Maron River.
Crossbowmen up front, then spear-wielding pikemen behind them, and halberdiers and two-handers at the rear.
"The enemy will charge relying on numbers. Rather than rushing out and eating arrow fire from their archers, we'll put crossbowmen forward to thin their peasant vanguard. Once the enemy closes, we'll send the pikemen ahead and pull the crossbowmen back."
It sounded dull, but this would minimize our casualties while maximizing theirs.
Crossbowmen up front might seem like arrow fodder, but...
In practice, aiming and firing took just 5 seconds, and during reloads, they sheltered behind large shields called pavises.
Of ten shots, seven would miss, and eight of the rest hit the pavises.
"Continue."
"Yes. Once the pike phalanx forms, we'll order the crossbowmen's final volley and have them withdraw to the flanks. When phalanxes clash, our trained, armored troops will outlast their unarmored serfs—their lines will break quickly."
As Baldt finished, even the junior knights—who'd been bored with "infantry talk" instead of noble combat—perked up at this novel strategy.
Emboldened by the attention, Baldt placed a red-painted enemy spear figure opposite ours, then slammed down a wooden horse with a halberd and declared:
"But rather than wait for their lines to break, we'll slip elite two-handers and halberdiers through the gaps to shatter them completely. Then, Sir Jack Frost's unit—having already crushed their knights—can swing around and hit the infantry from our side."
Idealistic, but feasible with infantry we'd drilled together for over a year.
Even without knight coordination, after crossbows broke their momentum, we'd feed their low-morale conscript serfs into the pike wall, then use halberds and two-handers to collapse their formation...
An enemy mostly serfs couldn't withstand that—even I, green as I was, could see it.
The other knights agreed; they crowded Baldt, clapping his shoulder in praise.
"When Baron Excellency named you 'infantry knight,' I didn't get it... now I do! Chivalrous, beautiful strategy—knightly, without ambushes, minimizing our losses. Excellent!"
"Indeed. Sir Bierhill, as you say, smashing them head-on restores our honor. No—we'll grind theirs into the dirt."
Baldt, basking in praise for his plan, shot me a glance signaling, reward this capable subordinate more...
Without that look, I'd have tossed in two extra gold coins on top of the planned reward... now maybe just one.
"Good, that's the plan. When do we expect the battle?"
"Tomorrow, we exchange 'views' at the final 'negotiations' before fighting. If no accord, war the day after."
To me, with my Korean life experience: if you're warring, just fight—why give the enemy prep time? Brainless?
But here, it served as pretext to punish "honorless fools" who ignored chivalric warnings...
What nonsense.
"Understood. Dismissed, all. Two days from now, we'll smash them, then drink and relive the victory."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The next day.
With Ella—who'd followed to the battlefield—helping me don armor, I barely mounted up and led the full army to the Maron Riverbank for the promised final "negotiations" with the enemy.
About twenty minutes from camp, across the river, two knights watched us: one in a tin-can helm with red plumes, the other in a kettle helm, both on horseback.
Helmets hid their faces, but each bore banners emblazoned with Celt and Santoburg family crests...
Those must be Celt Baron and Santoburg Baron.
Confirming them, I bellowed from horseback:
"I am Siel von Kroitel, lawful lord of Kroitel Barony, upon whom you declared war! Who are you?!"
The two removed their helms and replied:
"I am Jackson von Celt, lord of Celt Barony!"
"I am Oyl von Santoburg, lawful lord and baron of Santoburg!"
Why the separate boasts? One could've said, "I'm so-and-so, and beside me is..."—simpler for them too.
This knightly world of bravado, I guess...
As I pondered, Celt Baron suddenly glared and charged forward verbally.
"The reason I declared war today is this: Siel von Kroitel!! Your wicked farming methods spread to my lands—my serfs imitated them!! And naturally! It wrecked their crops, starving them!"
Serfs botching stolen tech pay the price—yet they whine to me? What drivel?
Declaration of war on witch-hunt levels.
One step further: "No proof, but drowned so she's a witch!"
"My investigation revealed you deliberately taught my serfs flawed methods to ruin them! Have you seen such outrage?! Thus, with my ally Santoburg Baron, I come to conquer you! Repent now, beg forgiveness—I'll show mercy. What say you?"
Cheers erupted from Santoburg and Celt camps.
Our silent troops? They knew noble declarations needed little "cause," but this was beyond the pale.
Poor deluded barons—couldn't even craft a decent pretext...
So, I unleashed my past-life Korean-honed "curse without swearing" skill.
"Mercy? Freeze your mercy! You honorless barons!! Horse-riding hacks calling yourselves knights? Stealing goods is wrong—so's stealing techniques. Your bungling serfs fail, and you blame me?! Did your parents mangle God's teachings in childhood? Pathetic!"
Their faces flushed crimson.
Too absurd for words, they—who'd insulted me first—trembled red-faced.
Watching, I declared:
"I abandon persuading you. God alone will judge right and wrong in this war. See you on the battlefield tomorrow!"