Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Battle of Esilon Plains (4)
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After waving the flag to boost our troops' morale, I slipped over to the far left of the knights' first row.
After all, if I, the overall commander, suffered a serious injury or fell in battle, it would mean defeat for us in this fight.
As we charged toward the enemy, I slotted the flag I was holding into the flag holder on the left side of my horse and gripped the sturdy halberd hanging from the right side with both hands.
About twenty seconds after switching weapons like that, I could confirm the enemies drawing steadily closer to me.
When I'd raised the flag to rally our allies, the foes had looked like specks of dust. Now they appeared about the size of my hand.
At this distance... it was about time to prepare to give it our all and charge...
Before ordering a full-speed gallop, I glanced at the knights beside me.
Fortunately, all my knights without exception were maintaining formation, keeping their knees almost touching.
I couldn't tell what expressions they wore under their helmets or what thoughts filled their minds as they charged on horses weighing hundreds of kilos toward an iron wall...
Yet my subordinates, overcoming their fear of smashing into that iron wall and charging the enemy without shame as knights, looked proud and magnificent.
And so, to inspire them to their utmost, I bellowed at the top of my lungs.
"Let's show those who insulted our honor the bravery and dignity of House Kroitel!! All hands, increase speed!"
Hearing that, the knights simultaneously raised and then lowered their shields before replying.
"Long live Baron Excellency Kroitel!!"
With that cheer behind me, I fixed my gaze on the enemies ahead.
Knights clad in dazzling silver armor gleaming in the sunlight, astride massive horses over 500 or 600 kilos, advanced toward us packed tight like a wall.
Aiming lances bearing their family crests, they closed in slowly to kill us, and for a moment, my spirits faltered.
But I quickly steeled myself again, gripping the halberd in both hands to execute the tactic assigned to me: "disengage after the charge."
Before long, we were so close that I could even see the stains on each other's helmets. That's when I swiftly pulled the reins, peeling slightly away from our formation.
Frost from the second row, already aware, filled the gap behind me immediately, and...
Our forces collided with the enemy.
Horses spewing blood from deep lance wounds, nameless knights protected by armor from being pierced but thrown headfirst from their mounts to their deaths—chaos unfolded in a hellish melee.
"Neigh!!"
"Argh!"
"Hold the line!! You'll die if you fall!"
Next, the second and third rows slammed into the enemy at a slightly slower speed than before.
The instant they collided, several knights from both sides were hurled from their horses—either struck by lances or dislodged when their mounts died from thrusts into armor gaps.
Some of those who fell surely died, while others survived.
The horrific scene unfolding before my eyes sent my heart pounding wildly, and my instincts screamed, "Turn back now, or we're all dead."
Yet I overcame that fear and returned to the sixth row of our charging formation.
Soon after, we began reorganizing the lines. Knights who hadn't fallen and suffered major injuries started returning to their positions.
Curiously, during this time, neither our side nor the enemy attacked the knights heading back to their lines; instead, both sides waited and reformed.
Then we put some distance between us again and discarded our splintered lances onto the ground.
After tossing them aside, we each drew secondary weapons like swords, maces, axes, and hammers with both hands and prepared to charge once more.
At this point, I'd handed full command to Frost and followed at the rear in the sixth row, wielding my custom-prepared halberd.
As the enemy drew near, Frost thrust his sword skyward and shouted.
"Fear not those whelps! Our lord Baron Excellency Kroitel watches! Strike!!"
No sooner had he finished than the knights raised their weapons to the sky once more and roared.
Whether that shout was battle fervor to cut down the foe or a desperate bid to banish the fear I'd just felt, I couldn't say.
I joined them, crying out with all my might.
"Waaah!!!"
With that cry, I forgot the fear inside me.
Finally, the front row clashed weapons with the enemy, and row by row, the rest followed suit.
Naturally, I, at the very rear, ended up facing off against one knight ahead of me—I didn't know who he was.
Here, I faced a dilemma between two choices.
As the overall commander of this battle, should I prioritize survival and retreat to the rear...?
Or, as the baron leading these knights, should I fight that bastard there...?
Either choice was fine; standing in the first row for the lance charge already ensured my honor remained intact no matter what...
So, coldly speaking, I'd fight better than a common soldier but worse than a proper knight...
Right—I still needed to boost morale from the rear.
Thus, I coolly scanned my surroundings for a path to the back.
First off, to escape, I'd have to loop left or right, but there was no space to accelerate and break free.
The other knights were already packed densely, locked in combat.
Surveying the battlefield, the only way out for me was to strike the enemy front head-on and swing wide.
No helping it—I'd resolve to slay the knight before me with my own hands, exchange one clash, then bolt.
To dupe him into thinking it was a duel, I bellowed at the knight ahead and charged.
"I am Siel von Kroitel! Taste my blade!!"
He must have thought I'd declare my name and title as lord of such-and-such, challenging him fairly to single combat. Visibly flustered, he spurred his horse a beat later than me.
Seizing that opening...
I smashed my halberd's head into his helmet, unhorsing him.
He fell headfirst—dead, no doubt, whoever he was.
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After that, without leaving the field, I stayed in the sixth row of our knights' formation, keeping the enemy cavalry in check and observing the situation.
Right now, the enemy knights' horses looked exhausted, unable to run anymore, while ours still had some reserve, panting but pressing on.
Dragging them this far meant we'd practically won the knight-against-knight clash.
And soon after, a trumpet blast brought even better news to my ears.
'Bwoooo'
The signal that we'd broken the enemy infantry formation.
Hearing it, the knights thrust their swords upward and cheered.
"Huzzah!!"
"We've won!!"
"Long live Deus! Long live Baron Excellency Kroitel!"
Before long, Frost, who had taken over commanding the knights in my stead, rode up beside me and said,
"Our knights still have fight left in them. Shall we support the infantry?"
Honestly, I felt like I was about to drop dead.
Though my body had the stamina for this cavalry battle, we'd been fighting nonstop for what felt like dozens of minutes.
But, thinking coldly...
Whether I supported the infantry now would determine the scale of their sacrifices and our victory.
So...
"All knights with strength left, follow me! No need to push yourselves."
About a third of the knights hearing that peeled off toward base camp, while the rest fell in behind me.
Confirming them, I charged toward the infantry clash about a kilometer away.
A kilometer was just ten minutes on horseback, but to me, battered and exhausted, it felt eternal.
We halted about a hundred meters short to catch our breath, eyeing the enemy infantry crumbling against ours and picking our strike point.
Looking closely, our infantry had enveloped the enemy from front, right, and left, leaving only the rear exposed.
The enemy had no leisure to spot us...
If we charged at full tilt, faster than against their cavalry, we could inflict massive damage.
In our current state, one charge and disengage was all we could manage.
But that single shock would upend the infantry battle.
For that final charge, I raised my halberd high in my right hand, looked around at the knights, and declared,
"All hands! Hit the enemy infantry's rear and head straight back to base! Pour out your last reserves! Charge!!"
With that, my knights and I charged full speed to stab the enemy infantry's rear.
Several seconds in, some enemy infantry spotted us and raised the alarm.
"Centurion!! Centurion!! Watch the rear!!"
"We're all dead like this!!"
"But the front's swarming with enemies too..."
Even spotting our charge, the enemy infantry—already on the brink of annihilation—couldn't prepare.
As a result, we met almost no resistance, slamming into their soft rear in wedge formation.
On horses over 500 kilos in heavy plate, we trampled foes, flung them aside, then struck with speeding swords or axes.
Enemy infantry began dying—blood bursting, guts crushed, skulls pierced.
The few survivors in our wake lost all will to fight, dropping to their knees and pissing themselves.
As we finished the charge and turned for base...
Glancing back, the enemy soldiers had utterly lost the will to fight. Even their lone officers, the last bastion holding enemy morale, gazed at our troops with defeated eyes.
At that moment, I instinctively knew this battle was a complete victory for us.
So I grabbed the flag slotted on my horse's left with both hands, waved it to signal triumph, and declared,
"Surrender!!"
The enemy soldiers quietly set down their weapons and knelt, signaling their surrender.
This was the moment we seized total victory in the war.