X. The Battle of Schapendorf (2)
X. The Battle of Schapendorf (2)
The journey from Bellam to Schaffendorf had taken a full five days.
It was nothing like the times Keldric had traveled with Alisa and a handful of mercenaries.
Back then, their party had numbered barely thirty. Now more than two hundred men followed him.
Finding space for all of them to sleep took time, slowing the journey considerably.
What mattered was that they had arrived before Baron Gofrit's army.
Keldric surveyed the land around Schaffendorf after their five-day march.
Schaffendorf was a village that had long made its living by herding sheep.
Low, rolling hills suitable for grazing sheep dotted the area, neither especially high nor low.
Therefore, seizing a hill that offered a good view of the surrounding terrain appeared to be the primary objective.
"We'll take that one."
Lothar chose one of the better hills, and more than two hundred soldiers quickly filled its summit.
"Start shoveling the snow!"
"Anyone whose hands or feet are numb, gather near the campfires! No one's skin is to turn blue!"
Several dingy yellow campaign tents went up while the mercenaries and soldiers busily cleared the snow.
There was no need to worry that clearing it would exhaust them.
The sheep grazed on the hilltop, so there was little snow to remove. It was an ideal place to pitch camp.
He had wondered how sheep could graze in a snowfield, but when Keldric saw the grass growing under the snow, he understood at once.
It was the same welcome grass Keldric had first encountered after leaving Carlton Village and seeing the wider world, now growing in countless clumps.
Keldric didn't know the details of that mysterious ecology, but it was probably sufficient for the sheep to graze on.
'I wonder if Aveline and Boreas will eat it too.'
After running a hand over the grass, Keldric headed outside the encampment while the tents were still being raised.
The Everfrost, blanketed entirely in snow, hurt the eyes to look at as sunlight reflected harshly from its surface.
As Keldric unconsciously furrowed his brow, he saw several low, gentle hills ahead of him.
Thanks to the shepherds having driven the sheep down into the village, every hilltop was silent.
Lothar's army had camped facing west, so the enemy camp would likely occupy one of the western hills.
Between the hills, a stretch of terrain caught Keldric's eye—a bit too narrow to be called a plain.
If it came to a real fight, it wasn't hard to guess that that place would become the battlefield.
"Sir Keldric, this is going to be a hell of a job."
"Sir Henri."
Keldric had been studying the terrain for some time when Henri approached.
Behind Sir Henri, the tents were in the middle of being erected.
The hill was broad, with ample room for tents. They were building a camp that could comfortably sleep two hundred men.
Several particularly pristine white tents among them were probably those of Sir Lothar and the other knights.
Of course, Keldric's was included.
"We don't need to make such a fuss over it."
"Lothar's orders. He says if we're doing it, we should do it perfectly."
"Hah..."
The largest and most splendid tent belonged to Sir Lothar. Keldric's gaze turned in that direction.
They would probably hold war councils there and receive envoys from Baron Gofrit's army.
Perhaps it would also host extravagant meals or small banquets.
"Sir Henri. We'd do well to be on guard for a night raid."
"A night raid, you say?"
"Yes."
Keldric was worried about a night raid.
The sight of Lothar obsessing over the tents made Keldric deeply uneasy.
Of course, Lothar was not a complete idiot.
Since his own father, Baron Yaven, had fallen victim to a night raid, he would at least take precautions against one.
But Baron Yaven had prepared for a night raid as well and still fallen victim to one.
Baron Yaven had experience fighting territorial wars. Lothar was almost certainly facing his first real battle.
It was obvious which of the two would devise more reliable precautions.
"We should tell him."
"Isn't it too soon? If we exhaust the soldiers preparing for a night raid, they'll be tired in tomorrow's battle."
Henri's reaction plainly said, 'Come on, surely not.'
That was understandable. Surely they wouldn't fall for the same night raid twice.
But curiosity killed the cat, and 'surely not' got people killed.
"There's no reason they wouldn't use a method that worked once a second time."
"...If you see it that way."
Sir Henri reluctantly conceded. It wasn't wrong, either.
Defeat was painful. If soldiers whose morale was already low lost again, the damage might become irreversible.
They had to win. Keldric's gaze darkened as he stared at the opposite hill.
"Hyah!"
Abruptly, a few horsemen rode out of the camp. Keldric's gaze naturally turned toward them.
Four light horsemen rode out of the camp toward the western hills Keldric had been studying.
They were far too few to fight, but their mobility would make them difficult for the enemy to pursue.
It was a reconnaissance in force. Keldric watched them ride away.
'I hope they manage to bring back something useful.'
Anything would do, so long as they brought back some key to seizing the advantage in the coming battle.
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Once the encampment was roughly completed, the knights gathered in Sir Lothar's tent.
The large tent remained spacious even after all the burly knights had entered.
Tables had been arranged in a U-shape at the center. Keldric took the seat at the far end.
As a contracted knight, Keldric could hardly sit near Lothar while the baron's vassal knights were present.
Keldric did not mind, and the atmosphere among the other knights was cordial enough.
"Is everyone assembled?"
Lothar began to speak.
Keldric straightened. An important discussion was about to begin.
Sir Lothar seemed satisfied with the somewhat heavy atmosphere that hung inside the tent.
When Lothar flicked a hand, an attendant standing behind him called out through the tent entrance.
A moment later, the ones who entered the tent were the cavalrymen who had gone out to scout a short while ago.
Keldric studied the four scouts. They looked tense, though not afraid.
"Sir Lothar. These men are...?"
"I sent soldiers ahead to scout. The hills conceal parts of the terrain, and those areas needed to be examined as well."
Lothar spoke proudly. The decision itself had been sound.
Victory began with understanding the battlefield. Even Keldric knew that much.
"Sir Rutger, we have scouted as you advised. Can we fight properly now?"
Sadly, it seemed that the veteran Sir Rutger had been the one to suggest the reconnaissance.
That was only natural. Sir Lothar could not possibly become a great strategist overnight.
"First, we should hear the scouting report."
"You there. Relate everything you saw and heard in the vicinity in full detail."
"Yes, Sir Lothar."
Standing respectfully, one soldier began haltingly reporting what they had seen.
As the soldiers reported, one of Lothar's attendants used a twig to sketch a rough map on the earthen floor.
According to them, the camp lay about one league southwest of Schaffendorf.
Around it, low hills rose sporadically, and there were no forests that might cause concern about an ambush.
Beyond the hills to the west, a route leading northward branched off and appeared suitable for an enemy advance.
The knights studying the map on the ground murmured thoughtfully.
Given the terrain, they would have to settle matters in a straightforward clash of arms, with little room for tricks.
That was preferable. With morale already low, trying to force a dramatic reversal under the inexperienced Lothar might end in disaster.
"When we advanced a bit further west to scout, we faintly saw an unfamiliar banner."
"A banner, you say?"
"Yes. We believe it was probably the enemy army."
Baron Gofrit had answered Lothar's letter several days earlier.
His army would have begun marching then, so its arrival nearby was no surprise.
"When will they arrive?"
Another knight who had been listening silently stepped forward to ask.
The soldier worked his mouth while calculating, then answered with difficulty.
"They were about two leagues away, so they will probably arrive before sundown."
"I see. Go have some hot water and rest."
The soldiers bowed their heads once more and exited the tent.
Once the scouts left, only the knights, Lothar, and a few attendants remained, and the atmosphere in the tent grew even heavier.
"Er... Sir Lothar?"
"Hm?"
"Some sort of general order, perhaps..."
This time as well, Sir Lothar simply sat there blankly.
It was the classic posture of someone saying, 'I don't know what to do, so I'll sit still.'
"...We'll make it our goal to fight well and win."
There was a reason he sat still, of course.
By this point, Keldric was inwardly appalled.
Before arriving, Lothar had sung endlessly of battle, so Keldric had assumed he must have planned something. When the moment came, there was nothing.
"What orders are there to give? We simply go and fight."
"Sir Lothar. Shall we knights then direct the soldiers?"
"Do as you see fit."
In any case, the soldiers gathered here were not a single unified body.
They were contingents brought by Baron Yaven's various vassal knights, divided into small groups whose detailed command naturally fell to those knights.
And this was normal. The soldiers each knight personally brought were commanded by that knight.
In truth, once they entered the thick of the fighting, there wasn't much that counted as command.
Hold, fight, shoot, don't run—those four commands were enough once battle began.
This was even truer this time, as they planned to simply clash head-on without any separate ambush or flanking attack.
But Lothar, effectively the knights' commander, could not leave matters at that.
He was responsible for the broad decisions: when to attack, when to scout, when to requisition supplies, and when to retreat.
If the soldiers did not know whether to attack or defend, that alone was a crisis.
"Sir Lothar. Shall we wait for them to charge at us?"
In the end, Sir Rutger, unable to watch any longer, stepped forward first and asked.
Lothar stroked the patchy stubble on his chin as though thinking, then answered.
"Why wait? We'll charge out to meet them."
"Their morale is high. Would it not be better to take advantage of our somewhat higher hill, keep close to the camp, and shoot arrows while defending?"
"We have the forty elite soldiers Sir Keldric brought with him."
The issue suddenly landed on Keldric. He blinked.
"But Sir Lothar, if they send out knights..."
"Then we shall send out our own in turn."
"..."
Rutger finally fell silent, at a loss for words.
To be fair, stripped to its simplest terms, Lothar was not wrong.
They had forty elite soldiers armed with spears, swords, and shields. Those men would not be pushed back by ordinary mercenaries, and their morale was high.
Even if knights appeared from Baron Gofrit's side, all they had to do was counter with their own knights.
Knights were normally answered by other knights.
The number of knights was roughly similar: seven on the enemy side and six on theirs.
They stood a chance. The problem was Lothar's irresponsible attitude now that he faced real combat without any experience.
It made Keldric worry how Lothar would respond if something unexpected happened.
"Then, let us do it that way."
With that, the council broke up. The knights rose from their seats with somewhat uneasy expressions.
As Lothar waved everyone away, Keldric left the tent reflecting on his own failure to speak up sooner.
'I don't know enough. It's driving me insane.'
He knew jack shit about strategy. Volfen had taught him some things, but knowledge like this normally came from following a knight and accumulating real battlefield experience.
With a good liege, he might have gained that experience safely. Facing this difficulty in his first large battle, however, was a little...
"...I suppose there's no helping it."
Keldric clenched his pot-lid-sized fist.
If his brain failed him, brute force solved most problems. That was how Keldric had survived his journey so far.
This time would not be much different.
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Baron Gofrit's army arrived a day after Sir Lothar's army had established its encampment.
It was a remarkably slow march considering they had been only two leagues away. Baron Gofrit's camp was still being erected within sight.
They could see it, but it was too far away for a sudden attack or a volley of arrows.
"Those bastards have some nerve."
"Fuck, my prick's about to freeze off in this cold."
The soldiers and mercenaries enduring the cold grew tense.
Watching the enemy camp take shape in the distance placed them under constant pressure.
The enemy was right there, yet Lothar's army was in no position to attack.
Baron Gofrit clearly knew that as well. That was surely why he had made camp so openly.
Around midday, a group of mounted men slowly approached from Baron Gofrit's camp.
They were messengers carrying word from a lord or knight, led by an unfamiliar knight.
Keldric and the other knights assembled in Lothar's tent, and the messenger entered with a triumphant air.
"Baron Ansen Schultheis, lawful lord of Gofrit, sends this message to Sir Lothar Mikesh, son of Devanu Mikesh, Lord of Yaven!"
Lothar made no effort to hide his displeasure and flicked a hand as if to say, Go on, keep spouting off.
"His Lordship commands Sir Lothar and the army under him to withdraw at once! Otherwise, he will slit your bellies and throw you to the crows and wild dogs!"
It was an old tradition for messengers to deliver outrageously rude threats.
Everyone in the tent frowned, but no one immediately lunged forward to throw a punch...
"You insolent scoundrel!"
Defying Keldric's expectations, the hot-blooded young Lothar leapt up in fury.
The other knights rushed to restrain him while the messenger smirked at the spectacle.
"Tear out that fucking bastard's guts! This is my order as my father's deputy! This instant!"
"Get him out! Now!"
Unable to watch any longer, Keldric signaled the attendants with a look.
But the messenger seemed intent on loitering and sneering as long as possible before leaving.
'This son of a bitch...'
By this point, Keldric was angry too. Clenching his fist tightly, Keldric strode up to the front of the messenger.
The smile faded from the messenger's face as Keldric stopped inches away, his much larger build overwhelming the man.
"We understand Lord Gofrit's message. Return to your camp."
"I-I..."
"Or would you care to fight me honorably?"
Keldric nudged the mace hanging at his waist.
The messenger's face paled. He spat a curse and left the tent.
"Why did you let him go? Seize that insolent man!"
"Sir Lothar!"
Keldric stood at the entrance of the chaotic tent and sighed.
Battle was approaching—a battle where men killed and died, corpses fell across the snowy field, and shouts and screams filled the air.
Both sides were seething. A bloody fight now seemed unavoidable.