XII. The Battle of Ramders Plain (4)
XII. The Battle of Ramders Plain (4)
Sir Lothar proposed only one tactic: hold firm, wait for the right moment, then charge.
"Their horse archers will be a nuisance, so we’ll focus on blocking their arrows and strike when an opening appears."
After considering it carefully, the knights reluctantly nodded.
If they took the offensive first, they would only end up chasing the horse archers.
The lightly armored horse archers would draw them out while loosing arrow after arrow.
Their glorious charge would be wasted, and their recklessness would earn them nothing but a dog’s death.
No knight wanted to die like a dog there. Knights were human tanks and precious military assets.
The knights and heavy cavalry would charge only at the decisive moment that could seal their victory. Until then, as Lothar had said, they had to hold—and keep holding.
'Not bad.'
Keldric found the plan reasonable enough. He looked at Lothar a little differently.
He could do well when he tried, so why was he always so stubborn?
"If we are to defend against arrows, how should we go about it?"
Most of the knights seemed convinced, but one suddenly asked a question.
Lothar looked at the knight and blinked.
"Well... We could form a defensive formation covering every direction, and then..."
Lothar might have gained a little sense, but anyone who changed overnight would have to be a genius who had only pretended to be a fool.
Lothar was no such genius. He was merely an ordinary lord’s son who had behaved like a fool, and an inexperienced one at that.
"Umm... so..."
He still struggled to respond to unexpected developments. Even now, he could not answer a question that had caught him off guard.
Even so, this was remarkable progress. Normally, he would have offered some irresponsible remark like, ‘We’ll be fine if we fight well.’ At least now he was trying to think.
Or perhaps he was simply watching Keldric’s every reaction.
Lothar kept glancing anxiously at Keldric, his gaze so pitiful that Rutger sighed and stepped forward.
"Sir Lothar. How about we do it this way?"
Rutger fleshed out the plan as follows.
Shield-bearing soldiers would form the first rank. They would gather into a basic circular formation.
Spearmen would form the second rank directly behind them. That would help counter the Rheesian cavalry’s unusual tactic of harassing them with horse archers before sweeping in with light cavalry.
Archers would occupy the center of the formation.
However swift and troublesome the horse archers were, the soldiers could not simply absorb their arrows and endure indefinitely.
Their archers might not hit often, but keeping the horse archers under fire would clearly restrict their movement.
Finally, they would commit their strongest force—the knights and heavy cavalry—at the decisive moment.
The battle would descend into chaos, but once they closed, the knights could literally carve through the Rheesian cavalry.
"That should... give us a reasonable way to counter them."
When Rutger finished, the knights exchanged looks and thought it over.
Knights were not mindless brutes.
Some might be illiterate, but all of them were hardened veterans.
"It sounds reasonable enough at first, but..."
"What if they refuse to approach? They have the river at their backs, so it seems they mean to fight defensively as well."
"They’ll stay at a distance and keep shooting, waiting for us to turn into prey! Damn cowards."
"Once they run out of arrows, they’ll have no choice but to attack. Then we can finish them with a glorious charge."
The knights quickly pictured the battle.
Horse archers swept chaotically across the field while soldiers desperately raised their shields amid the confusion.
In other words, they only had to endure that chaotic rain of arrows.
Keldric raised the obvious question.
"Can our soldiers... hold out that long?"
The knights fell silent. They blinked at Keldric, then turned toward Rutger.
"Forcing them to expend their arrows sounds reasonable, but they aren’t fools."
"Sir Keldric. What's your point?"
"What happens if they keep resupplying their arrows?"
Rutger considered it for a moment, then squeezed his eyes shut. He did not even want to imagine it.
"If, as Sir Keldric says, we fail to make them exhaust their arrows..."
And if the knights failed to smash the enemy formation in time.
"We’d lose."
A heavy silence settled over the tent. Keldric scratched his chin awkwardly.
He felt as though he had killed the mood, but they had to prepare for the worst.
'‘Things never went exactly as planned.’'
He had been fortunate so far, though it had not been luck alone. Circumstances had favored him, and he had worked as hard as he could to make use of them.
But some things could not be achieved through effort alone.
Rain fell when it would, no matter how desperately people performed rites to summon it.
"If it comes to the worst, we may have to force them into close combat."
Rutger murmured. He was trying to patch the flaw Keldric had exposed.
No tactic was perfect, and neither was any victory. Someone always had to bleed.
"If that happens, we’ll need your courage, gentlemen."
Knights were battle-hardened warriors who struggled to find a path to victory even in the worst circumstances.
Keldric had much to think about.
The other knights seemed to feel the same.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Another two days passed, and the pressure of time mounted on Lothar’s army with each passing day.
The beginning of summer was fast approaching. So was a blizzard.
As if heralding it, the weather grew steadily colder, and snow kept falling from the overcast sky.
The north grew more capricious by the day.
At last, Lothar ordered the army forward. They would establish a new camp near Rhamdus Plain.
After several days in Rundt, the nearly two hundred and fifty soldiers marched toward Einhorn, which lay before Rhamdus Plain.
Keldric had seen it before. He had already visited Einhorn after it was plundered.
Lothar had not. His face hardened the moment he arrived.
"This is... the village they plundered?"
"It is."
The question was not directed specifically at Keldric, but he alone answered.
Lothar did not object. His stunned gaze swept across the frozen remains of Einhorn.
The village had been utterly destroyed. Bandits had returned afterward to strip away anything that might still be useful, leaving it devoid of life.
"The people who lived here... were my father’s subjects..."
Lothar murmured, the shock refusing to leave his face.
Neither Keldric nor Rutger stopped him or tried to hurry him away.
They believed seeing the miserable fate of the fief he would one day inherit was something the immature Lothar needed.
"..."
Lothar surveyed Einhorn in silence for a long while.
The piles of straw in the barns had burned black and crumbled. Every gust scattered ash through the village, darkening everything it touched.
It coated even the dirt road beneath Lothar’s horse, blackening its hooves with every step.
"What's that?"
"That is..."
Lothar suddenly pointed. Keldric followed his gaze.
It was the palisade where a corpse had hung during Keldric’s last visit.
The corpse was gone. Only shredded scraps of cloth remained scattered beneath it.
"Pieces of torn clothing."
"Clothing? Why would clothing be..."
"There was a corpse hanging there."
"Where did it go? Did someone come and bury it?"
"The wolves must have dragged it away."
Lothar fell silent again, complicated emotions mingling in his eyes.
The bleak mood made the other knights solemn as well.
"...I want to see their souls saved."
"Sir Lothar. That is..."
"I know. We cannot stay here. We must move forward."
Without burial in consecrated ground and a priest’s intercession, they could not reach heaven.
What awaited the subjects who had been brutally slaughtered and then devoured by beasts?
Would their souls be cleansed in the fires of purgatory? Would that allow them to reach heaven?
A few priests attached to Lothar’s army opened their mouths to offer platitudes, but Rutger silenced them with a grave look.
"Let us be off."
Lothar said dejectedly. Even his horse seemed to mirror its master’s mood as it trudged ahead.
Keldric, the knights, and the soldiers followed behind him.
Everyone felt the tragedy, but it did not lower their morale.
"Fuck, this feels like shit."
"Ptooey. Those fucking bastards..."
Instead, the mercenaries and soldiers gritted their teeth, their fighting spirit rising.
Mercenaries might sometimes turn bandit themselves, but even they were sickened by the sight of a village those foreign soldiers might have ravaged.
Keldric let out a quiet, troubled sigh.
Alisa, riding beside him, handed him a strip of jerky.
He chewed the jerky, eyes fixed far ahead.
The Rhamdus Plain was right before them.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Lothar’s camp was established about one league from Einhorn.
They kept some distance from the center of Rhamdus Plain out of concern that the reckless Rheesian cavalry might raid the camp.
Built more solidly and thoroughly than before, the camp’s defenses were formidable.
Any cavalry charge would first meet the sharpened palisade jutting outward.
Once the defenses were strong enough to put everyone somewhat at ease, Lothar immediately summoned the knights.
"A letter has arrived."
At Lothar’s abrupt announcement, the knights began to murmur.
A letter? Now?
"It came from their commander."
"Commander? Who is that?"
An impatient knight asked. Lothar answered with difficulty, his face darkening.
"Baron Gofrit."
"What? How can that be...!"
"So he escaped alive after all!"
The tent erupted into uproar.
Some argued that they should have pursued Baron Gofrit more persistently; others said the foul weather had made any further pursuit impossible. Everyone had an opinion.
"Quiet! Be quiet!"
Rutger was the one who quelled the uproar.
Once silence returned, Lothar shot Rutger a grateful look and continued.
"First, we should read the letter."
At Lothar’s gesture, Rutger stepped forward and respectfully accepted it.
Rutger unfolded the letter and drew a sharp breath. Then he read aloud in a voice everyone could hear.
"Listen well, you foul seed sown by Baron Yaven, and all his wretched hangers-on!"
I know not what vile trick you used in the last battle, but my loyal and honorable knights will never yield.
I have another great army ready, and I can bring as many more troops as I wish.
Surrender quietly, and this snowy field need not be stained red with your blood.
But if you still insist on fighting and getting yourselves fucked, lead your soldiers to the western center of Rhamdus Plain the morning after next.
That was the gist of the letter. Fury blazed in the knights’ eyes.
"Insolent! Even with battle at hand...!"
"My lord! Grant us the honor of charging them!"
As the hotheaded knights competed to vent their anger, Lothar released a trembling breath.
But instead of flying into a blind rage as before, he seemed determined to focus on the greater issue first.
"First, we should prepare for a night attack. Rutger, reinforce the camp thoroughly and make certain they cannot raid us before the appointed morning."
"I shall do so."
"And... Sir Keldric, stay. I need to speak with you privately."
Keldric looked at Lothar in confusion.
What could Lothar want to discuss with him?
Frankly, it was awkward. Only a few days had passed since Keldric slapped him across the face, and now Lothar wanted a private audience...
The angry knights filed out one by one. Eventually, even the attendants left.
Only three people remained in the tent: Keldric, Rutger, and Lothar.
"Sir Keldric."
Lothar spoke first, and Keldric listened.
"I intend to ride out and fight in the battle the day after tomorrow."
Keldric had not expected that at all.