XII. The Battle of Ramders Plain (6)
XII. The Battle of Ramders Plain (6)
In times like these, the lords and knights of the northeastern empire often wondered about one question.
What would happen if the empire’s soldiers clashed with the mounted nomads of the east?
The nomads were not merely swift. They used that mobility with remarkable cunning.
By contrast, infantry formed the overwhelming majority of an imperial lord’s army. Knights and heavy cavalry were few.
Given those conditions, eastern knights had concluded that nomadic cavalry would hold the advantage in most situations.
Experience had taught them as much.
When foreign nomads mounted horses they had spent nearly their entire lives beside, imperial foot soldiers became prey.
And when those nomads surrounded them and began shooting from horseback... the gates of hell opened.
The Duchy of Rhees was not a nation founded by nomads.
Some Kakkars had mixed among them, but the Rheesians were descendants of the northern barbarians.
Even so, the Rheesians rode superbly and made active use of horse archers.
They had learned from the nomads pressing in from the east and south, peoples they could not avoid confronting.
The Hezars, Cumans, and Kakkars who ruled the southern plains had carved that lesson into Rheesian bones.
Cavalry ruled the plains—extremely light, swift, and lethal cavalry.
The Rheesians had learned that lesson for the sake of survival.
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The Rheesian cavalry’s objective was simple.
They would completely surround Lothar’s army, circle it, and shower it with arrows.
That would force a short, one-sided war of attrition in which only their enemy bled.
Keldric watched the mass of cavalry tearing across the snowfield ahead.
'‘Their numbers...’'
They had heard there were around a hundred, but the mist had lifted to reveal far more Rheesians than expected.
Keldric had never experienced mounted combat on this scale. Even at Schaffendorf, he had faced only knights and a handful of lightly equipped cavalry.
But he refused to frighten himself before the battle even began.
'‘When had I ever done anything familiar?’'
Nearly everything Keldric had faced was new to him, and he had overcome it all.
This would be no different. He would fight his first large cavalry battle and make it through that as well.
"Sir Keldric, I dried some of the charcoal. I may be able to use magic."
Alisa hurried over while Keldric put on his helmet and tensed for battle.
"How much?"
"About three spells..."
Only three chances to summon pillars of fire powerful enough to melt the surrounding snow in an instant.
Keldric narrowed his eyes at the distant enemy. Seeing their camp so clearly across the open plain felt strange.
The Rheesian cavalry maneuvering before it were an overwhelming sight, and more than a few soldiers shrank at their numbers.
"Can you manage five?"
"I don’t have enough dry charcoal. I’d need to dry more..."
"Is it possible?"
"...I’ll try."
"If you can’t, settle for three. Don’t overdo it."
Alisa nodded and left. Keldric returned his attention to the enemy.
The Rheesian cavalry had formed ranks and halted. Supply troops occupied the spaces among them.
About half appeared to be conscripted peasants, but the remaining thirty were different.
The distance obscured the details, but Keldric could tell those thirty were equipped like elite soldiers.
They were more than well equipped. Most wore metal armor, and kettle hats shaped like inverted pot lids gleamed on their heads.
Rutger studied the enemy beside Keldric and clicked his tongue grimly.
"Tsk. Those men belong to a single mercenary company. Their equipment is nearly uniform."
As Rutger said, the distant mercenaries were equipped much alike.
Keldric's brow furrowed.
An army assembled from several mercenary bands and one supported by a cohesive veteran company were very different things. It was obvious which had better organization.
"Could they overcome our numerical advantage?"
"No. They’re mercenaries too, and among men who all live by the sword, numbers matter more than equipment."
The enemy had barely more than one hundred and seventy men, while Lothar commanded just under two hundred and fifty.
The gap was even wider if they excluded the cavalry. They had to make use of their superior numbers.
BOOOOO—!
After they had watched the enemy for some time, a horn suddenly sounded.
"Move out."
Keldric moved in step with Lothar. The other knights advanced alongside them.
The soldiers went first, followed by the knights and cavalry.
The infantry advanced in a rough semicircle so they could form up quickly.
The enemy stirred in response, with the thirty mercenaries at the fore.
As the distance narrowed, Keldric could see their equipment more clearly.
'Shields?'
Each man carried a large pavise on his back, a short sword at his waist, and a crossbow in his hands.
Their shield emblem caught his eye: a white griffin on a black field.
Henri studied the emblem and shouted in alarm.
"Damn... That’s the Griffin Mercenary Company!"
"The Griffin Mercenary Company?"
"Sir Keldric, you’ve never heard of them?"
Keldric nodded awkwardly.
He worried Henri might think him ignorant, but the knight simply continued his explanation.
"They’re retired soldiers from the Republic of Genovella who decided to keep chasing fortunes after leaving service."
Several republics on the southern peninsula excelled at maritime trade.
They trained professional crossbowmen and hired them out as mercenaries. Several companies had been formed by those men after retirement.
The Griffin Mercenary Company was one of them, and a famous one at that.
Keldric, of course, had known none of this. He stared at the Griffin mercenaries.
"Be careful of those crossbows. Genovellan crossbows are monsters."
"How powerful are they?"
"At close range, they’ll punch through mail without much trouble. Plate... wouldn’t fare well at point-blank range either."
Keldric clicked his tongue. Mail offered far more protection than it appeared to and stopped most arrows.
Those crossbows could pierce it and might even penetrate a plate breastplate at close range.
Their power varied with range and angle, of course. They were most effective at medium and close range.
If they threatened even knights, they would be a catastrophe for ordinary foot soldiers.
"Thirty Griffin mercenaries... Count Rasau must have spent a fortune!"
Henri called out with deliberate cheer. The other knights chuckled and joined in.
"He’s probably ruined now! Will he have to go back to tending sheep?"
"I hear Schaffendorf is short of shepherds. Put in a good word for him!"
"At this rate, they’ll spend all of our share!"
"Then we’ll empty the pockets of those Genovellan swine! Let’s make a fortune off them today!"
The jokes subdued the creeping sense of crisis.
The crossbowmen were dangerous, but the knights did not intend to charge straight into their bolts.
Keldric’s growing unease subsided, replaced by familiar fighting spirit.
BOOOOO—!
The horn gave one long blast. The advancing soldiers halted and formed ranks.
They had moved far enough from camp that the Senzer River was visible in the distance.
Keldric watched the soldiers close their circular formation and reined his horse back.
If the knights were to choose the right moment to charge, they first had to stay out of the immediate fighting.
"Sir Keldric."
As Keldric and the knights formed their ranks, the armored Lothar rode over.
Keldric nodded, and Lothar returned the gesture.
"It looks like they’re about to move."
"Yes. It’s beginning."
Once the soldiers had roughly completed their formation, a horn sounded from the enemy lines.
Keldric stared at the Rheesian cavalry as it began to move.
"Sir Keldric, we may need to move sooner than planned."
Rutger rode over and spoke quietly. Seeing Keldric’s confusion, he explained.
"With the Griffin Company here, simply remaining on the defensive will end badly. Our shields won’t hold."
"In that case..."
"We’ll have to target the crossbowmen first."
Keldric nodded. The charge would come sooner, but nothing fundamental had changed.
They would crush everything in their path. That was all.
WAAAAAH—!!
A roar that shook heaven and earth rolled across the snowfield.
The battle on Rhamdus Plain had begun.
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"Draw!"
The archers raised their bows in unison.
Jorgen, captain of the Ram Mercenary Company, shuddered at the command behind him.
Now it was truly beginning.
They would fight the famous Griffin Mercenary Company and the infamous Rheesian cavalry.
He was afraid, and rightly so. These enemies were proven elites.
Jorgen was accustomed to cutting down inept mercenaries, but these men were anything but inept.
"Loose!"
Arrows soared into the sky, whistling sharply through the air.
The deadly volley flew after the maneuvering horse archers.
But the Rheesians were swift. They turned their mounts and evaded as smoothly as before.
THUD-THUD-THUD!
Dozens of arrows buried themselves harmlessly in the ground. Several Rheesian horse archers shouted mockery in their own language and raised their bows.
"Those sons of bitches...!"
Jorgen could not understand a word of the Rheesians' speech.
He could still tell that most of their words were taunts.
Another volley came, but the Rheesian horse archers wheeled their mounts away once more.
Jorgen's eyes faintly wavered.
The horse archers closed with terrifying speed. The soldiers tightened their circular formation.
"Hold your shields tight!"
A veteran mercenary’s shout rang across the battlefield.
The horse archers had reached them and begun circling the packed formation.
Jorgen swallowed hard.
They did not ride in a tight cluster. They spread into a long ring around the soldiers.
They nocked arrows. Their foreign clothing made them seem even more frightening.
Jorgen had shot a bow before. Contrary to appearances, drawing one required tremendous strength.
Doing so from horseback was another matter entirely. His tension reached its peak.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck...!"
A spearman behind him ground out the curses.
Jorgen almost had to worry that the madman would stab him in the back.
But worrying about the spear behind him was a luxury. The arrows before him were far more immediate.
Dozens of horse archers now circled the formation.
Their hooves tore through the snow and exposed the frozen earth beneath.
Jorgen gripped his shield and muttered.
Fucking Rheesian bastards. Fucking savages!
TWANG!
Bowstrings snapped all at once, and Jorgen’s body went rigid.
THUD-THUD-THUD!
Jorgen nearly dropped his shield in shock.
The arrows struck with terrifying force.
Most glanced away, but several lodged deeply enough for their tips to protrude through the shield.
No one had been hit yet, but Jorgen did not know how long that would last.
TWANG! A second volley rained down.
Some arrows cut through the wind with a piercing whistle.
The sound magnified Jorgen’s anxiety.
Then came a third volley, and a fourth...
The barrage never stopped. Fear gradually spread across Jorgen’s face.
'‘Th-those bastards...!’'
Rheesian horse archers were not ordinary bowmen. They had no reason to fire in synchronized volleys.
They understood exactly what they were doing.
By shooting at their own pace, they could keep the arrows falling without pause and make everyone behind the shields tremble.
"Ghk!"
The first casualty fell. A stray arrow struck a spearman near Jorgen.
Jorgen could not even be sure that man was truly the first.
WHIIIIISH! WHIIISH!
Everything around him was too loud. The arrows screaming through the wind were deafening.
The Rheesians were firing peculiar arrows pierced with holes. They shrieked as they cut through the air.
His eardrums felt ready to burst. The wailing whistle made the pain in his shield arm even worse.
He was going mad. He truly was!
"A-aaaaagh!"
"Hold your shields! Shields!"
"Hey! What are you doing? Hold your fucking shield straight!"
"Loose! Keep them away!"
Only then did Jorgen realize the formation had descended into chaos.
The whistling arrows had mesmerized him, but the battlefield was already filled with terrified shouts and screams.
Arrows battered his shield without pause.
Jorgen could not steady his breathing. Fear-filled eyes stared through a gap in the shields.
"They're shooting again!"
"Fuck, hold on!"
The Rheesians still had plenty of arrows. They were waiting for the right moment.
They would wait until the frightened animals in their burrow could endure no longer and fled into the open.
The hunt had already begun, and Jorgen and the other soldiers were the prey.
"Arrows! Arrows!"
"Ghk!"
Chaos descended upon Rhamdus Plain.
If they wanted to live, they had to hold.