Chapter 31
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 031
Chapter Title: The Cumans (2)
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The Cumans.
The moment that word left the messenger's mouth, the air around us sank heavy like a lump of lead.
Whispers and murmurs—
The lively clamor of the construction site, which had been buzzing just moments ago, vanished as if it had all been a lie. The creak of cart wheels, the clang of hammers, the shouts of laborers—all ground to a halt.
A red brick slipped from the hands of a laborer carrying materials and thudded into the muddy ground. But no one made a move to pick it up.
Elderly men shrieked and collapsed to their knees, crossing themselves frantically. The Jewish accountants, the local Sternberg peasants—everyone's faces had drained white as sheets.
"The Cumans... those devils are back?"
"Oh, God forbid. God forbid..."
Even Sir Kuno, the grizzled veteran knight who had seen it all, had his lips trembling. The knuckles of his hand gripping his sword hilt were bloodless and pale.
'The Cumans.'
I knew exactly who they were.
Descendants of the Turkic nomads, the Kipchaks, who once ruled the northern steppes of the Black Sea.
Fleeing westward, ever westward from the Mongol Empire's hooves, they had been taken in by the Kingdom of Hungary.
And Hungary's current king was none other than Sigismund.
They were Sigismund's hunting dogs.
No, calling them hunting dogs was too noble.
They were rabid dogs.
1403.
The year Sigismund kidnapped his half-brother, King Wenceslaus IV of Bohemia at the time, and invaded Bohemia to seize the throne.
The vanguard Sigismund had led with was none other than these Cuman mercenaries.
Exotic Eastern armor, bizarre topknots with shaved heads leaving only the crown, and above all, their signature iron masks shaped like human faces.
To the people of Bohemia, the Cumans were no longer human.
Beasts who knew no chivalry, honor, or mercy. Heathens who torched churches despite seeing the cross, raped nuns, and slit children's throats like toys.
Charging on horseback with iron masks gleaming, slashing people down with their scythe-like sabers, laughing as they burned villages—their image had seared an indelible trauma into every Bohemian heart.
The memory of the mining town of Kuttenberg, famed for its silver, reduced to ashes beneath their hooves was still vivid in the minds of the Bohemian people.
"Where are they now?"
At my question, the messenger gasped ragged breaths and pointed south with a trembling hand.
"The moment they crossed the Moravian border, they started torching nearby villages at random. The border guards tried to intercept, but..."
I didn't need to hear the rest.
Frail conscripts under some local lord were no match for nomad cavalry who lived and breathed on horseback their entire lives.
They'd probably been turned into pincushions by arrow barrages and wiped out. Or maybe they'd begged the Cumans to spare their lands, opening the gates and offering food.
"The guards won't hold long. They might already be through. Their mobility is just too fast..."
"Their destination? Where are they heading?"
"Th-that's unclear."
The messenger bit his lip.
"They're scattered in small bands pillaging everywhere, making it hard to track their main path. But the bulk seems headed north."
North.
Toward here, Sternberg.
But north of Moravia wasn't just Sternberg. There was the royal capital Prague, and Kuttenberg, Bohemia's silver purse.
Sir Kuno groaned beside me.
"Could be Kuttenberg. Plunder there means hauling off a fortune in silver."
"Or maybe they're aiming for Prague."
Konrad, the seneschal, chimed in with a pallid face.
"Striking the capital would undermine Your Highness's prestige and sow terror."
The retainers' opinions varied. Given the Cumans' notoriety and greed, they were all plausible guesses.
But I crossed my arms and shook my head.
'No.'
I pictured a map of Bohemia in my mind.
The Cumans were nomads. Their strength lay in wind-like mobility and ambushes, not stubborn sieges scaling walls.
Kuttenberg? Prague? Those were fortress cities ringed by high, sturdy walls.
No matter how fierce the Cumans, an advance party on horseback without siege engines couldn't breach those gates.
They weren't fools; they'd avoid bloody sieges with no gain.
'Raiders go for easy prey.'
Places without walls or with flimsy ones.
Underdefended but rich in loot.
And above all...
'The place Sigismund hates most.'
My gaze slowly swept over my feet, across the Sternberg domain.
A massive construction site swarming with tens of thousands of workers.
Half-built walls patchy in places.
Piles of expensive materials, food, and heaps of silver coin everywhere.
Above all, the lair of Ulrich the Heretic King, a thorn in the eye of the self-proclaimed Bohemian king and emperor.
Their target wasn't Kuttenberg's silver or Prague's honor.
"Sternberg. They're coming here."
Horror washed over the retainers' faces.
"U-us? But this isn't a strategic hub—it's just a rural fief..."
"Is it, though?"
I smirked and pointed at the construction site.
"Look there. Bohemia's every artisan and laborer is gathered here. The vast fortune I've poured in is stacked up right there. And besides..."
I tapped my chest with a finger.
"Isn't the 'Heretic King' Sigismund wants dead more than anyone right here?"
Did Sigismund know I was here? That tens of thousands were building a city here?
Maybe, maybe not. It didn't matter.
Sternberg was my domain. Capturing the Heretic King would be ideal, but even torching it would be a huge blow to me.
And if his hounds trampled a castle even the Hussites couldn't take, that alone would be propaganda gold.
'Sigismund, you sly old fox.'
His intent in sending the Cumans before his regular knights was crystal clear.
'Remind Bohemia of the hell from twenty years ago, eh?'
The emperor hadn't sent an army.
He'd sent terror.
Putting the most brutal, uncontrollable pagan mercenaries at the fore to spread panic across Bohemia.
A psychological war to break the people's will and make lords surrender in fear before blades even crossed.
And it was working perfectly.
The laborers were already stirring, murmuring in panic.
"Oh Lord... the Cumans?!"
"We gotta run! We'll all die if they come!"
"They'll skin us alive if they catch us!"
Terror spread faster than any plague. To Bohemians, fear of the Cumans was like the Black Death.
Konrad clutched my robe, pleading.
"Y-Your Highness! Then you must flee at once! No walls, not enough troops! You need to head to Prague now!"
Sir Kuno nodded gravely.
"My lord, the seneschal is right. Our men will buy time with our lives. You must go to safe Prague..."
"Flee?"
I looked between them.
Their eyes held sincere loyalty—and unconcealed dread.
To men who remembered 1403's nightmare, facing the Cumans in open battle was suicide.
But.
"Sir Kuno. Get a grip."
"M-my lord?"
"What happens to them if I run?"
I pointed to the tens of thousands below the wall, gazing up with anxious eyes.
Prague citizens who followed me in faith.
Breadwinners sweating for a single silver coin of hope.
My peasants and Jews.
The moment I fled, they'd be Cumans' prey. Sigismund would slaughter them all as an example, salting the earth.
Thousands of fast Cuman riders charging in to burn and kill would turn this into living hell in moments.
'I didn't forge steel through all this hardship for that.'
I gazed at the steelworks belching smoke beyond the wall, the half-built brick houses.
Those were my assets.
And the people working there were my subjects—my factory labor.
No one touches a single one, a single brick, without my say-so.
Not even the emperor's hounds.
"They're not devils. Just mercenaries bought with coin. They bleed when stabbed, die when beheaded—humans."
Cumans were nomads. Fast, cruel, light armor.
That meant paper-thin against firepower.
If they came to ravage Bohemia with twenty-year-old memories, I'd show them centuries ahead.
"We don't run. Prepare for battle."
Sir Kuno hesitated, then met my eyes with resolve.
"...If that's your will, my lord, I obey."
He cinched his helmet straps and replied solemnly.
"I'll ensure those beasts never set foot in your domain. As long as my head's attached, no pagan crosses this wall."
Then Janos, guarding my side, approached.
"My lord."
Ditching his usual smirk, he rubbed his chin seriously.
"You plan to meet them head-on like this? They're not mere bandits—born in the saddle."
"And?"
"Shouldn't we call for aid? Send riders to nearby lords. They've crossed the border—surely the king calls banners, and nobles ride with their levies? Even those snake-like bastards are under the Hussite flag, right?"
Janos's words were perfectly sensible.
In feudal society, neighbors aided attacked fiefs—it was duty and custom. And nominally, I was their king.
But I scoffed.
"Wake up, Janos. They won't come."
"Why not? The nobles hate Sigismund too."
"Hating him doesn't mean risking their necks for us."
I faced reality coldly.
"Right now, they're barring gates and shaking. News of Cumans hits, and they'll huddle defending their own, watching to see if I hold or get torn apart."
I wasn't yet an absolute lord worth their lives. Fear trumped loyalty.
Better not count on them dying for me.
"Besides, Cumans are too fast. By the time we send messengers and they lumber into motion, our domain's ash."
Bohemia was still messy inside—Catholic lords lingered.
Major ones like Budweis or Rosenberg, Catholic Hussite foes, would sooner join the emperor than send me troops.
I could trust only myself.
"Current forces?"
Janos tsked and pulled a ledger.
"A thousand militia from Prague. Plus local levies—a bit."
Roughly one thousand against three.
Not just outnumbered. Infantry versus cavalry.
Against Europe's fastest nomad horse, open field odds neared zero.
Couldn't turn Sternberg Castle's yard into a bloodbath either. No way I'd make my precious industrial zone a battlefield.
'I choose my battlefield.'
I pulled a map of southern Bohemia from my breast and spread it on a rock with a rustle.
Parchment detailed the Sazava River, forests, Sternberg terrain.
I traced it slowly with a finger.
"Here."
My finger tapped a spot.
Sir Kuno and Janos peered over.
"This is..."
"Lure them here."
Shortest path from border to Sternberg.
A pass they'd have to take if they scented our domain.
"And Janos."
"Yes, my lord."
"Prepare the fastest horse. Ride to Tábor Fortress and deliver a letter to Commander Zizka."
"Understood. What should it say?"
A chilling smile crept across my lips.
"Tell him it's time to show the world the power of the Panzer."