Chapter 37
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 037
Chapter Title: Battle of the Prague Plains
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Rumble rumble—
Clang, clang!
Over three hundred steel wagons lurched into motion all at once.
Like a colossal iron serpent uncoiling itself and slithering toward its prey—slow, but relentless.
No battle cries rang out.
It was a silent advance that gripped the hearts of the hundred thousand-strong army.
The only sounds were the heavy rumble of wheels crushing the earth and the eerie metallic clatter of thousands of chains knocking against one another.
A low curse escaped the Emperor's lips.
"Mad bastards."
By his reckoning—no, by any medieval tactical manual—it was an incomprehensible sight.
A standard Wagenburg would form a defensive circle and hunker down.
But these fools were crawling forward on their own, right into the heart of the open plain for a head-on clash.
The Elector of Saxony, Friedrich, shouted in excitement.
"Your Majesty! We must teach those arrogant heretics a lesson!"
He had already lowered his visor and gripped his lance tight.
"They actually think those pathetic wagons can stop a charge from our knights? I'll flatten them flat! Give the order to charge right—"
Sigismund silenced him with a raised hand instead of a reply. His gray eyes narrowed.
'What are they playing at?'
Mere bravado? No, if the man were that stupid, Sternberg Castle would have crushed him under the Hussites' boots already.
There had to be something they were counting on.
To shake off his unease, Sigismund played his safest, surest card first.
"Send the archers forward. Rain fire arrows on them."
He issued the order coldly.
"Turn those cumbersome wagons into ash piles. Wooden planks will go up in flames with just a few oil-soaked arrows."
Thum, thum, thum—!
At the Emperor's command, drums echoed across the Imperial army's lines.
The archer units advanced. Oil-soaked rags wrapped around arrowheads were lit aflame as thousands of bowmen drew their strings in unison.
"Loose!"
Shoooosh—!
Thousands of fire arrows streaked through the sky with crimson tails, blanketing the heavens. Like a meteor shower raining down, they poured toward the slowly approaching steel legion.
Sigismund watched the spectacle, arms crossed.
Once that arrow storm hit, the wagons would catch fire, and the soldiers inside would choke on smoke, scrambling out to scream and roll on the ground.
Then, hurl in the knights the moment the enemy's formation crumbled into chaos and trample them. Textbook stuff for the era.
But.
Ting! Titing!
No flames erupted as expected.
No screams either.
The arrows didn't even stick into the wagons.
The wagon roofs sloped at sharp angles, their surfaces sheathed in smooth steel.
Fire arrows plummeting vertically from the sky glanced harmlessly off the steel roofs and tumbled to the ground.
The flames sputtered out on the cold metal plates, leaving only black scorch marks behind.
The Duke of Bavaria beside him yelled in panic.
"Th-that's... not wood!"
"The fire won't take! They've covered the whole damn thing in iron!"
Sigismund couldn't believe his eyes.
'Insane... Solid steel from the floor to the ceiling?'
This wasn't some flimsy iron sheeting tacked onto wooden frames. These were rolling iron slabs.
How many forges would it take to hammer out that many plates one by one? Even emptying the Empire's treasury wouldn't cover it.
Of course, Sigismund had no inkling.
That this steel hadn't come from blacksmith hammers, but from molten metal gushing from blast furnaces, powered by coke.
Sigismund bit his lip.
"Then punch through! Deploy the Genoese crossbowmen! Whether it's boiled leather or thin iron plating, no armor survives a Genoese windlass bolt!"
At the Emperor's order, a thousand Genoese mercenaries stepped forward. They cranked their windlasses, loading bolts into their powerful crossbows.
Creak, creak, creak—
Their mechanical crossbows were monstrous weapons that could pierce a knight's plate armor.
Thin plating on a mere wagon? It'd shred like paper.
"Loose!"
Thwung—!
A heavy thud vibrated the air as a thousand crossbow bolts hurtled horizontally.
But the result was the same.
Or rather, even more pathetic and noisy.
Clang! Ching!
Clatter! Ting!
The bolts failed to penetrate the steel plating.
The wagon armor was cunningly sloped. Bolts flying straight on skimmed up the incline, ricocheting sideways amid showers of sparks.
Even the lucky few that struck perpendicular left only shallow grooves in the thick steel before bouncing off.
"Impossible..."
Sigismund's eyes flew wide in shock.
These were no longer wagons.
Moving walls. No—steel fortresses.
Irritation crept into Sigismund's voice.
"If arrows don't work, rip them apart! Send in the infantry! Target the gaps! Smash the wheels, tear off the doors, drag out those rats inside!"
Waaaaah—!
At the Emperor's command, the Imperial front-line infantry charged with roars.
Men-at-arms in armor and axe-wielding mercenaries surged toward the steel wall.
They swarmed the gaps between wagons, probing for weak spots like wheels or door seams.
"Smash it! Pry the doors open!"
"Hit the joints! Break the hinges!"
The soldiers were clambering onto the wagons, axes raised to swing—
Creak—clack!
When small hatches popped open across the smooth steel plating.
From those dark muzzles, pitch-black gun barrels stared the soldiers right in the face.
"Huh?"
Before one soldier could blurt out his confusion.
Bang bang bang bang—!
Thunder roared as crimson muzzle flashes and black smoke belched from the ports.
No need to aim.
Hand cannons and crossbows fired point-blank into enemies clustered right at the ports were pure slaughter machines.
"Gaaah!"
"Aaaagh! Mercy!"
Armor tore like paper. Peasant conscripts and professional soldiers alike, the front rank collapsed in sprays of blood like felled scarecrows.
"Don't fall back! Push forward!"
The officers urged them on, but it was futile.
Approach and get shot. Retreat and do nothing. Despair.
A mound of corpses piled up before the steel wagons in moments. The air reeked of blood and powder smoke.
Even amid the inferno, the iron serpent pressed on unstopping.
Crunch, snap!
Bodies caught in the wheels shattered with bone-crunching cracks as they were ground underfoot.
Blood-slicked wheels slid forward, steady and inexorable.
Bloodshot veins bulged in Sigismund's eyes.
"Damn it all!"
Even the infantry couldn't breach that steel wall—they were just being minced.
At this rate, his hundred thousand would be crushed under those monstrous wheels.
This wouldn't do.
The Emperor decided to play his trump card.
"Bring up the cannons! Position the bronze stone guns up front! Turn that arrogant steel lump into scrap!"
These were the latest siege guns he'd commissioned at great expense from Italian artisans.
Meant originally to batter Prague's walls, but now priority was smashing these moving barricades.
Rumble—
Ten massive bronze cannons were hauled forward by sweating soldiers and horses, groaning in effort.
"Aim... fire!"
BOOM—!
A deafening blast erupted as scarlet flames jetted from the muzzles. Cannonballs whistled through the white smoke, slicing the air.
Clang—crunch!
"Hit!"
The princes cheered.
Sigismund saw it clearly too. The lead steel wagon took a direct hit.
No amount of steel could withstand a cannonball's kinetic force.
Plating tore like taffy, internal frames splintered, shrapnel and blood sprayed everywhere.
The wagon's axle snapped, and it slumped to one side.
"Yes! Their line's broken!"
Elector Friedrich of Saxony yelled in glee.
"Full charge! Through that gap—!"
A relieved smile tugged at Sigismund's lips—
Grind—
When the half-wrecked wagon didn't stop. It couldn't.
Thick chains linking wagon to wagon pulled taut, dragging the crippled one along.
Its broken wheel scraped the ground, sparking, but the power from front and rear wagons kept the formation intact.
And then the truly horrifying part happened.
The rear door of the wrecked wagon swung open, and bloodied soldiers poured out.
"Cut the chain! Hurry!"
Clank! Click!
Instead of fleeing in terror, they moved with mechanical precision, like well-oiled parts.
One team severed the ruined wagon's linking chain while a reserve wagon accelerated from behind, sliding into place beside it.
"Link up! Move it!"
In seconds, the chains transferred. The scrapped wagon was abandoned roadside, its slot perfectly filled by the new one.
The pierced steel wall reformed into a flawless straight line in under a minute.
"...Hah."
Sigismund exhaled in disbelief.
How the hell do you fight that?
Immortal horde that keeps coming no matter if you blast or stab it.
The infantry had lost all will to fight. Soldiers realized approaching meant bullets, and even cannons were useless—they began falling back.
The front would collapse at this rate.
Sigismund spat through gritted teeth.
"Deploy the knights."
"Yes? Ah, finally!"
Friedrich's face lit up.
"Should've done it sooner! Those crude peasant toys will shatter when our Empire's heavy cavalry slams them! I'll lead the vanguard—!"
"No."
Sigismund cut him off coldly.
"No frontal charge."
"Pardon?"
"Flank them. Spread the forces wide on both sides and hit their flanks and rear."
The Emperor's judgment was ice-cold. Those steel wagons specialized in frontal defense.
But a long chain of linked wagons inevitably left sides and rear vulnerable.
Especially against slow-moving wagons, cavalry's mobility for encirclement would be devastating.
But the electors' response was lukewarm.
"Your Majesty, flanking mere peasant rabble?"
The Duke of Bavaria scoffed.
"Why bother circling those ragtag mobs? Just trample them."
"Agreed. Dishonorable to chivalry. Striking from behind? That's for cowards!"
The electors didn't hide their displeasure.
To them, war was a stage to flaunt valor. Charging gloriously through enemy lines under a hundred thousand eyes to seize banners—that was a knight's dream.
Skulking around like rats to stab backs? An insult to pride.
"You idiots...!"
Sigismund slammed his fist into his saddle.
Thud!
"This isn't playtime for knightly games! Use your eyes! Do those look like peasants? Ragtag mobs?!"
The electors flinched at the Emperor's roar, shoulders hunching.
"That's a wall! Moving steel fortresses! No idiot headbutts a castle barehanded! Hit the weak points! Flank and shatter their formation!"
Killing intent poured from Sigismund's eyes. Under the Emperor's fierce glare, the electors finally shut up.
"...Ahem, understood."
"If that's Your Majesty's will..."
Grumbling, they returned to their knights.
Moments later, trumpets blared, and the Empire's pride—the five thousand heavy cavalry—began to move.
Toot—!
Instead of a frontal charge, they wheeled aside per orders, sweeping wide arcs around the battlefield flanks.
Thud thud thud—
Hooves thundered across the plain.
Banners of Saxony, Bavaria, and Austria fluttered in the wind.
Leading Bavaria's knights, Heinrich rode leisurely with his visor up.
"His Majesty worries too much. Circling around for mere wagons and peasant levies."
His voice dripped with ease.
Three hundred meters from the enemy.
Absolute safe distance—beyond arrows, crossbows, even those fearsome hand cannons.
"Look at them, Sir Heinrich. Hiding in their shells like turtles, thinking it's safe."
"Let 'em. Once we grab their rear, they'll crawl out begging for mercy."
To the knights, this flanking was a boring stroll. Taunting foes out of range, hunting their vulnerable backs.
No way even their frontal armor extended to sides and rear.
"Alright, time to pick up speed? Let's flip those turtles!"
As Heinrich spurred his mount—
Clank! Grind—
The side armor of a passing armored wagon emitted a grotesque metallic screech as it parted.
The knights, eyes fixed ahead, went wide-eyed.
"Wh-what?!"
"Hand cannons at this range?"
"No way they reach!"
The side ports were too large for mere gun barrels—big enough for men to pass.
From the darkness emerged hideous iron lumps.
Not slender hand cannons or the Empire's sleek bronze guns.
Rough, crude black masses.
Three times the number of the Emperor's precious cannons—thirty black muzzles zeroed in on the exposed knights.
"...Cannons! Cannons!"
"Insane! Not one or two!"
"Don't panic! At this distance, even cannons won't reach! They miss anyway!"
As the knights panicked and clamored—
BOOM—!
Dozens of cannons fired at once, unleashing a world-shaking roar.
Whiiiish—!
Shells from the muzzles obliterated the knights' ironclad sense of safety, hurtling straight at them.
"Uh...?"
Heinrich stared blankly at the black dot hurtling toward his face.
Death's mass—impossible to dodge or block.
Crunch! Splatter!
The lead dozen knights exploded into bloody mist, scattered into the air.