Theme Lazica (2)
“The enemy’s here! Enemy forces!”
Soldiers scrambled to their feet in a frenzy, donning their gear and bursting out of their tents. But the Georgian army was already nearly upon them.
“Don’t panic! Grab your weapons and form ranks!”
Asakios’s command rang out. The soldiers obeyed, snatching up their arms and beginning to assemble into formation. The problem was that the enemy would reach them before the ranks could fully form.
Just then, Asakios’s eyes fell on the palisade nearby.
“Form up in the center, with the palisade at your flank!”
Using the wooden wall as a side defense meant they didn’t need a wide horizontal line—just a compact, dense formation to block the enemy charging through the entrance. Infantry battles were called clashes of fronts against fronts, but in truth, they often came down to which side’s cohesion held stronger.
Following Asakios’s order slashed the time needed to form up. And the dense packing boosted their cohesion even further, making it ideal for repelling attacks.
Thanks to this tactic, the East Roman forces formed ranks swiftly, just as Asakios intended. They held their ground firmly against the Georgian onslaught without being pushed back.
The Georgians immediately drew their swords. Spotting this, Asakios barked another order.
“First rank infantry! Right foot—half a step back!”
He remembered the morning’s battle. To avoid repeating the same mistake, he prepared a counter to the oblique attack: shifting the right foot back just half a pace to angle the front line slightly.
To others, it might seem a simple command, but it embodied Asakios’s meticulous tactics.
Clang! The East Romans blocked the incoming oblique strikes from the Georgians as if to demonstrate. At the same time, they exploited the gap created by the half-step shift, thrusting their swords like spears.
“Gahk!”
“Urk!”
The first rank, locked shoulder-to-shoulder with shields blocking enemy blows, usually couldn’t counterattack easily. Standard tactics had them absorb the charge while the second rank’s spearmen struck back. Swords lacked the piercing power to kill in such tight quarters.
But with the right foot half a step back, they freed up their sword arms just enough. This thrusting counter lacked a horizontal slash’s lethality, but at nose-touching range, punching holes in the Georgian bodies was child’s play.
“First rank’s holding the charge! Now the second rank spearmen will… Ngh!”
An arrow whistled past Asakios’s head in a flash. He ducked just in time—his helmet was knocked askew, but that was all. A split-second slower, and his skull would’ve been pierced. He couldn’t afford to relax.
“Spearmen, advance!”
At Asakios’s command, the spearmen surged forward. Stung by their counter, the Georgians began falling back.
“They’re retreating!”
“We’ve won!”
The East Roman soldiers cheered. Asakios scanned the surroundings.
“They won’t retreat this easily.”
Recalling the morning fight, he knew better than anyone how fiercely and efficiently the Georgians fought. For them to launch a night raid, accepting heavy losses, meant they weren’t after a battle victory—they were playing for the war.
As Asakios sized up the situation, the withdrawing Georgians suddenly shifted to an envelopment maneuver.
“Envelopment…! All forces, withdraw! Pull out through the entrance and fall back!”
Chaos erupted among the soldiers at Asakios’s order. They’d just been fighting tooth and nail to hold the pass—now retreat? Panic was inevitable.
Then flames rained down from above.
“F-Fire attack!”
“They’re shooting fire arrows! Run!”
The Georgians loosed fire arrows at the clustered East Romans. Snapping to their senses too late, the soldiers scrambled to retreat.
“Don’t panic! Move by rows and files!”
Even Asakios’s shouts couldn’t quell the ongoing disorder. At this rate, their formation would collapse, leaving them vulnerable to annihilation by the encircling Georgians.
A do-or-die moment.
Then a thunderous voice boomed across the field.
“Everyone, calm yourselves!”
Short and sharp, yet it swiftly quelled the chaos. The voice belonged to none other than Manuel.
“Main body, converge in the center and withdraw. Left flank, move obliquely. Right flank, intercept the enemy targeting our rear.”
Leather horns blared in unison. Flags marking each unit shifted, and the East Roman soldiers moved as drilled.
The chaos dissolved in an instant. Asakios let out a sigh of relief, then issued follow-up orders to the right flank.
“The flames haven’t spread fast yet. First rank shieldbearers and second rank spearmen—hold the enemy attacks. The rest, focus on putting out the fire!”
The soldiers reformed per Asakios’s command. With the first and second ranks in place, the others hauled dirt-filled sacks from the tents used as barriers. They sliced them open, spilling the earth to smother the blaze.
The flames gradually died down. Thanks to the right flank’s efforts, the fire didn’t consume the entire camp.
“We’ve suppressed the fire, at least, but…”
Another problem had arisen: the enemy had fully encircled the East Romans.
Numerically inferior and now surrounded, it was only a matter of time before a focused assault broke them.
“Cavalry! Any cavalry nearby?!”
At Asakios’s shout, a horseman from the Basilikei Hetairoi approached.
“Ride back now and request reinforcements.”
“Understood.”
The cavalryman saluted and mounted up. Asakios knew even at top speed, he wouldn’t reach the garrison district until morning. Even if reinforcements mobilized immediately, they couldn’t arrive before afternoon.
In short, they had to hold until the afternoon of the next day.
Nearly impossible. But surrounded, retreat was off the table—holding was their only path to survival.
“Hah… hah…”
Too exhausted to swing his sword. He wanted to collapse, but couldn’t. If he fell, his comrades would follow.
Gritting his teeth, the man endured.
“Graaah!”
“Guhk!”
Arrows whistled overhead. One pierced his comrade’s forehead beside him, dropping him like a broken scarecrow.
Terror surged. They’d been shoulder-to-shoulder moments ago.
“I don’t wanna die… I don’t wanna die.”
A desperate wish, more prayer than desire. But the Georgians showed no mercy. To him, they were demons charging to steal lives.
“Hah… hah… Ngh!”
Pain throbbed in his shield arm. A Georgian wielding a mace glared with murderous eyes.
One more blow, and his skull would shatter. Desperate, the man leaned his weight into the shield to topple the foe.
“Haaah!”
“Urk?!”
The enemy, aiming for his head, hadn’t expected the counter. He tumbled.
The man mounted the fallen Georgian, drew his dagger from his belt, and jammed it into a gap in the chainmail.
“Guhk! Guh… k…”
The Georgian thrashed for life. As the East Roman dagger—stamped with the imperial eagle—dug deeper, the light faded from his eyes.
“Hah… hah…”
As the man raised his shield to rejoin the line, agony exploded in his gut.
“Gaaaaah!”
Ribs cracking under the impact. Wracked with pain, he flailed helplessly.
A Georgian stomped him down, reversed his spear, and plunged it deep into his throat.
The man died in an instant.
A battlefield of killing and dying. East Romans swung swords to survive; Georgians swung to kill.
“Hold! Reinforcements are coming! Reinforcements… Ngh!”
Asakios, directing with sword in hand. Hearing him, Georgians loosed arrows his way.
One lodged in his right side. Pain nearly tore a scream from him, but with all eyes on him, he couldn’t. Bloodshot eyes clenched, he endured.
“Fall back three paces! Form ranks as you withdraw!”
The soldiers retreated slowly. Normally, breaking an encirclement meant charging forward to punch through. But with too few men, a reckless assault would doom them. Retreat it was.
“Ugh…?”
“No space!”
“They’ve pushed us right to the main body…”
Step by step, they’d been forced back to the central force. No more room to flee.
Even Asakios panicked.
Then a familiar voice called his name. He turned toward Manuel.