Chapter 70: Northern Debut (2)
Chapter 70: Northern Debut (2)
Baron Est was not the only lord with a crisis on his doorstep. Many others were sending pleas for help in every direction, whether anyone answered or not.
There were also plenty of people looking to profit from the chaos in the North, by fair means or foul.
It was inevitable that Eugene's army would encounter other mercenary companies on the march.
Unlike frontier Bonyard, this was the heart of the turmoil. Even the smallest bands numbered forty or fifty, and some groups had more than a hundred.
"Dark elves?"
"Hey, don't stare. No point picking a fight."
Even the mercenaries who roamed these dangerous lands like wild dogs kept their eyes down and behaved themselves.
A skirmishing force armed entirely with composite bows was one of the few enemies even knights hesitated to charge.
Moreover, many of the tribal warriors accompanying Eugene were horse archers adapted to the Roman plains.
"Rex, may I see your bow for a moment?"
"Of course."
Rex handed Eugene his bow. Its limbs were thick and irregularly curved, almost as if they had not been fully worked.
"Just looking would have been enough."
"You cannot really understand a bow until you hold it in your hands and test the string yourself."
"Thank you."
To a dark elf, a bow meant even more than a sword did to a knight. It was a symbol of a warrior's pride and also a means of courtship between lovers.
The same was true when the head of a house passed leadership to a successor. Humans symbolically handed over a sword; dark elves gave a bow.
"I did not know you were interested in bows, Sir Knight. Do knights not usually hate them as cowardly weapons?"
Knights hated ranged weapons. After all, there was something tragic about a noble knight who had trained in blood and sweat dying to a lowly mercenary's bolt.
That was why mercenaries threw away their crossbows first when surrendering on the battlefield. A knight who spared ordinary soldiers would often kill a crossbowman without mercy.
"I've always been interested in bows. When I was a child, I wanted to become a hunter."
PERK.
Nearby, Varda's long ears pricked up.
Haind and the mercenary captain stopped chatting as well. Eugene rarely spoke about his past.
Only Homi kept stroking her warhorse Sandy as if uninterested. She had been with him all along and already knew the story.
"Why? Do I not look like I would make a hunter?"
"Of course not. A knight as valiant as you, becoming a hunter?"
"I mean it. If I had never met my master and never become a knight... I would probably be living in the frontier mountains with Homi, hunting rabbits and pheasants and selling herbs and mushrooms we gathered."
Rex and everyone around them looked utterly unconvinced.
It hardly sounded like something a man should say after slaying magical beasts, smashing a golem apart with a blunt weapon, and breaking through a castle gate to capture it.
"Anyway, even as a knight I am still interested in bows. Those mercenaries we passed were afraid because of the bows you all carry, were they not?"
"Of course. If anyone touches us, we chase them to the ends of hell and put arrows in them."
"After looking around several tribal camps during the festival, I could not help but think more highly of bows."
"Ah! So you saw them."
Just as Eugene had displayed the wendigo trophy, every tribe had hung up trophies from monster hunts during the festival.
Even small tribes possessed trophies far beyond what an ordinary human noble house could boast.
They must have spilled incomparably less blood taking those trophies than human knights and soldiers would have.
"Come to think of it, I cannot remember ever seeing you maintain your bows. I heard composite bows were difficult to care for."
"Our bows are special. Touch those leaves."
Rex pointed to the green leaves attached at several points on the bow.
"I thought they were just decorations."
They felt springy under his fingertips, almost as though they were alive and breathing.
"Yes. Our bows are almost half-living creatures. Minor damage heals itself, and even if they get wet, they recover their original elasticity once they dry."
"That is remarkable."
Eugene was genuinely impressed.
Composite bows, made by gluing together elastic materials, could deliver tremendous power from a compact frame.
They were ideal for horse archers, but inherently vulnerable to moisture and less durable.
The dark elves' composite bows were treasures that overcame those weaknesses. They still had one drawback.
"In pure power, they are slightly weaker than human composite bows."
"A minor drawback."
Maintaining consistent performance regardless of weather was an enormous advantage.
It meant archers could grow accustomed to the same trajectory and range every time. The more skilled they became, the more dramatically precise their shooting could become.
"Is creating a living bow a form of magic as well?"
"We think of it as craftsmanship. Still, it is a secret art only a people blessed by the forest can practice, so I suppose you could call it magic."
Eugene returned the bow to Rex.
"If you want one, I will have one made for you. With your strength, it should be a special bow built to suit you."
"Please do. And one for Homi too, if possible."
"Leave it to me."
Rex smiled, apparently pleased by the thought of Eugene carrying the same kind of weapon on his back.
Though their houses were already bound by pact, Rex hoped to share still more with the great knight.
When Baron Est's territory was not far ahead, a tribal scout returned with a report.
"There is a battle site and bodies ahead. Judging by their condition, it happened less than an hour ago."
"Where were they from?"
"Pirates, I think. The bodies had the musculature of both oarsmen and warriors. That is characteristic of Inland Sea raiders."
Whenever the tribal scouts found a corpse, they stripped it naked and examined it in detail.
This was knowledge and experience accumulated over centuries of roaming the continent. Warriors who inherited it could draw a remarkable amount of information from a simple inspection.
"Judging by the tracks, there is probably a large battle underway nearby. Shall I send new scouts?"
"No. I will check it myself. If necessary, we may have to join the fighting immediately. Homi!"
At times like this, Homi's unrivaled hearing and sense of smell made her especially dependable.
"What is her secret?"
"No beastkin—no, not even a hunting dog—could possibly match that."
Dark elves revered victory every bit as much as strength, and any talent that made victory easier always earned deep respect.
With Homi leading, Eugene and the swift horse archers spurred their mounts after her.
The riders wore light leather armor, and their warhorses had been bred for speed and endurance. The combination gave them astonishing mobility.
Before long, faint sounds reached them: iron striking iron, shouts, screams, curses, and profanity rolling toward them like waves.
"A noble army and pirates."
"It looks like they were coming to reinforce a neighboring domain and got ambushed."
A large battle was underway in an open area. Pirates had half-surrounded a force flying a noble banner and were attacking ferociously.
They were not fully encircled. They had tried to retreat, been caught from behind, and were now forced to fight.
There were nearly three hundred fighters between both sides. The noble army was outnumbered but held on behind heavy infantry and knights, though it was steadily being pushed back.
"We are joining the fight."
Eugene drew his flail. Between here and North Fork, the more breakwaters there were and the fewer vermin, the better.
Meanwhile, the pirates were jubilant with victory seemingly within reach.
"Almost there! Keep pushing them!"
"Don't kill the noble! His ransom is worth more than a hundred of your lives!"
They had chased down a noble who desperately tried to escape and finally pinned him in place. The pirates were already seeing gold.
He was not merely a noble but a lord who had taken the field in person. Capture him and they would strike it rich at once.
Their excitement had weakened their watch on the perimeter, so only a handful of pirates in the rear noticed the cavalry appearing behind them.
"W-wait! Cavalry behind us—Ghk!"
The men who tried to shout a warning were struck down by arrows.
There were broadly two ways to quickly identify a military force on the battlefield.
The first was the banner. Even illiterate mercenary captains desperately memorized the emblems of noble houses and mercenary companies.
That seemingly trivial knowledge could decide whether a man put his head in the lion's jaws or caught hold of a lifeline.
Mercenary companies numbering in the hundreds sometimes even brought along scholars who specialized in heraldry.
The second method was the horn call.
Unlike banners, which could be difficult to identify depending on distance and wind, horn calls were much more immediate.
The drawback was that you had to have heard a horn call on a battlefield before you could recognize it, so identifying enemies this way was difficult.
BWOOO!
"Damn it! It's those pointy-eared bastards!"
"Aaaagh! Shields! SHIELDS!"
Put another way, a force whose horn call was widely known was dangerous beyond imagination.
Horse archers in fitted leather armor approached with black cloaks streaming behind them, bows leveled.
The pirates screamed as though a storm had caught them at sea.
WHIZZ!
THUNK!
THUD!
The whistle of arrows through the air and the wet impacts of arrowheads biting into flesh sounded almost simultaneously.
As men in the rear ranks crumpled in droves clutching vital wounds, the mood of the battlefield changed at once.
"Reinforcements!"
The noble army, which had been fighting desperately, roared as its morale surged.
"My lord! It is dangerous! Fall back!"
"I will not hear it! This is the time to commit everything we have!"
Despite his escort knight's attempt to stop him, the lord swung his sword and advanced.
"Heavy infantry, forward! The pirates are the ones surrounded now! Do not leave our righteous rescuers to fight alone!"
The knights and household heavy infantry charged fiercely after their lord to protect him at the front.
The pirates had already surged forward and broken formation. When they suddenly came under fierce attack from both front and rear, confusion swept through them.
Meanwhile, Eugene realized the tribal horse archers were not simply trying to kill as many enemies as possible.
'They fight remarkably intelligently.'
They carved away at the shape of the battlefield with arrows like potters shaping clay. They spent more time watching the enemy formation as a whole than any individual target.
"Spearmen! Shield-bearers! Get out there right no—"
FWOOSH-FWOOSH-FWOOSH.
"Ghk!"
"Captain!"
The pirate issuing orders went down with nearly ten arrows in him.
Whenever a veteran who looked like a squad leader or officer began issuing orders, concentrated fire immediately rained down on him.
After this happened again and again, only common troops remained in the rear, milling around in confusion.
Even when shield-bearing pirates reached the rear, it did little good.
"Aaaagh!"
Arrows struck precisely at exposed places such as ankles and shoulders. Not a single shot buried itself in a shield.
"Come on, you bastards!"
Spear-wielding pirates glared with murderous fury, but the horse archers wheeled away when they came within ten meters.
"Ghk!"
"Urgh!"
Even while wheeling away, the riders twisted flexibly at the waist and loosed arrows behind them, making the pirates shake with rage.
If they broke formation to chase, even more of them would die. Infantry could not catch cavalry to begin with.
"Don't panic!"
"Their numbers are small!"
The pirates realized the attackers numbered only in the dozens.
"Would you be spouting that if you were standing at the front?!"
"They're coming again!"
But the pirates on the very front line wanted to scream at the comrades shouting from behind them.
The pirates trembled at the sight of the black-cloaked reapers charging again to harvest dozens of lives.
This time, however, something was different.
FLAP!
At their head rode a huge knight in a cloak far more magnificent than theirs.
"Wh-what is that?"
The knight spun an enormous, grotesque flail, creating a black whirl overhead that drew every eye.
CRACK!
One unlucky pirate made a sickening sound as the contents of his skull sprayed in every direction.
Eugene did not stop there. He smashed pirate skulls one after another.
Each time the iron mass of three joined mace heads crashed down, blood and gore fountained from a corpse.
CRUNCH!
A shield was no protection. The three mace heads linked by chains whipped over its edge and smashed the back of a skull, a neck, or a shoulder.
With their shields raised, the pirates' exposed bellies were pierced by arrows without mercy. Their poor armor made the shots even deadlier.
THUNK!
The pirates screamed at the sight of arrowheads protruding from comrades' backs with coils of intestine caught on them.
CRUNCH!
SPLASH!
Gore from shattered skulls spurted upward and rained down over them.
"Eek!"
"It's over! We have to run!"
Some collapsed and wet themselves, while others clutched their heads and hid behind their comrades.
CLENCH.
At the sight, Eugene tightened his grip on the flail.
'I need to smash more heads!'
It was not because he was particularly sadistic or cruel. It was a performance meant to destroy the enemy's will to fight.
Spear-wielding pirates leveled their weapons with trembling hands, but Eugene actually had the longer reach.
He swung the flail low to keep the chain from tangling and shattered the spearmen's ankles and shins.
"My leg!"
"L-let go of me, you crippled bastard!"
The maimed pirates clung to the trouser legs of nearby comrades and dragged at them.
Eugene and the dark elves simply left those men alone. Men consumed by pain and fear only made things easier for the attackers.
Unfamiliar horror and the fear of death—those were the two things they needed to spread like a plague.
Soon Eugene's main force arrived, and more horse archers and heavy cavalry charged in.
BWOOO!
Hoofbeats shook the earth beneath the blare of the horn.
The pirates who had thrown down their weapons began fleeing, sobbing and shoving past their comrades.