Chapter 22: Civil War Era - The Battlefield of Lafayette (3)
After the continuous roar of artillery had passed, the majority of knights and cavalrymen were left unrecognizable as human beings.
Those fortunate enough to survive were either writhing in agony, clutching their lost arms or legs, or completely frozen, having lost their senses.
Even the friendly troops who witnessed this, and the artillerymen who had fired the shots, stood dumbfounded at the sight, with some even vomiting.
Upon seeing this, I immediately spurred my horse towards the artillerymen, shouting:
"Snap out of it! The battle isn't over yet! Reload quickly!"
"Begin reloading!"
Even though our strategy had effectively wiped out the knights, the enemy forces still vastly outnumbered ours by more than double.
The only silver lining was that the enemy, upon witnessing their main force of knights and cavalry being annihilated in a form of combat they had never seen before, were standing dumbfounded.
The artillery fire had started from the high ground behind us, not from our side.
As another volley of steel bullets flew into the chaotic enemy ranks, it was clear that the enemy was increasingly unsettled.
"Prepare the musketeers for firing! Quickly!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Reloading complete!"
"Fire!"
The artillerymen covered their ears as this time, canister shots flew towards the enemy soldiers who had approached closer.
At this distance, one could clearly see the enemy soldiers screaming in horror before being crushed and blown away by the steel bullets.
"The musketeers are ready!"
"Fire!"
Following this, the musketeers' guns spewed fire, and as countless soldiers fell, the enemy, having witnessed the demise of their knights, began to visibly falter from the center to the sides.
"My lord, the enemy mages!"
However, as the musketeers diligently worked their gun barrels, a deluge of water rained down upon them, rendering dozens of guns useless in an instant.
This is still manageable!
"Keep reloading and firing! The enemy has already lost their composure!"
Now, soon.
No sooner had the cavalrymen, with Gaston leading, burst out of the forest, they were seen racing towards the flanks of the enemy soldiers, who had been standing dazed, receiving the brunt of the artillery fire.
Finally!
I too drew my sword and shouted.
"Everyone, draw swords! Prepare to charge!"
"Everyone, draw swords!"
"Prepare to charge!"
The musketeers hastily discarded their guns and drew their swords, and the spearmen stepped forward in unison. However, the sight of those still dazed and dragging their feet was frustrating beyond words.
"Charge! Wipe them out!"
At last, as I spurred my horse to charge ahead first, even the frightened soldiers began to follow.
"Follow the Young Duke! Full assault!"
"Charge! Charge!"
The enemy, having lost their leaders and unable to act amidst the continuous gunfire and artillery, were suddenly overwhelmed by our charging forces.
Seeing the faces of the completely panicked and confused enemies drawing closer, I was certain.
We had won.
***
Damien de Mirbo, with a face as if his soul had left him, watched in shock as his troops, halted in their tracks by the sight of the knights being annihilated, were being battered by gunfire and artillery.
"Am I dreaming right now?"
The Young Duke of Lafayette.
Whenever one thought they were winning against him, it was always the moment of most devastating defeat. Unwittingly, he had fled like a coward.
Even so, Damien could never have imagined such a disastrous defeat.
A battle of 4,000 against 1,500.
His side had significantly more knights.
But the knights and cavalrymen, who had charged forward under the banners of the duke and the count, vanished in an instant. The duke, the count, and even his older brother he so detested, were all gone.
Literally, with the leaders and main force of the army evaporated, the royal army was at a loss.
"Si-sir! No, my lord! You are now the commander!"
"W-what?"
As the voice of his close knight, Kazel, reached him faintly, Damien de Mirbo responded in a daze, to which Kazel shouted again.
"The Duke and the Count have fallen in battle! Damien de Mirbo, my lord! You are now the commander!"
"Enemy knights and cavalry ambushed from the forest are charging our flanks!"
"My lord! What should we do, your Excellency!"
"The enemy has begun their assault! It's a total offensive!"
Desperate cries for orders echoed around him like distant echoes.
Thrust unwillingly into the coveted position of the Count of Mirbo, Damien looked on with a dazed expression at the royal army, which was in complete disarray and on the verge of collapse, despite its numerical superiority.
In front of him, the enemy surged like a tidal wave, led by knights bearing the flag of Lafayette at the forefront.
The roaring lion emblem. Seeing the familiar insignia of Lafayette, Damien felt an intense phantom pain in his back.
The sensation of being unseated from his horse in their first encounter and the nightmare-like memory of being shot with an arrow while fleeing during their second encounter sent shivers down his spine.
"I can't win against him."
"Sir?"
"Flee!"
"What do you mean, my lord!"
In front of the knights and vassals still in the rear, Damien, with a pale and frightened face, cried out desperately.
"Retreat! Order a full retreat! Everyone save your own lives!"
***
"Ah, aah-! Get away! Go away-"
As I cleaved the back of a screaming, fleeing enemy with my sword, I swiftly drew a dagger to dispatch another who was a bit further ahead.
Looking around, the enemy forces, having lost their leadership, were virtually in disarray, while Gaston and the cavalry mercilessly pursued and expanded their victories.
I couldn't be sure of the exact extent of the enemy's losses, but it was clear they had suffered significant damage while our side had minimal casualties.
I noticed a group approaching on horseback from the rear and immediately rode towards them.
"...Congratulations, Young Duke. I was genuinely worried, but this is an unexpectedly great victory."
At the head of the group.
Christine, who was riding a horse, not in her usual dress, but in military uniform and a hat with a stylish feather, spoke calmly.
Her insistence on wearing black, even in such attire, felt very much like her.
"Thanks to the Countess' support from the rear. It must have been tight timing to arrive here, but I appreciate your timely arrival."
Christine had been directing artillery support from a hill in the forest.
At my request, she secretly trained an army of 1,000 and joined us just in time, agitating the duke precisely as I had planned.
"So, what do you intend to do now?"
"I'll immediately regroup the entire army and head to the Nivernais Plains."
"To support the main force of the Duke, I presume."
"Exactly. Although we've won here, if the main force collapses, it's all for naught. However..."
"Baron Caron is gathering forces from his territory to come here. Please let Aquitaine handle the annihilation of the enemy remnants and the defense of Lafayette's territory."
"...That's a kind offer, but are you sure you'll be alright?"
We have won a great victory, but the enemy's forces are still considerable. Even if they are a disorganized rabble, it's risky to leave the Duke's territory entirely unguarded.
I was about to ask for this very thing, but Christine, as if reading my mind, surprised me.
Even if bringing the troops I had entrusted her with and leading part of them falls within our agreement, her participation in the war with Aquitaine's troops is a clear involvement in a civil conflict.
"What's to wonder? Sending a warning to the king was a pre-emptive move. If you, Young Duke, had lost here, I would have retreated to my territory and acted ignorant. But you won, didn’t you?"
With that, Christine laughed heartily and added,
"So, our secret alliance ends here. Now, as a formal ally, I will reap the harvest from the already defeated enemy on behalf of the busy Young Duke. Who would refuse to pick the fruits from a battle already won?"
Ah, she's really something.
"Truly, I am fortunate to have you as an ally, Countess."
As I said this and offered a handshake, Christine also smiled and accepted it.
"How coincidental. I was thinking the same, Young Duke. ...Oh?"
I pulled her closer with strength, speaking softly so only she could hear.
"Be careful, Christine. I saw a few knights in the rear earlier.
Your safety is more important than any victory."
Christine, initially surprised by my pull, quickly responded with a provocative smile.
"...Look who's talking. Be careful yourself, Pierre. I've invested in this fight because I believe in you."
Her response brought an involuntary smile to my face, and I let go of her hand and stepped back.
"Ha, understood. I'll be cautious, Countess. Perhaps you'll share a bit of the spoils you've gathered thanks to me later?"
"We'll see about that, Young Duke."
True to form, she wasn't about to concede even a single word.
I then raised the flag high.
Hearing the sergeants loudly calling for assembly upon recognizing the flag, I glanced briefly at Christine.
She had already turned her back on me, busy giving orders to her vassals.
I too turned my horse's head. Feeling a sense of solidarity, as if our backs were touching, I headed towards the next battlefield.
Next up is the main dish, King Louis.
***
In the eastern part of the Kingdom of Francia, in Ber—?
The forces of the Duke of Orléans and the Duke of Lorraine, after engaging in sporadic scouting skirmishes for the first few days of their encounter, eventually faced each other, setting up camp in a standoff.
A tall man dressed in a splendidly ornate cavalry uniform with a fancy fur hat, mounted on his horse, gazed leisurely at the smoke rising in the distance. Then, he turned his horse around and began to gallop towards his own camp.
"Commander."
"Chief!"
"Hey there, good job everyone. Do I look good today as well?"
"Haha, yes, yes. Very handsome, sir."
The man threw a rather shameless question and received half-hearted, almost soulless responses as he dismounted his horse in front of the central tent of the camp.
"Commander."
"Yeah, thanks. I'm heading in, okay?"
"Yes, yes."
Engaging in a casual and somewhat indifferent conversation, the man entered the tent, frowning at the loud snoring that was blatantly audible.
The snoring was coming from a field bed in the corner of the tent, covered with a blanket.
"Hey, commander."
No response came, naturally, and the man strode over and kicked the blanket off with his foot.
"Snore- Cough! Wha-what!"
"Really? Sleeping and snoring loudly during duty in the battlefield? Even if the nobility fights half-heartedly, this is a bit much, isn’t it?"
The man who had rolled off the bed and stood up, brushing off the blanket, sighed and placed a hand on his forehead.
"No, Jerome. We’re not going to fight anyway, right? The noble brats know this too well, they won’t even bother inspecting."
"Oh really, are you a prophet now? How do you know all this so well?"
"That's why you're my aide and I'm your superior, Jerome Morel."
"Huh, sure thing, Mr. Ballian. This blockhead can’t comprehend your foresight, so I'd appreciate a nice explanation."
When Jerome Morel sarcastically commented on his close friend's unfortunate remark, Raphael Ballian yawned languidly before speaking.
"Our army may number 6,000, but we hardly have any knights. Why else would they bring in urban troops like us as mercenaries? The high and mighty Duke of Orléans never intended to fight in the first place. He just came to make up the numbers, looking impressive. Most likely, the main force and the knights are all gathered in the central region. Maybe the king is aiming to capture the Blue Knight or something."
"Huh."
"At this point, if the Duke of Lorraine isn’t a fool, he should sense something fishy and attack. But the thing is, he really is a fool. He's too petty to risk losing more of his troops for the greater strategy. So, with mutual understanding, there will be no combat. Just a fake war to tire us out. We'll just collect our hefty mercenary pay and go home patting our bellies. Get it?"
After saying this, Raphael Ballian yawned again, hugged the blanket, and wriggled back into the field bed.
"So, stop worrying and don’t disturb my nap."
"Ah, damn. I was hoping to do some impressive riding and gather a few heroic tales, but it’s all for nothing?"
Hearing his friend's clicking tongue, Raphael Ballian yawned once more and agreed.
"Exactly. It would have been more fun to have a fight, now that we're here. In this damned kingdom of knights, there are just no opportunities."
Raphael Ballian, looking utterly indolent, covered himself with the blanket and paused before adding, with a deceptively cheerful smile, a chilling remark.
"Ah, it would be somewhat fun to see a country turn upside down for once, wouldn’t it?"
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