With a resonant clang, a crude wooden plank dropped into place, spanning the three-meter-wide trench to form a makeshift bridge. A centurion of the Handra Duchy, clad in iron-reinforced leather armor with a tuft of white feathers adorning his black iron helmet, waved his sword and bellowed, "Hurry! Get the second trench-spanner up here now!"
A dark shadow streaked through the air like lightning. With a sharp whoosh, it closed the distance in an instant—a crossbow bolt launched from one of the watchtowers struck the centurion square in the chest, sending his body flying three or four meters through the air. He crashed to the ground, his trembling hand groping for the shaft of the bolt that had pierced clean through his torso. The moment he struggled, he coughed up a mouthful of blood, rolled his eyes back, and died…
The centurion's death threw his century into disarray, but almost immediately another centurion rushed forward. Not as brave as his predecessor—who had dared stand right at the edge of the trench—this one sheltered behind a log-framed shield cart, bellowing and cursing until the men pushing the trench-spanners finally quieted down and resumed shoving the machines ahead. At the same time, he directed his own century of longbowmen to begin lofting volleys at the three watchtowers up ahead.
This was the second Battle of the Southern Province. The date was July 4th, 1778 of the Galentea Common Calendar—a little over a month since the first. During that intervening month, the Fisaburen family's forces and the allied reinforcements from the four central duchies had clear-cut the surrounding mountain forests, producing a massive stockpile of siege equipment and two-wheeled shield carts to deflect crossbow bolts. With thorough preparations made and ample rest enjoyed, they once again launched an assault against the Northland Four Family Alliance forces under
From the
From high above, the elite infantry of the four central duchies surged forward like waves at high tide, one after another crashing toward the defenses, while the watchtowers stood like reef rocks in a raging sea, enduring each battering blow yet refusing to fall. The relentless crossbow fire pouring from every besieged tower sprayed bloom after bloom of red across the surging tide of men…
But over the past month, the forces of the four central duchies had amassed a tremendous arsenal of siege equipment, and dealing with these watchtowers was nothing but a piece of cake. Trench-spanners were wheeled up to the edges of the ditches and their planks dropped into place, stripping each trench of its ability to halt the advance. Log-framed two-wheeled shield carts shrouded the attacking soldiers all the way to the base of the watchtowers, where axemen hacked through the thick wooden gates. Before long, fighting erupted inside the towers themselves. Battering rams were even wheeled into position against the towers, and within just a few strikes, gaping holes were punched through the walls. The garrison soldiers were forced to charge out and engage in a desperate life-or-death struggle, only to fall one after another…
The forces attacking the Rock Fortress Legion's main camp were Grassland barbarian cavalry, though the twenty thousand who charged had dismounted to fight as infantry. They too pushed trench-spanners, log-framed two-wheeled shield carts, and battering rams forward under the supervision of the Fisaburen family's Third Border Patrol Cavalry Corps. However, their coordination lacked the finesse of the central duchies' infantry. After three assaults lasting over two hours, all they had to show for it was five trench-spanners laid across the frontmost ditches and two to three thousand corpses left behind on the field—nothing else.
Lorist sat his horse atop a small hill in the center of the camp, watching as the Grassland barbarian infantry withdrew once more, leaving another one to two hundred corpses before his defensive line. Yet his expression was grim, without a trace of the satisfaction that should come with repelling an enemy. For just moments ago, Lorist had received a report: of the forty-seven watchtowers at the far left of the open terrain, every one had either been overrun and collapsed into flames or fallen into enemy hands. The family soldiers garrisoning those forty-seven towers had been virtually annihilated to the last man. Three trenches had been dug around the watchtowers, linking them together and cutting off any route of retreat—leaving the defenders no choice but to perish alongside their attackers.
It was truly a case of digging one's own grave. The watchtower tactics had been highly effective against light cavalry, but they were practically useless against infantry skilled in siege warfare—especially when the enemy possessed extensive experience in storming fortifications and expertise in constructing all manner of siege equipment. On top of that, the enemy was willing to accept heavy casualties. Under those circumstances, when their numerical superiority allowed them to simply steamroll forward, the soldiers garrisoning the watchtowers were nothing but turtles trapped in a jar, forced to fight to the death in a desperate bid to at least make the enemy pay.
He simply hadn't had enough experience. Tactics suited for an era of gunpowder weapons didn't translate well to an age of cold steel. No matter how powerful the steel crossbows were, they couldn't penetrate shield carts made from thick logs. If those log shields had been held up by manpower alone, concentrated crossbow fire could have shattered them—but once the enemy mounted them on two-wheeled carts, that option was gone. With a solid base of support, even a volley that splintered the logs wouldn't threaten the men sheltering behind them. And with the addition of trench-spanners, once the enemy closed to within range of the watchtowers, the steel crossbows lost their firing angle entirely, leaving the garrison soldiers with no choice but to engage in close-quarters combat.
"Is Tiger Ross still holding on?" Lorist asked.
"Your Highness, Lord Ross is still holding. However, when he led a lance cavalry regiment forward to reinforce the first watchtower line, they came under arcing fire from the enemy's longbowmen and suffered heavy casualties…" the messenger replied.
"How did that happen? Didn't the wagon-mounted steel crossbows return fire?" Lorist asked, irritation creeping into his voice.
"Your Highness, the wagon-mounted crossbows couldn't advance—they were blocked behind the third defensive line by the trenches, well short of range. Lord Ross was leading his lance cavalry through the intersections between the first line's trenches, and because the men were bunched together, they were caught by the enemy longbowmen's arcing volleys…" the messenger said haltingly.
Across more than ten li of flat terrain, three defensive lines of watchtowers had been established. The first and second lines were separated by just over two hundred meters, while the gap between the second and third stretched to over three hundred. The problem was that he himself had ordered trenches dug all around and between the towers of the first and second lines—navigating through them required zigzagging back and forth for what felt like an eternity. He had assumed the trenches would hamper the enemy's advance, but the trench-spanners rendered them completely useless. Instead of posing an obstacle to the enemy, the trenches had now become a hindrance to his own reinforcements trying to reach the front lines.
What a mess! Back when he had deployed the watchtower tactics to neutralize the Fisaburen family's light cavalry, everyone had sung his praises. So when he ordered the trenches dug, not a single voice of dissent was raised. Now he realized just how grave a mistake that had been. No—he couldn't stay here in the main camp any longer. Lorist turned to Er and ordered, "Send word to Bodefinger. I'm going to the left flank to see Ross. Tell him to hold the main camp. And—leave the army banners right where they are. Your guard battalion stays put too, don't follow me, it'll draw too much attention. Have Readyi take a squadron with me. Also, order Ovijk's Thunderbolt Catapult Battalion and Termon's Rage Bear Knights to move secretly to the left flank and stand by. If the four central duchies are so eager to throw their lives away for that old fossil Fisaburen, then let them keep those lives right there."
"Understood, Your Highness." Er turned and relayed the orders, and three guards galloped down the small hill.
"Er, if these Grassland barbarians in front of the main camp suddenly launch a desperate assault, you may have Bodefinger withdraw in stages and yield the forward defensive positions—as long as the main camp itself is held, that's what matters. Also, if the battle situation becomes critical, you are authorized to commit the guard battalion into the fight. Understood?" Just as he was about to wheel his horse around, Lorist thought of something else and added a few more words of instruction to Er before riding off with Schwad, Readyi and a hundred guards at full gallop toward the left flank.
"Your Highness, what are you doing here?" Tiger Ross had a blood-stained bandage wrapped around his left shoulder.
"You got wounded?" Lorist asked with concern.
Tiger Ross smiled sheepishly. "I charged too fast and got hit by concentrated longbow fire. I didn't notice it at the time, and an armor-piercing broadhead arrow struck my shoulder. Luckily, my pauldron held up — it only made a small cut through the skin and flesh. Nothing serious."
"Are you sure? Was there any poison? Has the apothecary checked?"
"He has. I also drank a vial of antidote, and the wound's been properly treated. It won't affect me in battle — look..." Tiger Ross waved his left hand in a show of ease. "Your Highness, don't worry about a little scratch like this. I'm really fine."
Lorist nodded and turned his gaze toward the front. The battlefield had settled into calm.
"Your Highness, the enemy is resting. They did capture the forty-seven watchtowers in the first forward defensive line, but their casualties haven't been light — I'd estimate over ten thousand. Our soldiers manning the watchtowers traded roughly one for two or three, so we didn't come out behind." Tiger Ross hurriedly gave him a rundown of the situation.
The terrain here was flat, so Lorist had arranged the watchtowers in triangular formations of three linked together. Although the elite infantry from the four central duchies had taken all forty-seven watchtowers, they had paid dearly for it. Lorist raised his monocular telescope and gazed into the distance, watching as the central duchies' infantrymen busied themselves clearing the battlefield, loading their fallen comrades one by one onto horse-drawn carts to be carried to the rear. Some soldiers were resting, while several battalions brought up from the reserve were inspecting and repairing the siege equipment. If he listened closely, he could faintly make out the thudding sound of wooden shields being patched up from that direction.
He glanced up at the position of the sun — it was still around ten or eleven in the morning. It was highly likely the enemy would launch another assault after lunch. The four central duchies' plan was probably to break through the watchtower defense line on this flat ground, use their numerical superiority to secure the area, and then allow the Fisaburen family's border patrol cavalry corps to swing around to the rear of the main camp to conduct raids and guerrilla operations, forcing Lorist to withdraw from the southern province.
"Order: the garrison soldiers in the second defensive line watchtowers are to collect their steel crossbows and withdraw immediately," Lorist commanded.
Ross the Tiger was stunned. "Your Highness, we can't do that! With the garrison soldiers holding the watchtowers, the four central duchies would have to lose at least half their forces to break through our three defensive lines. Even if we sacrifice the ten thousand-odd watchtower garrison across these three lines, we'd be able to mop up whatever's left with ease..."
Lorist shook his head. "Our family soldiers shouldn't be thrown into a war of attrition like this. Even a one-to-ten trade ratio is too costly in my eyes. Besides, once they breach these three defensive lines, I'm certain the Fisaburen family's border patrol cavalry corps and reserve corps will enter the fight. The enemy won't leave us any opportunity to deal with or punish the duchies' infantry. If those patrol cavalry exploit the gap and slip through to our rear, we'll lose control of the entire battlefield. Withdrawing from the watchtowers doesn't mean we stop fighting. In fact, by garrisoning them, we were already giving up our advantage..."
"Our advantage?" Ross the Tiger blinked in confusion. "Your Highness, what advantage do we have?"
Lorist smiled. "Although our numbers are smaller than the enemy's, our advantage lies in offensive and open-field combat. You haven't forgotten that, have you? Look at the distance between here and the second defensive line — three hundred and forty meters in total, and this flat ground stretches over ten li, enough to deploy a hundred thousand troops. We line up along the third defensive line's watchtowers in formation, and if the enemy wants to break through, they'll have to fight us in the open. Abandon the watchtowers on the second line, and the enemy will be eager to press their advantage in numbers and engage us in open battle. Heh — open battle? Who are we afraid of?"
Two Golden Knights each led a Flying Tiger Corps and a Fillim family Pegasus Corps — fifty thousand men total — deploying on the left and right flanks. Malek's Chariot Steel Crossbow Corps, one of the two light cavalry corps sent by Count Shahin, and the heavy infantry legion dispatched by the Kenmais family formed the center, numbering over forty thousand. They arrayed in a single battle line. The Northland Four Family Alliance had roughly ninety thousand troops prepared for open battle, and with Count Shahin's light infantry corps still garrisoning the third defensive line's watchtowers plus the watchtower soldiers withdrawn from the second line, total forces came to around a hundred thousand.
The withdrawal of the watchtower garrison from the second defensive line quickly caught the attention of the enemy troops resting on the first line. Upon discovering that the watchtower soldiers had abandoned their posts, the enemy rushed forward, seized the empty towers, and erupted in wave after wave of cheers. It was plain to see that capturing the second defensive line had greatly boosted their morale. However, they soon spotted the Northland Four Family Alliance's family forces arrayed in open battle formation along the third defensive line, and the cheering gradually died down. Perhaps they had realized that though they had avoided a brutal siege battle, an even bloodier open-field engagement awaited them...
The enemy responded quickly. Those who had first seized the second defensive line began using the watchtowers to establish strong anti-ambush positions. Then a large contingent of soldiers carrying all manner of tools arrived to fill in the trenches along the second line. Next, log-built shield wagons were pushed to the very front and arranged in a continuous line. Finally, infantry battalions advanced in battle formation.
"It looks like the enemy is preparing to face us in open battle, but they'll need a few hours to get into position. Sound the rest call — let everyone relax and recuperate. Those in charge of logistics and supplies, get the cooking fires going and prepare a good meal. Everyone needs to be well-rested and full of energy for the afternoon's slaughter," Lorist ordered.
"As you command, Your Highness."
...(To be continued.)