Watching the column of black smoke soaring into the sky from a distant hilltop, Grand Duke Faisablen flicked his riding crop. "Send men to sweep the area. Make sure no Northland scouts are lurking around us."
"Yes, Your Grace." A guard at his side bowed in acknowledgment, turned, and relayed the order. Several guards galloped away.
Grand Duke Faisablen reined in his horse. Behind him, the vast host of Grass Barbarian cavalry that had surged forward like a tidal wave brought their mounts to a halt as well. It was an ocean of riders that blotted out the horizon and blanketed the endless steppe — countless banners of every shape and color snapping and fluttering in the wind…
Grand Duke Faisablen raised a single-tube telescope to his eye — a trophy seized after his great victory over the
Flanking either side were sheer cliffs rising over thirty meters high, standing like a pair of enormous gates. Between them stretched a broad slope roughly a thousand meters wide, and atop that slope loomed a towering fortress of stone. This was the Pisbeil Mountain Pass. This was the fortress city of Pidro City.
The Pisbeil mountain range, which stretched between the northeastern steppe and Winston Province, served as a natural dividing line. But the Pisbeil Pass was like a gate linking the two — climb this long slope, and the mountainous plains beyond, so different from the grasslands, would appear before your eyes.
It was because of this strategic position that Count Pidro, centuries ago, had chosen to build a fortress here at the Pisbeil Pass, hoping to block the Grass Barbarian cavalry's raids and incursions into Winston Province. And now, the Pidro City that appeared in Grand Duke Faisablen's telescope had been utterly transformed from its former appearance into a castle fortress with complete defensive installations and tight security.
"Only six months! The Norton Family really does have deep pockets — to have completed the fortification of Pidro City into a castle fortress in so short a time. That young man truly thinks ahead; every step is laid out so solidly, leaving no gap to exploit." Grand Duke Faisablen murmured to himself with a touch of bitterness, lowering the telescope, a hint of regret stirring in his heart. "I should have ignored those Grass Barbarian chieftains' unreasonable pestering. Three days ago, after crushing the Hunt Rider Legion, I should have forced those Grass Barbarian tribes to march south immediately and attack Pidro City right away — we could have caught them off guard. Now three days have passed, and Pidro City is clearly prepared. At this point, there's no option but a frontal assault…"
But then Grand Duke Faisablen reconsidered and felt at ease again. "It doesn't matter — it's not my family's soldiers who have to go up there and die. It's a perfect chance to let those ignorant Grass Barbarian savages crash headfirst into the wall. Every last one of them is full of hot air, convinced they can conquer the world with a hundred thousand cavalry. The more of these fools that die, the better…"
Ever since Grand Duke Faisablen had quietly left the Pobiri Mountains in the southern province and returned to his family's territory of Donghuang Province over two months ago, he had immediately issued a war conscription order to the various Grass Barbarian tribes across the northeastern steppes. This was not forcing the Grass Barbarian tribes to fight for the Faisablen Family—it was a form of cooperation, something akin to collaboration. The Faisablen Family was willing to assist the Grass Barbarian tribes in raiding human settlements, and they would rob and plunder together, each getting what they needed.
And so, Grand Duke Faisablen's forces soon swelled to over one hundred and fifty thousand Grass Barbarian cavalry. The grand duke spent more than a month drilling some semblance of organizational discipline into these horsemen, and after reorganizing and reinforcing the Fourth Border Patrol Cavalry Legion, he turned his sights on the Hunt Rider Legion of the Norton Family from the Northland—the force that had been ranging across the Muye Plains Province. Through a series of reconnaissance and strategic deployments, Grand Duke Faisablen successfully ambushed the Hunt Rider Legion, dealing it a devastating blow and annihilating the bulk of it. Only a ragged remnant managed to flee back toward the Northland…
However, during the ambush, numerous situations arose beyond the grand duke's control, causing his original plan to annihilate the entire Hunt Rider Legion to come to nothing. What should have been annihilation turned into a rout. The most important reasons were that these Grass Barbarian cavalry refused to follow orders, and every last Grass Barbarian chieftain dreaded heavy casualties—each one wanted to hang back and let others do the fighting while preserving his own tribe's strength. As a result, the remaining Hunt Rider Legion soldiers tore through a gap and fled…
Grand Duke Faisablen could only cry out in frustration to no avail, because he too had been preserving the strength of the Fourth Border Patrol Cavalry Legion. In the end, they were two of a kind—neither had any right to laugh at the other.
The post-battle casualty count struck every arrogant Grass Barbarian chieftain like a blow to the head. The Hunt Rider Legion had suffered nearly thirty thousand casualties, but the Grass Barbarian cavalry losses exceeded sixty thousand—over thirty thousand of them already corpses, and the wails of more than twenty thousand wounded rising one after another, echoing across the entire battlefield.
After sending over ten thousand gravely wounded Grass Barbarian cavalry to the embrace of the War God Sigwa, Grand Duke Faisablen honored his promise and treated all the lightly wounded barbarian horsemen. But at this point, the Grass Barbarian chieftains erupted into fierce arguing over the spoils of war. The dispute delayed them for three full days, shattering Grand Duke Faisablen's plan to immediately march south and seize Pidro City. He had no choice but to find a way to mediate the conflict first, lest these Grass Barbarian tribes come to blows over the loot.
None of them were willing to give in, for what the grasslands lacked most was steel…
Grand Duke Faisablen made a great sacrifice, voluntarily relinquishing all rights to the distribution of weapons, equipment, and standardized armor. He claimed only the prisoners, lightly wounded soldiers, and two hundred intact steel crossbow war wagons. This willingness to take the short end of the stick won the admiration of every Grass Barbarian tribe. Then the grand duke proposed a plan: half of all spoils would be distributed among the tribes in proportion to the losses each had suffered in the battle. Naturally, the few tribes that had charged too recklessly and suffered catastrophic losses—nearly wiped out, or with their tribal forces completely destroyed—were simply ignored by everyone, since they would soon be absorbed by other tribes anyway. The remaining half of the spoils was distributed among all Grass Barbarian tribes, with the principle being that the strong got the meat while even the small ones got to sip some soup.
It took three days of arguing before all the Grass Barbarian tribes were finally placated. The victory over the Hunt Rider Legion and the rich spoils they had captured attracted even more Grass Barbarian tribes to join. Before long, the barbarian cavalry force swelled back to over one hundred thousand. Even the Grass Barbarian chieftains had forgotten all about their devastating casualties, and when Grand Duke Faisablen learned from prisoner interrogations that Pidro City was garrisoned by only a single guard battalion of three thousand men, the chieftains began urging him to march south as quickly as possible.
In those simple minds of the Grass Barbarian chieftains, the Hunt Rider Legion had been the most powerful enemy. Since they had already paid such a devastating price to defeat such a formidable foe, everything else standing in their way had to be mere shrimp—hardly worth mentioning. A hundred thousand Grass Barbarian cavalry would be more than enough to sweep through Winston Province, and perhaps they could even relive the glory of their ancestors and water their horses at the shore of White Egret Lake. "My dear Lion Grand Duke, why have you halted your steps here?" A sarcastic voice rang out as several tall, magnificent warhorses thundered toward Grand Duke Faisablen's position, hooves churning the earth.
The guards around Grand Duke Faisablen all wore expressions of outrage. Some had already placed their hands on their sword hilts, while others gripped their riding lances and speads so tightly that veins bulged on their arms, poised to charge forward at the slightest provocation and hack the newcomers to pieces… In the Northeast Steppe, Grand Duke Faisablen was reverently addressed by all the submission Grass Barbarian tribes as the Lion King Grand Duke, or His Highness the Lion King. Yet the ones approaching now had addressed him as "my Lion Grand Duke" — using the tone one would use with a pet. This was nothing short of a grave insult to Grand Duke Faisablen. The young guards glared at the approaching riders with eyes burning with fury…
Grand Duke Faisablen's expression didn't change as he raised the riding whip in his hand, restraining his guards from their impulse. At the same time, he greeted the approaching riders: "My brother, dear Chief Clinubi, we have arrived. Can you not see the castle atop that slope ahead? That is Pidro City. We need to make camp here, get settled, and then discuss how to attack."
Clinubi — this was a very powerful Grass Barbarian tribe with a population of nearly one hundred thousand. They could muster thirty thousand Grass Barbarian cavalry. They were not among the tribes that had submitted to the Faisablen family, but rather maintained a certain amount of trade relations with them. This time, Grand Duke Faisablen had promised them massive benefits and presented countless gifts to persuade them to bring their entire clan's cavalry south. Their main objective was to plunder Winston Province…
The chief was a middle-aged Grass Barbarian in his forties or fifties, not tall and rather thin and frail in build. His martial prowess appeared very low, but he was extremely cunning. Grand Duke Faisablen found dealing with him exhausting. The grand duke truly could not understand how such an oddity could appear on the great steppe where martial strength was worshipped — the man gave off an oily, slippery feeling that was impossible to get a grip on. Every Clinubi chief took the name Clinubi, which was also the name of the tribe — this was their tradition. Upon assuming the position of chief, they would abandon their previous names and adopt the tribal name Clinubi.
During the ambush of the Hunt Rider Legion, this Clinubi chief commanded his thirty thousand Grass Barbarian cavalry to very competently complete the tasks assigned to him. He operated only on the periphery with ranged weapons such as bows and crossbows, never charging to the front lines, suffering the smallest losses — yet he received the largest share of the spoils. During the march south, he had even swallowed four small Grass Barbarian tribes in one go, swelling his forces to approximately forty thousand.
Perhaps emboldened by his growing numbers, this Clinubi chief's attitude toward Grand Duke Faisablen had begun to turn increasingly dismissive. Grand Duke Faisablen had brought only a single border patrol regiment of a little over ten thousand men on this southern campaign. As he put it, the main force for the siege would be these hundred-odd thousand Grass Barbarian cavalry — he was merely here to lead the way, so he didn't need many troops, which also meant a smaller share of spoils, benefiting everyone.
"Make camp?" The Clinubi chief looked up at the sky and laughed exaggeratedly. "It's still morning! Why don't we charge forward in one push and take Pidro City directly? Then we wouldn't need to make camp — tonight we could hold a grand celebration banquet right in Pidro City…"
"Dear Chief Clinubi, if a hundred thousand troops could charge forward together and surround Pidro City all at once, then I believe the city would fall into our hands in less than half an hour." Grand Duke Faisablen pointed his riding whip toward Pidro City. "But look — the Pass of Pispier is just a narrow mountain gap. That slope is shaped like a trumpet, narrowing as it goes up. Pidro City sits in the middle and occupies most of the space. At the very top, if you managed to get two or three thousand men up there to attack, it would already be extremely crowded. We have no choice but to send troops in waves for sequential assaults — we cannot all rush in at once. Moreover, Pidro City is already on alert, so I think it would be better to make camp first and then discuss how to proceed with the attack."
"Your Highness, can you be certain that what those prisoners said — that Pidro City is garrisoned by only three thousand soldiers of some kind of battalion — is the truth?"
Grand Duke Faisablen shook his head with a smile. "I cannot be certain. Until we launch the attack, we have no way of knowing the city's defensive situation. After all, three days have already passed. Perhaps Pidro City has already received significant reinforcements. We have already delayed far too long."
Chief Clinubi fell silent for a moment before making his decision. "I'll send my men to test their defenses. If it's true, as those prisoners said, that there are only three thousand guards, then I believe we can take Pidro City very quickly. What do you think?"
Faisablen understood perfectly. It was greed that had driven Chief Clinubi to this decision. Before marching south, they had all agreed that whichever tribe captured a town or village would own it—all the plundered goods and seized spoils belonged to that tribe, and no one else could infringe upon or covet their spoils. To seal this, they had even sworn a solemn oath in the name of the gods.
Hearing that Pidro City was defended by only three thousand soldiers, this Chief Clinubi's interest was piqued. Even at a three-to-one exchange rate in casualties, capturing Pidro City would be a tremendous advantage. They could then use the place to rest and regroup, letting the other grass barbarian tribes' cavalry test the waters in Winston Province first. If the situation turned dire, they could directly withdraw back to the Great Northeast Grasslands. And if there were rich spoils to be had, well then—having his own tribe occupy Pidro City, this crucial point on the route back to the grasslands, would surely earn them plenty of tribute. He might even be able to swallow up a few more tribes that had been weakened...
"Of course," Grand Duke Faisablen nodded enthusiastically. "I am certain the great Clinubi tribe will achieve a glorious victory. Pidro City is nothing before your tribe's formidable strength."
Chief Clinubi laughed heartily. "Thank you for the compliment, Lion Grand Duke. I think so too. I have great confidence in the warriors of my tribe."
With that, Chief Clinubi ordered the grass barbarian guards beside him: "Men! Summon Halikayi, Lunijiji, and Morimode. Have them each lead their forces to attack Pidro City in three waves! Tell them: a heavy reward for breaking the city, but beheading for failure!"
"F*ck, no wonder this bastard had the mind to swallow up those small tribes along the way—he was gathering cannon fodder for himself," Grand Duke Faisablen cursed inwardly. The three names the Chief Clinubi had just called out were all leaders of the small tribes that had been absorbed, each commanding fewer than a thousand riders. They had originally planned to tag along with the main army, hoping to profit in the ensuing chaos. Instead, they had been targeted by the overbearing Clinubi tribe and forcibly incorporated.
A deep horn blast echoed across the vast, wild grasslands. The dense mass of grass barbarian cavalry erupted in cheers of "Clinubi, Clinubi! Clinubi..." Being the first to lead the charge was seen as brave and glorious by the grass barbarians, but the few thousand riders who were summoned seemed none too eager. Under the escort of nearly a thousand Clinubi tribal cavalry, they shuffled about in disarray for quite a while before splitting into three groups. One by one, they galloped and howled as they charged toward Pidro City, situated on the distant slope...
On the morning of November 11, 1778, at approximately ten o'clock, one hundred thousand grass barbarian cavalry besieged Pidro City. A bloody battle of attack and defense erupted.
...(To be continued.)