Horizon of War Series Chapter 32

They’re coming!” Audrey pulled the reins of her mount and ca to a stop.

Before her stood Lansius, the leader of their ragtag army. Though many dismissed him as a no-na exiled noble from a distant kingdom, Audrey trusted him enough to join his seemingly suicidal offensive.

“Listen up! Everyone waits until we’re within crossbow range, then we pull back to the trenches,” Lansius ordered.

His command did little to ease the fear in his n, but Lansius paid no heed. He looked at Audrey and spoke. “Lead the cavalry and make the breakthrough as planned.”

Audrey stared at him with a cold, piercing gaze that could easily frighten children and adults alike.

“I’ll be fine. Go, move as planned,” Lansius answered, almost cheerfully. He knew Audrey well enough to understand the aning behind her stare.

“Good luck then,” she replied.

“You too. Let’s get so drinks after this is over,” he said, despite the overwhelming odds.

Audrey went to her cavalryn and rallied them. Soon, fifty riders moved out against the opponent’s right wing.

At least she’s with the cavalry, Lansius thought while suppressing a sigh of relief. He knew that if the worst happened, Audrey would have a good chance of escaping. Two seasons had passed since their fateful reunion at Toruna Manor, yet here they were, facing yet another ard conflict. Lansius felt a sense of despair in their new lives as henchn.

Lord Arte, who was busy gathering followers and currying support from Midlandia’s nobility, had given his approval for Lord Bengrieve to employ Lansius. Now, Lansius had assud a fake identity as an exiled knight from the rcantile Kingdom. If he were found out, he would surely lose his head.

While Lansius was lanting his situation, fear continued to haunt his troops’ rank and file. Even with their cavalry riding out in strength, they were hardly convinced.

The Midlandians had enlisted for what they believed would be a simple raiding party, not a pitched battle. They saw Lansius as an exiled noble from a foreign kingdom, with no reputation or standing to claim a fiefdom, and so no one had expected him to start an open war.

Yet here they were, facing off against the Lion of Lowlandia, the biggest na in the region. The sight of the viscount’s banners, fluttering boldly in the wind, sent chills down their spines.

Many muttered curses under their breath, their eyes darting nervously between the enemy’s imposing formation and their own ragtag troop. The thought of fleeing to save themselves constantly crossed their minds.

Although Lansius had treated them well, nobody wished to die for soone else’s cause. Many felt betrayed, like sacrificial pawns led to a butcher’s shop. The thought made their stomachs churn.

The only thing that stopped them from killing the black-haired bastard and breaking formation was desperation.

It was clear to all that their situation was beyond hopeless, with flat grassland stretching in all directions for miles, leaving nowhere to hide. Whoever fled would be easily chased and slaughtered, or captured as slaves.

Their fear drove them to quietly follow Lansius, who had yet to show signs of panicking.

Unbeknownst to his n, Lansius himself was inches away from a nervous breakdown.

Am I really doing this?

Watching the lines of n in formation moving toward him made him second guess. However, Lansius had bet everything on his reckless plan. He had spent his money on recruiting more n, horses, and equipnt, risked the trust of his benefactors, and even jeopardized the love of his life, who stubbornly wanted to participate in this madness.

Lord Bengrieve and Sir Stan’s initial plan was simple: Lansius was to create a diversion, allowing Midlandia to freely siege another barony to secure their back line.

The root cause of this conflict was a bitter relationship between the prosperous Midlandia and the poor lords of Lowlandia, who secretly supported raiding activities on their vast border. Now, with Midlandia poised to fight a major war against the unified northern people, they needed to secure their weakest border.

To ensure victory, Midlandia was willing to sacrifice hundreds of n to prevent the Old Lion from learning and sending a relief force to their besieged neighbor. However, despite their apparent hostility, Lord Bengrieve still wished to maintain good relations with the powerful viscount.

Thus, Lansius, the foreigner, was the perfect candidate. Even if he and his command were caught, there would be little evidence that could be traced back to Midlandia’s court.

Externally, Lansius went along with this plan. It was a simple plan. His job was to take this cheaply recruited company as a decoy for as long as possible, before their eventual capture and demise. Lansius was to escape with the cavalry and abandon the rest to their fate.

However, he couldn’t bring himself to sacrifice the n. The troops under him might be nothing but the unfortunates, the lowlifes, and the rowdiest scumbags in all of Midlandia, yet they were still his n.

But rcy wasn’t the main reason why Lansius had reneged on the plan. For he had seen a sliver of hope. And ever since learning of the possibility, he had been torn between risking everything for a chance to win big, or playing it safe by sticking to Lord Bengrieve’s plan.

Only now, as he faced the enemy, did Lansius begin to feel truly at peace with his decision.

If you lot are destined to die, then let’s test our fates against the heavens.

Since Lord Bengrieve had already written off the fate of Lansius’s troops, this gamble presented no extra risk or cost to him. For Lansius, however, securing a victory would an trendous rit. It would be a lie to claim he wasn’t motivated by personal gain. His daring decision was also driven by the desire to bring maximum reward to his master, quickly proving his own worth.

Thus, trusting his instincts, twelve days prior, Lansius had ordered two hundred n to establish a camp and dig three horseshoe-shaped trenches. The first trench was the longest, followed by two other smaller trenches behind it. This would serve as the main combat line, while the smaller trenches behind it would act as support and reserve.

Lansius had chosen this location because the ground was soft and could easily be dug. The scouts had learned that the area was occasionally flooded when the monsoon ca, which made it easy to get clean water by digging crude wells. Because of this, they were able to prevent so of the rampant disease and its effects, such as deadly diarrhea.

While Lansius and his n began their work digging the trenches, Sir Justin, a surviving Arvenian knight turned rcenary in Lord Bengrieve’s service, had led fifty cavalry and two hundred n deep into Lord Robert’s territory to raid and lure him out.

Things seemingly advanced as planned; however, they had badly underestimated Lord Robert’s forces.

Calub, the alchemist who had also joined Lord Bengrieve’s rcenary company, jogged over to Lansius’s side. He gestured for Lansius to speak in private. The two moved away from the rest of the troops, and Calub whispered, “The scouts weren’t making it up. It is a thousand.”

Hearing that, Lansius felt a knot of dread in his stomach. While he had prepared to face an army twice his size, these overwhelming numbers made his already high-risk plan even more precarious. “How in the world could a viscount muster a thousand n?”

Calub brushed aside Lansius’s complaint and asked, “Can we still win this?”

Lansius saw the concern on Calub’s tanned face and avoided his gaze. He needed ti to think.

Four hundred of our ragtag army against a thousand of the best Lowlandians? We’re dood. . .

Calub exhaled deeply and massaged his temple. He then looked around at the advancing enemy troops in the distance and changed the subject. “Is Audrey with the cavalry?”

Lansius nodded weakly. “Yes, why?”

“Good. She should be able to make her escape. Then I’ll pack.” Calub turned away.

Lansius caught Calub’s arm and asked, “You’re leaving?”

“You’re not?” Calub was in disbelief. “Lans, this whole thing, your plan is breaking apart. We should flee while we can and continue with master’s original plan.”

Lansius defiantly shook his head. “They’re more nurous than expected, but that doesn’t an my plan won’t work. Let’s give it a chance.”

Calub muttered under his breath, but remained indecisive.

“They’re getting closer!” one of the lookouts cried out fearfully.

Lansius strained his eyes as their cavalry ford a wedge formation, while the viscount’s right wing across the field took shape in a line formation.

The sight of hundreds of galloping horses across the green grassland was a spectacle. Massive, colorful flags flew from the bannern, adding to the stunning visual display.

“By the Ageless.” Calub turned away, his voice filled with dread. “Have you forgotten about those days in Feodosia?”

“That’s why the big boy is with her.” Lansius nervously wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched the two cavalries on a collision course.

“Him? That’s . . . not entirely promising,” Calub said with an equally nervous smile.

“Lances down! They’re lowering their lances,” the lookouts cried out, drawing everyone’s attention.

The vibrant spectacle ca to a sudden halt as the two sides clashed in a brutal head-on collision. Lances shattered and pierced through flesh with sickening thuds. In re monts, cavalryn were thrown off their horses or impaled by steel-tipped lances, reducing many valiant n to re casualties.

The grueso spectacle left everyone feeling sickened.

Watching as Audrey courageously led her cavalry, gave Lansius a much-needed ntal slap to the face. She trusted him enough to put her life on the line. He clenched his fist and felt his blood slowly boil. There was little ti to observe her fight as the enemy’s main group had closed in on Lansius’s position.

“Sound the signal. Move to the trench,” Sir Justin, one of the few who had plate armor, ordered.

In response to his order, three hundred n started to descend into the trenches, where another hundred stood ready.

The n looked pale, and a few were already quivering.

Lansius let out a sigh, but knew that they were the only ones available to a no-na upstart like himself.

Sir Justin approached Lansius from his post whistling a carefree tune as he walked with a relaxed gait. His familiar-looking squire followed behind.

“Sir Justin, Hugo,” Calub addressed them.

Hugo bowed his head to Calub. Fate had played a cruel joke on him by reuniting him with Lansius as a subordinate. They had buried the hatchet and now Hugo tried to win Lansius’s trust, but he ended up in this suicidal plan. He lanted his luck, and like the rest, desperately wanted Lansius’s plan to work.

Sir Justin nodded at Calub before turning to his squire, Hugo. “Protect us,” he commanded.

Hugo dutifully placed himself between them and the enemy and raised his shield.

Lansius saw the knight’s gaze shift to him. “Commander, last chance,” Sir Justin said, giving Lansius the option to retreat or prepare for battle.

Lansius, drenched in cold sweat, summoned his courage and responded, “I think I’ll risk it. Sir, can I count on you?”

The older gentlen nodded. “I’ll give it my best.”

“Gratitude, sir.” Lansius bowed his head slightly.

“Don’t feel too indebted. If things go awry, I only need to discard half my armor to run. My horses are fast, and my n are strong enough to escort out.”

The honesty of the forr knight, now rcenary, elicited a chuckle from Lansius. “Sir, please call by na. I’m hardly your superior.”

Sir Justin grinned. “I’m pretty sure they made you the commander.”

“n will follow soone they respect,” Lansius remarked.

The knight seed happy, and he turned his gaze toward the advancing enemy. “Lord Robert has good troops.”

“Indeed. anwhile ours . . .” Lansius couldn’t resist comparing.

The poor and unfortunate, also the scum of every town and village. They are every bit unfit as soldiers. More like a bunch of bandits . . .

The knight snorted. “What we got might be not as good or well equipped, but at least they’ll follow orders.”

“That’s true . . .” Lansius admitted as he watched their last group of n descend into the trenches with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

Surely, following was a big leap of faith for them, especially when I employed such an unknown strategy that involves digging a series of ditches in the middle of nowhere like here.

“I better go,” Calub suddenly announced.

“Calub,” Lansius called out. “Next ti, remind to double-check our opponent’s strength.”

Calub let out a deep breath. “If we make it out of this alive.” Then he turned to the knight. “Sir, may I ask, why did you agree with this plan? You must have known that Lord Robert is a good warlord.”

The knight chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to see the Lion in the field.”

Calub let out a sigh. “Lans, I hope your plan works.”

“If it doesn’t work . . . see you in the afterlife?” Lansius joked, finally pushing past his fear limit.

Calub chuckled and made his way toward the trenches. He was needed on the far right where the fighting was likely to be the fiercest.

“We need to move,” Hugo interrupted urgently. Just then, the sound of an arrow slicing through the air reached their ears.

“Right, right . . .” Lansius took a final glance at the enemy formation before quickly making his way to the ladder.

Sir Justin and Hugo followed suit, with a few crossbow bolts whizzing above their heads as they descended. Finally, at the bottom, the sll of earth and humidity greeted them.

One of the aides handed Lansius his crossbow, and he proceeded to check how the string felt. The dampness in the trenches could affect the string, but he felt that the tension was all right. Next, he checked the bolts in, two quivers on his belt, each with twelve bolts.

Sir Justin secured his poleaxe while Hugo fetched his bascinet helt and assisted him in fastening it firmly.

Lansius finished up by wearing a sallet helt. Its layers of linen padding felt comfortable. It wasn’t a full-face but had a retractable visor. Now, after a lot of doubting and second-guessing everything about his own decision, he finally felt a sense of clarity. With everything in place, he knew it was ti to face whatever lay ahead.