The Reddened Reap
The battle had raged for an hour when the Nicopolan vanguard finally breached the Korimor wall defense. In an attack that exceeded expectations, the young Nicopolans demonstrated a fierceness and tenacity shaped by surviving nurous life-and-death conflicts that arose from recent famines. While the Korimor n displayed their stubbornness, hardened from countless wars in strife-ridden Lowlandia, they were outnumbered.
Lord Lansius' wooden walls, built atop half-buried carts, served as a formidable equalizer. His strategy of using irrigation channels to flood the area in front of the wall was a masterstroke, however, it wasn't enough.
Now, the three wooden platforms that the Korimor side had used as crossbown platforms were being captured. They failed to contain multiple breaches in their defense, and soon more than a third of the center wall section was overrun.
Watching this intensely, the Lord of Korelia finally gave the order. "Blow the horn."
Deep, resonating trumpet blasts filled the air, echoing repeatedly. Horn blowers atop the city walls amplified the command, ensuring all nearby heard the directive.
In the thick of battle, Hugo recognized the dreaded signal: a call to retreat.
His lieutenant and fellow n-at-arms' faces obscured by visors, glanced his way, filled with question and anticipation. Lifting his visor, Hugo shouted, "Halt, halt!"
The troops instinctively tightened their formation, brandishing their weapons defensively.
"Rember your training!" Hugo commanded. thodically, they began to step back, pulling in any stragglers to form a solid spear line.
To the Nicopolans, it looked as if they were observing a hedgehog rolling into a protective ball. Impressed by the Lowlandians' discipline, they opted not to fight and instead took the chance to catch their breath. With the imdiate threat gone, they fully realized their exhaustion; their limbs felt heavy, burdened by the weight of their soaked clothes and gambesons.
So turned to scavenge from fallen comrades and enemies for knives, helts, dry boots, or waterskins, while many others tended to their wounded if only to be present in their dying monts.
The rising sun intensified their thirst. Many considered drinking from the muddy puddles, regretting leaving their waterskins behind during the ascent.
However, the lull was short-lived. Once the young Nicopolan lieutenants caught their breath, they started to give commands to form a line.
Enforcers ard with wooden clubs began making their rounds to ensure compliance. The thousands who had scaled the wall and were not tasked with dismantling it slowly ford into a line formation.
Once the Nicopolans assud their line formation, their vast nurical advantage over the defenders beca evident.
For the Korimor side, despite their impressively orderly retreat, the situation looked dire. They had lost their makeshift wooden walls, their most significant defensive asset in today's battle.
On the other hand, for the hundreds of rcenaries who had survived the siege of Korelia, this initial victory felt like they had broken their curse. It seed that the reputation of the once-feared Black Lord was finally waning.
***
Lansius
The Korimor side hastily abandoned the wall and retreated a hundred paces back. The morale took a plumt, but he was grateful that there was no rout. The Korimor people under him had proved to be courageous. Despite all the threats and the major loss, they followed Lansius' command.
Lansius saw Hugo approaching and gestured for his n to make way. Everybody in the center was converging on his banner.
"My Lord," Hugo greeted him with an open helt. He was drenched in sweat, and his armor had new dents and was stained in various places.
"How's things on your end?" Lansius asked.
"I apologize that the center line failed." His voice held bitter regret.
"Nonsense! You and your n fought courageously. Lift your chin, I expect nothing less than a proud face. Now, tell about your n, did you manage to disengage safely?"
With renewed confidence, Hugo reported, "We managed to form a wall of spears. No desertion."
"Excellent..." praised Lansius without sounding excited.
"How about on the other sector?" It was Hugo's turn to ask.
Lansius gazed at his captain, Sigmund, who reported to Hugo, "The left and right wings are holding. They're outnumbered but able to form a defense independent from our center."
Hugo could only nod and silently praised the other two commanders. He then gazed at his Lord. "My Lord, I understand that you have prepared for this eventuality."
Everyone could see the bundles of cloth and ropes scattered about, previously used to pack shields and spears. Drinking water and temporary dical aid were also present.
"But is this truly sufficient? Shouldn't we consider evacuating?" Hugo murmured, fearing that the left and right wings could beco ensnared.
"I've called upon Batu and his riders," Lord Lansius replied, alluding to a contingency plan they'd discussed.
Hugo's worry deepened. A re hundred cavalry wouldn't be able to mount an effective counter inside farmland, and he doubted Lansius would sacrifice his crops. Before he could voice his thoughts, yells from the opposite side indicated that the opponent had made their move.
***
Korimor born, Walter
With fifty years under his belt, thirty of which were spent in multiple battles, Walter and the other townsfolk believed they had seen it all. But watching the Lord lead a battle and personally fight alongside common n was nothing short of spectacular.
The Lord had dispatched his knights and n-at-arms to reinforce other sections of the walls, leaving himself without a regint of knights for protection. Beside him stood just a lone knight, two squires, a bannerman, and several fighters.
Yet, this did not convey vulnerability. Instead, it fostered a deep sense of camaraderie and inspired all who saw. Here was a Lord willing to shoulder the sa risks as the commoners fighting beside him, a leader who stood his ground even when the odds turned against him.
Lord Lansius demonstrated his ttle by plunging into the heat of the battle, leading his small group against the Nicopolan Vanguard at various points along the walls. Naturally, wherever his banner went, the Korimor n flocked to it, rallying around their leader.
Like the other people of Korimor, Walter had never expected outsiders to bleed for them. They were accustod to being treated as re commodities by conquerors, to be used and discarded at a whim. Thus, witnessing Lord Lansius and his entire retinue—including the Baroness—take an active role in the city's defense was nothing short of a revelation.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Many had expected the new Lord to loot the treasury and flee. Instead, over the past few days, they had worked tirelessly to establish a solid defense. This image was further reinforced by tales of how the Lord had ridden to the point of illness to co to the city's defense.
When most of Korimor had resigned themselves to the overwhelming Nicopolan forces, it was the Lord's conviction in victory that reignited the people's will to fight.
What the Lord had done during his brief ti was unmatched in the war-torn region known as Lowlandia. For centuries, it had seen only wars, occupations, and rebellions, orchestrated and fought by countless usurpers and power-hungry tyrants. There had never been a true champion of the people.
Walter and the Korimor people realized that although their Lord, Lady, and knights had much to gain from holding Korimor, there were simpler thods to benefit from the city without facing the vast Nicopolan army. One such strategy would be to burn the harvest, thereby denying the Nicopolans its yield.
Such a choice would starve the people of Korimor in hopes of driving the Nicopolans away — a tactic other lords would employ without hesitation. Thus, witnessing Lord Lansius' efforts to preserve the harvest endeared him to the people.
This was why, even in the darkest hour, Walter and his comrades refused to flee. They were determined to stand by their champion until the bitter end.
When the Nicopolans finally resud their attack, the Korimor n held firm. Brandishing their spears and shields, they roared their battle cries and fought fiercely for their families, livelihoods, and a Lord worthy of their loyalty.
From the elderly to young warriors, they traded thrusts and lunges of their spears against the more nurous Nicopolans. But passion alone couldn't substitute for numbers in battle, and casualties began to mount.
"Arghh!" Walter cried as a spear slipped through. The steel-tipped spear penetrated his gambeson. At first, it wasn't too deep, but as he staggered and tried to wrestle the spear out, his opponent thrust it deeper. The final push ruptured blood vessels, causing Walter to bleed profusely.
The opponent withdrew the spear, and Walter dropped to a knee. Locked in combat, his comrades to his left and right were unable to assist him. Strength drained from him as he gasped and clutched the searing, stinging wound.
Amidst the yelling, screaming, and clash of swords and spears, Walter's thoughts drifted to his family. Trapped between two forces who brandished barrages of spears above him, Walter saw no hope. He felt his ti drawing near.
Amid the pain, a smile ford on Walter's lips, still defiantly wishing for Korimor to erge victorious.
Suddenly, he sensed a change in the air. Even in his weakened state, Walter noticed a distinct shift in the Nicopolans. Their formation began to crumble, their spear thrusts lacked weight and ferocity, and their shouts beca sporadic and confused.
The tide was turning.
With a laugh and a deep breath, Walter mustered what strength remained. He reclaid his spear, discarded his shield, and gripped the weapon with both hands. He found strength in his legs and with a great roar, lunged at the enemy one final ti.
***
The Nicopolan Vanguard
The young Nicopolan lieutenant watched in shock as his friend collapsed in front of him, his thigh pierced by a low thrust. Like him, his friend was just months away from turning twenty. But now, he would be forever nineteen as his face turned pale from blood loss.
anwhile, the perpetrator died with a satisfied expression.
What kind of monster is able to inspire a man to this degree?
But the lieutenant had little ti for contemplation as another volley of ranged attacks rained down on their position. He shielded himself, fortunate to be spared, but another beside him fell, an arrow protruding from his shoulder.
Recognizing the long slender shaft, he realized it wasn't a bolt. "Arrows! It's the nomadic bown!" he shouted, trying to warn his n.
Many hadn't carried their shields or had lost them, leaving them vulnerable to ranged attacks. And unlike crossbown who reloaded slowly, bown could release a rapid succession of arrows.
Panic spread among his ranks. "They have nomadic archers!" one cried, echoing the sentints of others as they began to see whether they were allowed to retreat.
"Lieutenant, the n can't withstand this anymore!" his enforcer shouted, after enduring a relentless volley of arrows.
Before the lieutenant could respond, he felt a sharp impact on his mouth, knocking him backward. Blood poured from his mouth, his front teeth were missing, and an arrow was lodged deep in his throat. He could only gurgle in pain, his body writhing in agony, much to his n's horror.
His closest n and the enforcer tried to assist, but a rout had begun. And they were in no condition to care for anyone but themselves.
The two friends were left lying side by side, neither having reached the age of twenty under the sun.
As the Korimor side began their counter-push, the Nicopolan vanguard hastily retreated to the wall while scavenging for shields or even helts as protection.
***
Lansius
While the first part of his strategy failed to deter the opponent, the second phase successfully divided the Nicopolans. Using the wall as if it were a river, Lansius lured a segnt of the Nicopolans across, only to te out heavy punishnt once they had ventured far enough into his chosen locale.
Lansius was positioning the enemy in the perfect killing zone. Separated from the main force, the Nicopolan vanguard, though nurous and aggressive, ultimately lacked support from their main army.
The Korimor n, with their phalanx-like formation, successfully kept the Nicopolans' advance in check while the newly arrived archers began their volleys with recurve bows.
Lansius had transford the Nicopolans' nurical superiority into a weakness to be exploited by his archers. Here, the opponents had nowhere to run, and their retreat was blocked by walls.
While Batu had just over a hundred horse archers remaining, nearly all his tribesn were proficient with bows. As a result, he could field two hundred archers on foot. Their sure footing made them even more accurate and deadly.
Facing such a densely packed enemy formation, even the younger, less skilled archers found it easy to land damaging shots. Batu personally positioned himself among the Korimor formation, targeting and eliminating the opposing group leaders and commanders, instilling fear in the heart of the Nicopolan vanguard.
Eventually, the Nicopolan vanguard reached their breaking point. Their formation shattered, and they sprinted towards the wall.
The wall, which they had fervently attacked, again beca their obstacle to escape. In their panicked frenzy, they scrambled to climb over it. With the chain of command crumbled, many were either too exhausted to fight or paralyzed by fear of the nomadic archers.
Reviews
All reviews (0)