Malon's thoughts returned to the present, and his frustration deepened.
"Even now, it's laughable. Outnumbered by us, and yet they hunted us down like wolves chasing sheep," he muttered, his words biting enough to make Birgit shift uncomfortably.
"Still," Birgit ventured again, "we have enough forces left to devastate their rear. If we move quickly, we can force the Dragonslayer to return."
"Perhaps," Malon admitted with a grudging nod. As much as he despised Birgit's recklessness, the logic held. They still had enough troops to inflict significant damage, which might disrupt the Dragonslayer's campaign.
"We'll see if he can overco sheer numbers," Malon thought grimly.
"Sir Malon! Look ahead!" Birgit's sudden cry broke Malon's train of thought.
"What now?" Malon snapped, following Birgit's trembling hand.
What he saw left him speechless.
Near their target, an enormous force stood ready—easily comparable in size to their own.
"Where in the hell did they co from?" Malon whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"What the...? Who are they?"
"They're the enemy!"
The soldiers were startled at the sight of the approaching allied forces and began to react in alarm. Only then did Malone, observing their movents and attire closely, murmur to himself.
"They're rcenaries."
"rcenaries?"
"Yes, look at their attire. There's no uniformity; each is dressed differently. They seem to gather haphazardly, without clear leadership or coordination."
"Ah, I see!"
At Malone's words, Birgit studied the troops with renewed focus. Indeed, upon closer inspection, Malone's observation was accurate. Unlike a proper army, where soldiers would have pre-assigned positions to take, these individuals were seeking out what appeared to be their respective leaders.
In essence, this army was a collection of nurous rcenary groups. Birgit's eyes lit up at the realization.
"This is our chance! We should strike imdiately."
"Strike now?"
"Yes! Look at how disorganized they are. It's obvious their command structure is a ss. If we attack now, they'll crumble easily."
Birgit's suggestion was brimming with confidence. A poorly organized army was indeed prone to collapse under pressure. After all, even the Dragon Slayer relied on targeting commanders to disrupt the enemy's chain of command. However, Malone let out a deep sigh and shook his head.
"Sir Birgit, those are rcenaries. In terms of experience, they far surpass the conscripted rabble of the alliance."
"That may be true, but with their chain of command in disarray—"
"That's army logic!"
Frustrated, Malone's voice rose, startling Birgit. Malone pressed on, glaring at him.
"Those n don't lack a chain of command! They're simply following the orders of their respective rcenary leaders. Their system may appear chaotic, but it's actually well-structured!"
"But… wouldn't their inability to unify their forces still be a weakness?"
"Perhaps! But in a chaotic skirmish, where intricate strategies or formations aren't required, such a 'weakness' is irrelevant! Those n are seasoned fighters who know how to handle themselves in battle!"
Charging in recklessly without a plan would only result in being counterattacked—and their foes were hardened rcenaries. Unlike the alliance's ragtag conscripts, they would strike back fiercely, likely inflicting heavy casualties.
"Yes, they may be susceptible to division due to their independent nature, but such tactics require ti! Do we have that luxury right now?"
One could sow discord by bribing one group or by selectively targeting specific rcenary factions while avoiding others. However, such strategies required careful preparation and, above all, ti—sothing they lacked at the mont.
Faced with Malone's relentless logic, Birgit deflated.
"Then… what do you propose?"
"We'll withdraw and target another location."
"Withdraw? But this was our objective!"
"Why? Do you, unlike this coward here, wish to demonstrate your bravery by engaging them in a head-on fight?"
"…"
Malone's jab at the disaster at Grixbor Fortress left Birgit speechless. Clicking his tongue in irritation, Malone ordered the army to retreat. Fortunately, the rcenaries, seemingly content to earn only what they were paid, did not pursue the allied forces.
Malone let out a sigh of relief at the lack of pursuit.
'Even so, what an overwhelming number. Just how much money has that Dragon Slayer poured into this?'
Hiring rcenaries was never cheap. Given that their job entailed risking their lives, they charged exorbitant fees. Yet here was such a vast number of them. Even if the contracts were short-term, the cost must have been astronomical.
'Still, it's fortunate. If he hired this many rcenaries, other areas must be left vulnerable. It seems he's chosen to consolidate his forces in one place rather than risk being defeated pieceal.'
The allied forces' current location was just behind Grixbor Fortress. It appeared the Dragon Slayer had concentrated his rcenaries here to fortify his main base. It wasn't a bad decision, but it also ant that other locations were likely left undefended.
'Poor Dragon Slayer. No matter how well you play your hand, the fundantal disparity in numbers can't be overco!'
With that thought, Malone spurred his horse toward another stronghold farther from Grixbor. If the enemy concentrated their forces on their main base, they would inevitably pay the price for neglecting other locations.
However, when Malone arrived at the targeted stronghold, he shouted in shock.
"What in the world—!"
The stronghold, which he had expected to be undefended, was teeming with rcenaries.
"So we retreat? After all this ti?"
"Unless you want to stay here and fight to the bitter end. We might last until the eighth battle, but it would only end in annihilation. At least our nas would be rembered."
Birgit closed his mouth, not in response to sarcasm, but to the harsh truth of the statent. It was indeed humiliating to retreat now, but he wasn't ready to throw away his life just to preserve his honor.
"Fine. Let's retreat," Birgit agreed with a heavy nod. The two began the withdrawal, though they did not rush—they already knew it was too late.
As they made their way around Grixbor Fortress, news reached their ears.
"The traitors Franz and Roland have been executed! Justice has been served, so let all southerners praise the greatness of the goddess!"
"It's over," Malone muttered.
The faces of both knights were contorted with despair. They turned their horses around and headed toward Grixbor Fortress to surrender.
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