TL: So I recently found a about chinese history.
Gravity tales is translating The Grandmaster Strategist, and I find that it’s translated really well. The story is about an alternate universe that talks about chinese history as a genre (no cheat skills or systems. It’s not a xianxia.). This novel isn’t a real historical novel, but it picks from famous chinese poets and combine their poems which the protagonist writes, which then invites drama that cos into play. This is like a that introduces you to chinese history written in an entertaining way. I kind of have to tip my hat off for the guts to even try and translate this novel.
Honestly, the original text picked off hardcore poems that needs a whole chapter devoted to explain the origin’s text and aning, but the translator did a really fine job in making it sound great in english and retain its general essence.
Chapter 71 – The oncoming premonition
Brendel rubbed his forehead as he recalled a particular battle during the ga, as he traveled into the Baern’s forest.
Before entering a war filled with bloodshed, the gars who led a peaceful lifestyle could hardly imagine the fanatical eyes of every person that seed to be swallowed in bloodlust. The battles were as chilling as it appeared, the cold and rciless blades that went into each throat, causing crimson blood to spray everywhere, filling the air with iron rust, while each victim struggled on the ground as the night lted into the background. Their weary eyes saw their final monts before their vision beca dim.
That did not mark the end of them, because their own blood would pool within their lungs and they would cough incessantly, in a painful bid to cling for life before they finally expire in sorrow.
Once upon a ti, ‘Sophie’ thought ‘The Amber Sword’ was going to progress like a scene in a novel. He recalled the monts of how the battles unfolded in a bizarre manner.
There were no two armies deployed in an orderly fashion facing each other. His first true battle with large numbers occurred in the Delttal Forest. Tall trees with dense leaves lined across a precipice which led into a andering shoreline. The enemies that consisted of slavery rchants and their private armies hid within the cliffs’ large fissures.
The number of gars and NPCs were more than three tis the slavers’ private armies, but the true battle was decided by how proficient their scouts were in a place like this.
The initial battle started off with the gars completely falling into chaos as they were flanked from an ambush in an unfavorable spot. Team mbers were separated from each other and the appointed leaders lost sight of their position, and the majority of the people had to form into small groups to fight for themselves.
The enemy employed multiple highly mobile ambushes that ca for the flanks and back, and the thousand odd gars were held back by a single unit of cavalry.
No one knew where the scouts were spying them from, and the chaos had made it impossible for the leaders to keep track of where their flanks were. In retrospect, Brendel felt that having the option to command a battleground from an isotric view like how other gas were, was sothing of a blissful thought.
During the thick of the battle, countless swallow-tail flags were carried by a myriad number of guilds that served to obscure sight and contributed nothing but disorder. They were ushered to move in a direction that no one knew where they were going, occasionally encountering small groups of the slavery’s private army and defeating them easily. Everyone thought they had the greater numbers and thought they were going to win, but the longer the battle went on, the more splintered the groups beca.
The slavers’ main private army moved in an organized manner with numbers that dwarfed the splintered groups, picking them off one by one, like how Brendel had done so earlier when he fought the undead army with the refugees.
By the ti dusk ca, the remaining gars found themselves surrounded by the enemies’ flags—
[‘The Delttal’s massacre’, aptly nad in the forums. Seventeen hundred gars gathered together by three large guilds to fight along the NPCs. There was no question to the gars’ skill and courage. Even until the end they ford small parties to fight to their deaths, but the result was the gars being utterly obliterated.]
The irony in the situation was how the smaller groups of gars caused more damage to the slavers in the night, compared to the situation in the dayti where they had the advantage in numbers. Brendel gave a wry smile.
[This mory still chills to my soul even though that battle happened just after Bucce’s battle with Madara. The gars only learned how to employ tactics and morized the guild flags and whether they belonged to the cavalries or foot soldiers. The commanders situated themselves onto higher grounds so they could observe the batleground and adjust their positions accordingly within a ten-mile radius.]
Brendel watched Makarov issued commands that the gars had to learn themselves.
There were certainly differences to the battle Brendel had because of the scale, but the principles behind them were similar. Brendel held the horse’s reins closely and directed it to avoid shrubs so that they would not prick it. He glanced around from ti to ti, and discovered figures wearing green robes and painted bows darting across. Normal people would not have noticed them.
[‘The Forest Spirits’? They are definitely the best hunters that appeared in this world as far I can see. Kirrlutz’s soldiers called them the ‘Forest Spirits’ when they invaded this land two hundred years ago, but it’s a na that the local citizens saw as praise. This ant they were the swiftest hunters, the most accurate archers and the best rangers.]
“I wonder where Makarov found them.” Brendel subconsciously mumbled as he tapped the gold plated bits on the reins. He had actually tead up with them before, even though the ti he had with them was not long, they left a deep impression on him.
“I wonder if they scouted this place for a long ti.”
The rcenaries would have an easy ti if they had excellent scouts. Makarov certainly handled things well. Brendel understood that rcenaries could only perform well if they were far more familiar with the lands compared to their enemies.
The mbers of Makarov’s rcenaries were definitely veterans. It was a common thing for rcenaries to be hired to clear bandits, and the more famous their na was, the more experienced they tend to be. Makarov himself was clearly soone who’s renowned.
[There wouldn’t be many differences to how I would employ our positions if I was to lead the rcenaries. He even has an advantage over since he already knows where the lizardn are. The Elven ruins in Baern should prove to be a difficult place to access if they are not locals, but it seems his n knows this place well. I wondered how I’m going to work with him and I considered the possibility of hiring other rcenaries to follow his tail, but that itself can be considered as a great affront.]
Brendel ultimately chose to use the rcenaries’ Oath, and was secretly delighted that Makarov had a great number of scouts. It also highlighted the disadvantage if he chose to chose his forr plan. If he followed them from the back, he would not have seen the scouts.
He looked over to Makarov and Buga.
Their faces were taut. They had shown Brendel’s their scouts because they had no choice. If they hid them, sooner or later Brendel would have noticed them, so revealing them now was a choice they made to give him a warning. Brendel’s n seed to be like a bomb waiting to explode. Placing them in front or at the back was even more dangerous, compared to placing them at the center where they could surround them quickly.
If he had a choice, Makarov would have Brendel thrown out a long ti ago. Even through the journey he wanted to do so several tis, but he shook his head in the end.
[Even if other groups of rcenaries would do sothing otherwise, the Grey Wolves must not do sothing dishonorable. The agreent stands.]
“Is Eke still in the town?” Makarov turns to Buga and asks.
Buga nodded.
“Forget it. Let him do whatever he wants. This isn’t his fault,” Makarov shook his head and let a sardonic smile spread across his face. “It’s unfortunate that we couldn’t tell him too much.”
“He’s doing this because of you.”
“I know he’s concerned about the ‘Paper Cards’, but he doesn’t know that we know about their presence already. That idiot bastard Drake thinks he’s fooling us, but what he doesn’t know is we’re playing along with his trick.” Makarov tilted his head with contempt: “But the most troubleso person is not him, but the youth in front of us. I’m certain that he’s not with the ‘Paper Cards’ yet that doesn’t give relief.”
Makarov gave a rarely seen expression that was full of disdain.
“That’s a terrible irony, you do know that right.” He said.
Buga agreed as well.
Brendel did not know that he caused such grief to them, but started to calculate the number of n marching. There were seventy odd n altogether heading straight to the Elven ruins.
[It would be best if we could ambush the lizardn, otherwise this excursion would take a few days.]
Brendel’s thoughts drifted to this morning.
[The insignia of the Grey Wolves are lilac flowers that specifically blooms in the southern region. The insignia are the exact sa as the Greenwoods Mountain rcenaries... Wait... what’s the composition of the Grey Wolves rcenaries again? ]
Brendel looked at the Makarov’s n around him.
[Half of them are Iron-ranked fighters, a fifth are Silver-ranked, along with ‘The Forest Spirits’? With such a group of rcenaries to clear a hundred odd level 20 Lizardn Bandits, there’s no need to even arrange tactics here. Sothing is off about this.]
Brendel finally realized the origins of the Grey Wolves as he observed them, but his train of thoughts were interrupted when he heard Amandina snapping in a loud voice.
“Why are you placing your n over here? This isn’t normal!”
Brendel could imagine Amandina’s frown on her face without turning around.
“What the hell do you know, you wench.” Redi’s voice rang out loudly.
Brendel’s face imdiately darkened.
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