Berengar and his forces had arrived in the Viscounty of Schwaz after a few days worth of marching. Obviously, they had made camp throughout the nights. Berengar was trying to lose as few forces as possible to attrition; as such, he had kept his forces far from exhaustion and well-fed, hydrated, and equipped to combat the effects of the cold. To him, every one of his soldiers was a precious mber of his society; those lost were not easily replaced without his land suffering from it. War was necessary for expansion, but he did not want to fight a war without regard to his soldiers' lives. As such, they marched at a safe pace.
Berengar was currently on watch for the night, one of the n who were on patrol had gotten too cold, to the point where his health was beginning to suffer, Berengar who was passing by, offered to take his place, as such the Viscount and Commander of the Army was standing on watch with a group of foot soldiers. Berengar decided to break the ice with the simple infantryn to who he was standing aside.
"So... What are your nas?"
The two n looked at each other with odd expressions before answering Berengar's question as if it were coming from the commanding officer and Viscount of Kufstein.
"My Lord, I am Private Arnwald, and this is Private-First-Class Bardo!"
Berengar spoke in an informal tone as he addressed the n
"I am Berengar... Though I suppose you already knew that."
The two n nodded as they gazed at Berengar in awe. Berengar was more than just their Lord and Commander; he was close to a legend. His childhood infirmity was well known, even among the ranks of his army. Yet, despite all of that, he had risen above such circumstances after twenty long years of suffering, only to be plotted against by his own brother, surviving nurous attempts on his life, including a rebellion by Lord Ulrich where he was able to rise to the position of Regent and crush his neighbor expanding his family's territory to the level of a Viscounty.
The two n nearly nodded their heads in silence, afraid to say sothing that might offend the man they looked up to. However, before the conversation could continue, Berengar spotted what appeared to be a shimr not far away under the bright full moon in the sky above. He patted Private Arnwald on his shoulder with a grave look on his face and commanded the man with a tone filled with authority, imdiately dropping his informal speech as he did so.
"Private Arnwald, I need you to sound the alarms as quickly as possible!"
Arnwald did not know why Berengar was so serious, but an order was an order, and he would be damned if he failed to fulfill it; the man saluted Berengar by pounding his chest before running off to do as he was commanded.
"As you command, My Lord!"
After Arnwald ran off, Berengar unsheathed his sword and aid it in the direction of the darkness ahead. While doing so, he chatted with Bardo.
"I really hope that musket of yours is loaded; we might need it in a few seconds."
Though Bardo had not detected anything in the vicinity, he quickly unslung his musket and fixed the bayonet where he proceeded to cock the action and aim it directly in front of him. Though the man did not know what Berengar had detected, he trusted his commander's senses, and as such, was prepared to hold the line until the n were ready to defend the camp.
Shortly after Berengar and Bardo's actions, the ringing of a bell echoed across the field, which awoke every man in the camp; by ringing the bell three tis, it signaled an enemy attack. As such, the n did not even bother equipping their armor; they imdiately grabbed their muskets and web gear before heading out of their tents and into the fray.
When the enemy hiding in the darkness heard the bell ring, they quickly began to rush the camp they had surrounded; knowing that their cover was blown, they sought to rush Berengar and his forces as quickly as possible. Luckily these n were mostly ford of levies and were poorly equipped. When the levies near Berengar's position rushed upon him and the man next to him, the thunder of Bardo's musket could be heard across the field as the lead ball shot through the levy's chest, which was directly in front of him.
In the darkness of the night, a battle had begun within Berengar's encampnt. The forces left behind in the Viscounty of Schwaz had located Berengar's camp and decided to attack in the night; Berengar adeptly wielded his sword, having trained in its use for hours every day for the past eight months, he was adept enough in swordplay to overco the advancent of the levies. With a lunging thrust, Berengar pierced through the gambeson shirt of the levy in front of him and into the man's heart, adeptly avoiding the man's spear as he did so.
Berengar and Bardo were quickly pushed back into the camp by the overwhelming numbers of the enemy forces; when they reached a certain point, Berngar heard a voice shout at him.
"My Lord, get down now!"
Quickly adapting to the situation, Berengar dragged Bardo down with him into the prone position where a volley of musket fire decimated the front line of the enemy's forces. Before the enemy levies could react, the musket line kneeled and reloaded their rifles. In contrast, the second line behind them fired another volley over their heads, completely shredding the lightly armored levies and breaking their morale.
This action had bought Berengar and Bardo so ti to reform their ranks among the n who had just arrived to support them. As such, Berengar dragged Bardo to his feet and rushed behind the firing line, which had already reloaded, and began to fire another volley into the ranks of the enemy forces who were utterly shocked by the unknown weapons in which they were facing. All across the camp, the sound of musket fire and agonizing screams echoed through the night as Berengar, and his n desperately defended against an enemy ambush.
Despite the fire of the muskets breaking the enemy ranks, a few of the n managed to rush towards Berengar and his unarmored n whose bayonets were already fixed; as such, they dropped their actions of reloading and began to engage in the fray with the enemy. Luckily for them, the enemy was equipped with spears and was limited to the sa degree of thrusts in which Berengar and his forces were, the primary difference being the level of training between Berengar's professional army and the peasant levies who had seldom stepped foot on a battlefield before this mont.
Because of the difference in training and the strict military hierarchy in which was established among Berengar's forces, the n under his command were quickly able to funnel the enemy's forces into the small gaps in the camps' defenses, where they were t with lines of bayonets easily able to cut them down. By the ti the sun rose, the camp scene below was filled with the blood and bodies of the enemy, which was littered across the snow.
Though Berengar's army had suffered a little over a hundred casualties, his losses could be considered minimal. On the other hand, the enemy's forces were nearly annihilated; those who had broken ranks and ran into the night were lucky to have survived. One thing was certain, Berengar's target was no longer Innsbruck; he would first lay siege to the Castle in Schwaz; after succeeding in his endeavors, he would annihilate the Viscount's family as an act of retribution on behalf of the soldiers lost in this battle.
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