The conqueror from a dyi.., p.22
The Conqueror from a Dying Kingdom: Volume 5, page 22
Unless the main body of their army stopped moving, we could come into contact at any moment now. We were hoping they’d stop, but there was no guarantee. They might simply charge right at us. In that case, sitting in place until they reached us would be a mistake.
“I suppose I’ll wait here then.” Giaume sat down on a wooden crate.
“Giaume, you know my plan, don’t you? Why are you so nervous?”
“Because you’re leaving too much to chance. I hate to think we’re missing the opportunity to escape.”
“No, there’s a difference between predicting the enemy’s next move and leaving things to chance.”
Certain enemy decisions were easy to anticipate and plan for. For example, a rear guard could be deployed when a withdrawal was thought necessary, or troops could be positioned where they’d prevent enemy flanking maneuvers. In our situation, we already knew they were pursuing us, so having a rear guard in place was an obvious decision. They’d probably try to envelop us too, so we could also position soldiers to prevent it.
Those were the textbook strategies, but I was using some ideas that hadn’t been taught to us in school and a few completely original ideas of my own. It certainly was daring, but I’d considered the risks—I wasn’t just leaving things to chance like he said.
“But they didn’t actually stop,” he argued.
“They won’t stop until just before they make contact with us. Any soldiers that are going to leave the main force are still going to stick to the road for as long as possible.”
This was quite a bit further north than the area where I’d been carrying Carol, and the altitude was higher. The sparser trees and undergrowth made it much easier to walk through the forest, but it was still much faster to travel via man-made roads. They’d want to use the road as much as they could.
Stopping at some point far from us would make it harder for them to adapt to any changes in the situation and would make it impossible for the main force to coordinate an attack together with a detachment. For the enemy, there was no advantage to stopping far away, but there were many reasons to keep moving closer. Unless we began firing arrows at them, they might not stop until they were just beyond the range of our spears.
“But if it turns out that the enemy’s swarming toward us like dumb insects, they’re not going to make all these rational decisions you’re predicting,” Giaume argued.
“Insects wouldn’t think to use a ship to come after us,” I countered.
“It was just a hypothetical.”
“A useless one. We’re not fighting insects. Any hypothetical that assumes the enemy are too stupid to make plans is meaningless.”
Giaume shook his head like he was still anxious. “I don’t get it. Do you know something I don’t? I don’t get why you’re so calm. It’s like you’re sure you’re right.”
I didn’t understand why he’d think so. “‘Sure’...? No, I’m not sure that the enemy’s going to stop.”
I might’ve been sure if I knew more about whoever was in charge of the enemy, but there was no way I could confidently predict the actions of a commander I’d never met.
“Then how come you’re still calm? You’re not worried they’ll charge in and crush us?”
“Giaume... You’re not seeing things clearly because you’re afraid of dying.”
“What?”
“I was saying we’d run right from the start. It might turn out that we have to withdraw by turning and fleeing, but that’s only if the plan fails. If we do, we’ll do so in a way that minimizes our losses. If it comes to it, we can use the refugees like human shields while we’re running, so there’s really nothing to worry about.”
“Well... I guess, but...”
“Even if we do lose soldiers, there’s a big difference between losses in a pointless battle we never had a chance of winning and losses that follow our best attempt to avoid total defeat. Just because there’s a risk doesn’t mean we shouldn’t even try.”
“But...if the enemy doesn’t stop, we’ll lose some soldiers, and we won’t be able to protect the civilians. If that happens, it could destroy your reputation. Doesn’t that scare you?”
“In that case, it’ll all be blamed on my incompetence, won’t it?”
I frankly didn’t care if everyone pinned it all on me and called me inept. What difference would it make if my reputation fell in a nation that was in decline anyway?
“You guys talk like old friends,” Dolla said. “Who is he?”
Dolla was still standing with his arms folded, watching Giaume like he was someone to be wary of.
“You were there when I first introduced him to everyone.”
“I’d remember him if he was one of the unit members.” Dolla probably meant the unit members who’d come from Shiyalta.
“He’s not...”
Giaume gave a brief self-introduction. “I’m Giaume Zuzu. I was put in command of a squad when we were leaving Reforme.”
“Ah, all right. I’ll remember you from now on.” Dolla introduced himself in return. “I’m Dolla Godwin.”
“I don’t care whether you remember me.”
Giaume was probably bothered by the fact that he’d been forgotten.
You’re not the big deal you think you are, Giaume.
“Not many people can argue with Yuri. I’ll remember you.”
There he goes again, saying weird things. He doesn’t need an excuse to remember him.
In any case, Dolla had won their little argument. After all, Giaume had been the one who introduced himself. No matter how much he claimed he didn’t need Dolla to remember him, he couldn’t ask him to forget.
“You make it sound like I don’t listen to people,” I said to Dolla.
“When you don’t care about the opinion of whoever you’re talking to, it’s like you put on a mask, and then everything you say’s empty words. It’s always obvious when you’re not interested.”
I was about to disagree, but no words came out. It was true that I’d switch modes whenever I decided someone wasn’t worth talking to. But still, it came as a shock to know that Dolla had seen through it and was calling me out. He must’ve paid more attention to me than I thought.
“Empty words? At least say I’m tactful.”
“There’s nothing tactful about it. It’s obvious. It’s the opposite, in fact: untactful. I mean, tactless. Or was untactful right?” Dolla put his hand to his chin like he’d stumbled on a conundrum.
“Oh, forget it,” I told him.
He was just tripping up over his own words now. I started to feel it would be quicker to punch him than wait for him to figure this one out.
It was at that moment that a shadow fell on us, causing the warmth of the sun’s rays to vanish for a moment. It wasn’t the passing shadow of a cloud or small bird.
“Here it comes,” I said while looking upward.
“He’s landing here? Seems dangerous.”
“This rider’s one of the best. Trust him,” I replied.
The creature that landed was the eagle that Mira had ridden while he was off on reconnaissance. The mature female eagle looked almost ladylike as the duo descended toward us through a narrow gap in the treetops without disturbing any branches.
After the eagle reduced her speed and came to a graceful stop in front of us, Mira hurriedly undid his restraints and climbed down.
Mira ran straight to me, crying, “I have news to report! Most of the enemy force has stopped while a detachment has begun moving through the forest!”
“All right!” I slapped my knee before I could stop myself. “Did you make sure the sun hid you?”
“Yes, just as you instructed.”
“How big was the detachment?”
“About a third of their soldiers... I think.”
A third would likely consist of about three or four hundred. It meant that the group was still big enough to attack us and crush us, even if some of them remained in the forest to stop us from fleeing in all directions.
Our aim hadn’t been to divide and conquer, though. By tricking them into splitting up and waiting until they had us completely enveloped before attacking, we’d bought ourselves some precious time.
“Giaume, take that information back with you. Tell the others to remain in position for now. If they’re still worried, they can send someone out to stealthily observe the enemy’s position.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Oh and, tell them to start making scarecrows.”
“Scarecrows?”
I’d already discussed the idea with Liao, but it was clear from Giaume’s reaction that they hadn’t started making them yet. Liao must’ve doubted that my plan would work at all.
“Liao will know what I mean. Dolla, if you’re planning to join the rear guard, then go with him. The fight will probably be at its most intense there.”
“All right,” Dolla said.
He lifted his spear’s butt off the ground, spun it around, and rested it on his shoulder. It was actually close to being a halberd, but rather than having the beautiful, long blade at its end, it had a short, thick blade that resembled a slightly curved hatchet. Though it was a crude spear with no aesthetic appeal, I suspected it was the work of some master blacksmith, handed down to him from his father.
Dolla must’ve been hungry, because he swiped the dried meat and bread that was next to me before chasing after Giaume, who’d already started running off.
✧✧✧
Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.
The arrow flew overhead before vanishing, leaving a long trail of sound in its wake. It hadn’t been fired by Ange—it’d come from the north.
“All right. Fire,” Ange ordered.
Her subordinate said, “Yes, Ma’am,” before nocking another whistling arrow in his longbow.
The bow curved as he drew the arrow.
For a moment there was another shrill piiii sound, along with the twang of the bow, but both sounds quickly ceased. The arrow had been destroyed when it hit a large tree branch.
“What are you doing?” Ange chuckled as she chided her subordinate.
“S-Sorry.” He bowed his head in embarrassment.
“We’ve got four more. Calm yourself.”
He fired another arrow. This time it avoided the trees completely, causing the piiiiiii sound to ring out for much longer.
A short while later, another whistling arrow was heard coming from the main camp where Epitaph was waiting. It was a response signaling that he’d heard Ange’s arrow.
Now Ange just had to fire another arrow north toward the mountains, and their preparations would be complete.
Ange sought no assistance as she gripped her horse’s saddle, put a foot into the stirrup, and climbed up onto its back.
The armor she was wearing was no more than fine chain mail beneath a surcoat. She also had a lightweight metal helmet and a thin piece of cloth that she wore below her nose on the battlefield to hide the fact that she was a woman. Since that was all she was wearing, she was a lot lighter than she’d been when she’d worn plate armor.
“Have them begin marching,” Ange told her deputy. “Put an end to the break.”
“Yes, Ma’am! Break’s over! All troops, prepare to march!”
Once he’d loudly relayed her orders, her soldiers began to move.
As Ange’s unit advanced, they encountered the enemy’s frontline defenses, which consisted of a simple wall made from timber. The construction was far from impressive—it was little more than a stack of logs of various sizes. They were piled up horizontally, and there weren’t any sharpened stakes pointing outward. The obstacle looked easy to cross.
Some way beyond the wall, a thick white line had been drawn across the road. It was some sort of symbol.
Did they use powdered lime? Ange wondered.
“Advance forward fifty paces.”
“Advance forward fifty paces!”
Ange’s deputy relayed her order, and the soldiers began moving. Just as they were about to cross over the line, they heard the thunderous roar of a gun firing. A moment later, it was followed by a clang. The shot had hit the head of a soldier from the Volunteer Knight Order, knocking him down where he stood.
“Halt!” Ange yelled.
The soldiers came to a complete stop without waiting for her deputy to repeat the order.
As the only person on horseback, Ange could see soldiers at the very front of her column were crouching down to give aid to the fallen man. Like the elite knight he was, the man was already climbing to his feet while shaking his head like someone getting up from a nap.
The soldiers weren’t wearing plate armor, but they did have helmets and chain mail. The distance from the spot that the bullet was fired from was over one hundred paces—close enough for a shot to penetrate someone’s flesh with a direct hit, but not close enough to penetrate a helmet.
Unlike arrows, the round bullets launched from guns lost their speed quickly as they traveled through the air, despite their burst upon initially leaving the gun.
The enemy had probably stolen a gun from the crusade forces, plundered from the battlefield. It might’ve even belonged to one of the scouts they’d killed.
“Hm...”
“They haven’t fired a second shot.”
Ange’s deputy of this expedition, Gustave Oldenant, spoke with the gravelly voice of a man approaching old age. He’d become one of Angelica’s retainers after serving her family since the days of her father, Lenizicht Sacramenta.
If the enemy continued firing, Ange would need to react somehow. Everything had remained silent since that first shot.
Naturally, Ange’s troops had guns of their own. But getting closer and trading shots wasn’t a sensible course of action. Their bullets wouldn’t penetrate the wall the enemy had built, and her soldiers lacked shields to defend themselves against enemy fire. Such an exchange would result in losses for Ange’s side.
If they maintained a distance of one hundred paces, they’d remain too far away for rifles to be effective. The enemy weren’t much more than dots in Ange’s vision, and it wasn’t possible to fire on such small targets accurately. When the enemy had scored a hit, it had probably been a fluke.
It was clear that any attempt at a firearm fight from here would just be a long, drawn-out waste of gunpowder for both sides. A better option would be to order the soldiers to charge in, scale the wall, and then cross swords with the enemy. But that wasn’t the task Ange had been given.
Ange’s job was to hold the enemy back and prevent them from scattering as the main force led by Epitaph advanced on them from the south. She wasn’t there to engage with the enemy and crush them herself. Focusing their efforts on the fortification would also likely leave Ange’s soldiers unable to apprehend the blonde princesses as they fled into the forest, giving the girls a chance to escape.
No matter how much stronger her own force was, it wouldn’t mean much if the enemy managed to slip their grasp. Indeed, Ange’s whole reason for being here was because of the small chance that their most important target might try to flee via this road. In other words, their best option was to strengthen their position by halting their advance and spreading out into the forest while watching for enemy movements.
“My own soldiers will spread out in both directions as discussed. The volunteer knights should remain here without advancing any further.” Ange decided to place the subordinates she understood best in the forest, while keeping the borrowed soldiers close to her.
Piiiiiiii.
Some time later, the sound of yet another whistling arrow rang out.
“What’s happening? Gustave, did you hear anything about this?” Ange asked, sounding slightly irritated.
“No, Ma’am, I didn’t.”
After Ange’s forces had taken up positions over a sickle-shaped area, they were growing increasingly unnerved by the unexpected whistling arrows coming from Epitaph’s force.
Ange hadn’t agreed upon any special messages that could be sent with the arrows, so there was nothing she could discern from the number and type of the arrows fired. Nonetheless, Epitaph’s force kept on firing them.
Each time Ange heard another arrow, she had no idea what it meant. After the first two or three, she worried that her initial response might not have reached Epitaph, and so she’d decided to fire another arrow in response. However, Epitaph had now fired about ten whistling arrows over the course of thirty minutes or so.
Ange felt that something was wrong. Given the superiority of Epitaph’s main force, she didn’t think it was likely that they were in danger, but no one could predict what might happen on the battlefield. Her father had often told her so.
It was possible that a thousand or two thousand soldiers had appeared from over a hill and rushed Epitaph’s forces. When the enemy burned the bridge and cut off their own retreat, it might’ve been because they were confident in their overwhelming superiority.
“I don’t understand it,” Ange said. “Do you think they’re trying to tell us they’re in trouble?”
The sound of the arrows could be intended as a warning, or it might be a request for backup. It was impossible to tell.
“I’m not sure myself,” her deputy, Gustave, replied. “But we expected the enemy to run toward us, yet they appear to be perfectly patient.”
“It’s too soon. It’s been barely any time since Epitaph began his charge.”
If the enemy’s defenses were to suddenly fall apart and their soldiers routed, then they might be sent fleeing toward Ange like balls on a billiard table. They wouldn’t necessarily be driven her way so cleanly, however. Given that not much time had passed, it wasn’t surprising that the enemy was staying put.
“You’re right.” Gustave, being a soldier with experience of many battles, quickly guessed what Ange meant.
She urged him for his opinion. “So what do you think’s happening?”
“I’m unable to reach a conclusion.”
“I...see...”
A pang of anxiety struck Ange’s heart. A great number of soldiers were gathered here, their lives on the line, and yet she couldn’t be certain of the right orders to give to them. The thought that she’d have to make decisions based on guesswork didn’t sit well with her. She’d grown used to making tough decisions during her time spent managing her territory, but mistakes made here couldn’t be fixed. It was the first time she’d felt that her choices carried so much gravity.
