Chapter 467: Act 217 – The Battle by the River (Part 1)
“In the name of mercy, I give you one chance to lay down your arms and surrender!” The knight raised a flag and shouted down from a higher ground.
“Go back and give my regards to your lord,” Hank shouted back as he drew his longsword.
The knight shook his head, as if he had anticipated such a response, and vanished from the high ground. “Why not surrender?” Hadesh couldn’t help but ask.
“Is surrender the only thing you learned under Grudin?” The elderly scout turned back and cast a glance at him with his gray-brown eyes.
Hadesh was speechless; he did not know this old man’s identity but guessed he was one of the young lord’s subordinates—rumored to be a mercenary and one of the first to join him. It seemed he was part of the group known as the ‘Bronzesteeldragon.’ However, Hadesh was somewhat skeptical; the old man looked like a seasoned soldier. Just days ago, he had been the first to detect the movements of Count Rendener’s army in the forest, leading them to avoid disaster.
Indeed, the knight from Parsons had earned his reputation; during that day’s attack, they had the audacity to use hillmen as a vanguard. Hillmen were adept in forest combat, and it was said that when they marched through the woods, the noise they made was like that of migrating deer—meaning unless you were an experienced “hunter,” it was difficult to spot their tracks.
Hadesh had realized that this claim was not an exaggeration. Even the seasoned veterans in the outpost failed to notice the sounds in the forest. Aside from this old man before him, Hadesh couldn’t help but think that if he was a scout, he must be among the finest.
But the old man seemed unfazed as he patted his chest. “Straighten up, boy. There’s nothing to fear; abandoning the likes of Grudin was the best decision of your life. Now you are a true warrior, so show me the courage of a warrior—”
Laughter erupted among the scouts; they were fortunate enough to still find humor in such dire circumstances, with the hillmen arriving late and dragging them through the woods until they finally encountered the encirclement of several knights under Count Rendener.
Hadesh felt a bit embarrassed. He knew he had misspoken, although he had been forced to join the young lord’s side. Count Rendener would still view him as a traitor. Others may surrender, but he had no choice. To be fair, he used to be a brave man, but under Grudin, his once-steely resolve had gradually worn away.
He took a breath, his spirit hardening like the blade in his hand.
The older scout reprimanded the others, “What are you laughing at? Get ready for battle—”
More than twenty riders turned to face various directions. In such a desperate situation, new recruits might have already turned pale and panicked, but these knights remained calm and composed, breathing evenly. They were tense, like beasts seeking to break free from dire circumstances.
“Pay attention to the direction of their attacks and look for a chance to break out.” The old man’s sharp gaze surveyed the surrounding forest like a keen beast as he quietly gave orders to his makeshift subordinates.
A sharp sound pierced the cold air, and Hadesh felt a rider beside him tumble to the ground. He quickly reached out to grab the fallen man and secure him back onto his horse. Moments later, the sound of arrows shot from the forest rained down like locusts, filling the air with a whistling noise.
Hadesh momentarily lost focus as an arrow shot towards his face. But a rider beside him had drawn his longsword and deflected the arrow; the sounds of clanging echoed throughout the scout’s ranks. If it were ordinary private foot soldiers under noble command, they would have likely crumbled under such an environment, either frozen in fear or running about aimlessly. Yet all the scouts, including Hadesh, sensed that the shooting from the left and right sides was sparse.
Hank whistled, turning in the middle of the formation, pointing his sword. The riders understood, and over twenty of them managed to turn elegantly without much chaos, charging swiftly to the right side.
On the high ground, Knight Wilson felt a chill in his heart. Reports said that Grudin had been killed in Firburh by a band of rebels, but those scouts below certainly did not look like rebels. They possessed the quality of some of the kingdom’s best regular troops. One could only hope this was just a coincidence, and he promptly commanded his servant to relay orders for the knights to attack. The archers on the flanks would certainly struggle to withstand their charge. However, despite giving the orders, Wilson felt a growing sense of unease.
The first to rush out of the forest were the infantry. The private soldiers of the nobility raised their spears, unable to form much of a formation in the woods, but they still posed a significant threat to the riders. Hadesh leaned back to avoid a spear aimed at him, his longsword slicing across the neck of the attacker.
The sensation of cleaving through the weak throat was a long-sought thrill, with blood spraying like rain. Hadesh felt every nerve in his body tighten as he turned his head to avoid getting blood in his eyes.
On the other side, he saw a fellow rider impaled by two spears in the back. This man had bought him a drink just a day or two earlier—though the drink had not been particularly good, Hadesh remembered that he was a mercenary. Now, the mercenary was on the verge of death, still gripping the reins and urging his horse forward, maintaining the momentum as he crashed into a noble soldier.
The noble soldier flew away as if boneless. Subsequently, both the mercenary and his horse fell, and Hadesh saw him crumpled beside his fallen mount, already dead.
Hadesh couldn’t help but take a deep breath, chopping through the first three men in front of him. The noble infantry were at most of poor iron quality, some even at the white tier. He relied on the disparity in strength to take their threats lightly. However, a whistle echoed through the forest, and hoofbeats sounded from the right flank. A dozen knights suddenly broke through the mist of the forest and appeared from that direction.
“Turn and face the enemy!” The old man’s voice rang out from behind.
The situation instantly became perilous. The scouts were now trapped with only about ten remaining from the original twenty-plus riders who attempted to break out. Moreover, the previously demoralized noble infantry regained their spirits with the arrival of cavalry, attempting to restrain them and prevent them from facing the newly joined knights of the enemy.
However, just as others struggled to break free, a shadow emerged. Hadesh saw the old scout snatch a spear from a noble infantryman and then cleave him down with a sword. The scout turned his horse around, brandishing the spear to charge at the knights.
One man and one horse, akin to champions in an arena, charged forward with overwhelming momentum.
Not just Hadesh, but the knights of Rendener were stunned. They were all light cavalry, having never seen such a fiercely aggressive charge. In a moment of distraction, they were pierced through by the old scout. The rider at the forefront let out a half scream before it abruptly ceased as he was lifted off the ground by the spear.
Yet the spears used by the infantry were not meant for mounted combat. The sheer impact directly bent and broke the spear, and Hank collided into the enemy ranks—drawing his sword and cleaving another knight from the saddle.
Hadesh almost bit his tongue. He did not think the old man’s strength could be that formidable; he figured it was at most on par with his own, slightly above the poor iron tier. However, such fluidity of action was not something just anyone could replicate. “Was this guy formerly part of that army?” This thought immediately crossed his mind. Even a frontline legion like Erluin couldn’t produce such excellent soldiers.
Especially that combat-hardened aura; it was something that could not be easily faked.
Suddenly realizing, he shouted back to the others behind him, “Archers, archers! Cover him!”
No need for his reminder; several riders had already drawn their longbows from behind. The Rendener knights, halted by Hank’s sudden disruption, prepared to surround the old man, but several incoming arrows immediately disrupted their formation.
Seizing the opportunity, Hank charged out from the thin ranks of cavalry. The old man promptly turned, raised his sword, and nodded to his colleagues.
“Seize the opportunity and charge forward, break through that way!” At that moment, Hadesh felt as if a divine spirit possessed him as he instantly understood the old man’s intention. He felt his blood ignite, adrenaline flooding through his veins, turning his eyes bloodshot. He urged his sword forward, and the riders behind him shouted in agreement.
The noble infantry could no longer hold back these frenzied scout knights, while the knights under Count Rendener only just organized their disordered formation, their equally matched opponents were already charging at them…
Knight Wilson nearly fainted at this sight. He initially thought he had caught a prime target, but instead found himself kicking against iron. Over a hundred men and more than ten knights could not encircle just twenty people, allowing the enemy to escape more than half.
“Go to hell! Old veterans of the November War, how are we supposed to fight this battle!?”
Wilson was the most capable knight under Parsons, and due to years of fighting against hillmen, he had rich combat experience. Usually, he wouldn’t even look twice at the likes of rebel forces or even ordinary regular legions like Erluin. Yet this time, Wilson was certain he had never fought such a bizarre battle in his life.
He had seen much more than Hadesh and had recognized that with Hank’s move, he was undoubtedly an old veteran of the November War. More than half of the survivors from that war had received the Candlelight Badge; if not knights, at least they were landholders. How could such people exist among these rebels?
Wilson could not help but feel a chill run down his spine, fearing that he and his lord had fallen into a vast conspiracy.
…
Meanwhile, as Wilson lamented his loss of manpower, a steady stream of reports was being sent from the frontline scouts to Parsons, who was in command of the army at that moment. Although this old knight was in a coalition with two colleagues, his extensive battle experience meant the other two knights could at most serve as his subordinates.
In this war, the only one who could stand on equal footing with him was that renowned general from Madara. Tagus, though no longer young compared to humans, was still one of the younger generation in Madara. The younger stars of Madara had been shining like countless stars in the sky during this Black Rose War.
Though the old knight Parsons was allied with his foes, he could not help but feel a sense of lamentation. Compared to Madara, his homeland, Erluin, seemed like a decrepit old man, shrouded in gloom.
For some reason, the old knight suddenly thought of the “enemy” standing opposite him, who was rumored to be a young man. In an instant, Parsons found himself taking a mild interest in this opponent.
Yet, such interest did not waver the old knight’s resolve. Reports from the front indicated that the vanguard had engaged with the enemy’s sentinels. To be honest, the exchanges were not ideal. Most reports indicated pyrrhic victories, with some segments of the battle even resulting in defeats.
After all, they held an absolute advantage in numbers.
The adversary’s fighting strength was unexpectedly strong, yet Parsons was not overly troubled by this. Regardless of the losses, at least the enemy’s sentinels were being pushed back across the Gras River, achieving their tactical goal.
Next, it was time to take the Gras crossing and prepare for the river battle.
…(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote with your recommendation and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
