Chapter 67 - Hammer and Anvil

The name of Duke Morayen, the great lord of eastern Libert, was fairly well known even in Pendia. As the ruler of a territory bordering Pendia, he had inevitably been entangled in its history in all manner of ways.

It was only because every knight here hailed from Pales that they had failed to recognize him. Anyone from the west would have identified the banner from its description alone.

“Duke Morayen...?”

“Surely he hasn't sided with Conrad?”

Western Pendia was ruled by Duke Ranpel, Prince Conrad's maternal grandfather and patron. Without an alliance with him, it would surely have been impossible to bring so large an army through the west and all the way here to the northwest.

Besides, both belonged to the Old Faith, which naturally made them more sympathetic to one another.

It was Yurk, Baron Rugen, who brought order to the confusion.

“For now, deciding how to respond matters more than guessing why they're here. Do we stand and fight, or withdraw?”

“If we withdraw, we'll have to abandon almost all our baggage. Otherwise, they're bound to catch us.”

Shan's army had made the rounds of every nearby city, acquiring useful strategic resources: magic stones, vast quantities of iron ingots, timber, leather, cloth, and food.

Expecting to escape an unencumbered pursuing army while carrying all of that was asking for far too much.

After quietly listening to the knights' discussion, Shan questioned the messenger.

“How far away are they?”

“I'd say roughly four kilometers.”

Shan closed his eyes and pictured a map of the surrounding area. Comparing their current pace with the usual marching speed of an army a thousand strong gave him a rough estimate.

“Let's head into the city first.”

“The city? You mean Zerkan?”

“Yes. I think we have plenty of time to get inside if we leave now. We can wait there and ask why they're chasing us.”

At his suggestion that they take shelter in the city and defend it, the knights exchanged glances, then nodded. If they could manage it, that was the best option available. It would give them a strategic advantage without forcing them to abandon their spoils.

“Their force is nearly twice our size... but ordinarily, defenders can hold out perfectly well against twice their numbers in a siege.”

“And we have Sir Shan, don't we?”

“There aren't enough supplies nearby to sustain an army that size anyway. Hold out a little while, and they'll have no choice but to turn back.”

Shan's authority had always been considerable, but after his display of superhuman prowess, it had become unassailable. With his orders making sound sense as well, there was all the less reason to object. The commander's decision settled the army's course.

* * *

After a forced march, Shan's army reached Zerkan just before Duke Morayen's pursuers, as he had calculated.

Fortunately, getting the gates opened took no effort. With every member of the ruling family abducted, only minor officials remained to run the city. They lacked the nerve to turn away its returning conquerors.

As soon as they entered, Shan's first order was to reinstall the magic stones and reinforce the gates. Orum, head of the Magic Society, proved enormously helpful.

“No, not like that, you idiots!”

“I told you to close that side first!”

“Bah! And this old man can't do it himself...”

His stream of abuse was infuriating just to listen to, but under his direction, the mercenaries finished installing the stones in mere minutes instead of the better part of an hour.

Shan expressed genuine admiration at the result.

“I had no idea reinforcing a gate with magic stones could be done so quickly.”

“That's thanks to the library of truth inside my head. And enchantment is the field I've spent my entire life studying. An ordinary mage would have needed days.”

Of course, the old man grumbled, installing them in such haste was hardly good in the long run. That mattered little, since they would dismantle everything and take the stones away again after the battle.

Meanwhile, the approaching army finally came into view beyond the walls. The thousand-odd soldiers advanced briskly, deployed beyond bowshot, and began preparing for a siege.

There was no longer any need to ask whether they had come with friendly intentions.

Before long, a man who appeared to be a knight rode out from Duke Morayen's army and shouted.

“I am Quiros, Baron Tot, servant of His Majesty Conrad, the true King of Pendia!”

With someone openly declaring himself Conrad's vassal, their allegiance was beyond doubt. Whatever the precise circumstances, Duke Morayen had clearly decided to lend Conrad his strength.

“You foolish followers of Princess Sherin, that lustful witch who blasphemes against the Goddess with her wicked powers and throws the kingdom into chaos! Change your hearts while you still can, submit to the Goddess's will, and swear allegiance to Pendia's true king! Do so, and he has promised to forgive every outrage you have committed!”

The knights on the wall flushed with anger at the baron's brazen insults against Sherin. Just as they were about to unleash the coarse curses befitting country knights, Roden gripped the parapet to steady his trembling legs and bellowed.

“His Majesty Giselle is still alive, as I understand it, yet Conrad calls himself king? Clearly Conrad is the one who has forsaken all filial duty! Small wonder even his own siblings refuse to acknowledge so worthless a man! Do you know that your disgraceful lord summons whores every night and asks them to whip his back?”

Whipping one's own back was a common subject of mockery aimed at followers of the Old Faith. A doctrine popular in the days of the Arman Empire had taught that each act of self-inflicted suffering brought one closer to the Goddess—and that bore a resemblance to the practices of sexual deviants.

As Roden's insults drew laughter from the wall, the baron's face twisted with fury at the affront to his liege.

“How dare you insult the true king! You will all die and burn in hell! Filthy creatures who betrayed the Goddess! And you who shelter them and bow to that harlot!”

As the baron's furious shouting carried up to the walls, the nearby Altoan mercenaries murmured among themselves.

“Must be because they're such grand gentlemen. Even their curses are fancy. Why not just say they'll grab those motherless bastards and rip their balls inside out?”

“Oh, you stupid fuck. Their boss and our princess are brother and sister. Call him a motherless bastard, and aren't you spitting in your own face?”

“Oh...”

“But don't they have different mothers?”

“Aren't you clever, knowing all that.”

While they chattered away, Roden cleared his throat several times and spoke again. This time, rather than hurling insults and accusations, he challenged them.

“And that banner is plainly Duke Morayen's of Libert! Why are you meddling in Pendia's affairs? Count Valik must still be waiting for you in the west! Don't waste your strength in a foreign land with nothing to gain. Foreigners, go back to your own country!”

“Foreigners, go back to your own country!”

Unlike all the elaborate rhetoric before it, this phrase was apparently easy enough to understand. The soldiers repeated Roden's words with snickers.

After several more exchanges, the baron returned to his army, and movement stirred in the enemy camp. With practiced hands, men fitted together prefabricated wooden components to assemble siege equipment.

Even at a glance, their proficiency was on an entirely different level from that of the Pales soldiers or the Altoan mercenaries.

“They came prepared?”

“They must think very little of us. They should have a rough idea of our numbers, yet they're launching straight into a siege...”

“Perhaps they simply can't afford to wait. If they run short of food, they'll have to retreat.”

While the knights discussed the enemy among themselves, Ravana, who had been studying the opposing camp through narrowed eyes, called to Shan.

“Sir Shan.”

“Hmm?”

“That man over there is Duke Morayen.”

She pointed to a young man in his late twenties farther inside the camp, wearing black armor with elaborate gold ornamentation. The distance obscured his features, but his neatly trimmed beard stood out.

'So that's what he looks like.'

If they fought, he was someone Shan would have to capture or kill. Shan committed his appearance firmly to memory.

* * *

The battle proper began some two hours after the heated war of words. As soldiers carrying ladders charged toward the walls from afar, shouting, Roden thrust out his sword and roared.

“Loose!”

Of their five hundred or so soldiers, the hundred-odd who knew how to use a bow fired a volley from the walls. Soldiers running with ladders in both hands and no shields screamed and fell beneath the rain of arrows.

The attackers attempted to return fire, but with little success. Was it not a law of nature that descending was easier than climbing? The defenders' arrows struck down powerfully with gravity's aid, while the attackers' quickly lost momentum and failed to travel far.

Even those unable to shoot hurled whatever stones lay nearby, widening the disparity in firepower.

Yet the attackers outnumbered them roughly two to one. Those charging from below were also doggedly resolute, as though they knew no fear.

Before long, ladders began hooking over the walls one after another.

A knight among the soldiers extended his sword and gave an order.

“Up, all of you! A hundred gold coins to the first man atop the wall!”

The defenders were no fools, of course, and immediately tried to push away or break the ladders. But that proved harder than expected. Not only did the comparatively weak arrows from below concentrate on them, the sturdy, heavy ladders were far from easy to shove aside or smash.

After several dozen minutes of this struggle, a soldier finally became the first to reach the wall.

“Hahaha! I'm first! A hundred gold—”

With a crunch, his body split in two before he could finish, scattering beyond the wall.

A massive woman grinned confidently, the rabbit ears atop her head pricking upright.

“Don't you dare!”

Ravana the Slaughter Rabbit swung her axe into the ladder leaning against the wall, still smiling with assurance. Her prized magical device, Rabbit's Foot, crushed the heavy ladder with its master's strength behind it.

“Aaaagh!”

“Help!”

Several soldiers on the ladder plummeted meters to the ground. Those farther down escaped with minor bruises or broken bones, but those who had nearly reached the top fell seven or eight meters and were killed outright or gravely injured.

Morale among the nearby attackers visibly faltered at Ravana's appearance.

“The Slaughter Rabbit...?”

“Shit, what's that crazy bitch doing here?”

Having served in Duke Morayen's army during Libert's civil war, she had been seen by many of the soldiers here. Watching her rampage on berserker's elixir, they had been grateful she was not their enemy.

Now they faced that very creature as a foe.

Below the walls, Duke Morayen's command also noticed Ravana.

“Ravana? Why has that devil of a woman suddenly appeared?”

“This won't be as easy as we thought...”

“What will you do, Your Highness? We can still withdraw without heavy losses. We could take the time to build catapults.”

Instead of answering his vassals, Duke Morayen gazed impassively across the battlefield. The sight of soldiers falling to their deaths beneath the walls, spilling blood, entrails, and brains...

“Beautiful.”

“Pardon?”

“Continue the attack. By the look of them, they aren't accustomed to war between humans. Press them, and we can seize the initiative.”

As Duke Morayen predicted, cracks soon began appearing everywhere.

“Y-you bastards!”

“Heh heh... Here we are. You're all dead. Come on!”

The Altoan mercenary company, personally trained by Shan and Roden, had developed solid cohesion for so short a training period. Yet all their practical combat training had been against monsters. They were unaccustomed to the stress of facing humans who could speak and think in complex ways, just as they could.

The less capable household troops of Count Pales and his subordinate barons fared worse still. Apart from taking turns escorting trade wagons outside the domain, they had spent their entire lives in the safety of Pales.

The battlefield, with arrows raining all around and the reek of blood and ruptured guts filling the air, robbed them of their wits in an instant.

“U-uaaagh...”

“Don't fall back! Hold your ground!”

By contrast, Duke Morayen's soldiers felt as comfortable on such a battlefield as they did at home. Over the past several years of Libert's civil war, they had fought every kind of battle, from sieges to engagements in the open field.

Pendians often mocked the people of Libert as weaklings living in a monster-free paradise. But while Libert had few monsters, its civil wars never ceased, and the bandits those wars spawned ran rampant everywhere. Anyone who lived by the sword in that land inevitably grew accustomed to killing.

Ask them to hunt a troll, and they would flee in terror. But against Pendian soldiers who could easily kill that troll, they could run wild to their hearts' content.

“Grr...”

With the Pales troops and Altoan mercenaries struggling, the battle-hardened Ravana and her followers desperately blocked the ladders rising all along the walls. Yet as enemies numbering twice their strength—several times it in practice—kept swarming up, they inevitably began to tire.

Without the overwhelming advantage of holding the walltop, they would have been driven back long ago.

The turmoil was not confined to the walltop. Below, each coordinated blow from the soldiers carrying a well-built battering ram made the magic stone embedded inside the gate flicker and dim.

The reinforced gate could easily withstand a few such attacks, but over a hundred soldiers taking turns pounding it without respite were another matter. All the more so because the stone came not from a powerful monster, but from a middling creature and was of poor quality.

“There! Yes, dig like that! No, you've dug it wrong! Confound it, get out of the way!”

Once again, Orum, head of the Magic Society, proved his worth. Using hastily conscripted civilians as his hands and feet, he had the stone pulled out the moment its power failed, then swiftly inserted and activated a fresh one.

Ordinarily, that would have required dozens of mages. His lofty mastery of magic made it possible for him alone.

“Ugh... This isn't easy at my age.”

Declaring that he could not possibly do that a second time, the old man withdrew, clutching his chest. Excessive use of magic had strained his body.

Thanks to him, however, the gate managed to hold despite the relentless pounding. That was an impressive result for stones taken from monsters of no great strength.

While the gate barely held on, the situation atop the walls was becoming dangerous.

Half out of their minds from the shock of their first real battle, the soldiers were being helplessly driven back and had surrendered almost half the wall. They were still holding without heavy casualties, but at this rate, losing the walls was only a matter of time.

“Captain, how much longer do we have to hold them!?”

“Just a little longer!”

After snapping at her subordinate, Ravana considered taking berserker's elixir again, then gritted her teeth and resolved to endure. Losing her senses atop the wall might send her leaping off it. Even aside from that, too little time had passed since her last dose for her to take another lightly.

Above all, she was reassured by Roden, the commander standing behind them, whose solemn expression showed not the slightest agitation. Surely that meant everything was proceeding according to plan.

In reality, he was merely standing his ground, half stupefied by the swords and spears flashing everywhere. But at least that was how he looked to those around him.

His steady training in dodging incoming objects was what let him remain motionless even as several arrows flew nearby. In the past, he would probably have collapsed on the spot in terror.

As he stood firm on trembling legs, Roden looked out across the battlefield and raised a hand. The soldier beside him vigorously waved a blue flag.

A minute later, several dozen cavalrymen appeared at one side of the wall and raced toward the enemy.

At last, the time for a counterattack had come.

* * *

Apart from its main gate, Zerkan had secret gates at various points around the city. Set roughly two meters above the ground, they could only be used once opened from within and their drawbridges lowered.

Rather than fighting alongside the others on the wall, Shan and the knights had waited at one of these gates. Including their squires, they numbered forty-one.

This had been Roden's proposal. Before the fighting began, he had watched the enemy prepare for a siege, then sought Shan out with a grave expression.

[“I don't think a conventional defense will work.”]

[“Why?”]

[“You can tell at a glance they're far more experienced at siege warfare than we are. The usual claim that defenders can hold off three times their numbers assumes both sides are equally skilled.”]

Ravana, a veteran of Libert's civil war, had agreed. The enemy was far more skilled at fighting other humans. With the current disparity in numbers, defending fortifications alone was no reason to feel safe.

She had not said so earlier or tried to stop them from entering the city because she had no better answer. Not yet formally one of them, she could hardly suggest abandoning all their spoils, and fighting in the open field would solve nothing.

[“Then what's the solution?”]

[“Our greatest asset is you, Sir Shan. And the best way to use a knight is as cavalry.”]

During a siege, all Shan could do atop the walls was cut down infantry climbing ladders. To Roden, that was a tremendous waste of strength. Every time a man capable of killing most knights with a single stroke exhausted himself on infantry, he squandered an opportunity to face a stronger foe.

Without a blessing of vitality, not even Shan could cut down every one of a thousand soldiers.

More importantly, even victory by that method would cost them considerable manpower. Pales, particularly short of fighting men compared with the other factions, needed to preserve as much of its strength as possible.

Thus, the plan: hammer and anvil.

The walls would serve as the anvil, drawing in enemy soldiers, while cavalry emerging through a rear gate would act as the hammer, striking a vital point. With Shan leading, most knights who tried to block them could be crushed easily enough.

Destroying the enemy command would be ideal. Failing that, dealing a heavy blow and returning would still prevent the enemy from concentrating on the assault. They would never know when the cavalry might burst out again.

Roden's proposal won enthusiastic support from the knights. Was winning overwhelming glory in a cavalry charge not their very ideal? At the very least, it was far more honorable than trading blows with common soldiers atop a wall.

Waiting inside the rear gate, Shan quietly closed his eyes and relaxed his entire body. He calmed the excitement stirred by the shouts and screams all around, conserving every bit of strength he could.

Before long, a scout came running and shouted.

“The signal's here!”

“Good. Open the gate.”

The gate rattled open and the drawbridge lowered. Horses neighed as they thundered down it. Carrying Shan, Arwin took the lead proudly, her steps light.

“Let's go, Arwin.”

As a warhorse, Arwin had fought monsters and small groups of people before, but this was her first true large-scale war between humans. Yet the ferocious Horace warhorse paid no heed to the bloodstink and shouting on every side. If anything, she seemed excited, snorting impatiently.

Shan soothed her as he led the cavalry around the walls.

When the enemy camp finally came into view, the enemy spotted the cavalry emerging on their flank, and pandemonium broke out.

“Pick up the pace!”

From here on, it was a race against time. If the enemy recalled the infantry committed to the walls and surrounded them, Shan's force would suffer a devastating blow. They had to strike hard and return before that happened.

“Knights incoming!”

“Spearmen!”

Then, astonishingly, Duke Morayen's seemingly disordered soldiers aligned themselves and formed ranks in an instant.

It was a dense formation designed to halt them at the second rank even if they forced their way through the first with spirit, while attacks from both sides would surround them. Such a maneuver could never have been improvised. It required advance preparation.

At the sight, Shan instinctively realized that the enemy had anticipated Roden's scheme.

'They've got us!'

Should they turn back now? Their retreat was not completely cut off yet. If they wheeled around quickly, perhaps they could preserve the force with only minor losses...

His hesitation lasted only a moment before his sharply awakened instincts told him the answer. Their defensive wall looked solid, but its hasty assembly had left gaps throughout.

If he became the spearhead and punched through, that wall would instead become the enemy's mistake. Deploying defenders farther out had left their main camp less protected...

As Roden had once praised, the mind that worked swiftly only in combat produced an answer in an instant.

“Charge!”

Shan ordered his faltering companions forward and drove Arwin into a swift gallop. Ahead, ranks of infantry barred their path, bristling like a hedgehog.

To ordinary eyes, they were an impenetrable iron wall without a single gap. But Shan's green eyes darted left and right and found the cracks in an instant.

'Sixth and seventh from the right. They've injured a hand, and their shields are drooping.'

'Next rank, eleventh from the left. Too much distance between him and the man beside him.'

'Last rank, right of center. All three have worn spears on the verge of breaking...'

As he thought, an imaginary line appeared before his eyes: a route that would carry him through the enemy's dense defenses if he simply followed it.

Racing along that path, Shan thrust his long cavalry lance forward, and an explosion erupted with a thunderous roar.

* * *

“Caught them.”

“Predictable.”

The moment Shan's cavalry appeared and was enveloped by infantry, Duke Morayen's advisers smiled in contempt.

Whoever commanded the enemy had done some thinking, but perhaps because he had lived in a land without war, his thinking was shallow. With so few knight-class fighters atop the walls, how could they fail to suspect a trick?

Libert's strategists, who had spent their lives on battlefields of deception and counterdeception, had immediately deployed troops ready to defend against a surprise attack from either flank.

And the enemy had fallen squarely into their net—

“Huh?”

One noble's question at the sight before them spoke for everyone.

A single knight was tearing apart an encirclement that should have allowed no escape.

He shattered the first rank with an exploding lance, spotted a gap with unerring precision and drove through it to break the second, then broke the third by taking their spears against his own body and snapping them.

Along the way, he impaled a knight who tried to stop him in a single exchange, killed him, and flung him aside.

Even his horse was monstrous. Its strength and speed were absurd enough, but it also dodged spears aimed at its exposed legs or knocked them aside with its hooves.

As the enemy cavalry behind him poured through the opening he had made, the main body—the camp where Duke Morayen stood—was exposed in an instant.

Not even the infamous Black Lance, Feonil Alten, had displayed such power on the battlefield!

One of the duke's vassals spoke in disbelief.

“What in the world is that...? Does Pendia produce not only humanoid monsters, but monsters shaped like knights?”

“Is this the time for nonsense? Your Highness, get to safety!”

A few knights remained with the main body, but with so many scattered elsewhere, they lacked the strength to face such a monster.

As his horrified vassals dragged him away, Duke Morayen watched Shan charging toward him and murmured softly.

“Beautiful...”