Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 394 - 393: Ambush Set

The great army of fifty thousand soldiers has broken camp and set out, accompanied by the sounds of music and cheer, creating an air of festivity along with an unbearable clamor.

Count Hosman and his knights, clad in their brilliant armor, were the most striking colors of the troop. The knights, on their tall horses, dressed in new plate armor, while their squires marched beside them, holding vibrant banners. As they advanced, they sang aloud the ballad ”The Lost Soldier Tom,” a song well-known in the southern borders. The accompanying musicians played bagpipes and hand drums, their bright tones helping nearby troops identify the commander’s location—musicians typically played like this every ten miles to prevent the army from falling into complete disarray.

Still, despite these measures, the entire army appeared extraordinarily chaotic, an unavoidable circumstance: a vast force like this crammed together, belonging to dozens of different aristocratic leaders who had almost no coordination among them. The army spread in a long, disjointed line along the King’s Road, and as the vanguard left the Carol territory, the rear had yet to depart from their encampment.

But Count Hosman was unfazed by this. In his view, being able to march in the same direction with the main force was already the best these rural aristocrats could achieve. He couldn’t expect peasant soldiers, recruited straight from the fields and known only for getting drunk and brawling, to be as disciplined and spirited as his own knights. Besides, the chaos at this time didn’t matter; the destination was still far off. In the following days, the main task would be marching, and many smaller, distant noble armies had yet to arrive at the Carol territory, expected to be continuously supplemented. Therefore, there was no need to organize things right now.

Chaos could be overlooked, for he had fifty thousand soldiers and could likely flatten the entire Cecil Clan.

Moreover... those disordered, ragtag private soldiers in tattered leather and chainmail weren’t significant forces; they were merely fodder for the battlefield, while the true power lay with the army’s Transcendents.

As Count Hosman mused, his gaze fell upon the advancing ranks beside him—he saw his proud knights and the robed mages they protected, along with the priests and their church knights following behind the knights. These individuals in solid armor or luxurious robes stood noble and reserved, appearing extraordinarily distinguished among the surrounding, rambunctious common soldiers.

These were the forces he truly relied upon.

...

To the north of Kant territory, the artillery position on Windward Hill had been set up. Sir Philip rode through the different artillery groups before returning to the center of the position.

His gaze swept across the entire position, seeing not only the disciplined, swift-acting Cecil Clan warriors and their artillery positions, but also the somewhat chaotic and flustered Kant Corps (Second Combat Corps) assisting behind the lines.

The First Legion had three thousand soldiers on standby here, while the rest were the newly-formed ”Second Legion” from the Kant Region, though the latter wasn’t the main fighting force. Their tasks included setting up the position, handling logistics, and observing the battle.

Despite the Second Legion beginning formal military training, their old habits and mindsets as private soldiers among noble ranks were still deeply ingrained. This wasn’t an issue straightforward training could resolve, but Sir Philip believed letting these people witness the First Legion’s battle tactics firsthand would greatly loosen their stubborn thinking—a fact already proven among the Kant Knights.

The leader of the Kant Knights, the middle-aged Wald Peric, stood on a high platform clad in new armor and wielded a new weapon called the ”Melting Sword,” watching the soldiers work busily in this place called the ”artillery position.” The gently sloping hill had been fully fortified, with extensive land leveled, and trenches and ”artillery pits” dug out. Large weapons called ”Magic Crystal Railguns” were strategically placed in the pits, and transport trenches for moving ammunition and personnel ran between the pits. The brightly armored Cecil soldiers moved quickly between the trenches, their precise commands creating a sense of order and... beauty, something Wald hadn’t seen in his decades of military service.

The battlefields in his memory were far simpler, brutish, and chaotic.

As for this special ”artillery position”... it was even further beyond his comprehension.

He had seen the Magic Crystal Railgun before and even knew its name was ”Righteousness,” but he had only witnessed its test firing on a flat ground, assuming that was how the Railgun fought. Now, seeing this unique position and the artillery crews’ proficient preparations, he realized his previous experience was merely scratching the surface.

A female knight with brown shoulder-length hair walked onto the platform, approaching Wald Peric. ”Mr. Wald, I heard... we won’t be participating in the upcoming battle?”

The old knight didn’t turn his head. ”According to orders, unless the enemy reaches the hill, the Kant Knights and the entire Second Legion will not participate in the battle.”

The female knight frowned, her face full of heroic spirit showing her discontent. ”Isn’t this a slight to us?”

”This is training for the Second Legion, young Margarita,” Wald finally turned his head at the complaint, looking at the female knight in front of him. She was one of the most gifted female knights in the Kant territory, closest to middle-ranked, but still too young and less stable. ”Don’t forget, the Second Legion hasn’t completed basic drills; they haven’t even memorized the new combat orders. Would you send them into battle to cause chaos?”

”They didn’t memorize, but we have,” the female knight protested indignantly. ”Now the brothers and sisters follow the Cecil Clan, digging earth and moving stones, transporting artillery shells and Magic Web Baseplates, but when battle starts, we have no part... It’s obviously a lack of trust. We’ve already sworn loyalty, and always strictly obeyed the leader’s orders...”

”Then continue to obey, knight,” Wald interrupted Margarita. ”As a knight, if you can’t even follow your master’s orders, then no matter how valorous on the battlefield, it’s devoid of honor.”

The female knight was left speechless and could only bow her head slightly, but Wald knew that Margarita’s resentment was shared by other Kant Knights, so he continued, ”Margarita, what do you think of your new armor and new sword?”

”Armor and sword?” The female knight was momentarily stunned, then she looked down at her body, at the alloy armor bearing the Cecil Clan seal, with faint magical light flowing through its seams, uniquely styled yet aesthetically pleasing. She then looked at the Melting Sword at her waist and nodded subconsciously, ”They’re very good things... At first, I felt a bit regretful to take off my inherited armor and put on this ’standard issue’, but now I feel they’re really good, especially this sword—much better than my original steel sword.”

”Have you seen those soldiers? Each of them has this same set,” Wald gestured with his chin at the busy Cecil soldiers on the position, ”I’ve asked around, and the armor and weapons of ordinary soldiers are not much different from that of the officers, the latter just have a few more gold engravings and slightly better magical materials, do you know what this means?”

The female knight showed a thoughtful expression.

”It means that as long as they wear this armor and wield this Melting Sword, five or six ordinary soldiers can take down a supernatural knight like yourself—that’s even considering your advantage in swordsmanship and combat experience. If they use heat-ray guns and grenades, you probably can’t handle even two. In other places, a supernatural knight may easily handle a hundred, but here, you’re at best just a more capable soldier.”

Margarita: ”...”

”So the leader doesn’t let us fight not because he doesn’t trust us, but because he doesn’t need us,” Wald looked into the distance and exhaled lightly, ”But he lets us observe, to follow and learn, which means he hopes we can be of use someday. What he needs is not just one capable knight, but a group that can actively learn and keep pace with him, do you understand?”

”...I understand.”

”That’s good,” Wald smiled and nodded, ”then let’s just watch in silence, see how the Cecil Clan fights their wars...”

A messenger arrived at the hilltop, ran to Sir Philip, and handed him the latest intelligence report.

Sir Philip opened the report and saw a few lines written in a feminine script:

”Fifty thousand troops from Count Hosman’s Territory are heading south, via King’s Road to Broken Stone Ridge, expected arrival on XX day.”

Sir Philip nodded, casually turning the note into dust that scattered in the wind.

”Send out scouts in the Broken Stone Ridge area for early warning, use smoke as a signal.”

...

At the same time, at the edge of the forest on the south bank of the White River, Byron Kirk was standing on a camouflaged cannon position, watching his soldiers cover the acceleration rails of the rail cannons with woven leaves and vines as camouflage blankets.

This middle-aged knight, a former mercenary, lacked any aristocratic demeanor. He was chewing on a wooden stick, leaning against a half-dead black elm tree, pondering how to pass the tedious time—firing the cannon was an enjoyable task, but waiting for prey before firing was exceptionally grueling.

As if someone in the void heard his thoughts, he saw a messenger pushing through the underbrush to the position, walking straight towards him.

He waved from afar at the messenger, ”Yo, Banico, any good news?”

”Sir, clear intelligence,” the messenger reported after saluting Byron, ”Earl Peibo is leading twenty thousand troops along the White River, expected to reach the ambush point in two days.”

”Ho, twenty thousand,” Byron whistled, ”Not bad, we’ve got two thousand against twenty thousand here, much easier than Sir Philip’s side. Over there, it seems like three thousand against fifty thousand.”

The messenger instinctively responded, ”Sir Philip also has the Kant Knights...”

”Those people aren’t participating in the battle,” Byron dismissed with a wave, ”Alright then, with this news I’m reassured, as long as we’re sure those bastards are coming, I’ll find a place to nap... in a couple of days we’ll give them a hell of a shelling!”