Horizon of War Series

Chapter 35

Following the initial assault, Lansius’s first trench was no longer able to use crossbows as freely anymore. It became mainly a melee affair. But the crossbows, as planned, had done a great job in blunting the initial assault.

Moreover, Lansius had put the bulk of his crossbowmen in the second trench, where they could fire freely at any incoming enemy on the surface. These ranged attacks became Lansius’s best defense against the enemy’s onslaught, preventing them from being slaughtered from the top like animals trapped in a gutter.

Lansius’s side didn’t have a monopoly on crossbows; their opponents had tried to use them as well. However, they were unprepared. Anticipating a melee, Lord Robert’s men had failed to bring a sufficient number of crossbows into the trench.

Meanwhile, Lansius had amassed a large stockpile of bolts, enough to last an hour. He had also trained more than half of his men in the use and maintenance of crossbows. Bows took ages to master, but crossbows required only two days to learn the basics and two weeks to become proficient enough for battle.

While Sir Stan had equipped the troops with spears, polearms, and a few dozen crossbows, Lansius allocated more of his war fund to acquire a hundred more crossbows, even going so far as to spend his own personal five gold pieces—equivalent to 100 silver—to buy forty additional crossbows.

Still not satisfied, Lansius borrowed thirty heavy arbalests from Toruna’s armory, along with a large supply of bolts. To further bolster their arsenal, he sold some of their surplus supplies to purchase additional ammunition.

All these preparations enabled his troops to maintain a high rate of fire against their opponents. This proved especially effective against the enemy’s transitional armor, which was primarily ring mail rather than proper plate. Lowlandia was a poor province, and despite its involvement in multiple conflicts, its men-at-arms lacked the best equipment the Imperium could offer. Its plates made from mild iron offered little protection against Midlandian steel-tipped heavy bolts.

But now, the battle had entered a new phase.

Steel clanging echoed as Hugo exchanged blows with the new opponent. At one point, the knight turned it into a sword grapple. However, Hugo was a tad faster and slipped his sword into a thrust. The steel tip dug deep into the knight’s unprotected inner right elbow, causing him to recoil in pain.

Despite not being the greatest fighter, Hugo’s agility and sure-footedness, helped by the rope trick, gave him an advantage in the close and confined space. Hugo wrestled the opponent down with that advantage, but another fighter intervened.

Hugo took a step back, and another knight in engraved plate armor wielding a shield and mace took the spot easily. The other fighter also faced difficulties with his opponent and was saved only by Hugo’s intervention.

This unnerved Lansius. The opponent was getting better at this game.

Despite their initial setbacks, the Lion’s knights and men-at-arms had slowly adapted and regained their edge. There was no more hurried attack or halfhearted assault, only cold precision and a steady push.

Exhausted, Hugo signaled for a replacement. Lansius and his crossbowman seized the opportunity to fire at the enemy. However, the knights were prepared and readily shielded their upper bodies, making the bolts thud harmlessly upon impact.

Another pair of fighters bolted to the front. Meanwhile, Lansius reloaded his crossbow and realized he could hear heavy breathing coming from the enemy’s direction.

The hot and humid conditions underground made it difficult for anyone in full-face helmets to breathe through their small vents. As a result, many of Lansius’s opponents had their visors open, despite the risk of getting hit by stray bolts or deadly shrapnel.

Lansius suddenly rallied his men. “Keep it up! Once we stop the vanguard, the rest will fall.” Upon hearing his words, the new pair of fighters charged forward with their poleaxes.

The rest of Lansius’s men behind didn’t respond verbally. Having borne the brunt of the assault, they were exhausted, but their eyes showed renewed determination.

However, determination alone was not enough to win the fight. Despite their best efforts, the new pair of fighters struggled in their fight and continued to lose ground against the more-skilled opponents.

Hugo looked at Lansius, who nodded, agreeing to another swap.

Despite the advantage, the opponent did not rush. They were acting like a cat playing with a mouse in their grasp. When they spotted another swap, they were so accustomed that they readily raised their shields.

Watching them, Lansius deliberately withheld from firing his crossbow. Instead, he aimed it around threateningly to give his men some breathing time. The trick worked, and his fighters retreated without problems.

At this range, and in the absence of wind, everyone knew that not even plate armor could provide invulnerability. However, the problem still persisted: a crossbow would not be very effective against a shield.

A bearded man stepped forward. He wore a sallet along with a heater shield and an axe. From his looks, he was eager to fight.

“Careful, don’t get cocky,” Lansius warned the bearded guy.

Thomas chuckled. “No worries, I got my beard back.”

The man could have an easy life in Midlandia, following Lord Arte and Sir Peter on their political tour, but Thomas decided to follow his guts. Out of respect, Lansius had put him in reserve, but the man yearned to fight.

Thomas and Roger, a younger man who had paired up with him, approached the opponent’s line calmly. The mace-wielding knight suddenly lunged at Thomas. Thomas dodged a blow from a mace and countered with a ferocious axe attack.

The knight blocked with his shield and felt a jolt in his arm and shoulder. Thomas kept hacking at it, but a shield bash took him by surprise.

Thomas stumbled back as the knight swung his mace. He raised his shield to block, crouched low, and lunged at the knight. It was such a short distance that the knight failed to react.

The knight lost his footing as Thomas launched a series of blows. The knight immediately fell, and Thomas pinned him down, ready for the killing blow, but a halberd greeted him from the front.

The axeman released his prey and took several steps back. Two knights assisted their fallen comrades readily. One dragged the guy back; another kept brandishing their halberd.

“Thomas!” Lansius shouted.

Old Thomas barely ducked when two bolts screeched through the air and landed at the two who tried to evacuate their friends. One got hit in the thigh and groaned in pain, another was unconscious from a big dent in his helmet.

“On me!” Thomas charged into the opponent’s confused line while Roger tried his best to contain the other knight from interfering.

Hugo sprang into action and joined the fray while Lansius frantically reloaded his bolt, hoping this might be the break they were waiting for.

Thomas, Hugo, and Roger fought admirably with tenacity. However, despite the golden opportunity, they were facing the best of Lord Robert’s men-at-arms. The knights soaked the damage and re-formed their line.

In this confined space between the two red dirt walls, there was no place for flanking, and Lansius men’s momentum stalled. They took two for ransom and injured several, but failed to make the breakthrough they desperately needed.

Just then the fighting stopped as both sides took breathing room.

“Get down,” the crossbowman beside Lansius yelled, as he thought he had found his chance.

Already anticipating the attack, the men ducked. The bolt flew straight but narrowly missed the knight’s helmet. Lansius, too, fired his crossbow, but the bolt got deflected at the other knight’s pauldron and flew harmlessly into the earthen wall.

After they had spent their ranged attack, the opponent suddenly charged forward.

Fuck! They were waiting for this.

“Fall back,” Hugo screamed as if reading Lansius’s mind. Thomas and Roger acted like a rear guard and tried their best to defend against the charging knights.

Lansius’s men retreated, more panicked than orderly. Suddenly, one of the guys in front screamed. Lansius stopped and saw Roger’s shoulder pierced by a spear. Blood was gushing through his gambeson.

Lansius tossed his crossbow to his assistant and dashed back. “Lend me a hand,” he cried as he dragged the wounded guy as fast as he could.

Hugo and Thomas were close to their limit, answering multiple attacks at once. The opponents clad in plate fearlessly rushed like raging bulls.

A spear slipped and nearly impaled Lansius. It made him slip into the red mud. A female in ring mail moved past them, pushing them, and used her shield as cover.

“Carla, don’t get reckless,” her friend warned her from behind.

“Mind your business! If they fall, then we’re also going to die,” Carla said defiantly.

“That’s more like it,” Lansius commended while redoubling the effort to drag Roger. There was not enough space for two, but a few hands reached out to them to help.

Carla eventually took the front after Thomas got hit on the side of his helmet. Afterward, they picked up the pace, where suddenly the width along the trenches got wider.

They finally reached a place that Lansius named the gatehouse. It was not only wider, but it was also separated by a wooden fence with a functioning gate.

As they passed the wooden fence, Lansius, Hugo, and the rest just dropped to the ground. Red sticky soil was the least of their problems.

A few men who were in charge of the gate, less experienced but protected behind the fence, readily brandished their spears and fired their crossbows against the incoming knights and men-at-arms.

After a short skirmish that felled several of their members, the Lowlandians lost their momentum and retreated, seemingly into the far end of the trenches.

Lansius slumped with his back against the reddened wall. Hugo and Thomas were next to him. Despite being wider than the rest of the trench, it was still only enough for four people to stand abreast.

Fresher personnel passed between them to reinforce the gate. The fighting grew quiet around them, so Lansius could hear crossbow bolts being fired overhead.

“Fighting still rages top side,” Hugo commented after watching Lansius looking upward.

Lansius nodded. He knew that it meant that the opponent still had more men coming. However, this was all within expectation.

Looking at his men working hard to survive made him breathe a sigh of relief. His biggest gamble had paid off. From the beginning, Lansius’s problem wasn’t only the enemy, but also his men’s willingness to fight. Truthfully, they were nothing but misfits, poorly recruited and motivated only by raiding and looting.

Exacerbating the problem, Lansius had no reputation. Despite all his fair treatment, no Midlandians would trust him with their lives. Thus, he had deceived them. He had led them to a place where they couldn’t possibly run, so their only option was to fight for their lives. This trench strategy was essentially that.

Lansius gambled that, even without divine rights, beliefs, or ideologies, men would always fight for survival. And once again, he had proven the assumption to be correct. His men were exhausted, bruised, and battered, but still motivated to fight. And the Arvenians gladly showed them the way.

Ever more experienced, Hugo began skillfully reorganizing his men. In a short time, a fresh group of thirty men sallied out. Their rallying cries pumped everyone’s morale as they exited the gateway.

“Tough lads,” Hugo commented as he noticed Lansius gaze at the men.

Lansius nodded. “Any words from other sectors?”

Hugo searched around and called, “Oi, messengers.”

One perked up and headed toward them.

“What’re the words from Sir Justin and Master Calub?”

“Sir Justin and his men have captured a dozen. Several fell, but they steadily gained ground. As for Master Calub, his traps worked; the enemy was kept in check.”

Hugo looked at Lansius, who nodded, satisfied.

Anything other than getting wiped up is good news.

While the battle raged on, they could afford some quick treatment. A barber who followed them was their designated healer, as was the norm for this era.

The barber cleaned Hugo’s small wounds with wine and wrapped them with a clean linen cloth. Meanwhile, Thomas had a cut on his cheek and had lost a lump of hair from a narrow slash. Part of his beard was reddened with blood.

Lansius took a deep breath. The realization that these men bled for him was overwhelming.

Suddenly, the wooden fence came alive again. The second group was being pushed back, and the knights were hot on their tails.

Thomas put his sallet back while Hugo took a crude-looking halberd from one of his men. Lansius, too, rose up, ready for the finale.

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