Chapter LXXXVI – As we shoot towards those who trespass against us. (Patreon)

62nd of Summer, 5859
Yellowclover, Casamonu

Brown was, despite looking calm as a shallow puddle of water, slightly nervous. In his life he had only led very small fireteams into battle, with groups so small that everybody knew each other by name. He was usually in known territory surveyed by himself beforehand, in a country that he had lived in for his entire life.

Now Brown was in an alien land, leading alien men and treading alien ground not to mention the alien rifle he kept on his back for emergency situations. Now there were half a thousand people moving with him, with another half a thousand waiting in reserve. For the soldiers in the army, it was a different sort of alien feeling. Most of them would be engaging in combat for the first time, and only through stories tall tales by the veterans of the battle for the copper mine did they even have the slightest of ideas.

The First Company and the Second Company were marching right next to each other, both of them in separate squares. Marching while keeping a square was slower when compared to a column, and the companies often had to carefully navigate around trees in the area compared to the comparatively flat Mount Curry they had trained in. This slowdown felt frustrating, especially when there was an entire village burning down in front of their eyes. Without falling in formation however, they’d just get ran down and the village would continue burning.

Men of the League marched forward towards the village until they met their first enemy: a pair of cavalrymen carrying sacks of grain over their shoulders. “Fire!” They attempted an escape upon setting their eyes on the mass of spearmen while a horde of javelins followed behind them. The cavalrymen lost their horses, their body armor was too thick to be pierced by the javelins, so they fell on to the ground with no horses to call themselves cavalrymen with. These newly inaugurated infantrymen showed themselves to be a shining example of Gemeinplatzer chivalry as they turned tail and retreated.

“We’re dealing with a well-armed enemy.” commented Tubman on her horse. She had never actually gotten the chance to lay her eyes on a full suit of armor before. “Our arms can’t even pierce them.”

“Not many things can pierce steel. We have people in this realm capable of producing gunpowder, but I have yet to meet anyone who can make firearms.” Brown thought of whether to take out his rifle and shoot them, but he also didn’t want to waste his limited ammunition. There’d come a time when he’d need to use it; that time wasn’t “two men retreating”.

The companies came to a stop in front of the village. Navigating inside within a square formation would be impossible. Brown could see a mass of cavalrymen gathering far in the distance on an open area in the village square. It was a small mass not numbering more than fifty or so people.

“What do we do, Mister Brown?” asked Tubman while watching their enemy converse. “We shouldn’t let them get away; He wouldn’t want these criminals escaping.”

“The least risky approach would be to let them escape.” Brown’s eyes were on the lifeless bodies of the villagers laid on the street. “But the Lord will surely grant us victory if we dare fight for what’s right.” He rode his horse towards the men of the First Company. “General Tubman, I trust in you to maneuver Second Company to surround the village as best as they can. It’s a pretty small area, so there should be enough men. I, in the meanwhile, will have a friendly chat with the enemy commander.” He waved goodbye and exchanged quick prayers with Tubman as she left to lead the men.

Then Brown turned to his own. “Men! Listen to me carefully…”

The cavalrymen who had retreated into the square had assembled themselves into a donut formation, the natural formation for debate.

“This whole realm has gone mad!” blurted their captain while watching the big black blur in the distance move.

“It is, sir. With the darkskins, the nobles fighting each other… It feels like the end days are nigh.” replied a cavalryman.

“What will we do, sir?” asked another.

“They have superior numbers, but they’re also a bunch of savages wielding sharpened sticks. We should draw them into an open field so that we can mow them down. They should run out of javelins pretty quickly while we kite them from a distance. Sir Korvus would be displeased if we let a band of fugitives go free.”

“Sir, they’re fugitives, they’ve already gone free.”

“We’ll put them back where they belong then!” The captain drew his support while the cavalrymen readied their lances. However, they were stopped in their tracks by a very particular guy:

“Halt! In the name of the Lord, give me a chance to speak.” It was an old man with a magnificent white beard that made him look like a warlock. The cavalrymen’s horses instinctively took a few steps back upon seeing a potentially magical person.

“Who are you? A lightskin, here? Are you some sort of magic user? A cultivator?” shouted the captain while he also took a few steps back.

The mysterious old man paused. He seemed to be taking in their words, formulating something. He eventually found a reply after a deep session of pondering. “Yes, I am. I’ll have mercy and let you know that I’m an otherworlder. The army you see before you is under my mind control magic.”

“I see.” The captain found no other real explanation as to why there would be an old lightskin amongst such a large gathering of fugitives. “That is… quite impressive, Sir Otherworlder. Are you our enemy, or a friend?”

“I’m on the side of a higher power, higher than any other power on this terrestrial realm.”

The cavalrymen looked at each other in disbelief. This old man, who looked ordinary, seemed to have such impressive powers as to be able to control an entire army of men. Such a powerful warlock having the blessings of a higher power only made sense.

“I see.” replied the captain again. “So, this higher power, is it an enemy or a friend?” He was now beginning to get nervous. Who knows what such a powerful otherworlder warlock could do?

“The Lord is a friend of the righteous and an enemy of the wicked. You tell me, between the two, what do you believe yourself to be?”

“Uhm… I go to the temple every week, give a generous tithe, and I am a faithful vassal to my righteous liege. May the Divine bless our souls, I try to live a pious and good life according to scripture.” The captain felt a bit stumped by the question. What sort of nonsense was this warlock about to spout? All eyes were fixed on Brown; all eyes had been fixed on Brown for the past few minutes.

“I see, you seem to think that the Lord is your friend. Let me tell you good sir, do you think that this Divine of yours was your friend when you slew these villagers, burnt their houses, and stole their belongings? Tell me again good sir, while looking directly into my eyes, whether you are amongst the righteous or the wicked.”

“Oh, stop yapping you lowly…” The captain looked around on his high horse. There was a line of spears, only one man deep, encircling the village. He laughed out loud “Really? Men, ride out and quickly ride through these savages!” He wasn’t concerned at all when faced with such a thin line of men with such shabby weaponry. Their horses were armored too compared to the unlucky cavalrymen who had made first contact, so the javelins of the fugitives couldn’t do anything either.

“Woah, careful there gentlemen!” exclaimed Brown, avoiding the men who charged headfirst towards him. “Look behind you, you’ve got greater concerns than just some old man!”

“Huh?” The cavalrymen instinctively took a look behind them. There was a whole company’s worth of men who had sneaked from behind while they were too busy intently listening to Brown make up some nonsense. The situation had been so absurd as to completely make the cavalrymen to forget to look at their backs once in a while.

It was too late for the cavalrymen to break out now. They were encircled by a force ten times larger than them in unfavorable terrain. From the back, spears began thrusting at the exposed legs of their horses who refused to maneuver while there were so many sharp objects around them. The terrified screams of the fallen cavalrymen were mixed in with the confused neighs of their horses to create an orchestra of abject terror and utter chaos.

As the cavalrymen fell, Brown addressed them from above “Remember gentlemen, the Lord is no friend of the wicked!”