Translator: Cinder Translations
...
"General Fedotov!"
The messenger's horse reared up before Fedotov, nearly losing its footing. The rider almost fell off.
"What happened?"
Fedotov's sense of foreboding grew stronger.
"Our cavalry... our cavalry…"
The messenger's voice cracked, and he sounded close to tears.
"Speak!" Harper said, his face contorted with anxiety, gripping the messenger's clothes tightly. The shadow of their previous defeat loomed over him once again.
"Our cavalry is finished."
Cavalry? Most of the Inquisition's cavalry was supposed to be hiding behind a mound, following the pre-battle plan. This cavalry unit was to serve as a reserve; if the Inquisition's frontal forces fought well, they would charge out as the Eatonians retreated, breaking their final psychological barrier and turning their withdrawal into a rout. If the frontal forces struggled, they would flank the Eatonians using the terrain.
As the commander, Fedotov forced his mind to stay calm and asked the messenger, "Don't panic. What exactly happened?"
The messenger recounted the scene, "We were quietly waiting behind the mound for your orders when suddenly, there was a burst of fire and a terrible noise from the crowd. The fire and noise didn't cause much harm to our knights, just a few unfortunate ones got burned. But it was a disaster for our horses. Those poor animals had never seen such chaos; their fur is highly flammable. They panicked and refused to listen to their riders, running wild behind the mound."
The messenger recalled with horror, "So many strong warhorses, trampling through the crowd, many soldiers were trampled into meat paste on the spot."
"Ah!" Fedotov cried out in pain, covering his face. "What happened next? Was the situation controlled?"
"With everyone's effort, the horses calmed down a bit, but they were still unmanageable. While we tried to soothe them, a group charged at us, some mounted and some on foot, looking disorganized. We thought it was a small Eatonian squad and immediately organized our forces to repel them. But just then, the strange fire and noise erupted again, and the mounts panicked once more. In that extreme chaos, we were attacked by them."
"And then... and then..." The messenger hesitated, "We... we were scattered by them. I rushed over to report to you."
"Damn it! How many were in that group?"
"It was too smoky to judge accurately, but I estimate there were over 500 people."
"Over 500? More than 500 took you down?" Fedotov was furious.
"The situation was too chaotic, and those leading the group were like demons from hell. Our blades couldn't hurt them at all, especially the one at the front, swinging a massive iron chain that could reap a large number of lives with each swing."
The messenger described it in terror.
"A demon wielding an iron chain?" Harper's body trembled. He recalled that terrible defeat before, when that same chain-wielding demon had charged into his ranks and slaughtered his soldiers like vegetables.
"General?" Harper looked to his superior, Fedotov, hoping for further instructions.
Fedotov was torn inside. Should he withdraw the infantry engaged in battle to rescue his cavalry? The cavalry was an incredibly valuable force. Each time they fought, he hesitated to let them lead the charge, instead using infantry as cannon fodder to wear down the enemy before deploying the cavalry for a decisive blow. But now, unexpectedly, it was the cavalry at the rear that had encountered trouble. Not to mention that most of the cavalry were knights and noble sons; if they fell under his command, he would not come back unscathed.
But if he withdrew the infantry currently engaged in a fierce fight with the enemy, what would the consequences be? If some idiot misunderstood his orders and shouted, "The Inquisition has been defeated," wouldn't that spell disaster?
He glanced at the mound that had been used to shield the cavalry, now shrouded in thin smoke.
"Relay my orders!" Fedotov shouted angrily. "Encourage the front troops to fight with all their might. If they can end the battle within half an hour, everyone will receive 10 gold coins... no! 50 gold coins!"
"Harper! You lead a team to rally the cavalry!" Fedotov's eyes burned with fury, scorching his subordinate with his gaze. Harper's fear of him outweighed that of the chain-wielding demon, and he shuddered before shouting, "Yes, General!"
"To everyone else!" Fedotov turned his horse around, quickly surveying the surroundings. About six or seven hundred men remained with him. "Be on guard against potential Eatonian ambushes!"
He now hoped to end the current battle swiftly and then have his main infantry deal with that strange group.
The command of 50 gold coins was conveyed to the engaged infantry, and as Fedotov expected, their morale surged. The soldiers swung their weapons with renewed vigor.
However, what he did not anticipate was that the previously retreating Eatonian forces suddenly rallied and regained their morale.
"Damn it! Do they know our cavalry is in trouble? Dammit!"
Fedotov cursed.
With a swift whoosh, he drew his sword.
"Everyone!" he shouted at his subordinates, "This is the most critical moment! This battle will determine the success or failure of our expedition. It's a matter of returning as heroes to enjoy the glory of victory or returning as a defeated army to bear the shame of failure, and it all rests on this moment. I command everyone to closely follow me and charge at the Eatonians. Do you see that man in white armor? That's Duke Eaton, our primary target for attack. Whoever captures or kills him, I will personally report to His Majesty the King and the Archbishop, and grant them titles, wealth, and beauties—whatever they desire!"
After his rallying speech, Fedotov raised his sword high. "Now I command—charge!"
He spurred his horse forward, dashing out like an arrow.
The others who had remained behind, all with their mounts, followed Fedotov into the fray against the Eatonian forces.
As Fedotov led the charge, he failed to notice a group emerging from behind the mound where he had hidden his cavalry, moving stealthily along their path.
Above the engaged Eatonian infantry, a terrifying heat was gathering.
(End of the Chapter)
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Translated 4 Series, 1.65K+ Chapters and 2.01M+ Words.