230 Beasts of War

Although Dedrick hadn't expected much at first, the sight before him was incredible. Several thousand cultivators from various sects, clans and factions had come together to face their nominal ruler, all of them desperate to hang on to the meager power they could exert in their little part of the world.

Their 'army' was an abstract collection of colors and clothes, with no organization or cohesion that Dedrick could discern. They walked in small groups, anywhere from ten to a hundred people strong. Of course, none of this was what had impressed the general. Rather, his telescope was trained past the army, onto the eight giant, gray beasts the enemies had brought with them.

"Are these the so-called elephants?"

"They are. What do you think, General?" Wacoca answered in a smug tone that made the general's eye twitch.

"Okay, these might be a problem," he admitted.

The creatures were enormous, at least three times the height of a man and maybe twice as long. Their legs were as thick as tree trunks and their skin looked hard as bark. Worst of all, their tusks looked like they had been designed as weapons of war, long enough to skewer several men at once. At this point, even the prideful knight understood that no man could stand up to these beasts by himself.

"While it is fun to see you in disarray, General, I have to mention that the elephants should be the least of our problems," Wacoca replied. "After all, your people set up he battlefield like this specifically to deal with them. These beasts may be powerful, but they are also heavy enough to match their size. In the deep mud, they will struggle even more than the soldiers. Not to mention their gentle nature, to spite their looks. While I have never seen an elephant react to a firearm, the noise and smoke produced by your volleys should create a good bit of trouble for their riders."

"In that case, I'm relieved."

"How does our enemy look?" a voice came from behind them and interrupted their conversation.

"Disorganized," Dedrick answered. When he turned, he saw the commander of the army move up to join them on the rampart's crest. Paec looked a bit pale, but he appeared to have recovered from the attempted assassination otherwise. "How're you doing?"

Despite what had happened the previous night, they really couldn't afford a jittery leader. Dedrick had to make sure Paec wasn't affected any more, or he would have to take back control of the army.

"I'm fine," the young officer said. "Thank you for your concern. In the end, the assassins failed, despite their best efforts. On that note, I need to thank you, General. Without your quick action, they would have killed me in my sleep."

"You got that part right," Dedrick snorted. He conveniently brushed over the role his own 'assassin' had played in the events. "Everyone ready?" he asked instead.

"Yes, the soldiers are already in formation, much unlike our foes." Paec looked down onto the disorganized heap of martial artists. "They have no common heart, and thus no cohesion. We have the defensive advantage, and we are much better equipped. The battle should be easy enough, at least if everything goes the way we expect."

"What about our organization? Didn't we struggle with the language barrier?"

Paec nodded. "At first, there were some problems with the relay of orders. The local soldiers were also unwilling to work under foreign troops. But by now we have found a compromise Chatra Huemac's soldiers were willing to agree with. As a result, we have reorganized the armies and mixed our troops with theirs. Every unit will contain about one fifth of our Saniya soldiers, with about a third of them fresh recruits. They're organized into platoons of one hundred, all of them led by a single ensign. All of these officers are our people, and they all speak Yakua. We have come up with several non-verbal signs to pass more simple commands down the chain. The locals should be able to follow our orders well enough. Huemac's elites insisted that they were too important to work under us, and they argued that their power would be diminished if we broke apart their established formation. That's why we've retained the structure they were using since before our arrival. For now, we have put them into the center of our front line."

"The center would have to withstand the harshest attack, so it makes sense to place the elites there," Dedrick commented.

"True. There is also less of a reason to move them around, so we can guarantee our tactical initiative once something surprising happens and we need to get fancy with the flanks. Also, they will be forced to fight with their all even if they dislike us. They will be surrounded by allies and enemies on all sides, so there is no way for them to take the easy way out."

"You really don't like cultivators, do you?" Dedrick asked in a sour tone.

"Can you blame me after what happened last night, General?"

"Eyes up front, the cultivators are coming for a chat."

While they had been talking, a small delegation of five people detached from the enemy army and marched towards their position. Now that Wacoca had made the officers aware of their presence, the men atop the hill calmed down and watched the arrivals.

Around the maximum distance of an average arrow's flight, the five martial artists took root. Only their leader made one additional step and called out to their position atop the rampart.

As soon as he did, Dedrick looked over to Wacoca for help. As an Arcavian, the knight didn't know a single word of the Chutwa language, so he would have to rely on the captain's translation.

"His name is Ectnara," Wacoca said, though he sounded somewhat unsure. "He says he is the master of the Flowing Water Sect, and the leader of their alliance. The others behind him are the other leaders of the big sects and clans in the region, and they are... co-leaders, I believe."

While Wacoca tried his hardest to keep up with the fast-talking cultivator, the Flowing Water Sect's master continued to drone on like a waterfall.

"Is that why they call them flowing water?" he wondered, but no one picked up on his joke.

"He asks if there is any honorable man atop our rampart. He says there is no reason for the two sides to fight and cause blood to flow. They are willing to let go of the differences. Instead of war, they want to resolve the issue with a duel."

"That right?" Dedrick's eyes narrowed as he stared at the sect master at the bottom of the rampart.

"General, you don't plan to agree, do you?" Paec asked with concern. "There is no need to go so far for some elusive honor, not when we have every advantage here."

Rather than answer Paec's concerns, Dedrick stepped up to get a better look at his enemies. Short, neatly trimmed beards and straight postures... they really looked like honorable martial artists.

"Hey, Wacoca, can you translate for me?"

"Of course I can."

"Tell him that he should take his sword out of its sheath. Then he wants to place it in the ground with the point up and the handle down. The earth's nice and sticky so it'll be easier to keep upright. After that, I want him to take a deep breath and sit on it."

"General?" Everyone who heard his words looked at Dedrick in shock. How could the self-declared knight change his tone so quickly, so crudely? Hadn't he defended these honorable warriors all this time?

"I said it yesterday: Any proper soldier, whether they call themselves warriors or knights or martial artists, deserves to be treated with respect. That's why I wasn't in favor of our cheap tricks. It's poor form, and it's bad for Saniya's reputation... and most importantly, it's bad for mine. Well, last night these pieces of shit showed what they're really made of. They're no knights, and I won't respect some petty thieves. So tell him to shove his damn sword up his ass."

"As you wish, General," Wacoca answered, barely managing to suppress a smile.

While the pirate did his best to play translator with his so-so knowledge of Chutwa, Dedrick took out a short stack of papers and looked through his notes. As the little guy's guardian, he would have to make sure Paec would be okay during the combat they would soon have to face.

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"So who're the old people behind the waterfall guy? Anyone we like?" Dedrick asked.

"I'm not a local either, so I wouldn't know," Paec answered his cryptic question with a forced smile. "When it comes to this matter, we can only put our trust in Lady Yasimi's abilities. Though since she has promised us results, I am sure we can expect to see at least something during the battle."

"Be better if we didn't have to rely on some unknown variables," Dedrick mumbled.

"I agree. Thus, our ample preparations. If we stick to our plans, even if everything else goes wrong, there is no way for us to lose. How could these barbarians with their swords and spears stand up to a proper flintlock volley?"

"Don't underestimate a cultivator's charge. They've been the dominant force on battlefields for centuries," Dedrick cautioned. "I don't know a lot about these people, but if nothing else, they're at least competent cultivators. That's what last night should have taught you. They might march like trash, but they don't need a whole lot of organization to just charge forward and swing their iron around."

"Wasn't that what we built the rampart for? Even if they manage to breach our lines in one or two spots, our new weapons will be able to push them back without much trouble."

"Still, better be careful. Arrogance is what ends up killing you, or others. Even our glorious king could tell you stories about that," Dedrick said as he looked up at the elephants in the distance. If a surprise were to come from anywhere, it might just be from the giant beasts in the back. Dedrick's thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the fool at the foot of the artificial hill.

The leader of the flowing water sect still stood in the same place, but now his stance was much more aggressive than before. His sword raised towards them, he glared up at his foes like a scorned lover. Maybe he had drawn his weapon out of anger, or maybe it was to fulfill the first part of Dedrick's request, but either way he didn't look too happy with their answer.

"General, he says-"

"Yeah, I got it," Dedrick interrupted the captain. A cocky grin on his face, he leaned onto his knee, over the rampart and towards the waiting masters at the bottom. For a second, the two sides stared at each other, before Dedrick spat down towards them.

As far as he was concerned, these bastards didn't deserve his respect, or his forgiveness. It would be better to piss them off as much as possible, so they would break their heads against the wall Paec had built.

In a huff, the masters exchanged a few words among them, before they flung their sleeves about and rushed off, back towards their soldiers.

"We better get ready too," Dedrick said towards Paec.

"Everyone get combat ready. Give the signal."

As Paec's second-in-command spread his orders through the use of flags and megaphones, the knight observed the enemy army. After their masters had returned, movement within the mass of bodies had increased, but it resembled an angry beehive more than a proper army. One or two sections of the troops looked eager to break off and rush towards their death halfway up the hill. But much to Dedrick's dismay, they were held back by their fellow sects around them at the last moment.

*Maybe charging isn't as easy of a task as I thought.*

In consternation, Dedrick looked on as the chaos only increased in scope. In a few places, fights broke out between the factions, though not quite enough to draw any blood. It was a good chance to catch their enemies on the wrong foot, but whatever Dedrick thought didn't matter much.

Faced with a decision, the conservative Paec chose to hold his troops in formation. Although the sect alliance looked weak, they would be foolish to give up their superior position for some opportunistic advantages. Least of all with those giant monsters in front of them.

In the end, Hueatlan's army stood and waited for half an hour, until the enemy had formed something vaguely resembling a front line. Eager to fight after their warm-up routine, the disciples of eastern Chutwa repeatedly banged their weapons onto their armors.

Although they didn't do so with any sort of rhythm, they still created a cacophony of noise that sounded like the song of battle. Behind them, the titanic elephants let out ear-splitting roars to intimidate their foes, like a thousand warped trumpets from a demonic army. Soon after, the entire formation began to move up the path, ever closer to their deaths.

Once again, war was upon them.