Chapter 253 – Strange Winter (2)

Chapter 253 – Strange Winter (2)

The snow has been falling relentlessly for weeks now, giving Pion and his company their daily exercises in clearing it away and checking the now much more refined defenses.

"The snow is giving us a great advantage," Polo said as he exhaled, watching his white breath remain in the air. He was standing next to Pion, surveying the dark morning and the snow-covered hills before them, part of their daily routine.

"That's true. However, if they come with mages again, they will have a big surprise waiting for them under the snow."

After their previous victory, the Avalonian army wasn't complacent, and they planted multiple mines, the same ones that their main force put into the Pass to battle the magical beasts. This time, the numerous hills became death traps, as a regular army could walk through them without triggering the mines. However, the moment a mage appeared and activated his magic, the mines would react, exploding without warning. Everyone knew that their enemy would return; the question was only when and with how many warriors.

"What if the enemy goes on a different route?"

"It is possible." Pion agreed, slowly blinking his eyes and looking up towards the clouds. "There is a high probability of it happening. If that happens, it will be up to Lord Elliot to try to hold them back until we arrive. There is no other way around it; we can't be at all places at once. We have our orders anyway."

"So, we are going to retreat? Without a fight?" Polo asked, feeling that it was a cowardly move, but he wouldn't say it out loud, nor would he ever go against his orders.

"Not exactly." Pion smiled, looking at him, patting his shoulders. "It's winter, and an enemy army won't move so easily in this heavy snow, giving us a chance."

"In counter-attacking them?" He asked, immediately thinking about it, watching Pion nod his head.

"We must trust Lord Elliot and his army to hold up against an invading force. We have greatly supported them; Lothlia is well-defended and has high walls and cannons. I am well aware that it is a risky plan, but if our enemy goes towards the city, they will be deep within our territory. Circling around them, we could cut off their supplies and trap them here before smashing into their backlines."

"If they get through the borders." Polo added with a low hum, scratching his chin. "I wonder how big an army they are going to send this time..."

"Our spies report that it is currently about twice the size of the one they sent here previously. So, it's still not something we won't be able to face off against."

"What if our reports are wrong?" Polo asked about something that Pion hadn't thought about previously. He even wanted to wave his question away before remembering his training. There were no wrong questions in the time of war... "Major?" Polo asked again, seeing him fall silent.

"I worry about those too, don't you worry!" I answered with a chuckle, "Mirian met up with Elvira, and she sent me a detailed report. They are planning to neutralize the enemy mage in a way that doesn't result in him blowing up. I just hope they can do it and they won't be reckless while doing so. As for the news from Westland... Their army of 2,000 soldiers has departed. I expect they will take much longer to arrive as the heavy snow must be covering the land, especially in the sparsely populated regions."

"Maybe they get stuck and buried under the snow!" She giggled, and I couldn't help but smile at her.

"That would be the best outcome."

...

....

......

In Hospet, the foremost city of Westland, Otto stood atop the Lawbringer, looking down from the pristine deck and watching the 10,000-strong army below him. He couldn't help but form a smile, observing them begin to march, heading east in the heavy snow. He didn't care about their complaints, as more than half of the army were bandits and hardened mercenaries from their western neighbor's territory. He paid them well enough to convince them to march in the cold weather, knowing that in the end, he would just massacre them anyway and take back the money he spent on their services. Plus, with the flying ship above them, their morale was high enough to keep them in line.

Following the loud blare of the Lawbringer's warhorn, the massive army began to move in earnest through the snow-covered plains. From afar, their ranks were a grim, dark line cutting through the sea of white, pushing it away like some kind of menacing wave. At the forefront of the formation marched the most numerous units, the foot soldiers, the core of the mercenary army. It was the bulk of the troops, made up of around 7,000 souls.

They were the ones who were tasked with shoveling the snow away before those coming up behind them. They were ordered to do it in rotation, allowing them to keep up their constant pace. These infantrymen, containing hardened mercenaries and conscripts alike, would form a disciplined phalanx when the battle comes, their pikes and halberds held upright like a massive hedgehog marching through the snow. The hired mercenaries, making up the majority of the force, wore dark, weathered armor pieced together from looted enemies and bought replacements. A proof of years of battles and campaigns—a patchwork of styles from their homeland, the Principality of Lacri, or wherever else they fought and killed. Their faces were covered by thick scarves, while the visors on their helmets were raised to let them see where they were going. Many of their armors were adorned with dents and scars that told the stories of past deployments or the raids they committed, sometimes even against Ishillian targets. Behind them walked the conscripts—less experienced but resolute—who struggled to match the mercenaries' pace. They were dressed in more straightforward leather and mail armor, offering scant protection from the biting cold. The only thing they had going for them was their thick gloves, given to them by the Ishillian leaders, knowing that one can't shovel snow if one can't grab onto the end of it.

It was the cavalry that followed in their steps, their warhorses plodding with heavy, deliberate steps through the snow. Each rider's armor was covered with a layer of glittering blue frost, and no matter how many times they broke and swept off, it returned in an hour or so. Still, they moved with a confidence that could come only from years of experience, almost as if they spent most of their lives sitting atop a horse. The heavy cavalry, taking up the middle of the horde of horses, composed of local knights and mercenary horsemen alike. They were draped in differently colored plate armors, with mismatched insignias on their shields, depending on which band of mercenaries they were from. Their lances were long, held aloft in the bitingly cold air, and their bulky, much more massive horses, bred for strength, snorted clouds of steam from their nostrils. Behind them trotted the light cavalry, less encumbered by heavy armor, their horses looking much more slender, swift, and nimble. These riders wore only crude mail and padded gambesons, their sabers and curved bows slung over their shoulders. They were the outriders, the scouts, and the raiders—quick to ravage any retreating foes and invaluable for flanking maneuvers. The only question in their mind was if they could do that just as effectively as they used to in these weather conditions...

To the rear of the formation, towering above the rest of the army, were the siege weapons that Otto had gathered. They were rolling forward on thick wooden wheels reinforced with iron chains so they wouldn't be stuck in the snow. Indeed, the army's trebuchets and ballistae were a fearsome sight. They were designed to tear down walls of stone. The trebuchets, especially, were surprisingly massive, capable of hurling heavy stone balls, and would be the pride of any army. These behemoths were dragged by oxen and horses alike, their handlers walking alongside with whips and torches to keep the animals moving. In many countries on the continent, they were the engines of destruction, designed to open up any defenses when it came to besieging a city. Yet, they were overshadowed by one thing this time. They had a flying ship above their heads, and an Imperial Mage was commandeering it.

At the back of the whole army, throughout the ranks of siege equipment, were wagons of supplies guarded by direct troops from Otto's immediate family line—people who previously protected his sleeping place. He only trusted them to ensure that provisions, ammunition, and coins were kept safe from the enemy and their own mercenaries. These wagons carried everything from the food that kept the army fed with salted meat and hardtack to, most importantly, the chests of gold that kept the mercenary bands loyal.

Otto's men were clad in full plate armor with plumed helmets. They carried broadswords and shields on their backs, their frames only slightly smaller than those of Avalonian soldiers. Their pristine silver armor was polished, and they had the Imperial Insignia of the Ishillian bloodline on their chests. These were the finest warriors in the army, the men who wouldn't hesitate to die on order, as all of them were brainwashed from a young age to blindly follow the orders of their superiors.

At intervals along the ranks of the entire army, trumpeters were blowing their horns, signaling the orders from behind, walking alongside their standard-bearers, holding onto the Ishillian flag, and demonstrating to everybody that they were considered an army under Royal Leadership. Anybody seeing that flag knew that this army was as good as meeting with the Emperor himself and had to give way. If not, they would be massacred.

As the 10,000-strong army marched, the wind howled, and snow began falling heavier once again, coating the men, the horses, and the siege engines in a blanket of white. But they moved forward relentlessly, undeterred by the cold, driven by the promise of opportunity. All the mercenaries were promised that by taking the enemy city, they could have their way not just with the populace but with the whole region. They could pillage and take whatever they wanted for themselves... and no Ishillian noble would complain this time around.