“Contrary to popular belief, splitting your forces in the face of a numerically superior opponent is not necessarily folly. On the other hand, splitting your forces in the face of a numerically superior opponent whose forces are also individually more skilled than yours, is indeed a folly that would most likely just result in your defeat.” - Saying attributed to Xaliburnus the Conqueror, after the Battle of West Logra where his elites split up and dismantled a numerically superior tribal force, then crushed the chieftain’s guard when they tried to do the same against him.

Meanwhile, over at the rear side of the Coalition army’s formation, Reinhardt and Mischka had successfully encircled and were both attacking the defending army around the command tower, while repelling the soldiers who tried to come to their aid from the outside. They could have left through the rear of the enemy formation and escape at any moment, but refrained as they waited for the rest of their detachments to arrive.

The Janissaries had split into two halves and followed after Reinhardt and Mischka’s troops, where they provided valuable skirmishers to support the frontline held by the Free Lances, while the Spears had guarded their rear and were supposed to follow after the center group through the enemy formation instead.

As he left Mischka and Lars to lead half their forces to make sure their escape route stayed open, Reinhardt himself took the rest to pressure the enemy troops around the command tower to further distract them and prevent them from reinforcing the battle there. He had received the signal that Elfriede’s detachment was through earlier, and they only whiled away time as they waited for results.

When the top of the command tower crumbled and collapsed, it caught the attention of many, Reinhardt’s included, and he knew that the troops they were waiting for would likely arrive soon. As such, he gave the command to his troops - by gestures communicated with his tail to those behind him - to redouble and intensify their assault.

He himself tackled one of the enemy’s better combatants, likely a field commander of the enemy army judging from his better-made and well-decorated plate armor. Although not every noble in the region seemed to be the sort who led from the front like the ones he worked with, it was still a custom for field commanders to lead by example, and they were often chosen more for their combat prowess than leadership capabilities.

As mercenaries, Reinhardt was all too familiar with that custom, as amongst their kind it was a given that a leader, much less the Company’s captain, would be expected to lead the charge directly from the very front. As such, even though he had been Captain for five years by that time, he had never once neglected his training, and kept his skills honed with an almost religious fervor.

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The opponent he faced was skilled with his sword and shield, someone who clearly had experience on the battlefield, who knew to use everything he had to the utmost. That said, Reinhardt was just as experienced, more than half of his thirty-three years spent on battlefields great and small, and he also possessed a great advantage in physique due to his bloodline.

He was, after all, of a larger bodied therian breed, and by default he could easily overpower most humans with ease, while remaining both faster and more agile than them at the same time as well despite his bulk. His opponent’s shield already had several large dents from his strikes, and the man clearly winced when he took hits to the shield, which hinted at some further injury done to his arm.

Even so, the man’s skills prevented him from finishing the battle as fast as he would have liked. When the tower crumbled however, Reinhardt resorted to one trick he rarely used due to how limited it was in usage: His natural affinity for earth magic.

Unnoticeably, the soil rose behind his opponent’s leg just as he was about to take a step back. The risen soil was not high, only a couple finger’s width at most, as thick around as a man’s wrist or so, nor was the soil hardened, as it crumbled when the man inadvertently tread into it unawares. The man stumbled a little at the unexpected resistance, and almost lost his balance as a result.

Reinhardt’s polemace swung in from above at that very moment. Despite the man’s attempt to block the blow with his shield, the strike still sent him down to the ground on his back, and drove the breath out of him. Reinhardt immediately followed it up as he stomped down on one of the man’s knees hard enough to dent the armor and dislocate the joint, even as he stabbed down at the man’s sword arm using the spike at the back of his weapon.

The man tried to parry the blow but could get no power from his position on the ground, and Reinhard’s strike wrenched the sword out of his hand. The subsequent swing of the polemace struck down against the front of the man’s helmet, and dented the whole thing inward, more than deep enough to crush his features and end his life at the same time.

He quickly noticed the disarray amongst the enemies when he lifted his head. Apparently the loss of commands from the tower had caused the remaining enemy commanders to give out conflicting orders on how to proceed. Some more cowardly commanders tried to retreat, while braver ones yelled at their people to continue fighting.

Much like what Reinhardt had expected, he soon saw the central detachment under Grünhildr’s command make their way through the enemy forces as they struck the defenders from behind. The Free Lances had not needed his command to further intensify their assault from the outside when they noticed that, and within minutes, Grünhildr had carved herself a path through the enemy formation, from which the rest of her detachment streamed out.

Reinhardt exchanged nods with Grünhildr as the burly woman jogged past him, an unsaid command to let Mischka lead the retreat once everyone was accounted for, while Reinhardt would lead the rear guard. He looked expectantly at the group of mercenaries that streamed in, but halfway through the process, the smile on his face turned into a frown.

He noticed Elfriede and a few others from her detachment being carried while they bled profusely from gruesome wounds, and immediately turned towards his troops and yelled.

“Loren! I want your medics here on the double! Get those asses moving! We have injured!”