“Some things could be deducted by logical thinking. Some other things… require a more irrational method to solve.” - Ibeniz Wolfgang El Sofrin, philosopher from the Clangeddin Empire.
“Pray, tell me, Captain,” said former Viscount – now councilor – Bernd Adenauer as he poured Reinhardt some good aged liquor. The two of them were seated under a shaded patio closer to the mansion while they watched Bernd’s wife and his youngest sons reunite with Salicia for the first time in two and a half decades in the mansion’s yard. “What inspired you to make such an… audacious attack on the Kolain forces? They outnumbered us by more than two to one, considering that militia levies aren’t exactly the best in quality.”
“Well, councilor, there’s a few factors that went into that decision,” admitted Reinhardt as he munched on a link of coarse, juicy sausage that the mansion’s cooks had prepared for his breakfast. In Clangeddin the typical norm was to have a lighter breakfast, but that naturally did not apply to the mercenaries, since they were used to hearty and heavy breakfasts which was needed to power them through a day of battle.
“For example?” asked the former nobleman with curiosity, his own breakfast merely a couple pastries made from wheat flour turned into a dough, enriched with butter, then folded into myriad thin layers before baked into a flaky, crisp pastry. It was a stark contrast compared to the large platter of meat set before Reinhardt, which could have easily fed a family of four.
“I am certain you are aware that we spent the last couple of years in Knallzog, yes?” asked Reinhardt in turn, to which the councilor replied with a nod. “We didn’t idle our asses there. Since we had considered the former Empire as a potential workplace, we kept ourselves informed on the happenings here. That included reports from past battles from the various states we got now.”
“Carry on,” noted the councilor as he poured himself a measure of the amber liquor in a decorated glass.
“We learned many things from those reports. For example, the last time Kolain had been involved in any sort of armed conflict prior to the civil war was in the previous generation, and they had no experience with war until they submitted under the Podovniy March,” explained Reinhardt. “As for the Podovniy march, until now they had mostly been throwing around their weight against those who had no proper way to resist, so they always won. Kolain’s troops had never been in a battle where victory wasn’t already in hand before the fight even began, excepting maybe a few older veterans. That was a weakness we chose to exploit.”
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“So you’re saying that the Kolain army, veterans of the civil war, are actually inexperienced soldiers?” asked the councilor with some amusement in his voice.
“They have great morale, since they only ever knew victories in battle,” admitted Reinhardt with a shake of his head. “To face them head-on with the troops we have, in the field, would have been a bad idea, a recipe for disaster, even. That would have allowed them to abuse their advantage in numbers and morale to crush us. However, I noticed that they had only ever participated in field battles and sieges.”
“That’s why you sent half your men out there, isn’t it?”
“Part of the reason. We in the Free Lances have been… specializing in irregular warfare, for the lack of a better word. A fight should not be a fair one. It should be one where you have already stacked every possible advantage you could muster on your side before you even engage,” said Reinhardt with a toothy grin. “We are mercenaries. We don’t give a rat’s ass about chivalry or honor or the likes. We only get to spend our pay when we live through the fighting after all.”
“Makes sense.”
“I sent out those four platoons to harass and disturb the Kolains, to make them feel… uncomfortable. They did their harassments to make sure that the Kolain troops realized that they were not going to march into another of their usual easily-won clashes against an enemy that was already cowering before the battle started. That they actually managed to lure out a good three hundred or so enemies into prepared ambushes was an unexpected bit of luck, too.”
“The night attack was meant to make them jittery and feel unsafe, though again, it was a bit of luck that of all people, Friede happened to have taken the head of their skilled veteran leader by chance. Those men were poorly rested and had their belief in their superiority already shaken by the time they climbed the path up the hill. While the arrows were never intended to break their morale, that was what we prepared the logs for back then.”
“Daleeni had wondered what you wanted them for at first back then, I guess it didn’t cross our mind to roll them down the hill at our enemies.”
“One thing we have noticed is that all too often, people get stuck in unwritten rules and traditions in war. They were used to fighting a war in a specific manner, and aren’t prepared to deal with new ways to wage war. It was a lesson we learned with blood, and never forgot, so instead we took the opportunity to pass on the lesson to others… assuming they survive the battle.”
“I will say that while it was unusual and at times sounded rather unbelievable, it definitely worked. The people of this city owe their lives and safety to you and your men, Captain Edelstein, and would like to propose a toast in gratitude to the services you have rendered on our behalf!” said Bernd Adenauer as he raised his glass in salute.
Reinhardt met the glass with his own as they clinked the glasses together before the two drank the hard liquor contained within. The strong liquor had a taste reminiscent of smoke with some wooden aroma and aftertaste, and burned its way down to their stomachs, where it slowly dissipated into a comfortable feeling of warmth.