“To kill off a snake, the best method is to cut off its head.” - Liang Shi-Zu, famed tactician from the Huan Confederacy.
“Lord Father!” yelled Grafin Siobhan Harscape with surprise and anxiety when her father walked into the command tent after the battle. “What happened!? Are you all right?”
Former Graf Angus Harscape walked into the command tent under his own power, but the glaring way his left eye was covered by bandages that were tainted red with blood showed the gravity of the situation. The position and amount of blood that seeped into the bandage hinted that the eye behind it was likely damaged to the point of uselessness.
“I told you not to call me that anymore, Lass. You’re the Graf now, I ain’t nobody’s lord these days,” replied the old dwarf with a gruff demeanor. “And I’ll live. It was a pretty close call, though. Had you not told me to take one of your chariots today I’d probably be dining with the ancestors right about now,” he admitted somewhat reluctantly. “That information we got out of those captives about their general being a very skilled archer is no lie. My detachment’s been taking the brunt of it in today’s fight.”
“How bad was it, Sir Harscape?” asked Nestor with some concern in his voice.
“We lost nearly half of our officers, though fortunately they didn’t seem to be able to tell between our ranks. Most of the losses were lower ranked officers,” said the former Graf with a somewhat worried voice. “The bastard’s got insane accuracy, too. He can hit one of us right in the eye slit even while we’re riding around at full speed, as you can see.”
As if to punctuate his point, the old dwarf brought out his own helmet and placed it on the table. The armor worn by the chariot crew was heavier than what was worn by the cavalrymen, and Angus Harscape had naturally donned the heavier gear as well when he switched to a chariot for that day’s battle. That likely saved his life.
Because the eye slits of a charioteer’s helmet were not left open, but were instead protected by a layer of transparent, sturdy crystal. The crystal that covered the left eye slit on Angus’s helmet was pierced through, with the arrow shaft left where it struck the protective covering. The arrowhead itself had already been cut off and removed.
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Without the helmet’s layer of crystal covering, the arrow would have gone deeper and likely cost the old dwarf more than just one of his eyes.
“Damn,” noted Griselda as she inspected the damage done to the helmet. The way the arrow punched straight through the protective crystal showed just how much power was behind the shot.
“Aye, would’ve likely gone straight into my skull if not for that bit of crystal in the way, I think,” admitted Angus with a shake of his head. “And of course the son of a beardless drunkard had to go for my left eye again! Already lost it once back in Theodinaz, and now again!”
“From how far away did they manage this, if you have an inkling?” asked Nestor with more tactical concerns about the matter at hand.
“Can’t be sure, but most of the arrows struck after we started to turn back on our way out. Couldn’t see where they came from other than a general direction, and there’s too many arrows flying around to really tell it apart,” said the old dwarf with some disappointment. “Given the locations of the people who got shot down though, and assuming that whoever did so wasn’t right at the very edge of the enemy formation, he’d have to be at least five hundred paces away, if not more.”
“That’s about the same kind of range Sal’s confident in,” noted Reinhardt. “If you’d give the permission, Your Grace, we could attempt to fight fire with fire tomorrow. If Sal’s focusing on trying to put an arrow through this archer general’s face, I would bet he’d be too busy to snipe off our commanders in the meantime.”
“How confident are you that she can handle this enemy of ours, Captain Edelstein?” questioned duke Orsla Banitu from the side.
“I’ve personally seen Sal nail down targets from six to seven hundred paces away, right between the eyebrows, so pretty confident,” replied Reinhardt with a nod. “We’d have to be in the right position to intercept this archer of theirs, though. Would be pointless if we were on the left wing while he’s harrying our right wing for example.”
“I do believe we can arrange something to ensure that they’ll be close enough to where you are, captain,” said Nestor after a brief moment of thought. “In the meantime, we should also discuss other countermeasures to this problem, in case our foe did not bite the bait and chose to focus on shooting our officers down instead.”
“I will have the order passed down for every officer to trade helmets with a charioteer for the time being,” stated Siobhan with a nod. “It will be a touch awkward, but if it means more lives saved, it’ll be worth doing regardless. Better to lose an eye than to be dead. Eyes could be regrown, lives cannot.”
“We’ll have each officer accompanied by a couple shieldbearers in the meantime,” noted Nestor with a nod. “It will depend on their reflexes and luck on whether they could catch an arrow like this one in time or not, but it’s better than nothing. In the meantime, Captain Edelstein, your men will have a hard fight ahead of you tomorrow. We’ll dangle a bait that this archer cannot refuse before him, even if he knows its true nature.”
“Understood, Your Grace,” replied Reinhardt with a nod. “We will be ready for whatever comes on the morrow.”
“If your archer manages to take theirs down, do try to secure the body if possible. It would be good for morale to have proof of their demise.”
“As you will.”