“Good or bad, who cares? Just fight with all you got and let the deities sort out the rest!” - Common mercenary saying

“These asslickers are good!” claimed Mischka from the left flank of the Lances formation, where the therian matron personally held the corner of their formation and stymied the attempts made by the God King’s Guards to push them out.

Her words might have sounded contradictory as with almost every swing of her massive blade a member of the guards would either be hurled through the air or smashed to the ground, the lucky ones incapacitated, the unlucky ones bent into shapes the human body was decidedly not designed to be in. Their well-made armor of plate over chain proved little protection against the crude application of overwhelming brute force Mischka struck them with.

On the right flank, it also proved to be poor protection against void-edged blades, as Grünhildr was all too keen on pointing out. The soldiers who engaged her kept their long spears and even harried her with magic from time to time, unlike the rest of their brethren who had discarded spears for swords in the melee that ensued.

“We don’t need to kill them all, just hang on another fifteen minutes!” Reinhardt yelled back over the din of the battle. He himself was positioned in the middle of the frontlines, as his small group fought ferociously against the God-King’s chosen soldiers and guards that hemmed them from three sides. The only reason they were not encircled was because the dwarves had bravely renewed their offensive and thus demanded the enemy’s attention to themselves. “We win as long as we get the son of a whore!”

“Easier said than done, boss,” said Ylisera as she weaved back from a thrust meant for her throat and retaliated with a slash that struck right in the gap of her opponent’s wrist armor. Her finely made saber failed to cut through the chain mail he wore underneath but struck hard enough that it forced the man to drop his sword from the pain. “Unlike the big bear and our lovely void witch there we ain’t got the means to cut through their bloody armor.”

Every single one of the God-King’s guards wore finely made plate mail over chainmail, which made them hard to deal with for most of Reinhardt’s crew. Those that used blades had the hardest time, as the armor was practically impenetrable for their weapons. Others who favored bludgeoning tools fought just fine though, and were only troubled by their numerical inferiority.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Reinhardt himself struck an enemy soldier hard on the shoulder, just as he shifted to the side to avoid the man’s sword, which struck uselessly against the refitted plate mail he wore instead of landing on his head. His counterattack had more results, as the plate the enemy soldier wore buckled under his full-strength blow and passed the force onto his body.

The man cried out and dropped his sword as Reinhardt had struck the shoulder of his sword arm, his other hand clutching his likely pulverized shoulder. Reinhardt took that chance to bring the other end of his weapon about and thrust the spike on that end right into the open area of the soldier’s helmet, as it parted the fabric they wore to cover their faces and pierced into his flesh.

He then kicked the dying man, his weapon coming off with blood and some slimy stuff that might be bits of the man’s brain stuck on the spike, and struck again as the man’s body fell against the soldier behind him and distracted her for a moment.

That moment of inattention resulted in her receiving the mace end of Reinhardt’s polemace right on the head, as her helmet caved in under the blow. Well-made or not, helmets like what they wore were not designed to take a full-strength blow from therians like him. The woman dropped to her knees like a puppet with its strings cut, bleeding from all her facial orifices, though with how forceful the blow was, he might well have snapped her neck and killed her instantly with it.

Elfriede fought by his side, less effective than she could have been with all their opponents armored head to toe, but she made use of her opponent’s rage when he saw Reinhardt kill two of his compatriots to shove his blade aside, then jam one of her own blades right into the man’s face, into his mouth and piercing upwards into his brain. The man collapsed and she immediately struck at the soldier behind him and put them on the backfoot as well.

Overall, however, the situation was more of a stalemate than anything. The Lances occasionally managed some kills, but their opponents held on for the most part, and even pushed back hard against their flanks. The corners of the formation, where the pressure was the greatest, was only held by Mischka and Grünhildr’s prowess, as they happened to be the most effective against these heavily armored opponents of theirs.

From time to time an arrow would whistle by from afar, and take down another of the soldiers they fought against, with enough force to pierce through the plate mail they wore. Salicia had been firing more slowly than what she normally could do, though, as she had to take aim carefully in such a melee, and had to fully draw out her bow to strike through plate mail from the distance she shot at.

Fifteen minutes was not a long time, but it felt like an eternity in such a brawl. A few members of the company took on injuries, some fell with their life or death unknown, yet the rest fought hard regardless, as they hammered their opposition as hard as they could, together with the dwarves they came to aid.

Until finally their patience and struggle was repaid, as horns that signaled a charge blared one after another. The rest of the Free Lances arrived first, and charged in to reinforce Reinhardt’s dwindling group. Then from the north-west came more horns, as first a group of dwarves on foot - then another group of light cavalrymen - joined the fray as well and they struck the God-King’s soldiers together from three sides.