Chapter 105

Black Bandit

The sound of a girl screaming was heard as the knights and cavalry charged toward Sigmund and his men's lightly defended position. Despite firing their crossbows, many of the untested skirmishers ended up wounded, saved only by their cheval de frise, or the tight and narrow streets of the village.

"I'm fucked!" one of the men groaned, his leg appearing to be broken by the recent attack.

"They're also fucked," Sigmund retorted, observing the two captured horsemen. More were wounded, but only two had fallen.

"Captain, let me gut them if they prove worthless," the wounded man rasped as his colleagues dragged him to safety.

"Stay alive; you can complain later." Then, turning to the rest of his men, Sigmund shouted, "We repelled them once, we can repel them again!"

Just like that, bolts whistled menacingly through the air as the fighting continued. Once again, the South Hill main column advanced on their position. This time, they proceeded with greater caution and committed all their forces, holding nothing in reserve.

Sigmund crouched and leaned against the wall of the wooden house. He passed his crossbow to the man in the best-concealed position at a corner, who then made the shot. After firing, this man exchanged his spent crossbow for a loaded one. This tactic allowed them to maintain rapid fire from a few advantageous positions, effectively slowing the enemy's advance.

Another group was pushed toward Sigmund's position. Spotting Sigmund, the young lieutenant called out, "Captain, we're getting pummeled."

"Take cover behind the building beside me," Sigmund instructed.

The lieutenant crouched and sat on the ground, his back against a nearby house. "We've spent our bolts. Besides, they're everywhere. We don't have room to maneuver."

"Go to the carts, see if you can find more bolts, and get halberds for everyone."

The lieutenant promptly began moving his group to the nearest cart, as instructed.

Watching them, Sigmund added, "And get your men to watch for the cavalry. They won't be gone for long."

How he wished that Dietrich, Sir Hugo, or Sir Harold was here. Only now did Sigmund truly feel what it meant to become a commander. Moreover, he was commanding the Lord's latest creation, the skirmishers. While these men-at-arms with crossbows were proven capable, they needed space to maneuver, and right now, they were losing ground.

"Captain, a report!" a youngster called out from behind, pausing to catch his breath.

Sigmund quickly pulled the young scout's head down, fearing a bolt might strike him.

Once the scout was kneeling low, he hurriedly reported, "Another column is approaching from the rear."

"Ours?" Sigmund asked.

"No, it's the South Hill."

"By the Ageless," Sigmund cursed as he reloaded his crossbow again. His men were looking at him, fear and doubt painted on their faces.

Sigmund shoved his loaded crossbow to the man next to him. "Don't get distracted. Keep sending those bolts."

His group returned to action, and Sigmund gazed at the young scout. "How many?"

"Groups of twenties, possibly a hundred, if not more."

The skald took a deep breath. "How long before we're surrounded?"

"Soon, Captain. They're moving unopposed."

"Isn't it better to reposition somewhere else?" the man next to Sigmund suggested.

Sigmund shook his head. "My gut tells me that if we try to move, then the cavalry will bear down on us."

The lieutenant's group had rearmed themselves with halberds and a few quivers of bolts. They returned just in time, as another group emerged from their hideout, pursued by dozens of South Hill's men.

"Have courage!" Sigmund yelled, donning his helmet and taking his spear, as he led his men into the fray.

***

Peering through a hole in the wooden wall, the girl watched with horror as Sigmund and his men engaged in a brutal battle. The clash of swords and the sight of blood-stained streets filled her with dread. Overwhelmed, she pressed her hands over her ears tightly to muffle out the loud shouts and screams.

Minutes of fighting felt like hours to her. She finally breathed a huge sigh of relief when it became clear that Sigmund's three groups had managed to fend off South Hill's attack. Yet, she was aware that this was not the last. Wherever she looked, the South Hill forces seemed to be gaining the upper hand against the bandits' defenses.

Now, Sigmund's men looked exhausted and seemingly wary of another cavalry attack on their position. Gone were their rapid attack and bait tactics. They were slowly losing their edge, and this deeply frightened her.

Worse, she heard different shouts from behind. At first, she thought it was just her imagination, but it bothered her so much that she waded through the dried haystack and returned to the barn's window. What she saw frightened her further.

A large column of men was marching from behind, their banners fluttering in the wind. "It can't be," she shuddered uncontrollably as she recognized her Lord's coat of arms.

From her perspective, the Lord of South Hill had managed to maneuver a column of men to hit the bandits' weak point. As she observed, Sigmund had neither erected any wooden blockades nor positioned his men to defend the other side of the village entrance. Thus, the column was advancing steadily.

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At this point, the girl lost all hope and simply sat in the corner, no longer wanting to witness or learn more about the unfolding situation.

For her, if reality was this bitter and bleak, then she no longer wished to know.

...

Sigmund rested his back against the wooden house, his breath ragged, his face and body covered in sweat. His men were no better. They had survived the attack, but their situation was dire.

Their only respite was the fact that two other allied groups were converging on their position. These groups had lost their checkpoints and had no more opportunity to bait and attack, yet with this number, they could fight as regular men-at-arms.

"Captain, our rear is blocked," the lookout reported.

Sigmund gazed at his men, who were eyeing him. "Listen. We should be able to form a box formation. Use the buildings' walls to our advantage."

"But it's seventy against a few hundred," warned the lieutenant, who was resting next to Sigmund.

"The Lord ordered us to stall for time." Sigmund raised his voice. "Come, let's form the damn formation!" He stood up and brandished his spear.

Slowly, the remaining skirmishers formed a box formation, using the buildings' walls as their stronghold. Watching this, the South Hill forces reformed their combatants and approached from two sides - the vanguard from the north and the main army from the south.

Feeling trapped, many were feeling hopeless. "Where is the Lord and Lady?" one muttered.

"Captain, do you think they changed the plan without telling us?" another asked whilst standing in formation.

Sigmund shook his head. "I doubt they would do that."

"But that makes the most sense," the lieutenant explained timidly. "If they decided to rush the castle, they could easily secure the region."

"That means abandoning us?" another blurted out.

"Our Lord isn't that kind of man!" Sigmund declared strongly. His conviction was enough to soothe his men's fear. "Recall how the Lord has saved us again and again in battles."

The expressions on the men's faces began to shift, their fear diminishing as they recalled how the Lord, even in wars, had always shown genuine concern for their well-being.

Sigmund knew he had captivated his audience. And like a good skald, he pressed on, "We've survived the Lion, the Coalition, and the Nicopolans. Our Lord has never failed us. Let us show him our courage!"

The men in formation started to chant their nomadic-like war cries, steeling their hearts.

"For the Black Lord!" one shouted.

And then another replied, "For the Black Bandit!"

The cries further rallied the men. Due to their role in this battle as bandits, they had informally dubbed themselves the 'Black Bandits,' a tribute to their Lord's hair. However, since no one had dared to seek official permission from the Lord, the name remained unofficial.

Then, as if to reward their conviction, a deep, resonant sound of a brass cornu, recently acquired in Korimor, was heard for the first time. Despite the distance, its powerful and penetrating sound cut through the noise of battle, delivering clear and haunting notes.

At first, nothing changed, but a small confusion emerged at the enemy's position. However, another cornu was heard from another side, and then another, only then did the enemy columns stop dead in their tracks.

Witnessing their opponent stopped, Sigmund and his men were filled with jubilation, cheering loudly. They watched as their allies arrived, not just in one location, but seemingly everywhere, all at once.

"It's the Lord," one of them cheered, echoed by others.

Sigmund heaved a sigh of relief and patted the shoulder of his lieutenant beside him, who had let slip a few tears.

The lieutenant of many battles smiled and nodded, his gratitude evident.

Although it took longer than expected, the Black Lord had now achieved total encirclement. His greater force had surrounded the entire village, along with the South Hill army. The battle entered its second decisive phase.

***

South Hill Side

"That is not possible!" Lord Gunther shouted angrily as he learned about the situation. Even the euphoric effect of the poppy milk couldn't ease his tension.

His Captain was at a loss for words, while the squire diligently offered a tonic. The Lord chugged the concoction of wormwood, mint, and rue, hoping to clear his mind.

A messenger arrived. "Captain, My Lord," he greeted and reported, "our troops are requesting instructions."

"Just get them to return here. We need to protect the Lord," the Captain instructed.

The Lord remained silent, offering no comment. Upon this cue, the messenger bowed deeply and hurried to his horse, racing back to the village.

"Get me the scouts. What army did they see?" the Lord suddenly asked.

"My Lord, we're still ascertaining--"

"Meaning you know things. Speak, or I shall remove you from command," Gunther snapped. At the Lord's words, his armed entourage moved closer to the carriage.

"My Lord, I only wish to do my due diligence. It could be a ploy by the bandits," the Captain explained.

The Lord's temper flared. "Reveal it to me, I command thee!"

Feeling cornered, the Captain said in a hushed, reluctant tone, "It's blue and bronze."

"What...?" came the puzzled response.

"The scouts reported seeing a blue shield with a bronze chevron," the Captain clarified.

Upon hearing the news, the Lord's strength failed him. He slumped in his carriage seat, feeling suddenly old and weary. His anger had gone, in exchange the pain in his thigh throbbed relentlessly, unaffected by the poppy milk still in his veins. He remained silent, his face etched with an expression of shock.

The Captain, anticipating such a reaction, swiftly assumed command. Reluctant to suggest that the Lord or his entourage move closer to the village, his only option was to pull their columns back to defend their current position. Naturally, he deemed the Lord's carriage as an ideal rallying point for the troops.

"Quick, bring me a horseman," the Captain commanded. He knew his only hope was to regroup their forces. Once consolidated, he hoped the head of the guard might find a way to prevent a rout.

As his command was relayed, a cavalryman quickly rode forth. "Yes, Captain."

"Inform our vanguard of our situation," the Captain instructed, "and ask them to retreat to our location."

***

House Lansius Side

Standing at the edge of the forest adjacent to the village, the Lord of Korelia watched as his men advanced toward the South Hill columns' position.

"My Lord, acting Captain Servius marched the Nicopolans with great strides. They will soon make contact with the enemy's main army," one scout informed.

Lansius nodded. Another scout knelt and added, "My Lord, Sir Harold is leading his knights and cavalry to engage the enemy's vanguard column."

"Carry on," Lansius instructed. Their maneuvers were part of his plan.

Due to the skirmishers' small number and resilience, Lansius had successfully formed a complete encirclement of the South Hill army. Any other column might have failed spectacularly or suffered heavy losses in the process. However, periodic reports from the scouts had kept him informed of their situation, and Sigmund's column held against all odds.

The bait had worked flawlessly, and now the Lord of South Hill was within his grasp

Thunderous hooves announced the arrival of the Baroness along with her entourage, all armored and riding their warhorses.

"My Lord, permission to capture their cavalry and their banner," Audrey requested from atop her charger horse.

Lansius gazed at her and gave a nod. "We're winning, don't do anything reckless."

His warning made Audrey smile. "Gratitude, My Lord, for allowing me the honor."

"Good hunting," Lansius responded.

As he said this, all of the staff standing around him cheered for the Lady, the air filled with excitement and hope.

Audrey led the two hundred Dragoons on a big hunt, while Lansius kept the remaining hundred, along with the Nomad's Horse Archers, in reserve.

Today, Audrey would test the Dragoons' mettle against the opponent's knights and cavalry.

In them, Lansius hoped to create a cranequiner brigade, a specialized mounted crossbowmen. With the Skirmishers on foot and the Cranequiners on horseback, they would form a powerful combination, capable of harassing, provoking, and stalling the opponent until he could deploy his main attack.

These forces wouldn't replace the established mounted crossbowman's Dragoons, but instead, provide more options and utilities on the battlefield.

Lansius looked at his staff and entourage. Some were new, having climbed through the ranks on merit, while others had been with him since the event in Toruna village. "Men," he called, and everyone in his vicinity looked at him with growing anticipation.

"I'm going to have a chat with the Lord of South Hill in person. Will you accompany me?" the Lord asked.

His men responded with a chorus of chaotic but energetic reactions. They would gladly follow Lord Lansius anywhere. This battle was poised to be Lansius' fifth triumph. In just two short years, the unassuming teacher from Bellandia had become the most prolific warlord in Lowlandia.

Everyone present there was exhilarated. They had seen the strategy unfold and witnessed how the South Hill forces amounted to nothing more than a pebble on their Lord's path to greatness.

***