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The paeans of spring
Part II
-A proper struggle-
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image [https://i.postimg.cc/37yYY7jj/Castalor-Radin-arc-v2.png]
Act I
-The Dogs-
(Liko)
Liko wiped the sweat off of his brow with a finger and looked beyond the warehouse at the knee of the junction and the returning local sheep herdsman clogging it. Sergeant Lindell’s of the Grunts colorful attempt to half-urge half-help him get the bleating lambs to the sides, had slowly turned to high comedy.
“You need to get a feel of what’s going on,” Bert Ottis, late Captain Ottis’ nephew told him. Bert had grew up with the Dogs as well in a sense, just like Liko. First at Hellfort, Altarin and Rida, the fabled Eikenport and then following the mercenary outfit around as it hopped kingdoms, pirate islands and then continents. Looking back, Liko felt like he had lived two lifetimes in twenty short years. While Bert had a silver badge like all the ‘Dogs’, he carried the brave late officer’s golden one with him at all times. Liko who was a still a kid when Captain Ottis had received it, but old enough to remember it all, had his own –original Gallant Dog golden badge delivered by the First Captain herself- under the tunic and his leather armour.
Liko, now in his twenties and probably around twenty-one according to Crafton, squinted his eyes upon seeing Lindell taking a nasty tumble in the attempt to grab a small screaming lamb and then curse ‘all-sheep under the sun’.
“Martel said they’ll force them out of the woods. No worries,” he replied to the younger Ottis with a grin.
“Martel is easily flabbergasted, and equally prone to exaggeration or bouts of false bravado. What did the old Nord say?” Bert insisted not minding Lindell’s antics. While Liko was of higher rank in the outfit, he had always respected Bert, since Ottis’ nephew knew his letters and could turn a phrase alike Dante Blackwood.
The outfit’s legendary first commander.
According to Miss Jinx that is.
“Haven’t talked with Crafton today,” Liko said. “Crafton is not a warrior.”
Well, for the last twenty years at least.
“No? What did he do before the Dogs?”
Good question mate.
Liko’s mind drifted back to Whitford. The fish market and the artisan tables near the small docks of Shroudcoast. Sleeping under a nameless bridge and dreaming of a plate of cold beans. The mighty Glen, a naked Gish inside a barrel and a little wyvern called Biscuit. The biggest city he’d ever seen burning and the Queen of bloody Kaltha laughing at his jokes. A lowly thief beating the odds. Aye. “Odd jobs. This and that,” he murmured, and then forced himself to the present. He considered whether they should reinforce Wyncall and Martel that had moved up from the junction towards the woods less than a kilometer away.
“That’s White’s and Willian’s machines,” Ottis remarked hearing the rumbling sound that was followed by a series of distant explosions. A smoke cloud had risen to the northwest and behind them Lindell had managed to get the sheep out of the road.
Ricard White had taken a wagon laden with incendiaries with him that morning.
Ricard is going to test those bad boys come hell or high water and Willian is unlikely to stop him.
The contrary was more likely.
“Send a runner to Martel’s field headquarters,” Liko ordered Bert Ottis and the latter nodded with a smart grin afore rushing to find a soldier to do the task.
Yeah. Just to be sure.
“First Sergeant, do we move the obstacles?” Lindell queried waving his arm from the road and Liko turned to reply, only to notice another large white cloud that had risen to the southwest, on the road coming from Castalor. The sound of many vehicles concealed up until then behind the ruckus White’s and Willian’s machines had started.
“Get the men up!” Liko snapped and sprinted towards the tents himself to get the laggards going. “Out, gods darn it!” He yelled, kicked and shoved. The Grunts gathered slowly in their four squares, a hundred men per, about five minutes later.
-
> Less than that.
>
> The first blooming chariots arrived at the flats of the junction at about that time, although with all those camp tents, wooden warehouses and merchant huts sprinkled here and there, the confluence of roads had the appearance of a haphazardly constructed village.
>
> Sergeant Lindell’s group –a Rida native who had family running the bakery by the bridge- that was standing at the far right of their hastily setup frontline, was the first to make contact with the war-vehicles that appeared to slow down momentarily, afore committing to an attack on our amassing lads.
-
The white color of the raised dust and the dark brown of the disturbed earth had turned into a sparkling deep red mist. Liko’s face, the young officer had watched the whole scene unfold, had been distorted in a manic grimace when the scythed-chariots cut through Lindell’s lines without slowing down, and after turning his men into a strange mincemeat pulp within seconds or just ripping limbs away in a series of gory explosions.
“HURL SPEARS!” Ottis bellowed at his men and Liko twirled around seeing four chariots burst out of the dissolving lines Lindell had prepared and gallop towards them.
“Let them through!” He yelled to his own soldiers. “OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!”
“OPEN LINES!” A panicked soldier growled and Liko raised his shield to stop a bolt with a curse. He felt the impact on his turning shoulder and saw the steel tip burst out near his ogled left eye.
Whisper’s tits!
Hearing the creaking and screeching wheels approach he rushed to get out of the way of the rotating blades. The chariot bounced on the gravel, landed on a patch of land veering hard to catch the eagerly diving out of its way Grunts and the faltering Liko could now see the open carriage itself. A charioteer twisted around on his axis with a raised javelin in hand, eyes following his maneuvers behind a smiling mask.
Liko sprinted after the open carriage’s rear, ducked spastically under the hurled javelin losing his conned helm and then jumped on the crowded deck amidst the three Khanate soldiers. Liko caught a punch right at the right ear, the heavy blow sending him to crash on the archer, who lost his footing in turn and then went over the side board with a desperate yelp. The Khanate soldier landed on the left wheel and then the blades caught his flaying body.
The man turned into a gory mess and three large bloody pieces, but Liko was busy trying to keep himself on the speeding chariot. He put his shield on the side board’s rails for purchase initially, but got knifed in the back by the charioteer so he had to abandon this plan pretty fast. Liko managed to turn sideways feeling the blade going through armour, then flesh and saved a lung. The roaring inarticulately young man slashed in the blind with his sword, the edge thudding on something solid in the mayhem and then hacked the other way as best as he could in the narrow space, this time catching the distracted driver right at the back of the neck.
A still growling Liko turned in the attempt to find his footing, but slipped on the gore-covered deck and lost a ring finger on his shield-wielding arm, as the charioteer’s large dagger managed to slip the faltering young man’s defenses. Liko’s severed bloody finger tumbled down, the whole fucking thing, after bouncing off of the insides of his round shield, and his own wildly swinging sword missed the timely jumping away charioteer. The Khanate’s soldier landed on the side board with his back and reached for another javelin from one of the cylindrical weapon containers on the sides of the cabin, keeping his painted eyes on the groaning Liko, who had to use his maimed hand to grab on the wildly bobbing up and down carriage after discarding the shield.
There is no one driving this shit, a panicked Liko thought and saw a black sculpted helm appearing behind the mask-wearing charioteer in a flash.
“No vermin allowed on my chariot,” the Khanate’s soldier growled in heavily-accented Common and afore Liko had the time to bid the officer to go fuck himself with a certain cedar-wood phallus, the charioteer’s left leg was hacked away below the knee by a longsword. With a gut-wrenching animal’s muffled growl, the Charioteer toppled sideways abruptly, banged his skull on the metal-reinforced edge of the deck with a brutal clang and then disappeared out of the cabin.
“Jump kid,” the Scaldingport Knight galloping hard behind the moving chariot ordered, in a raspy hiss and with his face hidden under the engraved face-cover. The whole helm was shaped like the head of a crow with one side dented and missing a wing. “Ye run out of open ground!” The angry crow snapped seeing Liko’s numb expression.
Ah. Shit. A panicky and blood-spattered Liko thought leaping to action upon seeing the large warehouse building’s walls approach rapidly. The horrified horses tried to veer away but failed, and the extended outwards and still rotating blades hit the wall a moment later. The chariot’s open carriage, wheels and all, catapulted upwards violently, lifted a horse’s rear clean off the ground and send the other two to crash on the wall with freaked out neighs, itself following right after to land on the hapless animals.
The riotously yapping, maimed Liko, dislocated a shoulder in the spectacular tumble that put Lindell’s earlier gaffe to shame and by the time he managed to get up on shaking legs, the knight was gone and the battle raged on.
> It was a proper struggle.
-
> About two hours after Kontar’s unsuccessful attack, the bandaged officer met with Jorah Dhin-Awal and it was decided that they should make another attempt to punch through Captain Del Moss’ Old Spears using all their Cavalry and a part of Amir-Zeket’s Jang-Lu, leaving a portion behind along their archers to besiege Desmond Boss’ east river camp. This new attack brushed aside Lode De Jagger’s rangers and despite the heroic defense by the Crows, Jorah managed to partially break through near late afternoon. His riders got hit hard by Struder’s crossbow company that had taken positions in the woods east of the road and couldn’t advance more than a couple of kilometers.
>
> Kilometers away, Maluph Erul-Sol, who had tasked his second in command Sermes and ten chariots, to slow down Sir Rik De Weer’s hunting force, arrived at the Gallant Dog’s rear area near Even Fork. He attempted to just cross the camp initially but he was challenged by the Grunts, the mercenary company’s younger soldiers, and had to reluctantly fight for every meter. The chariots smashed the men of sergeant Lindell, the Grunts second in command, and injured Liko. Despite his injury the young mercenary counter-attacked not allowing the scrambling in the chaotic village-sized camp chariots to regroup.
>
> Sir Rik’s knights, who had doggedly chased, caught and finally destroyed Sermes’ guarding force, suffering atrocious casualties themselves –around forty riders were lost during the pursuit- were less than five minutes behind Maluph’s remaining chariots. Maluph ordered a series of volleys on the mauled Grunts before making another attempt to clear this part of Even Fork, both for Xener and Horus Mirpur, but soon after giving the order more knights arrived and perhaps Sir Rik himself (at least two separate sources claim the Scaldingport knight had reached Even Fork a bit earlier), hindering his efforts.
>
> Xener with Lord Putra had attacked earlier that morning to break through Basten Van Oord’s guards, succeeded initially but the slow-moving Jang-Lu bringing up the rear were caught by Sir Walter’s –also redeploying during the night- crossbows and soldiers. Fighting on two fronts or even three fronts, with the city’s defenders using the long-ranged machines to hit their lines from the walls, Xener split his army in two divisions, left the first to fight Sir Walter and attacked again to break out towards the east gates with the second.
>
> This force was met by Sir Nootveld’s returning to the city Gray Cloaks and priests of the Order of Tyeus. Despite savage fighting and some initial success, Xener’s advancing division also slowed down near mid-day. With more defenders pouring out of the east gates to reinforce the Gray Cloaks, plus a good number of Marines that had also arrived from the docks, the situation turned grave rapidly. General Xener, who had lost a leg from a catapult boulder shot earlier, reported to a hard-pressed Lord Putra that the army had to disengage, and then retreat towards the woods to make a stand there.
>
> A very gloomy suggestion.
>
> Horus Mirpur cavalry (and part of the same army) had reached the woods west of Even Fork almost leaping ahead of it, but had to stall there as the harsh terrain near the shores had forced the large group of followers with Tibia-Han to attempt to get out coming towards the resting Cataphracts (several men had families or personal slaves in the large group numbering over a thousand souls). A worried Horus, the famed scion didn’t know the exact position of the Gallant Dogs or the forces against him, ordered Dumar to scout ahead towards the road. The scouts were detected by the Gallant Dogs sentries posted near the treeline in all likelihood (or Commandant Martel himself, but I wouldn’t trust anything coming from mercenaries) and Martel who had advanced the ‘Old Dogs’ and Wyncall’s ‘Gold Contract’ companies to assist De Moss, ordered the west woods cleared.
>
> Wyncall refused to attack an unknown force, citing an obscure Guild’s article about ‘risking unnecessary danger when better options are available’ and Martel, who didn’t have anything else available but couldn’t outright dismiss the experienced Captain’s objection, afore pretending that he’d at least looked into the matter, found himself facing a near mutiny. While not common in other (royal or city) outfits, such disagreements were pretty normal amidst the mercenaries and didn’t worry the also experienced Martel too much.
>
> A meeting was called straightway, which Wyncall attended and during the exchange of ideas, Sergeant of engineers Ricard White proposed to ‘shave the wooded terrain a bit, so as to avoid any nasty surprises to the higher-paid sirs’. Given that no one wanted any nasty surprises or could offer something remotely close to a solution to circumnavigate Wyncall’s objections ‘to try all else first’, White was ordered to setup his machines and he did, with the help of the eager and fully supportive Sergeant Willian.
>
> An hour or two after that first careless scout was initially spotted, Ricard White’s ‘Dogs’ artillery (a hundred engineers/crews with ten Scorpios and at least four catapults –seven according to some sources) started bombarding the edge of the woods. The secretly wanting to ‘test several newish stuff’ White used his ‘shrapnel bags’ (a mix of lead balls, iron spikes and rocks), acid ampules or flasks (unknown corrosive mixture), ‘flame buckets’ (oil, hay, resin and sawdust set on fire), flaming bolts and plain cut square or round rocks with disturbing enthusiasm. While failing to set the forest on fire (not for lack of trying), he did set alight some of the drier trees. Athough the woods were too-soaked from the seasonal rains to burn extensively, the mercenary engineer’s bombardment caused chaos inside the woods.
>
> Huge old trees collapsed, long branches were shattered or broken off and sinister wood splinters rained on the Cataphracts and the slowly amassing around them followers of the supply train. The Khanate engineer Tibia-Han was injured (had badly broken both of his legs, with bones and flesh turning to a pulp) and his colleague Ressif killed outright, when a hurled thirty-kilo rock abruptly collapsed a forty-meter tall tree on them. At least sixty or seventy people (both fighters and civilians or slaves) were killed or injured during the hour long barrage until Horus Mirpur, who initially intended to wait for either Lord Jorah, or Maluph to reach near him first, had to order his lance cavalry under Perku –now under severe bombardment- to attack Martel’s Dogs and clear the road.
-
(Rollon Martel)
“FIRE!” White bellowed hoarsely jumping up and down whilst sprinting across the line of machines to check on the crews. “FASTER GOD’S DARNIT!”
A grimacing Martel wiped his face with a dirty cloth, the burning pits black smoke had clogged his lungs something fierce and had started coughing up phlegm –not to mention the damage to his tearing eyes, and waved for Flavius Super to approach. The sergeant had placed the men in their squares nicely and was now watching the flames sparkling inside the woods. Huge gaps had been opened to the wall of trees facing the mercenaries that were comfortably staying a hundred meters back near the flats and the road.
“I have a missive from sergeant Ottis,” Crafton said before Sergeant Super could get a word out.
“What about?” Martel queried slotting the cloth in his armour’s collar.
“They are under attack,” Crafton reported sounding worried.
“Well,” Martel stalled trying to understand what the officer was saying. “Can he deal with it?”
“We might lose the camp and the junction.”
“What are you talking about? There are thousands of men between us and Lord Putra!” Martel blasted Crafton, not ready to deal with another problem. This day is turning to shite fast, he thought sourly.
Crafton pointed at the bombarded woods. “These are Putra’s men I believe.”
“Why? Did you ask them? Goodness me,” Martel protested civilly, since he’d the same suspicion but couldn’t back it up with any facts yet. “Don’t jump into blasted conclusions Crafton!”
“It’s my nature,” Crafton insisted. “I worry. You need to help the lad.”
“I can’t,” Martel griped and spotted a group of riders coming out of the smoking trees. Then another. A third popping out from another spot and heading towards them immediately.
“Commandant,” Super started casually, his nervous eyes on the moving about riders. “I believe we are about to be attacked.”
Fuck’s sake, Martel groaned inwardly and it came out as a muffled grunt as well. “Get back to your plaguing outfit!” He barked at the sergeant who turned around and galloped towards the Old Dogs lines.
Five minutes later
The split up groups of lancers careered up and down their frontlines looking for gaps, with the companies angling to face them. They had to dodge bolts and hurled rocks from the machines, now aimed or turning towards them, but it was a knife that cut both ways and Martel had to order the engineers to stop attempting their risky shots after a stray bolt killed two of Wyncall’s soldiers. The moment the machines stopped, the different lancer groups charged the mercenaries lines. Some came from the front, only to turn around before the raised shields and others attempted to flank the soldiers from the sides.
“Lu get a group to angle north!” Martel yelled from atop his horse pointing with his sword and headed there himself. Douc-Re’s soldiers marched there to take positions but another group of lancers, lost in the chaos, skirted behind Wyncall’s lines and headed for White’s machines.
The alarmed Martel galloped there instead followed by Douc-Re and at the same time Wyncall ordered a rear unit to deal with the problem. The riders reached the machines first, cleared out two Scorpios but had to disengage due to the approaching infantry.
The commandant rode there moments later, glanced at the killed engineers and then realized the Khanate’s cavalry was attacking them across the whole frontline. That’s a lot of bloody horses, a furious Martel thought seeing the enemy pouring out of the smoking trees. A moment later Flavius Super got a foot of lance through the face and the commandant found himself dancing on the saddle against two Horselords.
> -
> Despite what his boastful character might suggest, Rollon was a terrible dancer on foot and a mediocre rider, but he’d at the very least gotten his earlier prediction about the day turning to shite correctly.
>
> So there’s that.
-
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Act II
-Mirpur-
(Horus)
“Get them out of here!” Horus growled at Madaki and the scout recoiled, barely avoiding a broken branch that hit the sides of his horse. The animal neighed in panic and jumped away with the scout trying to keep it under control. Gero had to rush there on top of his own horse to help him out.
Ah.
Horus glanced at Marleen’s tired face and then at Jarena who carried Aswad in her arms. The few wagons they had taken with them parked behind the lines of Cataphracts busy trying to avoid the edge of the woods.
“Perku is attacking the mercenaries Horus,” Api-Nofre reported riding near him. It made Togo nervous and the warhorse snorted angrily in warning. “We must either head for the bridge to help Dhin-Awal now, or we commit here to keep the road open for Maluph!”
Horus grimaced, his eyes on Marleen that looked at the chaos unsure.
“Will they make it?” Horus asked the Cataphract and he could sense Api-Nofre’s hesitation behind the smiling metal mask.
All these people, was his meaning.
My family.
He spotted Resan approaching with Cardus, the slaver-master and his men.
“Tibia-Han is hurt badly,” Cardus told them crooking his painted mouth. “Ressif is gone. We tried to get the poor bastard out from under that tree but his arms just came off.”
Damn it.
The engineer was Horus’ friend.
“Perku will stop the machines,” Horus assured him, but sensed the men weren’t listening. Part of it the chaos and the smoke, the collapsing trees and all the injured about them. Mostly though the oppressing forest itself. No Horselord feels safe inside the woods. “See if you can find out more,” he ordered Api-Nofre. “Locate Dumar, or one of his men. Either Nabil or Umar.”
“Umar was killed,” Madaki informed Horus gravely. “He was with Tibia-Han and Ressif. The engineers wanted to observe the mercenaries’ machines. A wood splinter yay big, stabbed him in the throat,” Madaki added, showing him his forearm.
Curse the spirits!
“Api do what I said,” Horus grunted. “Get the men ready. Lighten up the horses. Only carry extra weapons. If we move, it won’t be to travel.”
He led Togo near Marleen and his son. Mirah rushed to kiss his hand, but Horus brushed her off as gently as he could. He touched the crying boy’s head with a hand and Jarena’s flushed, fleshy cheek afore turning to face the Issir noblewoman.
“The road is contested still,” Horus explained and Marleen nodded, remarkably restrained given their predicament. “Lord Jorah or the Prince might still appear, but you can’t stay here.”
“We can’t continue up the shores also,” Marleen said evenly and wiped a tear rolling down her dark skin.
“Maluph will make it,” Horus told her, raising the mask over his helm so she could see his face. “We can push the mercenaries aside. A window of opportunity will open and you need to move fast then. You’ll use a horse and ride hard with Aswad. Reach the bridge and Dhin-Awal’s banners.”
“I won’t leave without you. I can stop the Crows. I know these men well,” Marleen said sternly and a moved Horus reached to cup her cheek after removing his glove.
“These are not your Crows sweet Marleen and they, if they still exist, might not want to listen to a Horselord’s wife,” Horus explained hoarsely, the sound of loud yelps, pained groans and burning or falling timber making the moment feel drenched in glum and doom. The arrival of a murder of loudly croaking crows over the contested battlefield beckoned in a corresponding manner.
The black birds agreed. Glum and doom was waiting for them beyond the trees.
Twenty minutes later
Late afternoon of the 3rd
Battle of Even Fork’s east branch
Local name, ‘Defiant Mongrels & the Raven’
Khanate name, 'Ermin Suru’s Panegyric'
Horus jogged at Togo’s discretion leading his group of Cataphracts with Gero riding on his left side. Resan had stayed with Marleen, Aswad and the slave girls. Madaki had followed after them to scout ahead of the heavier cavalry with his faster Steppe horse. Horus spotted him coming in and out of the smoke and dust that covered the extended battlefield, now covering about a kilometer of the road. Perku’s attacks had split the mercenaries in two large distinct blocks of soldiers initially, with a third one forming around the half-overrun machines that still occasionally fired at a clean target.
The distant and standing on the stirrups Madaki waved his arm right and left to get his attention on the group of enemy soldiers guarding the road south. Perku had focused his attention on the heavier units of the north side guarding group, their banner a pile of coins and the number 300 under it.
No sign of the Prince yet, Horus thought and raised his arm to signal he wanted a charge on the Dogs square, now reforming to face a small group of lancers. It was five rows deep, but armed with javelins and not pure spears. One could read this both ways.
“Lance,” he instructed Gero and he accepted the long weapon from his servant, every Cataphract around him doing the same and the moving group slowing down in order to gradually get into a flying wedge formation. “Check my bags.”
The charge always started slow and kept at a steady comfortable pace for most of the way, but for the final twenty-thirty meters. Sometimes less depending on whether the enemy had throwing weapons, like javelins or not.
You presume the man holding a weapon knows how to use it well and leave the matter of facing an unskilled opponent to come as a pleasant, though rare, surprise.
Yeah.
“We might need to move fast boy,” Horus informed his stallion, caressing its neck over the chainmail and Togo snorted, eager to get going. “Look to avoid sharp, pointy things.”
A snorting Togo shook his head in disdain and started trotting first, afore changing to a lively canter at the top of their formation. Horus let the shaft rest on the horn of his saddle and gestured for the Cataphracts following after him that were going to shadow the next charge Perku’s mixed cavalry would attempt.
May our ancestors’ noble spirits roaming the great steppe, grant us a good contest. Let us not depart this realm to join their ranks after soiling their name and wearing a coward’s shameful garb, Horus prayed under his breath just before Togo started charging, following after the last of Larmir’s lightly armoured Horse Archers.
-
> Excerpt from Rollon Martel’s
>
> The wandering blades
>
> -An old dog’s memoir-
>
> Circa 201 NC
>
>
>
> Fighting Horselords in the open is a right nightmare. I faced them standing behind walls and doing the besieging, so I can spot the plaguing difference. A small force is nothing to scoff at. One may argue that all cavalry is like that, sort of nasty to come up against for us ‘marching’ dogs.
>
> Nah, I have to object here. Aye.
>
> See now, you can figure out what a hundred horses might do against a line of shields. I use the term line here, since normal foot soldiers don’t turn themselves into a house like legionnaires in like a minute. You try that shit maneuver with ‘normal’ soldiers in the heat of battle, you’ll end up with a cluster of head-knocking fools, banging shields repeatedly against each other.
>
> I’m not hurling manure to the Legion, just stating the facts. Normal infantry knows three, maybe four commands and you need ideal conditions to get a couple out of them in a bind.
>
> Them legion boys, are a different beast to come up against no question, but they do share some key characteristics with the lads of the steppe, which I will present here.
>
> Constant training and great conditioning.
>
> Yeah. They have that.
>
> Now Legionnaires are finely tuned to perform their many maneuvers, like for example… setting up a defense quickly, then change formation and move to attack according to their orders, which all infantry does sure, but they do better and with greater variation.
>
> Horselords know their darn horses. How to use them, when, how to stay on the saddle, conserve energy and read the terrain. Anticipate the defender’s mistakes and think a move ahead. Think fast. Each battle is a dance and a hunt for trophies. A competition against each other. To dodge or skirt the danger a sin. Sure there is some wiggle room there for some of the higher ups but not much and not for the core or their better units.
>
> Cowards rarely don the mask. It means that they smile in the face of danger and not mock their opponents, though a bit of that I’ve seen occur.
>
> More than a bit.
>
> Hells, had I pranced about on a fancy horse, wearing a fancy mask wit all the bells and whistles, I’d be cocky too. Knights are like that. Not all Knights, but most of them. You see a knight park his horse before a tavern and walking in, jingling spurs, shining cuirass and all, you’ll get a stir out of them wenches. Had I done the same maneuver and I’ve been quite the handsomer lad in my younger years, I might have gotten a couple of glances, two hellos’- need somethings, a crooked grin and a dozen middle fingers when I turned my back.
>
> Life lessons aside, it’s not easy to spot mistakes while racing fast across a battlefield. It’s a great skill to have though and those bastards have it. A soldier fucks up something or other every two minutes and rarely thinks more than a moment ahead of time, unless it is to calculate the days to his next payment.
>
> Or meal.
>
> Ah, mayhap organize a brothel run with the lads, or write a letter to the mistress. In battle though, they just react most of the times. A good officer can fix that, minimize the damage or danger, but then training rears its ugly head, or its lack thereof, because no outfit is ever ‘fully’ trained. Especially mercenaries.
>
> I mean, we know our stuff and look to take few risks, but that’s it.
>
> Of course, don’t expect a mercenary to roll over and die. As a matter of fact, a soldier of the purse is the most dangerous opponent when cornered, for he fights neither for country, flag or Queen. A mercenary fights for himself first and foremost. His purse next. Retirement. A noble thing and pretty important.
>
> So if you come looking to cause us serious bodily harm, then we’ll have a problem.
>
> The Horselords were a problem on the open ground. They kept moving about, hit you here or kick you there. You need a whole lot of training to keep your formation against them and nobody is going to sign up for the job if you lead wit that.
>
> Or be fully transparent on a situation.
>
> That’ll kill morale faster than a bolt in them gonads.
>
> Yeah.
>
> According to the great Dante Blackwood, all-gods rest his soul, yeah, that’s him over there… it’s the third most important skill a commandant needs to possess in abundance, if he wants to keep a company running and the coin flowing into its coffers.
>
> No, I meant lying of course.
>
> Bullshiting the fuck out of people.
>
> A lot and as frequent as you can.
>
>
-
(Horus)
Horus’ lance punched through the shield, clanged on the soldier’s helm, snapping it back and then dragged his arm sideways as Togo bulldozed though the faltering lines. The shaft bending until it could bend no more and Horus had to let it go afore it snapped. The Cataphract twisted on the saddle, simultaneously pulling at the reins hard to turn his horse and reached for his scimitar with the free hand.
Togo jumped forward losing some of the momentum but retained enough to push aside two more mercenaries and trample a third under its hooves. The right hind leg crushing an arm at the elbow. Horus hacked down, chipped a piece of shield off, found a shoulder guard and then twisted around, his horse turning with him afore leaping again out of the scattered formation.
All about him Cataphracts punched through the Dogs lines, the dead hurled away like ragdolls and the maimed rolling on the thick grass trying to get away. Togo turned this way and that to keep the blades away, as soldiers came at them when they slowed down. Horus kicked his legs to get the horse going again, a sword grazing its chest, and another connecting with the back of the saddle. The galloping Cataphract twisted around, sheathing his blade and reached for his crossbow. Horus had his eyes on the Scorpio’s crew that had turned their machine around.
Neither chainmail, nor plate could stop this. No armour, be it thick rings or sturdy scales.
“SPREAD OUT!” He yelled to be heard and fired whilst on the move, aiming for the guy operating the lever. He missed and the recoiling Lorian slapped his hand down to release the much bigger bolt. The two-meter long bolt screamed over his shoulder and the galloping Togo jerked right in panic almost tossing Horus.
The Cataphract went with the flow angling left hard on the saddle, rode the momentum for five meters and stood upright using his thighs, just as the warhorse jumped over the Scorpio’s crews having run out of room.
The neighing Togo landed on two legs, used a third to keep them off the ground, cantered for the next ten and then started galloping again behind the mercenaries lines. Horus raised his sword and made a circle with it to gather the surviving Cataphracts around him whilst searching the fast passing them by surroundings for any looming danger.
The battle was raging as far as the eye could see, with smaller groups of mercenaries trying to regroup after the repeated charges from the lancers and the heavier Cataphract units.
Chaos everywhere.
Good.
They are about to break, a tensed Horus thought and switched weapons to use his flail on a soldier that had hurled a javelin at him from about ten meters away. Togo dodged the spear and Horus reached the diving away man a breath later. He caught him on the back of the head with two of the steel heads, the helm bending inwards and crushing the skull.
Horus changed weapon again, going back to his sword, still galloping in a semi-circle, keeping an eye on the overrun machines for any brave engineer and the other on the Horselords that slowly coalesced around him. Amongst them, the hard-riding Gero that had brought him a spare lance.
“Api-Nofre split with half the men,” a blood-spattered Pi-Hor reported hoarsely, his metal mask cracked down the middle, yelling to be heard over the sounds of battle and the many horses roaming about.
“Where to?” Horus asked clenching his jaw.
“One of Perku’s riders claimed he talked with Lord Jorah’s men!” Pi-Hor replied stiffly. “They broke out of the bridge but there are too many enemies to keep control of the road!”
“How many?”
“Three hundred spears at least,” Pi-Hor grunted but it came out muffled. “Issirs.”
“The Prince has thrice that number in cavalry alone!” Horus snapped angrily with a glare at the Cataphract riding next to him.
“Radin isn’t here my lord,” Pi-Hor replied gravely.
Horus cursed under his breath and steered the galloping Togo in another arching maneuver. “We’ll hit the officers next,” he told the men riding with him, turning this way and that on the saddle to signal with his arms that they needed to reform. “If they break, we’ll rest the horses and try to hit that stubborn heavy infantry next with the help of Perku!”
“Fucking carrion birds,” Pi-Hor was heard saying as they rode near the east woods before turning around to charge at the mercenaries again. Horus glanced at the trees in passing and saw dozens of crows landing on branches to watch the unfolding battle with their black beady eyes. More and more dived from the sky, each finding its own spot in a silent agreement, their croaks lost under the sound of the Horselords hooves.
They are not here to watch the living, Horus thought with a shiver.
They are here to feast on the corpses.
-
> Larmir’s around four hundred horse-archers (they were issued lances as well) followed Perku’s ninety medium cavalry out of the west forest about a kilometer north of Even Fork. They harassed the Gallant Dogs (350 Old Dogs, 250 Gold Contract, 100+ engineers/crews) waiting for the machines to finish them off initially without success, but then split into several fifty-strong groups and started attacking the mercenaries from all sides across the extended battlefield. Perku and Larmir wanted to disable Ricard White’s artillery as it had pummeled the civilians following after Horus Mirpur that couldn’t continue deeper into the woods and had to gather near the Cataphracts.
>
> Horus wanted the civilians evacuated towards Boar Horn (Lady Marleen was with them, as the Horselord had taken Van Oord’s daughter as a wife forcefully), but was uncertain if the Prince had claimed the bridge yet. Perku scored a couple of good charges in the mounting confusion, but lost a lot of riders as the mercenaries (especially Wyncall’s heavier and better trained Gold Contract infantry grouped up to counter them) fought back and didn’t panic. A pressured to act and open a safe way for the non-combat units Horus Mirpur ordered his two-hundred strong Cataphracts to assist Perku and led them personally out of the woods as well.
>
> The famed Horselord Knight, timed his attacks better than Perku and managed to score a devastating charge on Commandant Martel’s Old Dogs splitting them in two large groups and killing over thirty soldiers and twenty engineers in the first charge. Mirpur split his force into two large groups (the second under Api-Nofre) and continued probing the scrambling to regroup mercenaries that had been caught ‘in too open a terrain for their liking’ according to Rollon Martel’s own memoirs. Horus attacked again shattering Martel’s main group of soldiers into many smaller clusters of soldiers and despite Wyncall fending off attacks from Larmir, Perku and Api-Nofre the battle appeared to be turning to the Horselords favor.
>
> But it didn’t and we will provide the reasons for it.
>
> Ten minutes later nothing had changed. Horus Mirpur had attacked once more destroying another large group of mercenaries and Wyncall’s formation had taken casualties (the Armium educated Captain had created a very large pseudo-testudo with three inner lines of soldiers, an outer ring of shields, with swords in the mid and ordering the inner row men to keep their javelins to use as spears -later to be known as the anti-cavalry Square or ‘Wyncall Square’), but despite them had prevented the Horselords from scattering his men. Wyncall lost his second in command Basin at about that time and was wounded himself with a bolt through the neck that failed miraculously to kill him, but lost the Lesia officer his voice.
>
> Martel had fared even worse. He got wounded with a broken piece of lance in the chest and slashed at the jaw, but while the injuries weren’t fatal, he’d lost Sergeant Super and Rik Willian, one of the two engineer officers along over two hundred men. The rest had bunched up into smaller groups but miraculously didn’t break. The reasons have been debated ad nauseam in the years that followed the battle, but in my humble opinion -after studying and reading the survivors memoirs and accounts- the mercenaries didn’t remain in the field due to bravery, duty or courage, despite having for sure a big portion of the former.
>
> The Gallant Dogs soldiers knew they would be wiped out if they stopped fighting or turned to run away. The latter was out of the question given that they were mostly on foot. I give the men and officers huge credit for managing to keep this detail into the men’s heads after suffering repeated charges from heavy cavalry.
>
> The fear of death kept the Dogs alive and probably turned the battle.
>
> Horus Mirpur messaged Dumar to come out of the woods as well to assist him in hunting down or harassing the smaller groups of soldiers peppered in the field and sent word to Cardus to slowly get the civilians (slaves mostly, but also officers or engineers like Tibia-Han) out in the open. He had been informed that Lord Jorah Dhin-Awal had managed to skirt around the Old Spears and survive Struder’s company to open for a brief amount of time a contested corridor to the bridge and general Amir-Zeket, who was still besieging Desmond Boss’ east camp. The Castalor officer and mogul had suffered horrendous casualties (well over a thousand men) but his men now fared much better behind fortifications and in the nearby woods.
>
> The winch crossbow could bring down a heavily-armoured Jang-Lu or a Cataphract with a single shot and it did, making Amir-Zeket’s attempts to dislodge him from the camp’s main stone buildings very costly. The latter an extravagance, but Boss had bought the rural land near the bridge since he wanted to build a farmstead there that could also dabble as a hostel after the war. So he had commissioned a building firm out of Scaldingport to erect the first couple of buildings during the summer. Late in the afternoon an eagle-eyed Horselord archer noticed the fancy-dressed Desmond Boss visiting the besieged buildings and fired an arrow from a distance of beyond two hundred meters, balancing on top of his saddle like a circus funambulist, through an open second-story window that missed the mogul by pure chance, but caught his son Mathieu square in the face and killed him on the spot.
>
> With fires burning on both sides of the forest, mainly the west, the grounds on both sides of the road littered with corpses, dead animals, broken machines, smoking debris and discarded weapons, losing the light in about an hour’s time could spell the end of Horus’ efforts and the Horselord knew it. Horus also knew he couldn’t continue at the same tempo, as the Cataphracts horses had started wearing down due to carrying a much heavier load. The latter a byproduct of their full-body chainmail armour that was used to keep the animals alive in the field.
>
> The mercenaries had attacked the horses ferociously from the start, but while that worked against Perku and Larmir’s groups, you needed a lot of hacking to seriously wound a Cataphract’s horse. While it was possible and frequently done in such a large-scale battle, ‘the man riding said horse tends to react bellicosely after you stab his animal a couple of times’ as Martel writes.
>
> While Horus Mirpur regrouped briefly and Dumar’s scouts continued to harass the fraught mercenaries, two events happened as the 3rd of Tertius was winding down near Even Fork.
>
> Maluph Erul-Sol’s battered chariots finally cleared most of the Grunts guarding the north branch of the junction and broke through. Well, that’s not exactly accurate. Yes, the chariots mauled Liko’s mercenaries near the Gallant Dogs camp, but they were also hit hard themselves. Also while this was happening, Sir Rik’s men-at-arms arrived, first in smaller groups and then in numbers. They had wiped out Maluph’s rear vehicles and immediately engaged the chariots roaming the flats inside and outside the settlement/camp.
>
> Rik’s riders were tired as well but had enough in them –especially with the Grunts assistance- to slowly destroy Maluph’s ten-chariot formations one after the other. The chariot general arrived near Horus’ positions with only nine war-chariots, having lost close to fifty during the day (he’d suffered attrition from the terrain as well) and ninety for the campaign. Be that as it may, his pleasant for Horus arrival dragged Sir Rik’s close entourage of armoured cavalry behind and was to be the last of the trapped Lord Putra’s army units that succeeded in escaping Boarsnout Peninsula.
>
> It must be noted here that the stubborn De Weer scion, who’d lost an eye during the Princess’ Tourney semi-final to a Horselord back in 188 NC, had been after Maluph Erul-Sol since that morning -almost ten hours earlier by then and was unwilling to allow him to get away.
>
> Alongside Maluph, or briefly after his arrival, Sir Evert Pek and half of 1st Foot’s reformed Cavalry division (around fifty riders) came out of the East Woods signaling the arrival of reinforcements. Robert had ordered Sir Pek to leap ahead of the main body and to the north of Even Fork, as he expected the biggest problems coming from that direction and the distant Pastelor lowborn but experienced knight obliged him coming out near Wyncall’s embattled positions.
>
> Sir Reuten’s veteran Desert Crows Cavalry (90 riders) who escorted Sir Gust De Weer, Rik’s bigger brother, themselves in turn followed closely by Sir Leonel Koel’s men-at-arms (fifty riders), had gone straight for Even Fork initially as they knew that it was the weaker of the two positions. Sir Gust decided to veer northwards when he approached, upon witnessing the smoke clouds over the forest. About half an hour behind them followed Robert Van Durren and the first advance units of Badum’s old First Foot’s, 1st Division, numbering eight hundred heavy spear Issir infantry or very close to it (the 2nd Division followed with the newer recruits who were at the time numbering around six hundred).
>
> For reasons still left obscure, Lord Ruud had placed the very expensive Gallant Dogs company (a unit best deployed against fixed targets) in the open right at the junction, either callously wanting to get them wiped out and slyly rid himself of their ruinous wages –this has been brought up from several survivors- or because he erroneously believed the mercenaries would fare better than Gust’s Crows or Sir Rik’s. It was very obvious to all those that have studied the battle that Martel was going to be tested if any attempt was made to breakout Lord Putra’s army, either from the bridge or Castalor. You couldn’t leave or enter the peninsula without going through Even Fork.
>
> Well, you could, if you followed the narrow forest trails out of Boar’s Horn sources that led to a tiny settlement called Hunter’s Path. From there you could potentially head east for the large village of Hunter’s Cot, or head south to find the main road coming from Rusted. To navigate these local and rather obscure paths one needed some serious local assistance and the glaringly absent from the battlefield Prince Radin, had that apparently.
>
> ‘It is perilous fighting a foreign invader whilst a Civil War is raging on and the people are divided’, as per Lord Ruud’s apt remarks that were delivered during the frantic struggle, ‘you toss a rock into a crowd and you are bound to hit some ruffian’s head, five times out of ten. I’d given you bigger odds than these Viscount, but this fucked up realm is full of numbskulls and harlots. So ye got to fucking account for that as well!’