A drizzle begins, raining over the battlefield. It quickly transforms into a downpour. The soldiers await orders as mud forms in the grassy valley between the hills.
「Why are we still waiting? Now we'll have to fight in the fuckin' mud.」
One of the mercenary soldiers asks the man standing in line beside him.
「Why are you in a rush? We're getting paid by the day. The longer this drags out, the better for us.」
He replies, grinning a little as he scoffs.
「Yeah, but… Do you really want to fight in the mud? It might be just peasant kids, but if you trip in the mud with your gear on, you're as good as dead.」
The mercenary beats his breastplate, it pulsates with faint purple light in its elaborate channels along its surface.
「Well, then don't trip. And don't be too hasty to fight, either. Just stare at them, look menacing, and-」
Toot-toot-toot-tootootooot!
A trumpet sounds out from behind the mercenary formation, interrupting the other mercenary's reply. They look towards the sound. A man with a trumpet plays a rapid tune, and another man beside him raises a blue flag with a complex pattern.
「Ahhh, shit. Here we go.」
Abandoning his previous sentence, the mercenary sighs out, and the formation marches forward. Mud splashes beneath their feet, and heavy rain hammers on their helmets. The enemy's lone horsemen run up and down the commander's hill, briefly staying near the units' officers, before quickly returning to the top of the hill by the commander's side.
「What do you figure they're doing?」
One of the mercenaries asks the other, looking at the horsemen.
「I don't fucking know, and I don't really care. My focus right now is living long enough to enjoy my pay.」
The other replies, walking slower and slower as the ground gets muddier and muddier beneath their feet. Up on the enemy's hill, countless glowing orbs appear out of nowhere, crowding the space around the man with a casted arm.
「What the fuck-?」
Someone in the formation mutters out, witnessing the dozens and dozens of pale-blue orbs. Without a warning, they shoot out beams of pale blue light down at the mercenary formation, seemingly one beam for each man in front of the formation.
Despite the distance, the rays arrive almost instantaneously.
「What the fuck!?-」
The mercenaries shout out and stop in their advance, recoiling in shock at the sudden assault of light coming from the enemy commander. The beams impact on the thin air in front of their formation, rendering a hexagonal dome that was previously unseen visible to their eyes, and causing the rays to harmlessly splash against it into nothing.
A faint blue light illuminates the mercenaries beneath the nearly coal-black, thundering clouds. Despite it being just past noon, the battlefield is almost as dark as night due to the overcast sky. When the mercenaries realize they're safe, they collectively sigh in relief, and resume their march forward through the mud.
「What the fuck was that? I've never seen a mage do that.」
The mercenary asks the man beside him, looking up the hill at the man with his arm in a sling. The mercenary's brows are furrowed, and despite being technically safe, his expression clearly shows he does not feel so.
「I don't know. Be glad our mages are earning their fucking pay. That looked pretty bad.」
The other mercenary admits, lightly shaken as well, but still maintaining his stone face…
…
At the same time, on the loyalist side of the battle…
「Okay. That didn't work. Guess blowing up a crystal with mana, and blowing up soldiers with magic is two different things.」
Straf looks at the half-dome shield above the mercenary troops, as it turns invisible once again after his massed magic attack. His eyes look over the rest of the battlefield, and archers elsewhere are already engaging the mercenaries with very little to no effect. Arrows fly straight at the mercenary infantry, only to abruptly be thrown aside by an unseen force when they draw near.
「Man, how do I fucking salvage this?…」
Straf sighs, grimacing heavily. While the levy peasants below the hill have very little trouble navigating the mud in their light equipment, they also have very little means of inflicting damage on the heavily armored mercenary troops.
「At least the weather is lucky. Can the carts manage in this mud, though?… Well, whatever, it's not like they're that necessary.」
He shrugs, and looks at the enemy mercenary mage cautiously observing the battlefield in a manner similar to Straf, but much more focused.
「…Um, who are you talking to, Commander Vindict?」
A man on horseback asks, standing beside Straf.
「To myself. Did you know not everyone has internal monologues, and it confuses the shit out of people when the main character has internal thoughts?」
Straf looks at the horseman with a tight-lipped expression.
「…What?」
The young man on the horse blinks at Straf, with his brows furrowed.
「Exactly. I mitigate that by talking out loud. Now go tell those idiots I said half the valley, not quarter. What's the hold up?」
Straf points at a unit of swordsmen under heavy arrow barrage, holding their shields up and huddling together to maximize cover, roughly quarter of the way across the valley, just short of where the mud is the deepest.
「And you two! You tell those guys to get in those swordsmen' faces! And you tell the guys hiding in the trees to pop out from behind them! Be quick about it, or they'll figure out what's going on!」
Straf points his hand at the levymen below, rapidly barking orders while looking at the horsemen.
「Yes sir!」 「Yes commander!」 「Yes sir!」
The messengers shout out in near-unison, and speed off down the hill. After waiting for the rain of arrows to pause, the messenger bolts in towards one of the units' officers, shouts something at him, points his hand at the enemy, then begins running back towards Straf's hill. Just as he departs, arrows start clinking against the levymen' shields
Another messenger arrives at the back of the unit Straf pointed out, and also shouts something towards the officer. The officer shouts at the men, and they begin charging the mercenaries through the mud, pointing their spears at them.
Just as the mercenaries raise their shields and brace themselves, they realize another group is charging at them from behind, causing the mercenary formation to break its cohesion as they desperately attempt to handle both groups at once.
「There. That should be at least one small victory. Only a fucking hundred or so more to win this battle…」
Straf sighs, looking at the mercenary unit coming to reinforce and rescue the flanked swordsmen, though their pace is greatly impeded by the mud, and the unit they're coming to save is already starting to break and scatter.
「Oh! There it is! Trumpet!」
Straf's brows rapidly rise, and he quickly shouts a demand at one of the men attending him. One of the men in his company raises a trumpet to his mouth, and holds it steady…
…
Tootootoot-tootootoot-toot-! TOOTOOTOOOTOOTOOOT-TOOOTOOTOOOOTOOTOOTOOT!
A trumpet sounds out a tune, then another joins in, discordantly blaring across the battlefield in a greatly unpleasant pitch, rhythm, volume… Everything about the second trumpet is simply displeasing.
「What the fuck is that!? What is that order!?」
A mercenary asks, looking at the red flag raised as the mercenaries' trumpet command is drowned out by the horrible clamor of the second trumpet.
「I don't know! It sounded like an order to retreat, but-!」
Another mercenary shouts back. The entire formation stops in their tracks, almost knee-deep in mud.
「Well did it, or did it not!? If we retreat without being ordered to, we're not getting fucking paid! Which one was it!?」
Tootooto- TOOTOOOOOOOOTOOOOOTOOTOOTOTOOOOO!!
The trumpets sound out again, and the quieter, harmonic one is once again drowned out by the ear-piercing random noise coming out of a brass instrument.
「Fuck it! Just advance! Everyone! Advance! Let's get in their shit, and hack them up!」
One of the mercenary men shouts, taking charge. He takes a step forward, and points his sword at the comparatively close levymen in front of them. He waves his arm, trying his best to jog forward through the mud.
「Yeah!」 「Fuck 'em up!」 「We don't need orders anyway!」
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The men cheer as they catch up to their ad-hoc leader, sluggishly running through the knee-deep mud…
…
Up on the commanders' hill on the rebellious barons' side…
「Why are they advancing!? They're going to get flanked!」
「What a band of idiots! What did we pay them for!?」
「The battle barely started, and we already lost two companies! They costed a fortune! Why is this happening!?」
Fat men dressed in extravagant clothes shout and stomp their feet on the ground.
「You! Signal them again! What are you even doing!? Aren't they trained to follow your signals!?」
With another man holding an umbrella over his head as he walks, one of the fat men stomps up to the soldier holding a trumpet, gasping for air as he's trying to catch his breath.
「I am trying!… But that man!… Their commander is just… How is he this loud!?」
The man desperately explains, pointing at the enemy commander across the valley. He asks a question in frustration, which aggravates the fat man even more.
「Do. A. Better. Job! All of our savings from the gold mines went into these mercenaries! I won't let it all go down because of a fucking trumpet! Play the tune! Order them to turn around!」
The fat man points his finger at the mercenaries walking into another ambush, as a group of levymen are circling around a thicket. While they're in plain sight from the hilltop, the vegetation blocks the line of sight between them, and the mercenaries.
The tired trumpeter sighs, and places his lips on the trumpet again. He takes a deep breath…
Too-! TOOTOOT!! TOOTOOTOOTOOTOOT!!… TOOT!! TOOTOOTOOT!!
He barely starts blowing air into the trumpet, and in the next moment he is already inaudible. He gives up early, and his arms fall limp in defeat. He turns to the fat baron, and shrugs his arms, as if to ask what else he is meant to do.
The second trumpet continues playing. While it is still far too loud to be considered pleasant, it is now blaring out a jazzy, almost musical noise…
…
At the same time, back at the loyalists' command hill…
「Heh. If you think signal jamming is bad, you haven't seen the true horrors of war yet… Like deranged MRE menus.」
Straf grins, seeing the enemy trumpeter defeated.
「Alright, take this shit out of my face, I don't think we'll need it anymore.」
Straf shoves the trumpet away with his face, and when he looks at the men attending him, he realizes all of them are covering their ears.
「…Come on, it wasn't that bad. It was my first time.」
He says, as they realize the aural torture is over, and the men pull their hands away from their ears.
「How's the attrition rate?」
Straf asks one of the horsemen.
「Healers are reporting one to fifteen, sir.」
The young man replies, and adds a nod of his head.
「Wait, really? What the fuck. At this rate we might end up slaughtering their entire army, and they won't even-」
Straf scoffs with a large grin, briefly blinking at the man in disbelief. He begins chuckling, but his chuckle is abruptly cut short.
「Uh oh. Nevermind.」
Straf says, when his eyes snap to the mercenary heavy cavalry crossing the crest of the enemy commander's hill. His grin slowly twists into a cringing expression…
…
Roughly an hour of battle later, the exhausted levy spearmen tread the mud filled with mercenary corpses. The rain has ceased for some time now, but the overcast skies remain. A horseman rides in from behind the formation.
「New orders! Bait the enemy cavalry! Affix them in place, and tie them down for as long as possible!」
The messenger shouts towards the officer, The mustached man nods his head, and the messenger whips he horse with the reins, taking off back towards the hill.
「What!? Bait the cavalry!? We're bait!?」
Mud and blood splattered Julius exclaims in shock, clutching onto his spear with wide-open eyes.
「We're just disposable spearmen, Julius! Get your fucking shit together!」
William shouts, breathing heavily and gasping for air, struggling to stay upright in the slippery, corpse-filled mud.
「But-! But-! How are we supposed to tie them down!? They're in full armor! Even their horses are armored! Didn't you see how they took off flying when they charged into them!?」
Julius points at the group of dead levymen on the ground in the distance, the result of the enemy's cavalry charge from a few minutes ago.
「Spearmen have the advantage, Julius! Those guys were shit out of luck!」
William grabs onto his younger comrade's shoulder, trying his best to encourage him through the fatigue.
「Advance! Advance!!」
An officer shouts, swinging his sword and pointing its tip towards the enemy. He swallows between the shouts, also panting heavily, and almost entirely coated in mud from the belt down. The mercenary cavalry in the distance trots into a loose group, then reforms into a tight wedge formation.
「Uh oh…」
Julius says, looking with nervous eyes at the heavily armored horsemen turning their formation towards his.
「Men! Brace your spears! Nobody dare run, or we're all dead!」
The officer orders, and slinks past the spearmen right behind their backs.
「Julius, listen to me! Put the shaft on the ground and point the spear forward! Like this!」
William sets his spear's shaft on the muddy ground, and extends the spear point low ahead.
「…Like this?」
Julius tries to replicate William's stance, looking at him as other men in the formation take a similar stance with their spears. The cavalry trots leisurely towards the spearmen.
「Lower!」
William shouts, and yanks the young man's spear lower with his hand.
「Now what?」
「Step on its end! Brace it against your foot! Lean forward!」
William shouts with urgency in his voice, showily stomping onto the spear shaft. Julius digs in the mud with his foot, searching for the spear's end.
「I think I've got it! Now what?」
Julius turns his worried eyes to William expectantly.
「…Now we fucking pray to Mercia, buddy.」
William says with a grave face, looking straight into Julius's eyes. The young man gulps, and William looks at the mercenary cavalry closing in as they slowly pick up the pace.
「It's a contest of trust, Julius. If you run, somebody will fucking die. You gotta keep your spear braced. You can't run. Poke at least one of them, and you'll save someone's life. Maybe mine, maybe yours, maybe some other guy's. There's no guarantee you'll live.」
William explains with a serious tone, staring at the horsemen. Their leisurely trot turns into a canter. Julius turns his eyes to the mercenaries as well.
「…Thanks for everything, William.」
Julius says with a dejected tone.
「What the fuck are you saying? If you're dead in your mind, you'll be dead out here. I said get your shit together, Julius. If you make it out alive, go tell that girl what you have to say to her.」
William glances at Julius. The cavalry begins to gallop.
Ba-dududud. Ba-dudud. Ba-dudud.
「She'll turn me down, man…」
Julius grins, chuckling nervously.
「You're in a fight for your life with men, and you're afraid of a farmgirl turning you down? Get your shit together, Julius!」
William shouts encouragingly at Julius. The mercenaries close in faster and louder.
Ba-dudud! Ba-dudud! Ba-dudud!
Julius grips tightly onto his spear, clenching his teeth and swallowing nervously. His hands are shaking on his weapon, and his heartbeat is matching the horse hoof beat. The cavalry closes in, moments from impact.
BA-DUDUDBA-DUDUDBA-DUDUD!! Crash!
Horrible cacophony of metal on metal, wood snapping, pained screams and horses crying out begins. Julius receives a feedback in his hands, his spear snaps on the throat of one of the horsemen.
「I killed someone-! William! I-」
Julius screams in a mix of panic, shock, and mild relief. He glances aside at William.
Thud!!
A horse rams into William and sends him flying backwards out of the formation.
「William!」
Julius calls out in terror, with his eyes wide open as he watches William limply crash through the mud, partially sinking into it. His attention is forced back to the horsemen, when a nearby spear blocks a slash aimed at his neck. He recoils on instinct, and starts haphazardly poking his spear at the horsemen in a wild melee…