Chapter 19
The Baron and his lieutenants stood in Castle Bickenstadt’s courtyard. In front of them was a simple wooden training dummy.
After two and a half months of waiting, the Baron’s sword was already finished. Tokitaka entered the courtyard with a long wooden box cradled in his arms. He kneeled in front of the Baron, took the lid off his box, and held it above his head with both hands.
The sword was a piece of art. Just the sheath looked like it belonged in a museum, beautifully intricate sea patterns made of gold etchings, colored sea glass, and pearls covered every inch of the sheath’s black exterior. The handle was something else entirely. Everything, from the handguard to pommel to the grip itself, was made of a bright red coral. The handguard extended down to the pommel but did not connect, ending in two small rounded points. The blade was perfect, without a single blemish or scratch, and an unparalleld edge, including the sharpened false edge up by the tip.
He raised the saber above his head and slashed down at the dummy’s shoulder. His sword went clean through, slicing the dummy from right shoulder to left hip, the top portion sliding off, slowly revealing the unbelievably clean cut. The Baron took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before breathing out.
“Tokitaka…I…I don’t know what to say. Your work has left me speechless. I have never held an item of such high quality in my five decades of life.”
Tokitaka bowed his head deeper, just a few inches away from a full on kowtow.
“I am unworthy of such praise. All I made was an art piece, the real praise belongs to the man who enchanted my work.”
The Baron walked over and placed a hand on Tokitaka’s shoulder.
“You sell yourself short. This blade is a masterpiece, enchantments or no. It is an honor to be allowed to wield such a thing.”
Tokitaka bowed down into a full kowtow.
“Arigato gozaimasu, waga aruji.”
The Baron nodded and turned towards his lieutenants.
“Do any of you require new weapons? I am sure master Tokitaka would be willing to create another art piece for you.”
They all shook their heads. Udo palmed the pommel of his somewhat simple longsword.
“I’m pretty happy with this thing. Replacing it feels wrong.”
Fergus nodded his head.
“If I need somethin’, I want it from a smith o’ Gán.”
Gaius raised his greatsword.
“This was my father’s sword! I need no replacement!”
Ludwin shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t use my sword that often anyways.”
The Baron looked at Helmut, who also shrugged his shoulders.
“I could do with an enchanted rapier, but I am quite fine as is.”
The Baron looked taken aback.
“Your weapon is not enchanted? How?”
Helmut shrugged again.
“It never really came up.”
|
|
The Baron watched over his men’s training in a field just outside Bickenstadt city. He now had a little over 1000 men under his command, and the castle courtyard was no longer large enough to contain them all.
First, the Baron looked over his pikemen. They had 385 pikemen in total, only 47 pikemen were recruited since the siege of Yorksburg. They were doing their classic push drills, heavy wood on wheels sent rolling at a group of pikemen who must work together to push it back using only their pikes. After they finished with this exercise, they would move on to individual accuracy training.
He then turned to his swordsmen. They had 125 shock troopers in total, many more than he had during his time in Orcland. They had just finished their close quarters combat training and were now focusing on building up their skills with technique drills and sparring.
The Baron decided to spar with a few of the men who stood above the rest and found that, while they were extremely skilled, they simply did not measure up to him or Fergus.
Well, it’s not like everyone can be like us. We’re kind of freaks, in a way.
Next, he moved over to the gunners. They had 445 in total, slightly more than double their post siege of Yorksburg numbers. It would take a long time for them all to be outfitted with the new percussion cap muskets, but it was a worthwhile investment. The Baron noted that the men with percussion caps reloaded decently faster than those without. And, with the integrated bayonets they were far less vulnerable than traditional flintlock gunners.
Maybe I need to expand my musket manufacturing, we’re only making around twenty five a week.
The skirmishers, of which the Baron only had thirty now, around half as many he had after the siege of Yorksburg, were off doing God knows what in the Dunkwald with Helmut.
Finally, the Baron looked over the newest part of his growing army, the cavalry. He had sixty cavalrymen in total. They were practicing staying in formation as they rode and firing off shots without stopping. Each cavalryman was equipped with a blunderbuss enchanted with accuracy, an enchantment which spun the shot itself to make it more accurate, which was extremely expensive, and a straight cavalry saber. Their job was to pepper formations with shot until they ran out of ammunition, in which case they were to charge in with sabers to finish off whoever was left. A similar role to the cuirassiers of old.
The Baron was happy with what he had seen. His men were ready for combat. They still had around two weeks before they were going to deploy, so they would only hone their skills further. He could barely wait to see how well his men would do.
Who knows, maybe it’s time to switch every pikeman over to guns and bayonets. That’s what the elves do, afterall. It must be effective if they haven’t been destroyed yet.
The Baron winced as he noticed how many men still had the old muskets.
Time consuming and expensive though.
|
|
|
The Baron was sitting at his desk doing paperwork. He had found that a small amount of parm, a stimulant he recently monopolized the sale of, helped him focus much better than usual. Though, it does make me a tad nauseous, and it suppresses my appetite.
He finished up approving the creation of another new coffee house in a district mostly filled with artists and chuckled to himself amusedly.
Good to see that people are the same no matter where you are.
As he began to draft a trade agreement selling excess firearms to Caprae Loco, Helmut entered. He looked almost surprised.
“Excuse me, Baron. A seeker is here.”
The Baron stopped writing, looking up at Helmut incredulously.
“Really? Are you sure?”
“I am quite sure.
Helmut’s eyes flicked back to the door
“He’s right outside. I told him to wait.”
The Baron returned his pen to its inkwell.
“Well, bring him in, I guess.”
Helmut hesitated for a moment before opening the door.
“You may enter.”
In came a very strange looking man.
He was around seven feet tall, though with such a severe hunch that telling any more about his height would be mostly guesswork. He was extremely thin, just barely having enough meat on his bones to keep him alive.
His hair was white, though his face was young. In his short beard were various twigs and leaves and other things one could find in the outdoors. He had extremely messy medium length hair which covered both of his eyes. He wore a neatly maintained dark blue three piece suit, trendy amongst young Imperials. On his shoulders was a jacket which he refused to put his arms into. The man looked in the Baron’s direction and smiled. His teeth were surprisingly well maintained.
“Hello there, Johan von Bickenstadt. I am Hans De’Leon Williamsonne, High Seeker here to appraise you and your men.”
His voice was high pitched but gravely, and he spoke mostly through his nasal passage. The Baron gestured for him to sit, which he politely declined with a gesture.
“No, no. My weary old bones may find no rest-est. Hehehe.”
The Baron shrugged and poured himself a drink.
“I can’t imagine you partake in the drink, do you? Strange name, by the way. Three different cultures represented.”
Hans smiled creepily. A shiver began to work its way down the Baron’s spine.
“Well, I am assigned to three different culturesss. The lands of the Empires, The Republique, and Orcland are under my jurisdiction-on. Speaking of which, would you like to better understand your gifts?”
“Well, yes I wouldn’t mind. Say, Helmut, could you fetch the other lieutenants? Just in case they have something going on. Tell them to go to the war room.”
Helmut nodded and left the room without hesitation. The Baron stood up from his desk.
Big guy. Real big guy. Weird.
“Well, I imagine my office is a tad cramped for the likes of you, how about we move this to a new space.”
Hans nodded and gestured for the Baron to pass by him. As the Baron passed he noticed that Hans had no smell. Being near him created almost an absence of smell. It was just as noticeable as a bad smell, but much more unsettling.
Are all Seekers like this?
The Baron led him to the war room, and after waiting just a few minutes the Baron’s lieutenants, as well as Jean, arrived. As soon as Gaius entered, Hans began to look slightly uncomfortable.
“Ah, a Brayherd. I had heard you have one working alongside you-ou. The children of Flavi are unknown to our gods. If you have an ability, I am afraid-aid I have no way to-to tell you.”
Gaius shrugged his shoulders.
“No worries, my tall friend. We have our own methods. My ability is known as Goat Head.”
Udo tried to stop himself from laughing, and was only marginally successful.
“Pffff, seriously man? It’s called Goat Head?”
“Etiam, do you not understand the biology of goats? They have some sort of padding system in their heads, it allows them to absorb the impact of blunt attacks. I hawe the same thing, though I can absorb much more damage to my head than anyone else!”
The Baron smiled.
“So that’s why I couldn’t knock you out! I elbowed you in the head quite a few times!”
Gaius smiled and smacked the top of his head.
“This is why I am the best unarmed fighter in the world. No one can knock me out!”
Hans cleared his throat.
“Hmmm, now, would anyone like to learn of their-oh…You! Fergus Ulpagahn. You are not under my jurisdiction-on, but even I have heard of you. You come up quite a bit-it in Seeker circles.”
“Oh? And why is da’?”
Hans chuckled as he spoke.
“Well, everyone has heard of the Son of Gán, the Óviðjafnanlegt! The ability to stay lucid in a berserker state! You are destined for greatness, my boy!”
Fergus shrugged.
“Eh, could go either way.”
“Well, how humble of you! The Sons of Gán have been known to be quite conceited, and rightfully so.”
“Aye, aye. Just tell my comrades wha you’re ‘ere tae tell ‘em.”
Hans nodded joyfully.
“Yes, of course! Let me see-ee….hmmmmm. It would seem that only two of you have gifts from the gods. Johan von Bickenstadt and Helmut Freier. Allow me to begin with Johan.”
The Baron cut him off before he could continue.
“Will you please call me Baron? Hearing my first name from a stranger feels off.”
“Of course, Baron. Your gift from the gods is known as Stream of Power. Given to you by Alaric, Imperial Cult god of war. You can read the flow of power in an opponent's muscles and predict their next attack, quite a powerful gift from a powerful god, yes-yes!”
The Baron nodded.
“Yes, I figured it was something like that. Do you have any information on limitations?”
“Yes, of course! If you use this ability too often, you will receive a pounding headache bad enough that not even a gravity mage such as yourself will be able to resist!”
“Yes, I already knew that. Anything else?”
Hans scratched the side of his head.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Well, your ability to read can be thrown off by loose muscles! But that does not seem to happen-en too often.”
The Baron sighed.
“Well, at least I have a name for it now.”
“Yes, that does tend to give-iv peace of mind. Now, onto Helmut’s gifts. You have two, known as Dead Calm and Unassuming, gifted to you by Imperial Cult goddess of the sea Ula. With Dead Calm, you feel cold! In a sense. It dampens your emotions quite a bit! Though in exchange you can, well, think faster! You also have what is known as an aura! Your aura makes people around you calm should they begin to panic or become angry. Whooo boy, this is quite a bit to say.”
Helmut clenched his hands in a fist.
“You’re calling this a gift? I feel nothing unless I am in the heat of battle and you call this a gift?”
Hans smiled an evil smile.
“Calm down there! I am not the one who gave you your gift! And, you have another one. Unassuming, part of your aura. People around you, unless sufficiently used to your aura, will see you as unimportant! Ha! Imagine that! The finest artillerist in the Empire! Seen as a nobody!”
The Baron grabbed Helmut’s shoulder, preemptively stopping him from attacking the Seeker.
“I do not appreciate you antagonizing my comrade.”
Hans’s smile grew smaller, but never disappeared.
“Of course, Baron. I apologize, Helmut. Well, I have nothing else to say, if you have any questions, I will-ill answer them!”
The Baron thought for a moment.
“Say, do you know the gift of Spymaster Brusilov?”
Han’s smile widened.
“Of course I do! He has two, gifted to him by Allden the God of Lies! Otherworld powers tend to come from random gods. They are known as Doppelgaenger and Unpleasant! He can perfectly disguise himself as anyone he has previously touched and spoken to! Morphing his body and voice to match theirs perfectly! And Unpleasant simply emits an aura of unpleasantness! Similar to Helmut’s, if you are around it often enough, you can barely feel it. Or if your will is strong, I forgot to mention that-at.”
“Hmm, why hasn’t he told me of any of that? Why haven’t I seen it?”
“You most likely have! Haha! Such is the nature-ure of his ability! Ha!”
The Baron looked perturbed at this idea. After a few seconds of silence, Ludwin spoke up.
“Well, does the Empress have an ability?”
Hans gave Ludwin a wry smile.
“Why yes, she does. Gifted to her by head god of the Imperial Cult and God of Order, Auftragter. Her ability is known as Absolute Authority. People around her are compelled to follow her orders. And, if they happen to oppose her, they will feel great fear! Only the strongest of wills can contest this aura of authority! If one is able to resist her, they will still find their senses dulled to an extent, so I would be careful around this one!”
As soon as Hans finished speaking, someone burst into the war room. It was Adolf, huffing and puffing in anger and indignation.
“You! Baron! Do not leave me out of things like this!”
Hans looked to Adolf and smiled brightly.
“Ah! Adolf! Just Adolf! The man who never blinks!”
Adolf turned and gave a brief bow towards the Seeker.
“Thank you for coming, Keeper of Imperial Lore! Would you mind-”
“Your ability is called Unblinking! You feel no fear and will never flinch! A side effect of this power is your seeming inability to blink and complete lack of sleep! Isn’t that fun?”
Adolf’s face scrunched up, it looked like he was trying to blink.
“No, it is not. My eyes are quite dry.”
Adolf bowed before leaving the room. After they were sure he was out of earshot, everyone erupted in laughter. Hans laughed an extremely high pitched, almost terrifying laugh, which put a bit of a damper on everyone else’s laugh.
“Ha! Now! Does anyone else have a question?”
The Baron nodded his head.
“Yes. Do you have a gift?”
Hans smiled mischievously.
“Why yes, I do-do. Come here. Try to anticipate my next move and block it!”
Hans quickly raised his hand to the Baron’s cheek and tapped it. The Baron did not see it coming.
“My gift is known as Domain of Trickers. Every High Seeker has a variation of this ability. Any gift which gives the user information and changes something about themselves, I can turn off without a care in the world!”
The Baron felt his cheek in a small amount of genuine surprise.
No one has been able to touch me without me allowing it in a decade. That felt almost…violating.
“Wow, that’s quite…an ability. Don’t do that again please…”
The Baron smiled.
“I may cry.”
Hans chuckled and shrugged.
“Hey, it happens.”
|
|
|
|
The Baron’s men were loading things onto various different ships.
As soon as they were finished, the Klarwasser Mercenary Company would begin sailing towards the Assai’id, specifically the port of Yara, in one of the larger principalities of the Assai’id, a faction which the Baron has little information about, which he hoped to rectify with his local guide.
They had found a merchant from the Assai’id, named Adio Ba’abasie, who was willing to guide him through the lands and the politics of the local regions. He sat inside the captain's cabin of one of the ships, drinking and talking with the Baron.
“So, you gonna find yourself approached by de local lord, or maybe ‘is vizier, soon as we ‘it port Yara of de Ottoman Empire. Name’s Suleimon. ‘Es got a hat which look like a onion. Can’t miss ‘im.”
The Baron took a sip of his brandy.
Ottoman Empire, huh?
“Should I work with him? Is he powerful? Does he pay well?”
“Yeah, all o’ above. I say ya trow your pieces in wit dem. Dough, I know ya be Christian and all, you good wit workin’ alongside Muslims?”
“Of course, we are both peoples of the book. So long as they do not treat us poorly then I have no problem with it.”
“Good! Dey don’t treat otha religions too bad down dere. Just make ‘em pay an extra tax, and provide children for da janissary corp on occasion.”
So, this really is just the Ottomans?
“What exactly is the name of this lord’s house?”
“Osman. ‘Ouse o’ Osman.”
“Was this house founded by otherworlders?”
“Yea. And it’s currently run by one. Believe in da oder world ‘es call ‘Suleiman de Magnificent’ or sometin’ like dat.”
The Baron sat back in his chair and sighed.
“Right. Of course it is. Yes, I will gladly work with them. Now, another question. How many different cultures are contained within the Assai’id? Different like they can easily be differentiated kind of different.”
“Oh, you an antropologist or somtin’? Well, It is someting like tirty distinct cultures. I doubt ya gonna interact wit alla dem. Most likely gonna fight wit desert nomads and some o’ da bloke who wear wood an’ feaders. Don’t underestimate ‘em, dey just strong as you, an’ dey use guns. Some o' den at least. Met many a’ Empiresman who ended up dead ‘cause dey tink deir savages with stone tools.”
The Baron took a bite out of his apple.
“Don’t worry about me. I never underestimate.”
Adio took a sip of his brandy.
“We’ll see ‘bout dat. Now come on mon, let’s save da real talk for out dere! Da night is lang an’ sailors love stories!”
|
|
The docks of Yara were a hive of activity, similar to Bickenstadt’s port. The major difference between the two were size and aesthetics. Port Bickenstadt was a much larger, more western European Germanic style of architecture, but Port Yara was filled to bursting with Islamic and Ottoman style architecture.
Traditional Turkish homes spanned out as far as the eye could see. Bazzars made of tan brick dotted around the massive port city, with great swaths of mulitcolored cloth providing shade and vibrancy to the beautiful city. Great minarets erupted from the sides of the various opulent palaces and mosques with their massive domes and increasingly smaller and smaller outbuildings.
Adio Ba’abasie turned his back to the town and threw his arms out wide.
“Welcome, Baron, to Port Yara! Second largest in all de Assai’id! Largest is Port Mogdashu south o’ ‘ere, but dat ain’t what we gonna be tinkin’ ‘bout is it?”
The Baron openly marveled at how beautiful the city was.
“No sir, it is not! This place is absolutely stunning! Very different than anywhere in the Empire! Jean is going to have a field day here!”
“I’m sure ‘e will. Now come, let’s see if we can’t take up de time o’ de Grand Vizier.”
“Of course, let’s get moving.”
Just as the Baron’s shoes hit the docks, a large group of around 20 guards wearing Janissary uniforms, tall bork hats, tunics and linen shirts of various colors, harem pants, and cloth belts with their powder horns were attached, as well as a group of servants carrying an opulent litter.
The guards split down the middle of their formation to allow for the litter to pass through, which it did, and the servants set it down, left side facing the Baron.
A servant pulled open the curtain, revealing an old man. He wore a long red Ottoman coat with black lining embossed with beautiful red and gold tulips over a simple green linen shirt. He sported a large, bushy, and meticulously maintained gray beard.
On his head was a large gray kavuk with a blue with a white Hamsa hand pin attached to the front. He wore black harem pants tucked into black boots. At his waist was an ornate yakutan, the white hilt covered in a cracked golden pattern and the pommel featuring a large red gem. He gestured widely to the Baron. His voice was old, slightly scratchy, and of medium pitch. He also spoke Reikers with a slight Turkish accent.
“It is good to finally meet you, Baron von Bickenstadt! I am Grand Vizier Ibn al-Karud, here to escort you to Sultan Suleiman. I imagine you will want to come immediately?”
The Baron was surprised.
“O-oh, yes of course. He wishes to see me then? We never scheduled an appointment.”
al-Karud gestured to the Baron’s men unloading cargo from their ships.
“I imagine he will wish to ascertain the allegiance of any man who lands in his port with over 1,000 men.”
The Baron nodded his head.
“Fair enough, lead on. Adio, would you mind telling Ludwin to head to our lodging without me?”
Adio bowed slightly at the waist.
“O’course. Leave it to me.”
|
The Baron was brought to an outside terrace at the top of the Sultan’s palace. The terrace was lined with wooden planter boxes with wooden trellis made from crisscrossing wooden strips creating a six sided star pattern for each hole. The ground was covered in intricate turkish carpets, and a single round table was set in the center of the structure. Around the table were various different pillows to sit on.
Sitting across from the Baron was Suleiman I, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire both in the previous world and the current one. He looked exactly as he did in the paintings the Baron had seen in the other world, white and gold cloak, green tunic, white kavuk with black tassel on the front. Suleiman gestured for the Baron to sit across from him. Vizier al-Karud took a seat next to Suleiman.
“It is good to meet you, baron of two Imperial provinces! I am Suleiman the Magnificent, or just Suleiman if you should wish, of the Ottoman Empire, reborn in this new world!”
The Baron thanked the servant who brought him a cup of coffee before speaking.
“It is good to meet you as well, Suleiman the Magnificent. I have read of you in the works brought and written by otherworlders. It would seem you truly earned the moniker Magnificent.”
Suleiman released a belly laugh only jolly old men could manage.
“I thank you for your kindness. I hope that our coffee is to your liking, I hear you are quite the fan of brandy, however, we have none on hand. Drinking is forbidden in Islam, afterall.”
The Baron took a sip of his coffee.
“It is very good, thank you. So long as it has some kick to it, I am happy to drink! And coffee tends to have that effect, no?”
“Yes, of course. Though typically only to those uninitiated!”
All three men shared a laugh. After the merriment died down, Suleiman’s face grew markedly more serious.
“So, I will not delay any longer. What are your intentions here?”
The Baron sipped his coffee before responding.
“I am here to sell my services, nothing more, nothing less. I would be more than happy to work for you, for the right price.”
Suleiman narrowed his eyes for a moment before drinking his coffee.
“Of course. I would be delighted to have the great Klarwasser Mercenary Company work for me. My new homeland, as well as my old, is no stranger to constant power struggle. I will take whatever help I can get!”
The Grand Vizier spoke as Suleiman laughed heartily.
“We have had skirmishes against one of our many rivals recently. The number of small-scale harassment has been increasing as of late. This will inevitably end with all out war, and the assimilation of their lands into ours.”
The Baron smiled.
“And you would like my assistance in conquering them?”
Suleiman nodded solemnly.
“Yes, we would be grateful for your assistance in our upcoming war against Mashujaa wa Jua, which translates to ‘Heroes of the Sun.’ They may not use firearms, but they are formidable foes.”
“May I ask for specifics?”
Suleiman gestured for Karud to answer.
“Yes of course. They have no cavalry, but their men are tireless runners. Their army relies on maneuverability and swift application of overwhelming force. Even our janissaries have trouble fighting them in hand to hand combat. What they lack in numbers they more than make up for in individual skill.”
“Is there anything in particular I should be wary of?”
“Yes, a few things. Each archer is armed with a special mix of poisons which they tip their arrows in. Should you be grazed even you will be paralyzed and swiftly hacked to pieces by their swordsmen. They field slingers who use gravity magic to smash clean anything they touch, the only thing which can save a man from those rocks is enchanted armor. Aside from that, they are masters of terrain and illusion. They will be able to ambush you from places you wouldn’t believe.”
The Baron nodded and thought for a moment.
“Hm, in that case…I may need to change my army composition on the fly. Pikemen are quite vulnerable if attacked from the side.”
Karud nodded.
“Yes, it would be wise to focus on swordsmen, or change to short spears. Just know that the enemy will reach your formation, so your gunmen must be well trained in melee combat.”
“Oh, no worries there. I have made sure of that.”
A bell rang out in the distance. Suleiman finished off his coffee and stood.
“It is time for afternoon prayers. I advise you to meet with your men and inform them of your new employment and weaponry. We will discuss payment tomorrow. I understand that you require a king's ransom for your services, but if your reputation is anything to go by, it will be worth every akçe. Before I take my leave, I tell you this: Know that you will be mobilizing soon.”
|
|
|
The Klarwasser mercenary company was traveling to a fort near the border of Ottoman and Mashujaa wa Jua lands. All around them were rolling shin height beige and green grassland hills and sparse Acacia trees. The hills were short and long and the trees spread out. The sun was high in the sky, and the heat was, surprisingly, bearable.
The Baron had switched many of the pikemen over to short spears and gave them heavier armor. The army marched in three blocks, formed up in their normal battle formation, a center of spearmen and swordsmen behind with gunmen flanking them at their side. The caravan was slowed somewhat by the addition of two horse drawn cannons, courtesy of La République Elfique. Ludwin eyed their surroundings nervously.
“Baron, that Vizier said the enemy can ambush us anywhere, right?”
The Baron nodded.
“Yes, well, he said they are quite good at that. But, we are in Ottoman territory, what are the odds tha-”
All around men began to pop up. From behind hills, trees, and most concerningly, from trenches camouflaged with a large wooden frame covered in dirt and grass. They all wore armor and clothing which the Baron had never seen before.
They all wore multicolored and patterned kente over a shirt of large overlapping metal plates. On their heads many of them wore thick wooden bands covered in red feathers and African style masks. Many of the men had simple metal spears, but just as many wielded a large sickle like sword or spears with sharpened metal barbs attached to the spearhead.
The Baron immediately drew his saber and shouted.
“They surround us! Fight them off!”
The Baron took in a deep breath and made hand signals before rearing his horse back and slamming its hooves into the ground. Spikes of Earth flew out in every direction, impaling dozens of men at once.
Rocks flew at the men with the speed of a bullet, crashing through armor and magling arms and heads. Any injured men were dragged or walked to the middle of their comrades, hoping to keep them safe long enough to get medical attention. Men screamed in pain and fury as the slingers drew weapons and began to advance.
The gunmen, not ready and completely unloaded, frantically fell into formation alongside the spearmen, their long bayonets meaning they had about as much range. The swordsmen did the same, moving behind and waiting for the spearmen to absorb the charge. The horsemen ran off to make some distance, waiting for the enemy to bunch up, making their buckshot more effective.
The Jua warriors slammed into the Baron’s men, barely even being slowed by the spearwalls they charged into. Warriors caught shafts with their Makraka swords and moved them aside to allow for their spearmen to thrust unabated. The armor of the Baron’s men mostly held up, but the Jua warriors were skilled enough to quickly find any weakness and exploit it, slashing and stabbing through gaps in the men’s defenses.
The Baron’s men fought back well. They protected their comrades as they were trained to do, and attacked in tandem with each other, not needing to even speak to coordinate perfectly. A spearman slapped aside the spear of a Jua warrior who was swiftly cut down by an Orc comrade.
A spearman was grabbed by one of the largest humans the men had even seen as dragged out of position. As he went for the kill the large man was run through from the side, the gunner’s bayonet piercing the Jua warrior through the armpit and making a sickening sucking sound as it was pulled out.
Fergus caught a spear in the beard of his ax and swept his legs, finishing him off with his knuckle dagger. He saw the Baron’s cavalry riding over from the corner of his eye and rolled back just as they leveled their blunderbusses. The cavalry fired, a thunderous boom followed swiftly by a hail of bullets ripping through the Jua warriors. A few balls surely found their way into the Baron’s men, but that was only due to the scattershot of a blunderbuss, and the wounds were superficial at worst. Hopefully.
Just as fast as the ambush began, it ended. A few Jua warriors grabbed still breathing men and dragged them off into the surrounding hills and trenches, great walls of Earth erupting just as the last men passed the hills, and the trenches closing as soon as they threw themselves down into them. The Baron frantically looked around and found only Earthen walls blocking their pursuit and flat land where there was once a network of trenches..
What the hell was that?
He thought to himself as he rode to the back of the formation to fetch Geidpfeld.