Chapter 19
October 19th, 1665. Bickenstadt.
The Grand Imperial Army and the Bickenstadt Liberation Forces had spent the past six months staring at each other, refusing any large-scale engagements.
The Baron was getting extremely tired with the non-stop skirmishing, as it meant that no one had made progress for months. And, while he believed his men were excellent, they couldn’t hold a candle to the Bvarian jaegers, Orkniers excepted.
In the past six months the Bickenstadt Liberation Forces had been bleeding men. The only thing stopping the Bvarian jaegers from mauling the rest of the army had been the Orkney Berzerkeri, and there were only so many of them to go around. The Dunkwald was very wide, there was a lot of area the cover.
However, the Bickenstadt Liberation Forces had still pushed the Imperials back to the river, and things had generally stayed that way, with some variation along the line. For the most part, the Baron had just been waiting for more recruits to come from Bickenstadt. And come they had.
The Baron’s forces numbered ninety thousand Bickenstadters, twenty thousand Ottomans with eight thousand elite janissaries and twelve thousand conscripts, who the Baron considered largely useless for anything other than construction, one thousand Tlanzomans made up of three hundred fifty Jaguar warriors and six hundred fifty regular warriors, and twenty thousand elven warriors for a total of one hundred and thirty thousand men fighting for the cause of Liberation.
The Baron couldn’t be sure about the exact numbers of the Imperials, however, he had been informed they had nearly twice the amount of men from all over the country. Even with some desertions on moral grounds the Grand Imperial Army still had more men overall. However, that just meant that the Bickenstadt Coalition simply needed to pick their battles very carefully.
And, the Baron had just picked one. He would attempt to push the Imperials back across the river at just one ferry station. The others would come later.
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The Baron watched as his coalition marched towards Ferry Station Deitrich, which was renamed after the Imperials took hold of it. The Imperials were making use of their crisscrossing network of trenches left over from when Bickenstadt controlled the area.
They had around thirty thousand men there, and the Baron was bringing sixty thousand, made up of fifty thousand Bickenstadters and ten thousand elven line infantry.
The elves would be on the left flank, with his men making up the rest of the formation. His artillery fired constantly, exchanging shots with the Imperial emplacements. Cannonballs smashed Imperial palisades and tore through men, taking off heads and limbs with lucky shots.
Imperial artillery soared overhead of the columns of marching men, and soon their officers ordered them to form lines. While it would slow their advance as men struggled to march in line with each other, the cannonballs wouldn’t be killing and maiming dozens of men at a time like they would if they hit the center of a dense column.
Imperials manned the trenches and fired at the approaching men at 200 yards. While it was outside of their effective range some of the bullets would hit the giant mass of moving men, and the Imperials had more than enough reserves of powder and ammunition for it to be worth doing.
The Bickenstadt coalition picked up their pace, moving at a near jog. Some of the less experienced formations began to break up slightly, but the rest stayed as a single, massive wall of men. A cannonball ripped through their formation, but the hole was very swiftly plugged with more bodies.
The men were ordered to hold their shots until they were within twenty five yards of the trenches, a bold and dangerous decision. They absorbed more shots as they marched, undaunted by their losses.
They began to pick up the pace at one hundred yards, and soon they could see the whites of the Imperials’ eyes. Battalions stopped in place and aimed their muskets down into the trenches, firing as their officers dropped their sabers. The battlefield erupted in smoke as thousands of men fired at once, and hundreds soldiers fell.
Bickenstadters screamed at the top of their lungs and charged into the trenches. Men jumped down, plunging their bayonets into their Imperial foes. Officers cut down men with their sabers and fired with pistols, and slowly the men began to push the Imperials back.
Imperials fought tooth and nail to hold off the Bickenstadters. Imperial bayonets flew over guards and into necks or other vital points. An Imperial grenadier held his musket like a club, smashing it over the head of anyone who got near. Imperials fired into the dense crowds of Bickenstadters, inflicting horrific casualties as they barely even needed to aim to hit their enemy.
The Imperials wheeled a cannon over and aimed it down a trench line, firing it at the approaching Bickenstadters. Dozens of iron balls the size of a grape tore through the men, rending flesh and smashing bone with terrifying ease. Bickenstadters clambered over the bodies of their fallen comrades to get to their enemy, hoping to wet their bayonets with the blood of slavers.
Elves charged through the trenches with tremendous speed, tearing through the Imperials like they were made of paper maché. Imperials thrust their bayonets forward and found their strikes redirected, some even had their muskets ripped out of their hands before moving on to the next life. Elves covered each other flawlessly and thrust into openings in Imperial guards with extreme precision.
Imperials and Bickenstadters fought hard, each one more than happy to spill slaver or race traitor blood, when suddenly, a shriek echoed through the surrounding area. The fighting all stopped at once, and men shook in their boots, both Imperial and Republican.
The beating of wings high in the air could be heard, and as soon as they were able men’s heads shot upwards, just in time to see massive frames screaing down towards them. The Demigryph knights tore through companies of men, scattering them with ease and crushing them under foot. Their riders laid into the men with enchanted lances, piercing unenchanted armor with ease.
Soon, Bickenstadters began to run, and the Demigryph knights took off, screeching towards the next set of trenches.
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“Fuck! We still have no good response! Pull back! Pull back!”
The Baron slammed his fist on the table.
“Get them out of there immediately! I don’t want my men slaughtered pointlessly!”
A messenger saluted and ran out of the tent. The Baron slammed his fist against the table again, knocking off a chunk of it.
“I thought they were elsewhere! We were making good progress too! Damn it!”
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November 21st, 1665. Bvarian province.
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Gaius sighed heavily. The Bvarian campaign had reached Grindelburg on the 20th of October, and it had fully stalled since then. The city was under siege, but every attempt they had made to take any layer of defenses had failed. Grindelburg was a very vertical city, with many sheer cliffs separating the layers of the city.
The only way to move between some of the layers were gondolas, which could be cut with ease, or extremely steep staircases, which were obviously difficult to fight up. The Waffenstadt sappers had dug many tunnels, but they had all been collapsed over time before even reaching the first layer. The Bvarians were tough, crafty, and pretty confident that they could survive a siege.
Gaius turned to Von Puckelsmark and spoke.
“Do we know when reinforcements will come?”
Von Puckelsmark shrugged.
“Honestly, it will take some time, possibly a few months. The paths are thin, jaegers are still out there attacking our men, and artillery is extremely heavy, not to mention unwieldy.”
Gaius chuffed.
“Well, is there anything we can do in the meantime?”
Von Puckelsmark shook his head.
“Nothing that wouldn’t end in horrific casualties.”
Gaius shook his head.
“Then I suppose all we can do is wait.”
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November 25th, 1665. Holenstadt.
Krysia Badeni waited for the Imperials to arrive. She had parked her army of fifty thousand men and women on the road between Fort Krauser and Fort Jewbicz, including the famous Skrzydlata Husaria, the pride of the Bszerci people. They weren’t hidden, as it was hard to hide fifty thousand men, so the Imperials would likely see them and decide to engage. Their commanders tended to be hot headed, and many Imperials were desparate to punish the Bzcerci for their betrayal. As far as Krysia could tell, the Imperials had a slight numbers advantage, around sixty thousand men in total.
The battlefield was slightly rocky and the trees in the area where less densely packed, at least by the standards of the Dunkwald. If the Imperials wanted to reach Fort Jewbicz, which they likely did as it was in a fairly strategic position allowing them to threaten nearly a dozen different towns and villages in the area. All of the roads in this area were on some level connected to Fort Jewbicz.
If the reports she had received from the Bickenstadters were to be believed, the Imperials would most likely raze any settlement they could find. That was completely unacceptable. Only she was allowed to raze Bszerci villages.
A messenger came and informed her that the Imperials were on a collision course and she decided to give a small speech to her men. She rode out in front of the army and, aided by a wind mage, spoke to all of them.
“Fellow Bszerci, the time to fight is finally upon us once again!”
The army roared in approval. It was deafening, shaking the surrounding area as thousands of men and women screamed at once.
“The Imperials must be held back here! If not, they will raze your homes, rape your daughters, and kill everyone whom you know and love! They have done this in Bickenstadt, they will do it here! Fight hard, not just for me, but for your loved ones, and for the honor of the Bszerci people!”
The army roared even louder, rumbling her body down to the bones.
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Imperial banners could be seen poking up over the treeline, and cannons began to fire blindly in their direction. Cannonballs crashed through trees and, possibly, through Imperial columns. The banners drew closer, and soon flashes of purple could be seen moving amongst the trees.
Bszerci skirmishers exchanged shots with Jagstadt scouts as the Imperials drew closer. Light cavalry rode freely through the thin trees and fired shots from their carbines before turning back to reload. Bszerci skirmishers fell as bullets ripped through their bodies, and Jagstadters dropped like puppets with their strings cut as holes were blown in skulls.
Bszerci skirmishers stood their ground and aimed at charging light cavalrymen, knocking a few off their horses, but not all. Sabers swung down into exposed flesh and more skirmishers fell. More shots were exchanged, and Imperial light cavalry began to fall. A Bszerci leaped from the top of a tree and tackled a cavalryman off his horse, wrestling for control with the man before plunging a dagger into his heart.
Bszerci skirmishers retreated as the Imperials marched, and soon cannons began to fire with accuracy, ripping through Imperial columns, who began to increase their pace in response. Bszerci companies marched to meet them, eager to nourish Bczerci lands with Imperial blood.
They would engage the Imperials head on, with the vast majority of their force charging the Imperial center and the most elite troops moving to the flanks, as well as the Skrzydlata Husaria. The Imperials deployed their forces in a line, wider than the Bszerci could make, with veterans on the flanks and the rest in the center. Imperial heavy cavalry fanned out on the wings to meet with the Skrzydlata Husaria.
The terrain was slowing the Imperials down as they attempted to maintain their cohesion through the trees, while the Bszerci forces were used to this, and so they had very little trouble in that regard. Cannonballs cleared the thin trees as they crashed through them and into the Imperial lines, killing and maiming a dozen men in one volley.
At 100 yards the Bszerci stopped marching and the first row fired, passing their muskets back to their third row and taking the loaded ones given to them. Their formation started to move again as the Imperials stopped at 75 yards, firing a singular, accurate, devastating volley, killing dozens of Bszeric at once.
Also at 75 yards the Bszerci stopped and, after filling the gaps, their entire formation too erupted in smoke before they roared and began to charge. The Imperials charged as well, both sides screaming after each other as they ran as hard as they could.
The two sides smashed into each other, sabers and bayonets flying through the air and crashing into their enemy. A Bszerci ducked a thrust and slashed his saber upwards into the Imperial’s arm, forcing him to drop his musket. He withdrew and thrust his saber forward again, but it was deflected by the Imperial’s ally, who shepherded the injured man to safety.
On the flanks cavalry smashed into each other, the Skrzydlata Husaria’s enchanted lances piercing armor and Imperial sabers bouncing off enchanted hussar plate. Men fell off horses as they were wounded and ripped out of their saddles.
A Skrzydlata Husaria ducked a slash and thrust his lance forward, sticking it in the Imperial’s exposed neck, pushing it all the way through and taking the man’s helmet off. He withdrew as more sabers glanced off his armor and before he killed another man instantly, laughing as the Imperial slumped in his saddle.
The Bszerci center was looking weak, as the Imperial volley had weakened them significantly. They held through sheer anger and determination to keep the Imperial dogs out of their beloved homeland, but they were slowly being pushed back step by step.
Krysia ordered reserves to support the center, and soon the Imperial push was stopped. However, the Bszerci center was still far from winning. Every second more and more men fell at the hands of the Grand Imperial Army, only holding because of the reinforcements at their backs physically preventing desertion.
The Bszerci veterans on the flanks held strong, fighting hard against the Imperial grenadiers. Bszerci veterans thrust bayonets and sabers forward, and Imperials defended themselves with expertise and experience. A Bszerci slashed the hand of an Imperial and his comrade thrust through the man’s neck, ripping it out and painting the Imperials next to the man with his blood.
The Bszerci veterans roared and pushed hard, slowly forcing the Imperial grenadiers back. And soon, the flanks could hear the beating of hooves. The Skrzydlata Husaria had won their fight on the right flank, and they were bearing down on the Imperials. Hussars smashed into grenadiers, sending men flying with the force of armored horse and horseman crashing into them at top speed.
The grenadiers broke, and the Bszerci veterans cheered as they watched the Skrzydlata Husaria break off and charge towards the Imperial center. The Bszerci center provided an excellent anvil for the hussars to crush the Imperials against, and soon the entire Imperial center had collapsed.
Seeing the way the winds were blowing, the left flank began to retreat, and Bszerci began to cheer and load before firing at the retreating men.
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The Bszerci had kept the Imperials back, but they were in no shape to pursue them further. Dozens of companies had been mauled by the Imperial center, and the men on the flanks were only in slightly better shape. The only men who were largely unharmed were the Skrzydlata Husaria, as their enchanted armor kept them safe and their enchanted lances killed their foe with ease.
Krysia shook her head as she watched her men pile hundreds of bodies in a few great mounds, ready to provide buries for comrades and burn the bodies of those Imperials who had fallen.
“I could have done much better…”