Chapter 22
March 18th, 1666. Grössenstadt.
The Baron’s coalition forces had easily taken the various smaller forts along the path to Bergzitadelle Reikspal. They were fairly easy to take, as the coalition had become experts of siege warfare. It didn't take them a particularly long time either. They were making excellent progress very quickly.
Now, they were setting up camp outside Reikspal, getting ready to attack it. They couldn’t simply sit outside and wait for them to starve out because there was no way for the Baron to disrupt their logistics, as it was all done on the other side of the mountain citadel. The only way forward was to take it.
Reikspal, despite being named after the Imperial family, was not as defensible as Frederick was. It was very old, nearly as old as the Empire itself, built by the Achitect Emperor Franz Reikspal, and it had been neglected to be updated like Frederick had. The Empress and her father had figured that it would not be attacked within their lifetime, so the ancient fortress had yet to be modernized.
They had shored up the defenses somewhat, digging trenches, laying traps, erecting walls and palisades, however, the citadel itself would be easy enough to take. It was simply a courtyard leading into the massive citadel’s inner sanctum, a crisscrossing network of rooms, tunnels, and hallways.
While it would be a very bloody affair to take, the Baron’s coalition specialized in bloody affairs, as well as close quarters combat. The hard part would be getting inside. After that, it was simply a matter of time before it fell.
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April 20th, 1666.
After a month of small scale prodding and failed attacks, a larger attempt to take the walls had begun.
Bickenstadt line infantry huddled in the trenches, flinching every time a bullet whizzed overhead. They crawled through the trenches and over the rotting bodies of their comrades, as the Imperials had refused a ceasefire to gather the dead. Men were caked in grime and viscera as they pushed forward under a hail of gunfire, eventually reaching the walls after nearly ten minutes of slow, grinding marching forward.
Ladders docked against the walls and men began to climb, swiftly shot down by the defenders. Bullets crashed into and through helmets at near point blank range, and men were sent crashing down into their comrades below. Bickenstadters helped their comrades stay on the ladder whenever helmets deflected bullets, and soon they were up on the walls.
An Imperial ran through a Bickenstadter and shoved him back over the edge. He thrust at another Bickenstadter climbing over, his bayonet glancing off the man’s helmet as he tiltedit forward. His opponent lunged forward, tackling him and wrestling for control as the two men attempted to get on top. The Bickenstadter managed to mount him and control one of his arms, drawing a dagger and swiftly sticking it in the man’s throat, sawing it back and forth until he stopped moving.
Bayonets scraped against muskets and tore gaping wounds in flesh as more Bickenstadters fought tooth and nail up the walls. Gun butts smashed into faces and bayonets thrust into gaps in armor, twisting before being ripped out.
Imperials redoubled their efforts as reinforcements flooded the walls, and the Bickenstadters were slowly pushed back. A bayonet pierced the bottom of a Bickenstadter’s jaw, lifting his helmet with the tip. The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he was shoved over the walls, ragdolling down into the growing pile of bodies below.
Officers began to call for retreat and were cut down by Imperials. The third vanguard force hadn’t gotten very far, and hundreds of men had been slaughtered in a mere thirty minutes of combat. Those on the ladders quickly climbed or jumped down, and the men stuck on the walls were killed without quarter. Imperials fired at the retreating men, killing dozens as they fled.
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The Baron watched the men retreating with a look of displeasure on his face. He had gotten overconfident, and that mistake had cost him hundreds of good men.
“Fucking hell. How did they manage to collapse all of our tunnels? We’re digging in complete silence!”
Helmut shrugged.
“It is impossible to dig completely silently. The vibrations can still be felt by those sensitive to that.”
“Bah! Whatever! I suppose we will simply have to keep trying. The ladder method is less than useless, it just leads to slaughtered men. We are not doing that again.”
Ludwin spoke up.
“Well, they are continuing to dig tunnels.”
The Baron sighed.
“Yes, and we’re bleeding more and more Ottomans every day. Where did the Imperials even learn to counter that? We don’t exactly have a long history of tunneling.”
Helmut commented dryly.
“Most likely they learned from the ransomed men from Frederick.”
“God dammit. I knew I should’ve just kept them. This is what I get for being nice.”
Helmut cocked his head to the side.
“You keep doing that.”
The Baron squinted at Helmut.
“Doing what?”
“Taking your lord’s name in vain. You are not supposed to do that, right?”
The Baron waved his hand dismissively.
“Bah! I highly doubt I am hurting God’s feelings. He is above that sort of thing. Plus, he’ll forgive me. That’s sort of his thing.”
Ludwin shrugged.
“Well, our gods don’t seem to mind. Why would his?”
Helmut looked at Ludwin.
“I have read his holy book.”
The Baron raised an eyebrow.
“You've read the Bible?”
Helmut nodded.
“Yes, I have. I believe it states quite clearly that he is not supposed to do that.”
“Wh-why do you even care?”
Helmut shrugged.
“I am just trying to save your eternal soul.”
Ludwin looked at Helmut.
“Do you…believe in the Christian god?”
Helmut shook his head.
“No, but he does.”
The Baron looked genuinely touched.
Stolen story; please report.
“Oh, Helmut, thank you. I appreciate that greatly. However, don’t worry, God wouldn’t send me to hell just for using his name in vain.”
“That’s another thing I have been curious about. The bible does not mention this ‘hell’ concept. It makes mention of sheol, but it is my understanding that the concept of hell is very different than sheol. The fire and brimstone seems to come from the works of the otherworlder Dante Alighieri.”
“Wha…why do you know so much about Christianity?”
“I find it compelling, in an academic sense.”
“Fascinating. We should talk about this at length, at a later date."
The Baron's face suddenly looked far more serious than before.
"For now, we should focus on winning.”
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April 23rd, 1666. On the border of Bvarian and Grössenstadt.
Gaius and Von Puckelsmark were exhausted. Marching through the mountain passes was extremely perilous, and they lost dozens of men every hour to rough conditions and Bvarian jaegers.
However, they were finally getting out of the mountains, and in the distance they could see a massive harbor complex. It was fortified by the Grand Imperial Army, as the Waffenstadt-Brayherd coalition could use it to directly attack the docks of Grössenburg. Which is exactly what the Baron planned for them to do.
The men were also exhausted, so Gaius had decided to give them time to rest. In the meantime, he had sent a messenger to the harbor complex. It stated in plain language that the Waffenstadt-Brayherd coalition was going to attack them in four days, and that they had three days to evacuate any civilian personnel. After that timeframe, anyone remaining would be considered combatants.
Gaius wasn’t serious about that last part, he didn’t enjoy slaughtering civilians, unlike the rest of his Brayherd warriors, but he figured adding it would help minimize the number of non-soldiers killed.
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April 27th, 1666.
Gaius had spent the past few days watching ships coming and going from the harbor. He checked the timepiece the Baron had gifted him and closed it purposefully.
“It is about time to commence the attack, would you not agree, Puckelsmark?”
Von Puckelsmark nodded.
“Yes, it’s about time. Will your men be leading the charge?”
“That is up to you, amicus.”
Von Puckelsmark rubbed his chin in thought.
“...you will lead the charge. There should be lower casualties that way.”
Gaius smiled.
“And we will gain twice the glory!”
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Gaius stood in the center of a running testudo. He had decided to personally lead the charge, which was very dangerous but greatly increased the morale of his men. He shouted encouragement as bullets pinged off of scutums.
“Perge movere! Hoc habemus!”
He felt a small amount of fear as he heard the loud boom of cannonfire. He held his breath as he waited for the impact, but none came. They had missed his men. He breathed out and laughed heartily.
They ran as hard as they could while still maintaining their formation, and soon as they had reached the trenches which snaked out from the harbor.
Imperials love their trenches, huh?
The Brayherds jumped down and began to march forward, nearly impervious to the small arms fire. A few of the goatmen at the front dropped backwards as a grenade burst at their feet. Gaius’s ears rang, but he continued forward. He shouted, barely able to even hear himself, and leaped from the trenches up onto the deck of the harbor.
He thrust upwards and swung down his greatsword diagonally in front of him, lopping off one head and slicing another's neck down to the spine in a single stroke. He pulled back as bayonets hit his armor and fell back into his formation, who cheered and continued to advance. Brayherds brayed as loud as they could before smashing into the Imperial lines, scattering them with ease.
Behind them Waffenstadt troops flooded the trenches, filling them like a mass of human fluid flowing down towards the harbor. Men climbed out of trenches and joined their Brayherd comrades, firing at the Imperials and charging into the melees.
Brayherds and humans alike fell all the same as bayonets and bullets ripped through their bodies. A Brayherd greatswordsman chopped down into an Imperial, cutting down to his sternum. A second later three bayonets appeared in his throat, and the three Imperials worked together to push him back onto the Waffenstadters charging them.
Waffenstadters stood tall and confident next to their Brayherd comrades, knowing firsthand their skills and trusting themselves entirely to their caprine allies. Bayonets thrust out from in between scutum shield walls, followed soon after by lightning fast thrusts from gladius.
They parted around crates and laid into the Imperials, who put up strong resistance. An Imperial fired into a Brayherd’s face at point blank range, dropping him like a boulder onto the Waffenstadters behind him. Imperials worked together to hold down Brayherds and thrust into gaps in their armor, though they struggled to do so as the Waffenstadters covered their comrades.
The assault stalled for a good thirty minutes as the Imperials held the line, knowing that they were fighting with their backs to the massive river between them and safety. Gaius was exhausted and had gravitated to the back of the formation, shouting encouragement and orders to everyone around.
Fresh Waffenstadters flooded into the harbor, and exhausted defenders began to find themselves slowly stepping back through the sheer mass of attackers. Imperials began to load onto boats as their comrades valiantly kept the enemy back through sheer strength and courage, as well as cold, Imperial steel.
A Brayherd headbutt an Imperial who had lost his helmet, cracking his skull before tossing him aside. He smashed his shield into another man, knocking him back into his comrades, scattering them. The Brayherd thrust his gladius down into the guts of the man and crouched as bayonets scraped against his shield. Waffenstadters formed lines on either side of him and fired at the Imperials, dropping nearly the entire front line at once.
The coalition forces surged forward, leaping onto the ships as Imperials attempted to leave. Officers attempted to wrangle their men, but they were in a battle frenzy, they didn’t hear their orders, they simply wanted blood.
Waffenstadters stared at the firing line in front of them and a second later over half of them fell as the Imperials erupted in smoke. They turned to run and found the ship was too far away from the docks, so men leaped into the water.
Imperials fired down from their ships, killing men at the surface of the water and laughing as they bobbed and sank down into the drink. Imperials continued to fire at the men standing at the edge of the docks, who returned fire as quickly as they could, most of their shots hitting the hull and railing of the ships.
When they got out of range the attackers raised their weapons and cheered. They successfully taken the harbor, and now all they had left to do was secure the others along the Bvarian-Grössenstadt border, then wait for the Baron to tell them to cross the massive lake to Grössenburg harbor.
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April 30th, 1666. Holenstadt.
After another massive engagement where the hussars managed to scatter their foe with ease, the Imperials were on the run. Columns of mauled men marched through the various mountain passes. and Imperials dropped where they stood as Bszerci bullets pierced Imperial gambesons.
Bszerci fell as well to Bvarian jaegers, the pride of the Grand Imperial Army, as they picked them off one by one. The two sides fired at each other, each one taking down more and more men as they went.
A massive skirmisher company crested a hill and found an Imperial skirmisher company, with a few Bvarian jaegers thrown in. Both sides immediately aimed and fired, dropping men left and right, before drawing swords. Bszerci ran, curved sabers held high, while Imperials ran with katzbalger chambered back for thrusts and cuts.
The two sides crashed into each other, a wild, individual melee beginning. A Bszerci slashed at an Imperial’s head and drew back just in time to deflect a thrust to his abdomen. He flicked his wrist down and lunged forward, drawing a nasty cut from the man’s collar bone to stomach.
An Imperial slashed a Bszerci’s wrist before thrusting through his neck, twisting his katzbalger and kicking the Bszerci to the ground. He turned and batted aside a thrust with his off hand before returning with one of his own, sticking the overextended man in the gut. He ripped it out and flicked his wrist up, slashing the man’s neck with the front edge of his blade.
Bszerci fell as the disciplined Imperial skirmishers were finally able to let their sword training show. An Imperial ducked a slash and rushed forward, sticking his katzbalger directly in the man’s thigh, severing his femoral artery. He pulled out and ducked back as the Bszerci’s comrade slashed at the man’s head, flicking his wrist and cutting the Bszerci’s forearm deep, causing him to drop his saber.
The Bszerci skirmishers were swiftly getting overwhelmed, that is until the Imperials began to hear hoofbeats. Bszerci light cavalry crested the hill and descended on the skirmishers, swinging sabers down at the lightly armored men. Skirmishers fell before they were able to react, while others were able to frantically dodge and deflect strikes as they came.
An Imperial had his katzbalger knocked out of his hands by one cavalryman before being cut down by another a second later. Another Imperial loaded and fired in record time, dropping a cavalryman before he himself was shot dead by a carbine.
The skirmishers were swarmed by Bszerci infantry and cavalry, and soon they were forced to retreat or be slaughtered down to a man. Infantry stayed behind to finish off injured Imperials, while the cavalry pursued the running men.
This pattern was repeated all over as the Imperials retreated en masse, pushed off the field by the weight of the Bszerci hussars and fury of their warriors. Their retreat would continue all the way to the forts which they had taken at the beginning of their offensive, and then, hopefully, back to Grössenburg from whence they came.