Being under the leadership of the famed General Doomspear was a much different experience than Charry had expected.
First of all, the man exuded charisma from every pore. He had an air of settled competence that made everyone trust he knew what he was doing. And it wasn’t even a magical effect since Anton—who, as a dwarf, had a natural resistance to such things—was just as spellbound.
The 4th Corp's reorganization had been swift but thorough, and at the end of it, Charry had found himself the second in command with little idea how it had happened.
Well, that’s not true. The General told me he respected how I handled the situation at Woodsman’s Town, and since Captain Rubeus and his adjutant are dead, I’m the next in line. But it still feels like a dream. I was a slave just a few months ago, and now I’m sitting on a horse, leading an assault alongside a knight recognized by the Hero himself.
Although Charry was still reeling from the changes, he took on his new responsibility with the same dogged determination he had used for everything else in his life. It had served him well so far, and so he didn’t see a need to change his behavior.
“We’re getting close, Sergeant. We’ll see Stonebridge in ten minutes if we continue at this pace.” A scout informed him before bounding away in long strides, returning to his position to keep an eye on any possible ambush spot.
Not that they expected any, with the open grassland around them and the intense scrying that the new divination division had done. Still, it paid to be careful, and Charry appreciated how his men had learned their lessons after the catastrophic failure at Woodsman’s Town.
“Is the artillery ready to be deployed?” He turned to ask Anton, who had just returned from a last-minute inspection of the reinforced carriages prepared at the Hero’s behest.
Charry hadn’t seen the reason for wasting so much enchantment material initially. Still, after the first of the armored carts rolled out of production and annihilated an entire squad without suffering more than cosmetic damage, he recanted his position and became a true believer. Then, the Archmage updated their protections, and Charry couldn’t wait to see how they’d perform.
It was at times like this that he remembered the Hero was from another world and not a native, with all the knowledge and ideas that came from that.
As far as he knew, Haylich's military doctrine focused on massive armies rapidly gaining ground and being protected by aerial corps of either Griffin Knights or Airships. The ground belonged to stationary artillery and infantry corps.
The armored carts were an innovation that some thought unnecessary, given the advantage the Revolution enjoyed so far every time it clashed directly with the enemy.
Charry, however, could see how it would make attacking well-defended positions possible. Their first deployment alongside General Doomspear meant the operation could be saved even if the worst happened and the carts failed.
Especially since they should find a favorable situation upon arrival. Lady Neer should have led her squad to harass the enemy into retreating from the river's eastern bank, meaning the armored carts could unleash their payload on the opposite side without fear of damaging the bridge, which they would need to enter the marsh around Treon.
The signal from the group led by the General arrived soon after, and Charry quickly prayed to the Light to see him through this battle as well. “Get ready!” he yelled to the men, and once the scout returned and gave the go-ahead, he called, “Charge!”
Charry’s heart pounded like a drum as they neared the battlefield. The armored carriages rumbled beside them, their reinforced metal plating gleaming ominously in the morning light. He glanced back to see the men under his command, their faces set with grim resolve, ready to follow him into the chaos of battle. The river was now visible, and if that hadn’t been enough, the sight of a dozen cannons unloading on a crumbling earthen wall on the opposite side of the river would have been enough to tell him they were in the right place.
“Anton, are the carriages ready to unload once we get close enough?” Charry called out, his voice barely audible over the din of marching feet, stomping hooves, and rolling wheels.
Anton grunted curtly, pulling his head out of the metal beast. “Aye, they're ready. Our initial barrage should be enough to force them away from the bridge if the cannons can shoot all their shots without damaging the thing.”
As they finally got close enough to see people, the clash of steel, the roar of firearms, and the cries of soldiers filled the air. Charry could spy the flashes of light from spellwork and the bursts of gunfire ahead. He tightened his grip on his new rifle, legs urging his horse forward and urged his men forward.
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“Stay close and keep moving!” Charry shouted, leading the charge, his mount intuiting his will and accelerating. “We must reach Lady Neer's position and reinforce her squad!”
The massive horses pulling the carriages whinnied but didn’t falter, steel wheels crushing the ground behind them. The first barrage of enemy artillery fire came, but the wards Archmage Franklin had placed held firm, deflecting the projectiles with ease. The carriages’ cannoneers returned fire, shaking the vehicles with the recoil but not damaging them. Charry felt a surge of hope as they pushed forward, the shots providing much-needed cover for his men.
General Doomspear’s forces emerged from the opposite side, advancing with disciplined precision. Thanks to the concentration of fire on Charry’s group, they were able to aim directly for the bridge.
The general himself was at the forefront, his presence commanding and terrifying to behold. His war cry echoed across the battlefield as he led his troops toward the enemy lines.
As Charry’s and the General’s forces converged on Neer’s position, the armored carriages opened fire again, their cannons blasting with thunderous force. The enemy artillery, caught off guard by the sudden assault, struggled to respond. Charry could see the confusion and panic spreading among the royalist ranks as three cannons were targeted and destroyed in quick succession.
Magical protections immediately flickered into being around the enemy positions, but it was shoddy, haphazard work.
Charry's keen eye for detail allowed him to identify weak points in the magical shields. He directed the carriage gunners precisely, and their shots pierced through the defenses, causing devastating explosions. Each successful hit bolstered the morale of his men, driving them to fight harder.
Another roar shook the battlefield as Lady Neer saw them coming and came out of her earthen walls, lifting her sword high, “For the Revolution!” Her words echoed into Charry’s bones, and he could only widen his eyes as he saw her jump away from the walls and toward the bridge, evidently intending to lead the charge.
While he would have liked to join her personally, Charry knew his strength lay elsewhere and returned to directing the artillery to keep the enemy occupied.
General Doomspear was soon with her, and the two clashed against the loyalists holding the bridge. Bullets pinged off their armor without finding purchase, and soon, they were too close to shoot.
From the desperate cries coming that way and the sight of numerous men being thrown over into the rushing waters, Charry was sure the two Experts would take the bridge soon enough.
Noticing from the corner of his eye that a mage on the opposite side was preparing to cast something on a cannon, and with his instincts screaming that it would be extremely dangerous to allow it to happen, Charry raised his rifle and snapped three shots in quick succession. The first cracked the shield around the mage, causing the man to turn in surprise. The second broke it completely, barely fizzing out before it could blow the man’s brain out, and the third exploded in his midsection, away from the instinctive protection the mage had crafted around his head.
The battle continued for several more minutes, with the two powerhouses cutting their way through the bridge and, after finally taking it, leading their men into the enemy lines on the other side of the river.
Behind all this, the town of Stonebridge lay deserted. No one could be seen in the open, and Charry prayed it would remain so for every shot from the armored carriages that was deflected away by the enemy’s shields and landed on the streets.
Still, the tide of the battle had fully turned in the revolutionaries’ favor. Without the bridge to use as protection for the riflemen—as any attack that could harm them could also damage the stone, which would lead to the bridge’s collapse and subsequent retaliation from the water elementals—the loyalists started to pull back into the town, evidently intending on fighting street by street and to make the rebels pay for every inch of territory.
Unfortunately for them, General Doomspear had other ideas. He jumped ahead of his men and landed square in the middle of the retreating soldiers and began cutting a bloody swath through them.
Wherever he turned, men died. As soon as he laid his eyes on someone, that person was on the ground, bleeding out.
It reached a point where the loyalists bunched up together, holding their shields at the ready as if trying to storm a fortified position.
The General halted his charge for a moment, seemingly surprised by the maneuver. Charry could clearly see his shoulders shaking in laughter and suspected he was taunting the enemy soldiers for treating him so.
That was when a burst of Light blinded his sight. The divine energy halted the fighting, and everyone stopped to watch as power condensed around the General.
Having been a soldier for months, Charry was somewhat used to witnessing Blessings, but he had to admit that he hadn’t seen one of such levels before. This was Gareth Doomspear’s elevation to Master.
The Blessing continued for a few more seconds before fading away. The Light’s presence left the battlefield like a warm gust of air as people struggled to reorient themselves.
Silence reigned for a moment longer before the General lifted his spear, and lightning enveloped it, bursting into existence with a great crackle.
The enemy soldiers, who had already been inclined to treat the man like a force of nature, did the sensible thing and threw their shields and weapons down, begging for mercy.
From that moment on, like a stacked castle of cards whose base was abruptly removed, they all fell down, surrendering to the closest revolutionary.
Charry kept a wary eye on the enemy artillery, more than aware that victory could become a tragedy with a lucky shot. Indeed, his caution was repaid as he saw a gunner disregard what everyone else was doing and prepare his cannon, aiming it toward the newly blessed Master.
For a second, Charry wondered if he should allow the man to shoot. A fourth-tier knight should technically be able to withstand such a blow, and that more than anything would break the men’s will to fight, but he pushed that thought away.
Taking aim, he shot and placed a bullet between the man’s eyes, and the headless corpse dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
“Feckin’ bastards always try to get one last shot. Sore losers is what they are.” Anton commented from his side, having witnessed the exchange.
Charry felt a smile curl up his lips and shook his head, not deigning that with a response. “Alright. Men! Keep your rifles up, and don’t lower your guard until all the enemies have surrendered. Grab the enchanted rope from the carriages to bind them, or we’ll have to put down a mutiny! If I wake up tonight with a slit throat, I will haunt you all!”
With that, he walked over to the bridge, where Lady Neer was dragging two fancily dressed men away from the loyalists. From the golden filigree used to sew floral patterns on their clothes and how their shrieking grated on his ears, Charry deduced these two were high-ranking nobles. Maybe barons, given that they were assigned to such a desperate battle?
“Have you caught some big fishes, ma’am?” He asked, smiling with his teeth bared as the two turned to him, shaking with impotent rage.
“Aye, they’re fattened enough for good eating.” She replied with dark amusement, and whatever angry retort the nobles could have devised was lost as they paled dramatically.