“What the fuck is that?” Andrew cursed after a long moment of silence. He shoved the gauntleted finger toward the battering ram, which was on fire. It mysteriously caught on fire a few minutes ago despite the protection of the anti-magic barrier, which should have prevented magical attacks, and its cover from cowhide soaked in water to avoid flaming arrows from lighting it on fire. Despite these facts, the battering ram caught fire shortly after smashing a wall section. There were no Cavalry bearing torches or even attacks from the Infantry. The battering ram had inexplicably just caught on fire out of nowhere. Andrew felt rage and even a bit of fear at the idea that the enemy could just set fire to his siege weapons without magic.
Anti-magic barriers formed the basis of Modern Warfare. Tightly packed infantry units could only exist because of AOE spells (area of effect) and couldn't affect an army using anti-magic barriers. Otherwise, a single third-rank magician who could use Fireball could quickly destroy the most tightly packed units of Infantry. If the Kingdom of Black had figured out a method of countering anti-magic barriers, it would not only revolutionize warfare but would mean almost certain destruction for the Kingdom of Antlatur. But it didn't take long for Andrew to abandon that idea; if such a thing had existed, they would have attacked his army directly.
“Do you two have any ideas.” He turned to Linnea and her aid, whose name he still couldn't remember, and asked harshly.
Linnea immediately glared at him. “You should calm down, elder brother.” She said in a tone that oozed forced politeness. He felt his anger flare up, but his little sister glared right back at him. She was brilliant, and he could trust her because they were related, but sometimes she got on his nerves. He took her advice and calmed down.
Linnea Aid spoke up. “It was likely some form of alchemical item. It can pass through the barrier since it's a physical and not a magical object. Similar things have been used in the past.”
Andrew remembered hearing something similar from his history teacher a long time ago. “But shouldn't regular fire protection prevent those items from working?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, But certain special kinds of alchemical fire can burn on water, particularly those made by the Fire Alchemy Guild.”
“The Fire Alchemy Guild,” Andrew muttered. Due to their strange customs and secrets, they were close to being considered an evil cult even though they didn't worship any particular God. They were also extremely unpopular with most existing nations in the Western continent due to their belief in absolute monarchy. Nobles in most countries despise them for that reason, and most monarchs weren't willing to tolerate them due to the Civil Strife they caused, even if they liked the idea of an absolute monarchy. Andrew had gone to great lengths to prevent the Fire Alchemy Guild from continuing its studies in the Kingdom of Antlatur. This was to win support from the nobles and because his father supported the guild.
“So you're saying after they fled Higgsbury, they went to the Kingdom of Black,” Linnea questioned her aid.
“I have no idea, Your Highness. It might not even be an alchemical item. That's just a guess on my part.” He lowered his head to Linnea in a show of deference. “He respects her much more than he does me,” Andrew mused.
“I suppose it doesn't matter much,” Andrew said in a relaxed tone. “Now that the walls are down, it's only a matter of time,” Andrew said confidently. A few waves of attackers later, and still, the breach held. Gritting his teeth, Andrew ordered, “Send in Rasmus.”
“Elder brother, are you sure that's wise,” Linnea said, a bit panicked. “We must continue sending heavy infantry rather than risking a Marshall saint.”
“That's what I created the antler knights for, but thanks to your suggestion, they're on the South Bank, where they are no help to anybody.” Andrew realized he was just taking his anger out on her, so he calmed down but didn't apologize.
Shortly after, he received the report that Rasmus had cleared the breach, and he started to feel relieved when he spotted Rasmus running for his life alongside his Knights. There was a moment of silence before Linea matter-of-factly said, “Our Marshall saint has been repelled.” Andrew gave her the look, but she ignored him.
“So, smart boy. What was your name again?” Linnea glared at him, but he ignored her.
“Christopher Holman, Your Majesty.”
“Well, Christopher Holman, do you have any idea on how we should proceed.”
“We should fall back and regroup, Your Majesty.”
“Even knowing that the enemy would barricade the breach that we made with the lives of our soldiers.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, although I'm not entirely sure how the Marshall Saint was repelled. Whatever repelled him will be difficult for us to defeat quickly, and we have no idea how their alchemical items are being used to destroy our battering rams. However, it's safe to assume they have a limited amount.”
How does he figure they have a limited amount of them? Andrew wondered, deciding to leave that question for later. He was about to order a withdrawal. A member of his companion cavalry rode up to him, “Sir, an urgent message from the 6th division.”
“The 6th from Falcus. Let him through.”
The messenger looked haggard even by messenger standards and traveled multiple miles across hostile countryside standards. “Your majesty, the sixth division has been destroyed.” was the first thing out of the man's mouth.
Andrew heard nothing for a few seconds but finally croaked out. “What?!”
“Your majesty, the first division of the Kingdom of Black came from behind us as we engaged the second division and destroyed us,” the messenger practically cried. Andrew's mind raced frantically to reject the messenger's words to reject even the possibility of them being true. Thirty thousand men were wiped out in a single battle. It was a crushing defeat, no matter how he looked at it, but it also meant the Kingdom of Redtowers had been defeated, and Valerius Black was free from dealing with their distraction.
He heard Linnea start to question the man. “What exactly happened? Explain in detail, " she said in a calm and commanding voice.
“We went out of our camp to fight the second division, who left the city only for the first division to emerge out of nowhere from behind us. They took us by surprise, and we were wiped out,” the man said in a pained voice.
Linea turned back to him. “Elder brother, we must withdraw back to the Black Valley.”
But Andrew's mind had gone in the opposite direction of his sisters'. “We have to take this city, " he said.
“Elder brother, you're risking the destruction of our army. Even if we were to take the city, we would be cut off from the rear. All we could do would be to starve to death within its walls slowly. And if we fail to take the city, we will not only be forced to retreat but will also be forced to retreat with a diminished army.”
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However, Andrew's mind was already made up. If he were to retreat now, it would be seen as a defeat. Andrew had assembled the largest army in the history of his kingdom. With such an army, he couldn't be defeated. If he were to negotiate a settlement after capturing the capital, It would be a victory. In a certain sense, this meant he had already lost, and he'd ceded the possibility of complete victory. It was now seeking to secure a half victory merely. Andrew should have noticed the difference. Under normal circumstances, Andrew was quite cunning, but he could be emotional, and now his pride was getting in the way of strategic thinking. “We're attacking the city with full force.” Linea seemed about to object, so he spoke, “We’re going all out, no objections.”
Andrew Antlatur was quite cunning. He had successfully taken advantage of the Kingdom of Black military reshuffling, strategically utilizing the Kingdom of Redtowers as bait to lure their soldiers away from the kingdom. At the same time, he attacked, investing the Kingdom's two major cities, the Lepetra and Grastide. All of this was a testament to his political ability, strategic brilliance, and the respect his people and foreign countries had for him. That he managed to assemble the largest armies in the history of the Kingdom of Antlatur was proof of his control over his Affiliated Kingdoms and their desire to get into his good graces.
However, for all of the good aspects that this showed off about Andrew Antlatur, his tactical brilliance, his political acumen, and his ability to gain the respect of foreign and affiliated kingdoms, the war also showed off his worst aspects. He was like a child who only knew how to smash armies together, lacking experience and being put in a challenging situation quickly after being brought onto the back foot, and his tactics became rudimentary and plain. If Andrew had retreated after the defeat at Grastide to the fortresses of the black Valley, he could have just returned in the year's time after putting a new army together. Someone with more experience would have retreated or devised a plan in the event of being cut off from the rear. Someone who had experienced failure would have developed a plan before even attacking the city of Lepetra, which is said to be impregnable. But instead, Andrew had just attacked without a complex plan, hoping subconsciously that an idea would just come to him. In a certain sense, this proved his talent as he'd never failed to overcome problems with said talent, but once he was faced with someone with equal or more talent than himself or someone with more experience, he could only lose.
Or that was a summary of Veronica's thoughts on the man named Andrew Antlatur. “But still,” giving a mental sigh while outwardly projecting her usual confidence, Veronica couldn't help but lament that Andrew was attacking with all his might. Veronica knew of the defeat at Grastide even before Andrew. Valerius dispatched messengers who crossed the mountain much more easily than the Antlatur messengers. Unlike the Antlatur, they didn't have to worry about hostile locals and received support from those who had gone into hiding. Even under siege, the messengers sailed into the city yesterday under the cover of night with a coded message for Veronica. Valerius had marked his letter with a secret only he and she knew. Well, and her husband knew as well, but he would never have told anyone.
In terms of numbers, the city had roughly 12,000 defenders, while the attackers, after counting casualties from the ambush and their detached unit, had just under 64,000. The Detachment on the South Bank of the Black Knife was useless, so the actual number was close to 50,000. That meant they had an advantage of Four times the amount of troops as the Kingdom of Black. It was said that a man on a wall was worth ten on the ground, although that was subjective and not objective. Many men she had at her disposal were either unawakened militia or retired veterans. Some were only 40, not too old for active duty, but others were 50 or older. Their lack of training and age had meant they'd gone rusty. Of course, they were still worth at least one Antlatur soldier, given their experience and the overall gap between the skills of soldiers of the Kingdom of black and soldiers of the Kingdom of Antlatur. She had the city's garrison of 5,000 elite soldiers, leaving her significantly outnumbered and unskilled.
Veronica would have preferred it if Andrew had retreated like a good little boy, but instead, he was going all out. Even if it was a bad option for the kingdom of Antlatur, it was still a problem for the kingdom of black or specifically for the Garrison of Lepetra, even if Valerius were to crush Andrew in a battle later or come up with a settlement and it really matter to the citizens of Lepetra if they were dead. Putting aside potential damage to the city, the loss of prestige of having their Capital briefly occupied would mar the Kingdom of Black military reputation as a country with few allies. As small as they were, their reputation was critical.
But Veronica still smirked confidently from a position in the central keep; it was located at the very center of the city. Inside the keep's walls were the Grand Council chambers, residences made for envoys and the residents of the Royal Family. The minister of military affairs, her aide, and the top generals who weren't already on the walls surrounded her. More for their benefit than hers, she spoke the following words with all the confidence of a god divining the future. “Andrew Antlatur, you were destined to lose the moment you crossed the borders into my kingdom.”
She turned to an orderly. “Tell Lady Christina to begin the plan.” Christina “The Black Witch” Storm was even more infamous than Luca because she was a legendary 7th-tier mage. Magic was divided into tiers of spells. Tier one was a novice mage, Tier 9 was the realm of Legends, and Tier 10 was the realm of the Gods. There were only three known tier 8 Mages in the entirety of the western continent and no known to tier 9. Most kingdoms didn't even have access to a seventh-tier mage, and the fact that the Kingdom of Black had a seemingly immortal tier 7 mage was a mystery to most other countries. Veronica knew why Christina Black had pledged herself to her grandfather Michael, her father Francis, and now to her, but that was a closely guarded Black family secret, and Christina was their trump card. Shortly after Veronica gave the order, a mist began emanating from the Northeast gate, passing through both sides' anti-magic barriers and enveloping the Antlatur. “Enjoy my little presents, golden stallion.”
James was silently cursing the nobility at this moment. James was a soldier from the Kingdom of Esterberg. He was born in the city of Esterberg but only as the third son of a meddling merchant. Merchants, especially farmers, rarely split their inheritance, usually giving it to the most competent or eldest child and the other children nothing or tiny amounts. So James, with few options, joined the army. Luckily, he had a talent for magic and awakened within 2 years of joining. Unluckily, the war with the Kingdom of Black had happened a year later. If he hadn't awakened so soon, he'd still be safe in the Kingdom of Esterberg. Like most soldiers, especially those from Affiliated kingdoms, he had no particular patriotism or desire to do anything other than service out his 20-year contract and get his retirement bonus. He made enough money to enjoy a relatively comfortable existence. He saw no reason to take the risk of war, but he was just a soldier, so no one took his opinion seriously.
The kingdom of Esterberg had 20,000 troops divided into four brigades, and once again, thanks to his poor luck, it was his brigade chosen to accompany the army. Luckily for James, he was valued by his lieutenant due to his merchant upbringing, primarily his ability to read and speak multiple languages. Because of this, his lieutenant and even his captain used him as a pseudo-scribe, and as a result, they had positioned him safely in the rear as a camp guard, far from the main battlefield. Of course, James was grateful, but at the moment, he almost wished he'd been first over the ladders because he was dealing with the wrath of an Antlatur Noble.
This noble and a group of 300 Riders had suddenly appeared outside the gate. Being meticulous and cautious, James told them to wait momentarily while he sought confirmation from the higher-ups. Unfortunately, the noble didn't accept that and demanded to be let in immediately, saying he and his men were tired and needed rest. Under normal circumstances, James would have ignored them, but dealing with the noble, especially one from Antlatur, wasn't an option. As an Affiliated Kingdom, even the captain of the unit he was a part of was inferior to the noble from the Kingdom of Antlatur, and if he later demanded James's head, his head would roll.
James was caught between his naturally cautious nature and the pressing emergency of the danger to his life. “I have something urgent to report to the general. I can see you're trying to do your job well, and normally, I'd be happy to comply, but it's urgent. If you let me through, I can put in a good word for you.” That statement blew away James's hesitation, and he immediately jumped on the possibility of promotion.
“Well, if it is urgent, far be it from me to hold you up,” he smiled and nodded to his squad. Around the camp, they built a rudimentary barricade. Calling it rudimentary almost seems to be an understatement as it barely even functioned as an obstacle, and they hadn't even put trenches in front of it. They built easily movable barricades at set points, which acted as pseudo gates. He led his team, and they respected him, as his presence got them out of the front line. Used to giving up all his thinking to James, he and his teammate work together to move the barricade. The two respectfully set to the side once it was out of the way.
“I'm sure you won't regret your choice.” Although he couldn't see the knight's face under his helmet, he could practically feel his smile. As he moved past, he saw the man make a strange gesture, turning to get a better look when he heard a shattering sound. He turned to see where it came from, only to see one of the knights who were in the man's company had stabbed him with a lance. His mana shield had broken, but his confusion was more considerable. A knight from the Kingdom of Antlatur had attacked him without justification. He was still in denial when the knight covered his lance with Mana and brought it down on his throat. He still thinks it was just some cruel joke by the nobles.