Chapter 52
One Chance
Asher didn’t immediately settle on knighting someone.
After all, he didn’t know any of the soldiers on any level and as it wasn’t necessarily urgent, he set it aside for now and decided to do so during the next ‘break’, if it ever should arrive. He’d already been at it for nearly an hour and there were no signs of stopping. If anything, over the past fifteen minutes or so, the intensity went up by a notch.
Nonetheless, he was patient, always ready to use the scroll and escape. But nothing warranted that level of paranoia just yet--though he'd become a priority target, it wasn't as though they appeared beyond desperate to kill him. He was just one of many, in the end. The platoons of mages, or even the individuals just roaming about, had even more things flung at them, and that especially seemed to be the case for a very special group of them: the healing types.
Asher didn’t know whether they qualified as ‘mages’ or ‘priests’ or something else entirely, but they roamed the battlefield donning holy halos, making it impossible to miss them. They were like fire and the enemy were the moths, and the kind of attention they got was leagues above his.
In fairness, they were also escorted by an entire battalion of soldiers who seemed ready to die at a moment's notice to protect them. Asher had already woven a plan to knight one of the 'priests', one of the offensive 'mages', and one of the knights protecting them. However, he also feared that would pain their little group as primary targets, and whether they could endure it or not was up to debate.
After almost half an hour of roaming the top of the hill, he finally leveled up again. The choices were rather ordinary and he chose to upgrade the General’s Mettle, further increasing the defenses by 2%, up to 6%.
Strangely enough, right around then, he started noticing a shift in pattern--the intensity of the battle began to lessen, and, more importantly, the endless flashes of light up above in the sky stopped altogether. He also noticed that the rate of reinforcements slowed down and, as though per the previous agreement, the tightly woven knot that was the frontline began to untangle. The rate of kills being attributed to him, too, careened completely, and it was within the next forty minutes that he witnessed the complete separation of two forces.
The first to go were the ranged attacks--he first noticed that the frequency dropped and, soon enough, completely stopped. Right around then, he saw that the ‘priest’ groups moved behind the hill and toward the vast encampment built there, and it wasn’t long after that that the frontline, too, began to move backward. It was... indescribable, really, how endless numbers of soldiers retreated in such perfect harmony, as though predetermined.
He posited that the entire ebb and flow of the battle wasn’t dictated by the infantry soldiers but likely the mages. There was a high likelihood that the number of spells they could use in any time frame was somewhat limited, so, as soon as they were spent, both groups would make a move to retreat. It was likely the same case with ‘priests’, and it was evident that if one side had an overwhelming number of either, they would have likely won the battle already.
But that wasn’t the case.
It was soon after the frontline untangled that Myra and Iccor appeared from their respective expeditions. Their expressions were rather heavy and solemn and he quickly learned that it was because the third of them--Jonas--had fallen. An enemy's 'Empyrean', whatever that meant, managed to squeeze an attack through a friendly one and kill Jonas in that single bout.
He still had a lot to learn, but didn’t ask or probe further as it was evident neither were in the mood. They simply retreated, not to the ‘temple’ they met in earlier but to the encampment. Tents flurried about, tens of thousands just among those Asher could see before his eyesight faltered. However, considering the sheer number of souls present, it was eerily too quiet. There was chatter and hubbub present, but it was subdued. The loudest thing, in the end, was the cooks pouring bucketfuls of stew to the long line of soldiers.
Asher was led to one of the few non-tent buildings in the encampment, a semi-tall stone structure in the shape of an ordinary house with an extra floor above. Inside, he was met with the same map he saw in the temple, with the difference of the central table being made out of wood and having some twenty chairs rounding it.
The walls were entirely undecorated, damp, and hastily put together, and the sole source of light was the oil lamps hanging on the pillars supporting the ceiling. Furthermore, there were already quite a few people present--sixteen of the chairs were filled up.
Iccor indicated with his finger that Asher should head over to the chair protruding from the far end of the table; it was a bit larger and better decorated than the rest, with even a cushion and a pair of armrests to boot. Though he felt heavy under the weight of the inspecting gazes and the strange silence, he headed over and sat down while Iccor and Myra seemed to take their positions. Not knowing what else to say, he uttered only a single word: “Report.”
"... reporting," nobody questioned it, which only served further to prove to Asher that this was just an 'imagination', as it were, a recreation of things that likely transpired years if not decades ago. Possibly even centuries. The person reporting was a rather young man, seemingly just in his mid-twenties, adorned in bloodied armor made out of strange metal that didn't seem to reflect anything at all. Though he was handsome, there was a strangeness to his expression that drove away the beautifying features. "The line remains the same," he said, not even looking at Asher and instead glaring at the table below him. "Our losses are around 60,000 infantry, 4 Orders of Magi, 2 Holy Sons, and one Holy Daughter. None of the Empyreans have suffered a major injury or defeat, but neither have we accrued a meaningful victory. We have also lost two Generals--General Jonas Wa'ven II, and General Qoam."
“...” the expressions tightened and grew heavier. Asher didn’t quite know the ranks in their army, but Generals likely weren’t numerous. Losing two in one day was probably rather demoralizing. The man sat down right after, but before Asher could even contemplate saying anything, another person stood up--a woman this time around. Her appearance suggested she was well into her forties, but her voice was much more youthful. Perhaps it was the myriad of scars--cutting and burn ones--that aged her rapidly. She spoke with poise and a level of detachment that the man before her lacked.
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“Reporting,” she said. “We have confirmed that the Duke had converted at least two Counts and forced them into his ranks--Count Obinik and Countess Annila. Though they are minor nobilities, their forces, combined, can still offer some 100,000 fresh soldiers and even three Magi Orders between them. The situation in the capital continues to destabilize, too, and it seems that there was an attempt at Princess Vyna’s life earlier today.”
“What?!! How dare they?! Those filthy mongrels!!” one of the seated men suddenly shouted.
“The Princess is fine, if scared,” the woman eyed him only for a moment and the man seemed to turn into a hamster right then and there, lowering his head rapidly as though doused in ice-cold water. “But if they have gotten the courage to attempt an assassination in broad daylight, on the Palace grounds no less... who knows what might they consider?” Asher was a bit peeved--he didn’t care in particular what was happening elsewhere and yet, from the looks of it, he would have to care... if for nothing else but to ensure the loyalty of people here. Or, at least a base level of trust. “Commander,” the woman suddenly turned toward him; her gaze was piercing, seemingly suffused with powers that made him breathless for a moment. His instinct screamed at him to run but he endured her eyes and waited for her words. “Myra suggested you have an elegant, if ill-advised, solution to the stalemate. Would you mind sharing it with us?”
“...” Asher remained silent for a moment, feeling guilty under the expectant gazes. All these people here looked to him to change the course of the entire war, to win out of a losing situation. It was strange, the weight of the expectations of the ghosts--whether they were ever real, they were unlikely to still be alive. And yet, even so... he felt it. The pressing hammer beating against his conscience. “It’s hardly elegant,” Asher broke the silence. “If anything, it’s as crude as they come. The issue remains that, even if we are currently in a deadlock, it’s disadvantageous to us in more ways than one. To break it and gain an upper hand, something rather extreme is required.”
“...”
"I proposed purposefully breaking a hole in a rank," he continued, ignoring the faint gasps. "And letting through a certain number of their soldiers. We'd have to prepare three things in this scenario--a pincer attack that would forcibly, violently, and most importantly, rapidly, close the frontline behind the enemy’s soldiers at no matter the cost. Secondly, they’d have to stabilize it fast so that it cannot be broken. And thirdly, we’d have to completely surround the soldiers who’ve already broken past our ranks, slowly wearing them down and killing them.”
“...” thoughtful expressions flashed past quite a few faces, though there were still exceptions--one of which was the woman who initially prodded. “And if we are unable to execute any of these three maneuvers?”
"We'd suffer catastrophic losses to the point where we'd likely have to retreat immediately." his voice was like a bucket of cold water on the excitement; after all, it was one thing if a strategy was a low-risk sort of a deal, where failing it wouldn't truly have much of an impact overall. However, no matter the benefits of potential success, any strategy whose failure would yield catastrophic results would be looked upon rather unfavorably.
“Even if we execute it perfectly,” the woman pressed. “Would it truly be enough to overturn the tide of war?”
“No,” Asher replied honestly. Looking at the woman’s expressionless eyes, he pondered silently whether she was helping him or not. These were the facets he’d have brought up himself, too, and it was as though she had already seen through the heart of everything and was carving out a road that he only had to walk. “In fact, even if we attempt this, I’d rather we do it on a downsized scale.”
“Why?”
“Because the goal would be to tempt the Duke’s forces to try and copy us,” he said. “Believing that they’d be able to execute the strategy on a much larger scale. Usually,” he continued. “This maneuver is meant for flat plains and it would not be executed this way. Rather, we’d make a bulge and make it seem as though their army is winning, slowly retreating and pulling them further and further in while pressing on our flanks to completely surround their entire force.” eyes widened in surprise and Asher could only sigh inwardly. If this was a revelation, it meant that military tactics hadn’t advanced that much.
“... so, you propose we do the lithe version of it as a secondary trap?” the woman said after a momentary silence.
“Something like that,” he said.
“Are you confident?” that was the crux of it all, he recognized. Was he confident? No. He’d be lying through his teeth if boldly proclaimed that he was. Of course he wasn’t. He’d never tried this before in his life--not even close. Forget leading an ‘army’ of any size, let alone three million, he’d barely led 2-3 people before, at most. It was much easier to adjust to changes on the fly with just a few people, but if something went wrong on this scale... it might be literally entirely out of his hands to make an adjustment.
“No,” he didn’t bother lying. He mused that at last a few figures in the room would be able to see through it all the same. “But the sole alternative is to bide our time and wait for my Levels, hoping I luck into something that would be able to change the tides. Rather, does something like that even exist for this scale?”
“...”
"I suggest this," he continued. "We'll attempt it once. Tomorrow, shuffle the Magi Orders and Holy Sons and Daughters a bit so that at least three of each begin on the far ends of both flanks, moving inwardly at the exact same pace. But stagger them. The first ones to start moving would be the ones with the shortest range of execution while the last ones would be with the longest. I'll become the beacon; wherever I am, that will be where we'll execute the stratagem. We'll collapse a hundred yards of distance on purpose and let them stream in. At the same time, we'll have hidden a force some 20,000-strong at least behind the hill--preferably with a supportive Magi that can accelerate their speed. The moment they start streaming in, they will charge to collapse on them. Aim to trap at least a few thousand of their soldiers, but there's no need for more. The Magi and the Holy Sons and Daughters will then work in concert with the frontline soldiers to rapidly cauterize the broken line, no matter what. The enemies should be preoccupied with the collapsing legion to care much, and we can use the chaos to our advantage.
“If all this goes to plan and we manage to both stabilize and trap the enemy, I’ll move to the secondary location immediately where we will execute the exact same strategy once again just on a much smaller scale, opening up some twenty yards of rank at most. For this, I’ll only need around 5,000 men to collapse and trap the enemy, and at least one Magi and the Holy One. We won’t attempt another one after this and will make it seem as though we felt it wasn’t worth it. This will necessitate that we suffer quite a bit in terms of matching up the Magi--one of ours will have to hold up two of theirs, at least for a moment. We can’t afford for any of them to die, but we can give some ground and have a few of our Magi retreat preemptively.
“If it all goes well, we’ll suffer some losses tomorrow,” he said. “Not too many, though, as we will make up the numbers in the traps. But, the day after, they will likely attempt the same strategy, just on a vastly larger scale. I expect at least a mile or so--when they do... we must overwhelm them, no matter what. If we don't completely break the front and push them back, there's very little chance of us winning this battle. As it's still a precarious proposition, I will leave the choice to you--if you want me to go through with it, I'll do my best. And if you don't, I'll try and find another way and will keep trying to do so until the very last moment. I promise."