Chapter 3: The Battle of Aloe-Marroe

Several days after the rainy season had ended, when there were whispers on the wind of the Etruscan Army giving up and going home...

“Thirty thousand enemy troops!” a lookout nervously reported.

The officers all gathered in the great hall of Aloe-Marroe’s fortress. A massive table sat in the center of the room, at the head of which stood Altina. The others could not take their seats while she, the commander, was standing.

Regis was standing to Altina’s left while Eric stood on guard behind her with his rifle at hand. Dorvale and the main faces of the Sixth Army were to her right, while Rockhoward stood at the foot of the table with his men from the Eighth Army.

Eddie and Abidal-Evra were also in attendance, and they helped Regis as he spread a large map over the table. “I had a faint hope we wouldn’t have to use this,” the tactician whispered, “but here we are.”

“And there’s even more of ’em now...” Eddie grumbled, earning himself a frustrated glare from Dorvale.

Now that Regis thought about it, Eddie had been stationed with the Sixth Army during the suppression of Marquis Trosa’s rebellion. Rumors also suggested that he had done barely anything of note during his time there. It seemed that he was still viewed poorly by the lieutenant general as a result, which stood to reason, considering that they had not had any meaningful interactions since.

Regis placed three blue pieces on the map, south of Aloe-Marroe. “Our walls are going to be within range of their arrows by tomorrow at the earliest,” he said. Thanks to their large search radius, they had managed to identify the enemy early.

Altina folded her arms. “It doesn’t seem like they’re trying to surprise us.”

“Indeed. They’re marching straight at us. Perhaps their victories thus far have given them more confidence.”

Dorvale, who was responsible for giving the enemy this assurance, did not seem the least bit perturbed. He had no doubt seen his fair share of victories, but he had endured more than enough losses as well; he seemed well aware that he would not be censured for this. Regis had heard in the capital that the man was an experienced veteran, but nobody had ever said that his experience came from successes. It was because of this commander that the Sixth Army carried such a lax atmosphere as a whole.

Well, there’s not much use in putting an unmotivated unit in our vanguard.

“Why has the enemy increased in number?” Rockhoward asked.

“Huh? Well, that’s because...” Regis trailed off, uncertain what to say. The Etruscan Army had presumably met with reinforcements at some point during the past month. It seemed so self-evident that he struggled to understand the point of the question.

“Isn’t it because they got reinforcements from back home?” Altina asked, answering in his stead.

“Hmm, I see...” Rockhoward muttered. “They’ve already made so much progress, yet they invest even more resources. The enemy commander must be a cautious man.”

“Sure looks like it.”

Err, they’ve brought in their reserves to make this a decisive battle, right? I imagine they’ve determined that the imperial army won’t retreat from Aloe-Marroe...

Regis pondered the question a little more before deciding it was best to move on. No matter how curious it might have been that the enemy had grown in number, the reasoning was of no real importance—at least, not in comparison to deciding their countermeasure.

“Hmm...”

It seemed that Rockhoward had a strange order of priorities, or... Yes, perhaps it was more accurate to say he tended to act on a whim. Regis would never dare say this to the man, who was the commander of an army and a noble lord, but he was like a child.

Regis sighed. Dorvale was unmotivated, while Rockhoward acted thoughtlessly. He could depend only on the Fourth Army, but the unit alone was not even half as large as the approaching enemy. He would need to make use of all the soldiers at their disposal, no matter the hardships.

“Lieutenant General Dorvale,” Regis said, “what action would you recommend we take?”

“Mm? Let’s see... Well, we have fifty thousand imperial soldiers against the enemy’s thirty thousand. We should be able to withstand a siege here in Aloe-Marroe.”

“Sticking to the fundamentals, then. How long do you intend for us to hold out?”

“How long...” Dorvale paused for a moment in thought. “Until the enemy retreats, of course!”

“I see...”

It was near impossible for a besieged city to endure forevermore, which was precisely why textbooks on military tactics advised that a point be defended until the attacking enemy exhausted themselves. Then, the defending army would switch to the offensive. Alternatively, those under siege were taught to hold out until assistance arrived. Rather than this being a textbook example, however, there was also another factor at play.

“But what should we do if we hole ourselves up and the enemy never comes?” Eddie asked, posing the very question on Regis’s mind.

“Then there will be no battle,” Dorvale loathingly replied. “Is that not good enough?”

“But we have close to fifty thousand soldiers here, as well as all the civilians in town. And the supplies the Fourth Army brought will only last around two months,” Eddie noted, his head tilted quizzically. Regis’s calculations produced similar results—four months at most, if they rationed well enough.

“Then we should begin evacuating the residents,” Dorvale said, “and fast.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?”

“You haven’t changed one bit!” Dorvale snapped. “Always looking for faults! Never having any ideas of your own!”

Eddie scratched his head. “Well, I guess you’re right.”

He might not have any better ideas, but that doesn’t make his point invalid. It should still be taken into consideration.

Altina groaned. “Regis. You decide.”

That might be faster.

Regis had intended to exchange ideas until the officers were fully on board and morale was high, but perhaps he was hoping for a little too much. That was when it occurred to him—he was feeling a peculiar amount of stress. This situation wasn’t so uncommon to him, and yet...

He racked his brain, trying to understand why.

Ah. It’s because I took command of the First Army. This is much too different from what I’ve gotten used to, Regis suddenly realized. Every single soldier in Latrielle’s service had shown unfaltering devotion to their homeland and a willingness to fight until their dying breath. In other words, I’ve been pampered.

He repeated back to himself the words he told Altina, rebuking himself for his complacency.

This is about what you should expect from frontier units.

✧ ✧ ✧

“The enemy sees Aloe-Marroe as the site of a decisive battle,” Regis said, deciding to change gears. “I presume this because they are bringing their reserves into this engagement. As I’m sure everyone here is aware, mobilizing ten thousand troops requires immense budgeting and preparation. Etruria intends to win this war and claim Belgaria’s southern territories. They intend to redraw the map.”

“Not on my watch!” Altina proclaimed, eliciting agreeing nods from the nearby officers.

“Right... Well, instead of us enduring a siege, I propose we meet our enemy on the plains.”

“Huh?!”

It was Altina who cried out in surprise. She had been there when Inspector Frank recounted the unfortunate defense of Sembione. In fact, on that occasion, Regis had openly described the proposal to engage Etruria as foolish. The others were just as surprised—especially Rockhoward, who had made and already suffered the consequences of said proposal.

“You’re still young and inexperienced, Tactician,” Rockhoward said. “We may be able to outnumber them, but I’m not so sure about leaving our base unattended. We won’t be able to respond quickly enough if any accidents happen there.”

Like a fire? Regis wanted to ask, but he quickly decided it was too malicious of a response. “In that case, I shall leave the defense of Aloe-Marroe to the Eighth Army.”

“What?”

“You have just stated that we cannot leave our base unattended. I believe the duty should fall to the unit most conscious of this fact.”

“Hmm... But if my army stays behind, it will appear as though we cowered within the safe city walls while a victory was handed to us. As a warrior, I cannot accept this.”

He’s worried about his reputation after we win? I suppose that’s somewhat appropriate for a soldier. Maybe a little idiotic, but... I really do think he needs to get his priorities in order.

“There’s no need to worry,” Regis assured the lieutenant general. “The ministry that once evaluated its officers on mere hearsay is gone, and its authorities have been entrusted to the généralissime. She is not someone who would fail to understand the importance of defense. Isn’t that right, Généralissime?”

“Hmm? Oh, me?” Altina asked. She was still unaccustomed to being addressed as the généralissime. “Yep! Absolutely! Our base is very important.”

“Perhaps even the most important, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Huh? I’m not sure I’d...” Altina was about to disagree, but then she noticed the prompting look her tactician was giving her. “Oh, of course! How could anything be more valuable?”

This seemed to put Rockhoward in a fine mood. “If my efforts are indeed going to be evaluated fairly, then I can fight with peace of mind. Just leave the defense of Aloe-Marroe to the Eighth Army! I won’t let a single soldier breach our walls!”

At the end of the lined-up officers, Inspector Frank offered a bitter smile. Perhaps he understood the situation as a way to remove an untrustworthy commander from the battlefield, but it was much more than that. Regis had now ensured that the city would remain well defended.

Nothing would cause greater chaos than an army leaving its base only to learn that its foe had somehow gotten behind them. This was a plan that Regis personally employed...and if the enemy commander was competent, they would surely attempt the same.

I’m not the only one who uses schemes here. I need to be cautious.

To reassure the men, Regis was opting to keep twenty thousand troops in the city.

Dorvale looked anxious. “Does this mean we’re taking on thirty thousand men with equal or lesser numbers?” he asked.

“Yes. Numerically speaking.”

“Is that not too reckless?”

“Imperial soldiers are strong. I see no reason why we would struggle against a force the same size as our own, especially when our enemy’s coordination is impeded by the inclusion of their reserves. I’m sure the Sixth Army’s soldiers are very well rested.”

“No, well... The truth is, we have many injured men. We will need more than a few weeks before we are in peak condition.”

“Understood. In that case, the Fourth Army shall take the vanguard and the Sixth Army the rear guard,” Regis said. He added red and yellow pieces to the map as he spoke, representing the Fourth and Sixth Armies, respectively.

“Hmm...” Dorvale still seemed reluctant, but it was Belgarian common sense that imperial soldiers would never lose against an equally sized army. For the most part, the history books confirmed this as fact.

“This is going to be easy!” Altina exclaimed, her chest puffed out. “The soldiers of the Fourth Army have gotten so strong that they could even best the First Army!”

“Right...” Regis said. “Well, I must apologize to you gentlemen of the Sixth Army, but you might not have many opportunities to fight. Of course, I still hope you will come fully prepared.”

Dorvale paused again for a long moment. “In that case... Very well.” Obstinately refusing to join the battle would put the généralissime in a bad mood, so he ultimately conceded with a begrudging nod.

✧ ✧ ✧

The next day, early morning—

The rising sun stretched the town’s shadow far across the level plains. Beyond this shadow, fifty arpents (3,573 meters) west of Aloe-Marroe, the Fourth Army had taken formation. Its troops were stretched out wide to intercept the enemy army coming from the south.

Behind the Fourth Army was the Sixth Army, of which Lieutenant General Dorvale was taking command. As they were being kept from the front lines, many of the more experienced hands felt none of the tension that usually came from the battlefield. To the west was a flowing river, and to the north, behind them, was a large lake.

The imperial army was staring down its foe head-on, with a river to its right, a city to its left, and a lake at its rear.

At the Fourth Army’s main camp, Altina was riding atop her trusty steed. Regis was atop a separate horse beside her; there was no way he could continue sharing with the commander, so he had taken action to preserve his dignity.

Of course, he was still unable to ride a horse, so Eric was holding the reins.

“Regis,” Eddie said as he came up beside them, “we’re a pretty unusual distance from Aloe-Marroe, huh?”

“We are.”

“We’re too far away to involve the fortress’s cannons, but close enough that those stationed there can see how things develop. It’s hard to say whether our base is a part of the battle or not. Maybe this is a simple fight on the plains that just happens to have a city nearby.”

“If the enemy commander becomes overly conscious of that, I would consider this a success.”

“Hmm. So it doesn’t really matter then?”

“This is just a battle on the plains.”

The twenty thousand soldiers of the Eighth Army stationed inside Aloe-Marroe were at no point scheduled to march out. They were not completely out of mind, but Regis did not have to take them into consideration when taking command.

“To begin with,” Regis explained, “there is little point in bolstering our numbers with an army that can’t coordinate with us. We’re better off using them elsewhere.”

“That’s a surprise. You think Dorvale’s going to be a safer bet?”

“I do.”

“The Sixth Army probably won’t cooperate with you either.”

“Perhaps, but they have many veteran soldiers and an abundance of experience in the field. I think they should prove decently capable in a fight.”

From the records that Regis had seen, the Sixth Army had seen a considerable number of engagements and yet rarely ever lost soldiers. It served as evidence that they were a tenacious and well-coordinated bunch.

Eddie shrugged. “Motivation is pretty important too, though. They’re bound to leave all the work to the Fourth Army.”

“Yes, I’ll admit, we may have some trouble if they don’t rally themselves soon. Protecting the south was originally their duty, after all.”

“Do you have a plan? Are you going to put out a bounty or something?”

“Unfortunately, even with the généralissime’s council at our disposal, our army doesn’t have the funds. In Belgaria, standard practice is for nobles to hire armies at their own expense. We aren’t quite so fortunate.”

Altina’s mother had been a commoner, and although Altina herself was royalty, she was afforded very little funding. This was especially problematic considering how large her army was becoming. At present, there were over eight thousand from the Fourth Army accompanying her in the south, and when combined with those guarding the headquarters in the capital, the detachment sent east, and the garrison stationed in Fort Volks, their numbers surpassed twenty thousand. The Seventh Army was likely to join her, and it was possible that the Sixth and Eighth Armies would end up under the princess’s direct control.

If everything continued as expected, Altina was soon going to have seventy thousand soldiers to provide for. And then there were the countless other expenses to consider. Regis could feel his blood run cold just thinking about it.

“Urgh...” he groaned. “We really don’t have enough money.”

“That’s, uh...”

“Ah, no. There’s nothing to worry about. Funds or no funds, I know a thousand ways to motivate an army.”

As their conversation continued, a messenger raced over and kneeled before Altina. “The enemy is headed toward us!” he announced.

“Just as Regis predicted,” the princess replied with a nod.

“Well, it was hardly a prediction,” Regis interjected. “More like an inevitability.”

“Really?” Eric asked. “I was honestly a little worried... I thought the enemy would head toward Aloe-Marroe instead.”

“Had they attempted that, we would have just flanked them.”

Most formations were well protected against attacks from the front but weak to attacks from the sides and rear. It would be utterly foolish for the Etruscan Army to expose its back to Belgaria’s main force—the enemy commander seemed to at least understand this much.

That’s good.

Eric seemed to be pondering something. “If you’re fighting alone and someone comes at you from the side, can you not just turn to face them?”

“Yes, but only assuming that the flanking enemy was anticipated and advance preparation was made. If such an attack is unexpected, the army simply falls apart.”

“Hmm?”

Eric had very little experience with formations, and on the few occasions he had joined a battle large enough to warrant one, he had never fallen victim to a surprise attack from behind. He was fortunate, to say the least; only the lucky or the strong survived such encounters.

“This is purely hypothetical, but say the enemy surprised the Sixth Army from behind,” Regis said, pointing behind himself. “There’s a lake there, so that could never actually happen, but...use your imagination.”

Naturally, they had thoroughly investigated the lake before taking formation.

Eric cocked his head. “If our enemy did come from behind, couldn’t the soldiers in the Sixth Army simply turn around and deal with them?”

“And what if, at the same time, an enemy is charging them from the front? Thirty thousand from the front, an unknown force from the rear. How many soldiers should turn to face this new foe?”

“Hmm... Those making up the back half. So about ten thousand men, right?”

“It would take perhaps five minutes for that order to be conveyed. During that time, the army may fall into chaos. Some soldiers will have turned around of their own volition. Others will have remained facing forward. There are also those who will have fled or fallen out of rank due to the surprise attack. Just how many soldiers might be lost before unity is restored...?”

“Mm... Then what about the side? If the enemy comes from the side, you can at least see if your allies are struggling. Then you can just help them out when necessary. No need for any confusion.”

“Yes, precisely. This is why a well-trained unit that has fostered good judgment is also strong against surprise attacks. Next, we need to consider lines. Look around you.”

“All right.”

They were in the center of the Fourth Army, so there were soldiers all around. Perhaps owing to their proximity to the commander, the lines they stood in were as precise as if they had been measured out with a ruler.

Upon seeing Eric cock his head once again, Regis decided to explain. “They’re standing close enough to be touching shoulders with the people beside them. We talked about this a little before, but a gap in the formation means one soldier might end up having to face two or three enemies alone.”

“Ah, that’s right! The foot soldiers are in a tight-knit formation.”

“Indeed, and they’re stronger the closer together they are, since this creates a localized numerical advantage. But, to return to our hypothetical, say there’s a surprise attack. What happens when the soldiers attempt to turn in this formation?”

“Oh!”

Humans naturally swing their arms and legs as they walk, and without the necessary space, their movement would be severely restricted. Each soldier was given enough space in front of and behind them as a result, but even then, they were ill-suited to sideways turns.

“They are trained to change formation, of course,” Regis added. “But reorganizing in the midst of a battle is rarely easy. How many minutes do you think it would take for ten thousand men to recreate their formation?”

“I see it now!”

“And above all else, an attack from the sides or the rear lowers morale, since it suggests the commander was outsmarted. You can’t win with soldiers who have lost the will to fight.”

The psychological aspect was also important.

✧ ✧ ✧

“The enemy army has reached the four arpent mark!”

Upon hearing the messenger’s call, Regis raised a hand. “Princess!” he shouted.

“Riflemen!” Altina shouted in turn as she thrust out her massive blade. “Take aim!”

The foot soldiers lined at the very front readied their brand-new Belgarian-made Fusil 851s. The guns had been further simplified since the prototype Latrielle had shown Regis; the barrels were longer, but they were lighter overall.

A bugle sounded on the princess’s order.

“Ouvrez le feu!”

Each rifleman squeezed down on his trigger, moving the sear inside his gun from its notch, activating a spring-action bolt that hammered a firing pin into the chamber. Sparks burst forth as the pin struck the primer in the back of the loaded paper casing and the propellant gunpowder ignited.

To ensure the explosive pressure was well contained, the gaps in the firearm’s bolt mechanism were sealed with rubber rings. This gave the Fusil 851 a greater output than any foreign gun, and its unique rifling allowed the bullet packed into the tip of each casing to gain spin as it passed through the barrel and exploded out the end.

Altina had waited until the enemy was only four arpents (286 meters) away before giving the order to open fire, but this was only for the sake of the soldiers who were more accustomed to using the old guns. In the hands of more experienced riflemen, the Fusil 851 could effectively manage distances of around fourteen arpents (1,000 meters).

The crash of overlapping gunshots quickly became a thunderous roar, and countless bullets tore through the air. One by one, Etruscan soldiers dropped to the ground and moved no more, struck from such a distance that they could not even make out the faces of whomever had shot them. Belgaria’s new guns were more powerful, more precise, and easier to load than the previous model. The next shots were ready in an instant.

The results were soon conveyed to the Fourth Army’s headquarters: “The riflemen have taken out a hundred enemy soldiers!” It was such grand news that the officers almost jumped for joy.

“Not too shabby!” Altina said with a nod.

“Right...” Regis muttered. He was wary of optimism clouding his judgment, so he tried to keep a level head. They had received a mere two hundred units of the Fusil 851, and only three days before the battle. Furthermore, although the riflemen had prepared themselves, they lacked practice with the new guns. Nobody could dispute that they were a hastily assembled force.

Even so, they seem to be hitting one of every two shots at this distance...

It seemed reasonable to assume that, with enough training under their belts, the riflemen would be able to hit most of their shots even at fourteen arpents.

Regis was soon pulled from his thoughts by another report: “The Etruscan Army has commenced its charge!”

Considering the distance, it would take the enemy between a minute and a half and two minutes to get close enough to use their spears. Had the Belgarian riflemen been using their old guns, this would have been enough time for a seasoned hand to load and fire only a single bullet. With the new guns, they could manage an additional four shots.

It was an impressive increase in output, but with a fifty percent accuracy rate, these additional volleys would only take out four hundred enemy soldiers. The new guns had given Belgaria an advantage, but a meager two hundred was not enough to turn the tide of the battle.

We’ll need at least two thousand to make effective use of them.

“That should do as a trial run,” Regis said. “Let’s have the riflemen come back.”

“Understood,” Altina replied. “Riflemen, retreat!”

Upon receiving the command, the bugler played another predetermined melody, signaling the front line to fall back.

That was fast...

It had become standard procedure in the Fourth Army that, before a battle commenced, Regis’s propositions needed to pass through Altina; only when the princess issued the order would the messengers run and the bugles blare. Once the battle was underway, however, his words would automatically be treated as orders. Wasting time on protocol would only result in unnecessary deaths, so Altina wanted things to be streamlined more than anyone.

“Here they come, Regis!” she shouted.

“Yeah... I can see.”

Etruscan soldiers raced toward them, and the Fourth Army intercepted. Men on both sides let out throat-straining cries and thrust their spears as friend met foe, radiating murderous intent. No matter their determination, many would end up torn through and dying steeped in their own blood. It was a sight that made Regis’s heart ache no matter how many times he saw it.

Regis raised one hand. At this stage in the battle, his words would be lost among the bellowing and clatter of the fighting soldiers. That was why he had given his orders in advance. The bugles sounded on his signal, and a moment later, the Fourth Army’s front line collapsed.

✧ ✧ ✧

The Fourth Army was halved perfectly down the center, and the Etruscan Army pressed through like a sharpened blade through meat. They charged with such force that they were soon upon the main camp in the center of the formation.

“Whoa-oa-oa!” Regis cried as he clung desperately to Eric’s horse. “A-A little slower, please!”

“They’ll catch up to us!” Eric replied.

“Then hurry on more carefully, please!”

His request was ignored.

Regis was thrown around so easily by the galloping horse that he nearly fell from its back a great many times. If my life is going to be taken in this battle, now is probably the time... he mused, almost resigned to his fate. It was only in his realization that there would most likely be no books in heaven that he found his will to live. There were so many volumes he still needed to read—so many series he hadn’t completed, and so many new ones scheduled for release.

“Mr. Regis!” Eric cried. “The back of our unit is under attack!”

“Please hurry!” Regis shouted in response. There was nothing more he could say—that is, until it struck him that the red-haired young woman who was supposed to be racing ahead of them had vanished, horse and all. “Where’s Altina?!”

“Huh?! Oh no!”

The next thing Regis knew, her voice was coming from behind them. She was swinging the sword of the Empire.

“Hyaaaaaah!”

It was unthinkable, but the royal princess—the woman who was serving not only as the généralissime, but as the supreme commander of all the forces stationed at Aloe-Marroe—was fighting back enemy soldiers to assist her retreating troops. She wielded her massive, heavy blade with both hands.

“That’s enough of you!”

Altina had the advantage atop her horse, and she managed to slice straight through the spears of her foes. It was clear to see that she had gotten stronger. Not too long ago, she had claimed that Latrielle could best her at swordplay and Jerome on horseback, but what if they were to fight her now?

Seeing the princess swing around such a massive blade as though it were a regular longsword was uncanny, to say the least. It was as though she were wielding a prop in some poorly made play. She was fast, yet she boasted an overwhelming strength that was especially conspicuous in comparison to the averagely trained Etruscan soldiers. As she continued to fight, the Belgarian troops in her presence quickly regained their morale.

“Don’t let the enemy reach the princess!” one cried.

“Yeah!” agreed another. “Push ’em back!”

“Show them the true strength of the Empire!”

Regis started to panic; the last thing he wanted was for them all to exhaust themselves. “Princess!” he shouted. His voice struggled to contest the clamor of the soldiers, but Altina had good ears. Upon regaining herself, she reorganized her forces and retreated, promptly returning to the main camp.

“Are you all right, Regis?!” the princess asked.

“You’ve certainly shaved a few years off my lifespan... What possessed you to do something like that?!”

“I can’t just leave my allies when they’re being attacked!”

“Well...that’s the sort of plan this is!”

Even as the Etruscan Army continued to charge, the Fourth Army’s main camp was safely out of reach. Altina’s soldiers had intentionally parted for the enemy, who was now headed...straight for the Sixth Army.

✧ ✧ ✧

Having an army of over ten thousand soldiers meant there was quite a distance from the front of the formation to its rear. Although the vanguard was engaged in combat, those stationed close to the rear lines had so little to do that they were almost weary. Of course, the yells, screams, and clashes of swords and spears were a constant reminder of exactly where they were, but the more experienced soldiers could tell when things were going to be uneventful.

Those stationed far from the battle had no arrows or bullets to worry about, and the soldiers of the Sixth Army were well acquainted with the battlefield. Some were even comfortable enough to banter with one another. They remained as calm as if they were back in town, chatting over a beverage or two.

“That place at the corner?” one of the soldiers asked. “Forget about it. The oil they use there is real crummy. You can tell from the taste.”

“Knew there was something off about the place. I don’t think there’s been a single time when my stomach hasn’t spited me for going there.”

“Yeah? Then why do you keep going back?”

“It’s cheap. What more have I gotta say?”

“I swear, you’re gonna soil yourself one of these days.”

A few of the soldiers began to chuckle. They were doing their best to keep their voices down, to avoid earning the scorn of their higher-ups, but their bodies still trembled in revelry. The sounds of battle were growing fiercer up ahead. Things were finally becoming serious.

“Can’t the Fourth Army take care of this themselves?” one of the soldiers grumbled, looking fed up. “People are always calling ’em war heroes and elites.”

“Well, they’ve got eight thousand with a decent cavalry. I reckon they’ll take out at least half of those Etruscans.”

“You think that’ll be enough to send ’em packing?”

“A man can dream.”

“Aah... I want some ale.”

“You want some? I need some.”

“Why’s it gotta be so hot?”

“Gah! Don’t say that! Now you’ve got me thinking about it too. Feels even hotter now!”

“Really? Is that how it works? I’ll make sure only you hear me next time, then.”

“Stop. Seriously.”

“Oi. Voices down,” one of the other soldiers interjected. “Keep this up and the captain’s gonna have our necks.”

“Hah. We’ve got nothing to worry about. Especially with how noisy things are getting up ahead.”

“Hold up. Isn’t it getting a bit too noisy?”

At this revelation, the soldiers began exchanging dubious glances.

“You’re right about that.”

“It’s getting louder...”

“Are they...approaching us?”

It wasn’t long after they voiced these suspicions that the enemy appeared right before their eyes. Etruscan soldiers had cleaved through the Fourth Army and were now closing in with their spears.

“Hraaah!”

“Eep!”

The soldiers at the very front of the Sixth Army’s formation screamed and tried to shuffle back, but there were twenty thousand men blocking their escape and a lake behind them.

A hysteric report reached the Sixth Army’s main camp: “The Etruscans have breached the Fourth Army! They’re charging straight at us!”

“Say what?!” Dorvale sputtered, so taken aback that he did a double take. His officers were similarly losing their heads and preparing to flee.

“General, o-order a retreat!”

“A retreat?!” Dorvale repeated. “You simpleton! Where are we supposed to go?!”

There had initially been some space between the Sixth Army’s formation and the lake, but the soldiers had started inching back on their own once they grasped the situation. Retreating through the lake would be no midsummer dip in the shallows either; although the infantrymen wore light armor, their movement was too restricted for those who fell to keep themselves above water. They had, in effect, painted themselves into a corner.

“East!” one of the other officers cried. “Head east!”

They were blocked in by a river to the west, but to the east was an open plain—and the city of Aloe-Marroe. The officers quickly came to a consensus that they should return to base and restructure...but that wasn’t possible either.

“The Fourth Army’s cavalry is blocking our escape!” a messenger suddenly announced.

“Blocking our escape?!” Dorvale shrieked. “What is that supposed to mean?!”

“I-I really don’t know, sir...” the messenger replied. His job was simply to relay the information he was given, so this much was natural.

“The tactician...” one of the officers murmured. “He was the one who deployed us here!”

Dorvale kicked the ground with all his might. “He planned this from the start, that coward!” He racked his brain for what to do, but a follow-up report came in before any specific orders could be given.

“Our front line has made contact!”

Faced with such confusion, most regular units would simply fall to pieces, but these were soldiers of the Belgarian Army. Many of them were seasoned veterans, and even the less experienced among them were far from weak. The moment Etruria’s spears were thrust toward them, their worried expressions turned stiff.

“Brace, men!” one of the soldiers called as those standing at the front of the Sixth Army’s formation readied their massive shields. These shields were large enough to half cover their bodies and were normally to be used against arrows, but the men angled them to intercept the oncoming thrusts.

Etruscan spears slipped along the well-polished wooden surfaces and were diverted upward, causing the attackers to stumble forward. Polearms were of much less use at such close range, and although the Belgarians faced the same issue, their weapons were considerably shorter—only slightly longer than the men were tall. Those in the Sixth Army were afforded a clear advantage as a result; the lancers in the second line from the front thrust through the gaps between the shields, impaling the enemy soldiers as they were drawn in.

“Take that!”

“Gwah?!”

An Etruscan who had thrown aside his spear and attempted to draw his sword fell to the ground. He was accompanied a moment later by a Belgarian whose shield proved unable to block a spear.

When the front line was under attack, the speed at which the formation could repair itself was vital. Pressing forward thoughtlessly was a quick way to wind up dead. Soldiers on both sides pushed their enemy back and offered their comrades support as more men emerged from behind to fill any newly formed gaps.

Although the Sixth Army had initially fallen into disarray, once they were forced into an engagement, they exhibited a solid understanding of combat.

✧ ✧ ✧

Regis watched from horseback as his plan continued to unfold. “The Sixth Army has a lot of seasoned hands,” he said. “They got back on their feet rather quickly.”

“They’re holding firm,” Eric observed in frank agreement.

“They blocked the initial charge with their shields and managed to level the playing field, despite the situation. The men holding them must be strong. They’re like a sturdy wall.”

The Etruscan Army had charged with considerable force, yet barely any holes had opened up in the Sixth Army’s defenses. Its front line remained firm, and the robust soldiers lined up with their massive shields were like a castle rampart.

“Amazing...” Regis muttered. “I’ve seen many units so far, but I can’t remember any of them forming such a sturdy defensive line. If we were to compare just the foot soldiers, they might be even greater than the First Army.”

“It’s like they have no openings!” Eric exclaimed in wonder.

“Normally, when an army is faced with an enemy charge, the front line falls back and the rear supports, allowing them to carefully absorb the impact. But the Sixth Army didn’t need to fall back at all.”

Retreating had never been an option, since the Sixth Army had a lake at their backs, but necessity alone would not have been enough to explain what they had achieved. Each soldier possessed an incredible amount of skill, and their effective response had sowed confusion among the Etruscan ranks.

The charging Etruscan soldiers had expected to easily push through the Sixth Army’s front line, so when they were met with greater resistance than they had anticipated, they quickly devolved into chaos. Those leading the charge soon found themselves pinned as their unaware comrades continued pushing forward from behind. Some fell out of their positions, and their formation became increasingly disordered.

Regis was too unsteady on horseback to attempt a shrug, but he would have under any other circumstance. “Just what are Etruria’s officers doing?” he wondered aloud. “It’s their duty to maintain the lines.”

In the Empire, military academies taught all officers, no matter their birth, how to take command of a unit between ten and a hundred men strong. It was the duty of the squad leaders to keep order in small, localized patches. Knowing how to command armies of over a thousand people was normally only relevant to nobles, so this was not usually taught.

“Mr. Regis,” Eric said from his position at the front of the horse, “you were taught how to command armies of ten thousand men, weren’t you? I’ve heard that if your talents are recognized, you can receive instruction as a potential tactician.”

“Ten thousand men? No, I was never taught any such skills...”

“That’s...surprising. So you’re relying on your education commanding units of up to a hundred, then?”

“No, not even that,” Regis admitted. “I was never taught a thing about taking command during my time at the academy.”

“Huh?! Why’s that?!”

“They said such information was wasted on a man who can’t even ride a horse.”

“Oh...”

It was standard procedure in the Empire for commanders to take charge from horseback. Leading ten people was possible on foot, perhaps, but being able to ride a horse was absolutely necessary to command a hundred men. Regis had shown such great proficiency in military tactics that his instructors had urged him to practice riding no matter what it took...but he had instead spent his time reading books.

Regis frowned. “To be honest, I wanted to be an administrative officer who worked only behind the scenes, doing paperwork, managing inventory, and the like.” His ultimate goal had been to work in the military library. It was a path that he still sometimes longed for, but his position as strategist of the généralissime’s council meant it was now nothing more than a pipe dream.

Farewell, my future absorbed in books...

“Regis!” Altina shouted. Her voice brought the tactician back to reality. “What now?!”

“It’s...about time we reverse course.”

The bugle sounded as soon as Regis gave his order, and the divided Fourth Army swiftly changed its orientation. The on-site officers had already known about the move, and their soldiers had undergone so much training in preparation that their reorganization went smoothly.

The main camp had made east, and orders were passed to the western half of the Fourth Army using flag signals. They were a little slower to react as a result, but this was not much of a problem.

“Had we simply split up, I’m sure the Etruscan Army would have chased us down,” Regis said. “Had they attacked our rear, I think we really would have been obliterated, but they have the Sixth Army ahead of them now.”

Altina walked up beside Regis on her horse and nodded. “They can’t just ignore that,” she said.

“Indeed. The Sixth Army contains twenty thousand troops, after all, making it more than twice the size of the Fourth Army that just turned tail. Anyone would think that was our main force.”

The Etruscan Army could not risk turning away from its biggest threat. The enemy commander seemed reliant on fundamental tactics—Regis could tell this much from how they had moved their troops thus far—which made them easy to read.

And now, there was a new factor to account for.

Even with their backs to the lake, the twenty thousand of the Sixth Army held down the thirty thousand of the Etruscan Army. Meanwhile, the two units of the Fourth Army, numbering four thousand each, turned to attack their foe in the flank.

“Chaaarge!” Altina declared, brandishing her sword.

Regis bit down on his lip as the Etruscan Army endured the sudden attack. “Aren’t they going to retreat...?”

“Hmm?”

He had barely muttered his concern, but it was evidently enough for Eric to have heard. “A half-encircled army is better off retreating while simultaneously concentrating troops on either the left or right enemy detachment,” Regis explained, seemingly talking to himself. “Controlling an army of thirty thousand is no easy matter, but otherwise, they’ll expose both flanks.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Many commanders only ever order charges and retreats. I think there should be more organic tactics out there as well.”

“The Fourth Army is the only army I know with so many different bugle commands.”

“I consider this the bare minimum...”

“Even though we have a specific tune for, ‘Split up so it looks like you’re desperately running away, but pretend you’re unable to outrun them’?”

“My aim is for the entire army to move like a single living organism,” Regis said. How he was actually going to achieve this, he was still unsure.

Regis let out a deep breath. Attacks from both sides had caused mayhem in the Etruscan Army. There was nothing for him to do now but leave things to Altina and the other officers; eventually, their opponent would surrender.

At least, that should have been the case.

“Regis!” Altina called, turning to him with a doubtful expression. “Something’s happening!”

“Huh?”

Regis followed the princess’s gaze from their main camp in the eastern detachment of the Fourth Army to the rear of their formation, where there seemed to be a ruckus brewing. There were horsemen where there should not have been horsemen.

Are they from the Empire?! No, the Flying Swallow Knights should be east of the Sixth Army. They can’t have moved. Are they enemy reinforcements, then?!

Just as Regis tried to figure out what was going on, a messenger raced in. “Our rear is under attack!” he cried. “The lines are a mess!”

A surprise attack?!

Regis was so taken aback that he almost fell from his horse. His chest burned so intensely that he felt as though the devil itself were gripping his heart.