Chapter 33: Brave Lives

Our soldiers all withdrew into the city. After losing the cover of the barricades, it would have been reckless to confront the Winston’s power ful marine forces head-on. In the distance, the Winston had already carried siege ladders off their ships one by one, preparing to launch an assault on the city walls. The position they occupied was too narrow, which threw their formation into chaos.

“Jeff, Red Flame, sir, it’s our turn!” Fred stood on the city tower, took a brief look, and said to us, “How much of a difference can we make, our little cavalry squad?”

……

“This is not a horse,” Red Flame said when the mounts were being assigned.

“I didn’t say it was a horse,” Fred said as he placed a saddle on his own horse.

“If I remember correctly, this is a creature called a mule—the result of humans mating a horse and a donkey in an unnatural way. This is a creature that violates the laws of nature, and I refuse to ride it into battle.” Red Flame looked at his mount’s ears, which were far longer than those of a traditional horse, and protested solemnly. “This is the greatest insult to an Elf warrior. This unnatural creature is an evil existence second only to the undead and demons!”

“Here is a pure natural creature. If you’re willing, I can trade with you.” I led my mount over to him. “This is a donkey, a true donkey. Its father is a donkey, its mother is a donkey, its grandfather is a donkey, and its grandmother is also a donkey. I can guarantee that pure donkey blood flows through its veins. Going back ten generations to its ancestors, they were still donkeys. This is a purely natural product, preserving the pure and noble bloodline of nature. There is absolutely no insult to a brave Elf warrior.”

“Well…” The bold Elf hesitated for a long while between the tall, sturdy evil creature in front of him and my sturdy but not-so-tall noble natural product, and finally made up his mind. “After all, it is a life. Its mistake was not of its own making. The Elves respect every life that has already been born. But…” he emphasized, “if you ever get the chance to see my sister, don’t ever tell her I rode this thing—and that I fought on it.”

……

This was what had happened a day earlier. When we took this city, only six war horses remained in total. Besides the five horses of the guard patrol, only Count Peter Schulz had left us a good war horse. Families that owned horses were wealthy, and they had long since left Kampnavia, which had become the front line of the war—including the Viscount who had generously given us the city. To transport his property, he had taken away three carriages pulled by four horses each. When Fred remembered this small oversight, he was full of regret:

“If I’d known, I would have made him leave us six horses.”

“Then his carriages wouldn’t have been able to move,” I reminded him.

“What four horses can pull, two should be able to pull too, right?”

“……”

“Come to think of it, one would probably have been about enough too.”

“……”

To organize a cavalry we could command and gain a slight advantage on the battlefield, I had to search the entire city for usable livestock. I found nine mules, twenty-three donkeys, and even a horse—though this horse had a slight disability in its leg. Oh, that’s not to say it only had three legs. It simply had three lame feet—or rather, one of its legs was slightly longer than the others, so it just bounced a little when it ran. I heard that while pulling the cart for the lumber shop owner, other than occasionally tipping over, it performed very well.

I once tried to dissuade Fred from the idea of building a cavalry in such a short time, but he objected with a reason I couldn’t refuse: “Our situation is still very dangerous. If we can gain any advantage in any aspect, we can’t afford to give it up. We have to take risks.”

We found enough soldiers who could fight while riding livestock to temporarily form our cavalry squad. To preserve combat effectiveness as much as possible, the guard patrol members weren’t separated from their own mounts. Carlson got the lame horse, and Fred took the horse left behind by the former city lord. Originally Fred wanted to trade his own horse to Carlson, but Carlson took a liking to the lame horse at first sight. We saved the sturdiest and tallest female mule for Red Flame. Based on our observations, one of this mule’s parents was likely a fine purebred horse. It could even run faster than most horses. I knew Red Flame wouldn’t refuse it.

I only knew how to ride donkeys—or rather, I was something of a donkey-riding expert. My family had two donkeys specially used for hauling wine barrels. Sometimes Pierre and I would ride them around. When Pierre’s dream of adventure burned the brightest, he dragged me along to practice riding techniques on donkey-back. Although I had no interest in it, as time passed, I could bend down on a galloping donkey and accurately pick up copper coins that others had dropped. I considered this an important skill that a careful, efficient businessman should learn.

Most of our new cavalrymen came from herding backgrounds. Many of them had ridden horses before, and some had even ridden charging bulls. It didn’t take them long to get used to their new mounts, though they still found it a bit awkward.

……

The city gate slowly opened before us, and I suddenly felt a little nervous. I hated fighting, but I was no longer afraid of it. Several brutal combat experiences had given me enough courage to face any enemy. No—not courage. Numbness. Battle had numbed me, allowing me to face death directly—the death of others, or my own death. My nervousness came from the unfamiliar way of fighting—it was my first time being a cavalryman, even if I was riding a familiar donkey.

The city gate fully opened. Fred, Carlson, and Red Flame led the soldiers riding tall mounts as they leaped out of the gate, followed closely by eight soldiers riding mules. I shook the reins and led the not-so-glorious donkey knights behind them.

“We might be the strangest cavalry in the world,” I thought, and said softly to my “war donkey” beneath me, “It’s up to you, buddy.”

Our appearance was enough to shock our opponents. This shock wasn’t the habitual fear infantry feels when facing cavalry—it was closer to the laughter of watching a ridiculous farce. The Winston soldiers, famous far and wide for their cavalry, were already accustomed to the sight of cavalry, even though having come by ship, they now had no cavalry of their own. I guessed that even if a fully armored knight order of a hundred thousand with spears charged out of the city at this moment, it wouldn’t have surprised them more than seeing us. This counted as cavalry? If finding a few tall mules for battle was already embarrassing, though barely acceptable with great difficulty, then what did the appearance of donkeys represent? Even in their supply trains, this kind of livestock was extremely rare and uncommon.

The enemy’s brief hesitation bought our knights time to charge. Unexpectedly, charging at the very front wasn’t Fred’s tall, glossy war horse, nor Red Flame’s divine mule that had once made us drop our jaws in amazement, but the lame red horse under Carlson—the one I had personally untied from the shafts of the lumber cart. None of us could tell that it was actually the most outstanding of our mounts.

Several cold flashes of light swept past as the knights’ lances pierced deeply through the enemies’ chests. Then swords were drawn, and hand-to-hand combat began.

The Winston paid the price for despising donkeys as novel war mounts. Indeed, compared to war horses, donkeys were short, ugly, and seemed slow when charging—but their impact force was still not something the disorganized infantry on the docks could withstand. In this small-scale battle, they were more agile, easier to control, and allowed us inexperienced riders to fight at a height we were familiar with. An advantage beyond our expectations was that every enemy facing us seemed to wear a somewhat strange smile, as if the ridiculous scene before them made them lose control of their emotions, which weakened their resistance.

A donkey is an animal that deserves respect. Those who have never dealt with donkeys don’t know this fact. Compared to horses, donkeys have more patience and resilience. Once provoked, a donkey’s anger is much harder to calm than a horse’s. In ancient fables, a proud donkey, when enraged, would even dare to confront a tiger head-on—something no other livestock could do. This fable was clearly unknown to our enemies.

During the battle, my mount suddenly raised its head high and, with an exceptionally heroic bearing, let out a rhythm utterly out of place on this battlefield:

“Ah… ah ah… ah…”

This cry was ear-splitting. A soldier in front of me was stunned for a long moment, then he lost control and burst out laughing—hysterically. He could barely stand straight.

He would never stand straight again. My sword sliced across his neck.

He turned around and fell flat on his back. The smile on his face didn’t disappear. He died from blood loss, but he seemed to have died happily.

I credited all of this to my donkey. It seemed to possess a mysterious power that could cancel out the dying person’s fear of death.

The conclusion I reached was: donkeys really are magical creatures.

“Greetings from my old sister!” Red Flame shouted with soaring heroism from atop his mule. As his twin blades flashed, streams of blood sprayed out, carrying away the lives of the dead. His left… today it was the eyepatch over his right eye and the scar on his face that had an excellent intimidating effect, and the wound on his ear that Fred had bitten was equally ferocious. The opponents facing him didn’t even dare to look at this brave Elf’s face. The mysterious legends about the Elf race made them believe that the Elves’ beauty was actually a kind of illusion-like effect that could make people sink into it and lose their souls. Simply put, they believed Red Flame could steal souls.

In a sense, they weren’t wrong—but Red Flame didn’t use his handsome face, but his shining twin blades.

“Greetings from my mom, greetings from my dad, greetings from my aunt, greetings from my…” He used the enemies’ blood to soothe his embarrassment at being forced to ride on a mule.

“Greetings from my grandfather’s father, greetings from my grandfather’s grandfather, greetings from my grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather…” The Elves’ long lifespans gave Red Flame enough relatives and friends to send death’s blessings to the enemies. The wound on his left shoulder had long since burst open, and his blood stained his already-red leather armor and cloak even redder. But he didn’t care at all, as if the agonizing wound were on someone else’s body.

Fred and Carlson galloped back and forth across the docks. Their superb horsemanship successfully threw the Winston into disarray, making it impossible for them to organize effective resistance against us. The red lame nag displayed astonishing brilliance under Carlson. Even compared to when it first entered the battlefield, its spirit was like a different horse entirely. It almost seemed born to gallop through these piles of corpses, delivering safety and glory to its master. Even the white steed the Viscount had left Fred—which pranced with heroic, elegant strides—turned into clumsy dance steps in front of it. Its previously injured lame leg didn’t reduce its galloping speed; on the contrary, it almost made it faster. Its shabby, limping appearance when walking turned into an elegant and majestic posture when galloping, making our horse-respecting, horse-loving enemies exclaim in amazement.

“Divine horse!” I could understand some of their local dialect.

Our miraculous cavalry squad completed this ambush mission victoriously with unimaginable results, thoroughly disrupting their first wave of assault on the city walls before the enemy could even launch it. Although the casualties we inflicted were very limited, the fearless images of Fred, Red Flame, and Carlson were deeply etched into the enemies’ minds. They had already witnessed Rodrick’s tenacity and Roll’s ruthlessness. Now they knew that standing in their way wasn’t just a low city wall, but at least three outstanding warriors whose boldness and might rivaled the bravest fighters of the horse-riding nations.

When their archers finally squeezed over from the warships behind and shot at us, we left. Three patrol soldiers and several donkey knights didn’t return to our side, and neither did their mounts. Those people and livestock who had come out of peaceful lives fell beneath the spinning death gears of war. The donkeys—those tenacious creatures—showed their stubbornness and ferocity after losing their masters. They kicked and bit, trampling on the Winston soldiers’ insteps, continuing the chaos we had created and giving us ample time to retreat.

“Their tempers are as fiery as yours,” Fred said to Red Flame at the slowly closing city gate, watching the mounts’ final act of bravery. His tone held only admiration, no teasing or mockery.

“They are braver than me,” Red Flame said, stroking the mule beneath him.

“Are they still evil creatures?” Carlson asked, pointing at Red Flame’s mount.

“Life has no distinction between evil and good—only between bravery and cowardice.” Red Flame looked at the carnage outside the city. “They are all brave lives. Especially it…” He patted his mount. “It is my comrade, a brave girl.”

“They are all brave lives!”

The last donkey fell with a mournful cry, with a hazy red setting sun behind it. The earth gathered its shadow into its embrace, as if collecting the soul of a brave one.

Someone—I don’t know who—drew their weapon first and saluted its still-twitching figure in tribute.

Everyone inside the city gate offered their sincere military salutes, until the fully closed gate completely cut off our view.

I couldn’t help but think: hundreds or thousands of years from now, after the baptism of war after war, who would still remember that in a meaningless war, in a trivial city defense battle, there was once a group of reserved and ordinary creatures who, touched by war, did not shrink back and showed their courage and strength.

The name of that creature was donkey.

Salute complete……