190 Standoff (2/2)
Although the other lords still seemed unhappy, there was no more time left to argue. While Rupilo had been busy convincing them of his competence, Corco's men had inched ever closer to their formation. By now, the front of his slanted line had come within range of Rupilo's right flank. With a vicious look, Fulcinius left behind a ”you best know what you are doing, Rupilo,” before he left to join his men on the right.
Since they didn't have enough room atop the hill to place all their soldiers, their height advantage was nullified completely on the right flank. Even though he finally understood the purpose of the slanted line, the commander only frowned at the actions of the southerners and showed no other response, not even when the commoner troops kneeled down and loaded their weapons.
As far as Rupilo was concerned, there was no reason to risk everything in a blind counterattack. These weren't even his own men. So long as he could hold off Corco, reinforcements would arrive. If he could allow King Pacha to win, Rupilo could let as many warriors die as necessary. Once the southern brat had thinned out the warriors from those arrogant lords under his command and the true king had arrived, they could show that loudmouth boy just who would take revenge on whom.
Yes, Rupilo would not forget the shame he had received from Corco and his men, neither the tall claims at the foot of the hill nor the scolding at the banquet back then. That so-called southern king held no power over a noble lord such as himself. Rupilo had been perfectly justified in his actions back then, so why would he have to suffer for them?
Just as the lord wanted to spin more excuses to calm his guilt, a familiar sound demanded his attention. With a jump, he watched as the enemy opened fire once more. This time, their numbers was sill similar to the previous skirmish. After all, because of their strange formation, only a fraction of Corco's army would fire. Wasn't this level of fire insignificant in front of an entire army? With only two hundred or so weapons, how much damage could they truly do?
However, as he watched on, more and more screams pierced his ear through the constant barrage of thunder. Although the elite warriors of the lords, decked out in their shields and armor, looked like an immovable wall, their defenses proved futile in front of these new weapons. Volley by volley, ever more warriors were wounded and had to be dragged back through the center of the formation. However, even in safety, they wouldn't stop their incessant screaming.
Rupilo's frown deepened. How could the warriors of his allies be so weak? Wasn't Lord Fulcinius known for his courageous shock infantry? Weren't they men? By now Rupilo had seen the wounds for himself, and they looked not even as bad as a dagger's stab. Why were they screaming like little women over there? Already annoyed, his attendant brought further bad news.
”Master, the morale among the troops seems poor. On the right flank, Lord Fulcinius has requested to lead a charge against the enemy formation to disperse them and relieve some of pressure from his men.”
”What do you mean, 'poor morale'? Who has poor morale?” the commander shouted in annoyance. ”Can you not see that victory is near? Our enemies have been on the run for days and they traveled light. How much more ammunition can that dog southerner have hoarded? After another salvo or two to soften up our formation, they will charge us, and they will break under our superior strength.”
For a bit, the attendant squirmed about under Rupilo's stern gaze, before he firmed his features.
”However, the unanswered losses and the screams have caused great damage to the spirit of the men. Maybe it would be prudent to launch a small counterattack to-”
”And let that southern brute lure us into a trap!?” Rupilo slapped his bold attendant's face. ”This lord will not stand for it! Why are our men such weaklings, to be afraid of a bit of noise. Rather than fear, they should feel disgust at the weakness of Fulcinius' so-called warriors. By standing firm, we are simply helping our fellow lords clean out the trash.”
”But master-”
”Hold fast!” he screamed. ”That is the commander's order!”
”Yes, master.”
With an increasingly grim expression, Rupilo stared at the never-changing battle. The enemy just kept firing salvo after salvo, unbroken. After he had observed some drills his men had run with the weapons from the foreign lord Herak, the southerners fired with a speed he couldn't believe, one to match the miraculous power of their tiny projectiles. Maybe Rupilo's guess really was right. Maybe the weapons they had received from Herak had been nothing but defective goods, meant to trick them. Still, Rupilo was sure that they could win if only they held firm. So long as he didn't make any mistakes, they would still be fine.
As more and more blood and screams filled the air, his hands developed a life of their own. By now, he could even hear uncomfortable murmurs around his command post. His own guards had become affected by the one-sided slaughter. Just as he thought they might be better off with a tactical retreat, the banner of House Fulcinius on the right flank began to move. A small contingent of their shock warriors broke off and left the formation towards the north.
Since his attendant was nowhere to be seen, Rupilo rushed over himself to sort out the obvious betrayal. He had only taken a few steps when his attendant rushed towards him, completely out of breath. Rupilo grabbed the weakling by his neck and shouted in his face.
”What are they doing!? I said 'stand firm'!”
With a pale, sweaty face, the attendant stared at his lord for a few seconds before he relayed his message.
”Master, Lord Fulcinius answers: He does not need master's advice in warfare and will handle battle by himself.”
”What! I am in charge of this expedition! I am the commander! How dare he-” As he was about to launch into a tirade, Rupilo spotted more movement from the battlefield. On Corco's side, the warriors of the southern lords moved north to intercept the flanking strike of Fulcinius. While this was expected, his own army's movements chilled his blood. First were the drums to announce the imminent disaster. After a battle cry to regain some semblance of morale, Rupilo's entire right flank charged towards the tip of Corco's slanted formation, with almost no coordination!
”Bastards!” the commander shouted, and threw his hapless attendant into the snow. ”What are they doing!?”
”Master, we need to support them or our entire formation will fall apart!” the servant said as he propped himself up.
Now Rupilo had no choice but to act. If they didn't charge to support their allies, they would lose their entire right flank for nothing, and possibly even the entire battle shortly after. He had to support Fulcinius, no matter how much he hated the bastard. Even so, Rupilo just stood there for a few precious moments, his body incapable of making the decision as he thought of more ways to avoid a fight.
”Master, please,” his attendant begged, now on his knees. ”We need to support our troops or King Pacha will charge us with treason.”
”Damn, damn, damn!” Spittle flew as Rupilo stomped around atop the hill. ”If we lose, it will be his fault! Call on all men! We are charging down the hill!”