Chapter 20 (2/2)

“Sir.”

“Understood.”

The infantry unsheathed their swords and took battle positions.

“We are The Fox That Crosses The Ridge. Are you The Fox That Lies In Wait?”

They wouldn’t name themselves as the Liberation Army. Several passwords had been established with Evjen beforehand. It was also to prevent friendly fire after taking control of Cyrus. No reply came from the team of horses in front of him. They further approached them. His spoken words should have reached them. If his words were ignored, the possibility they were of the Kingdom’s Army was high. Tension ran through the soldiers. To a range inside the fog where they could see, they drew closer and closer.

When he decided to ask one more time, from behind blasted a scream.

“If you do not respond, we will attack! Are you The—-”

“E, enemy attack!! The back of our unit is being attacked by enemy cavalry!!”

“W, what!? T, then these guys are-!!”

When Hastie faced front again, the figure of a female officer on a horse entered his vision. A female wearing black armor that did not suit her body, wielding a large scythe. From her gushed out the accursed feeling that he had felt earlier. It wasn’t bloodthirst nor was it anger. It was a darkish presence hard to describe. While naturally clad in that grim aura, she came before Hastie’s very eyes.

He strengthened his grip on his sword. Cold sweat streamed down his back

(Ahh. That bad sensation I felt, was because of this monster—-)

That female smiled ferociously, and at the same time Hastie swung out his sword, his skull was gouged out by that crooked, evil blade. Fresh blood sprayed into the fog, and a very fantastical spectacle was born.

The female that had killed Hastie, Schera, began silently swinging her scythe. With every swing, the souls of Liberation Army soldiers were reaped.

The scene of red fountains gushing up one after another inside the fog was strongly burned into the minds of the Liberation Army soldiers. The humans of Hastie’s unit who were witnessing that would continue to be tormented by this terror in the future. There would be people who would have mental disorders, and even those who would go insane.

A certain soldier, deciding to leave a record of this beautiful tragedy, madly continued to paint a painting in only red and white. He was confronted by no one; he simply painted endlessly. Before long, he finished one painting, and that soldier slit his throat. In his final moments, after he had signed it with his own blood, he died while laughing loudly.

In the magical fog was a young girl gently picking flowers with slender hands. Her countenance was like a deathly white. From the ground welled up red fountains, drenching the little girl’s feet. In red puddles were drawn many red flowers and white skulls, making observers feel a degenerative fear. In future years, it would be put on display by someone who thought it regrettable to dispose of it, and it would become highly evaluated by nobility.

—-This painting that modeled and was modeled by Schera of the Kingdom’s Army was named: Schera Zade’s Flower Burial.

—-Inside the fog, the one sided slaughter continued.

Inside, where vision was altogether useless, Schera’s Cavalry plagued the light infantry. Before their swords could reach the bodies of the riders, they were skewered by lances, and one, and then another, collapsed. Even so, they desperately resisted, and there was even a brave soldier who pulled a rider down to the ground. But, his resistance was in vain, and many lances opened holes in the Veteran’s body. The surprise attack unit that had lost its commander, now leaderless, decided to turn back to the ridge while inducing panic.

The fog gradually cleared up. An ambush from the Kingdom’s Army was waiting.

“HAHAHA! ALL MY RESENTMENT, WILL BE CLEARED UP HERE-! KILL THE REBEL ARMY!”

“ALL FORCES CHARGE! NOW’S THE TIME TO DISPEL OUR GRUDGE FROM BELTA!”

“OU-!”

From the base of the ridge rose Yalder’s angry words as they commenced the attack, leaping at those going first. Generals of the former Fourth Army also raised their swords, their voices trembling. War drums violently boomed from around the area just to add to their voices.

Having foreseen the rebel army’s path of advance, Yalder sent in Schera’s Cavalry to the front and stationed his United Legion to the side as an ambush. Schera’s Cavalry would halt their advance, and at the same time the fog cleared, he would pincer them. Hastie’s group had marched to their own deaths.

Hastie’s unit collapsed under severe attack from four sides. Of their 3,000, 2,000 were killed, and the survivors scattered, routed, in all four directions.

Furthermore, Yalder, of his own judgement, decided to advance and cross the ridge. His Staff Officer Sidamo also counselled that they ought to take advantage of this opportunity. He sent a messenger to Sharov. Schera’s Cavalry was entrusted with defense of Cyrus, and the United Legion began climbing the ridge at full speed.

“WE’LL GIVE THEM A TASTE OF A DOWNHILL CHARGE; SHOW THEM OUR UNITED LEGION’S ABILITY! ALL THE DEBTS WE OWE, WILL BE CLEARED UP HERE-!”

“LONG LIVE YALDER’S UNITED LEGION! LONG LIVE THE YUZE KINGDOM!”

“ALL UNITS CHARGE! ACHIEVEMENT IS YOURS FOR THE TAKING-! FORWARDD-!”

The 5,000 rearguard of the Liberation Army having been surprise attacked from high ground was thrown into violent disarray. They had no composure to get into rank. Their weapons were adequate, but the movement of the supply unit accompanying them was slow. Riding the momentum of victory, Yalder could not be stopped. Provisions and arms were thrown away, and everyone began retreating for their lives.

Yalder’s unit doused the retreating soldiers with an intense rain of arrows and a hail of rocks, and they were successful in inflicting a great deal of casualties.

The brave general did not stop. Yalder’s United Legion descended the ridge while resting, and invaded the Canaan Area from the opposite side. The confrontation in front of Canaan’s main road continued. Yalder showed signs of attacking the Liberation Army’s main force of 30,000 from the side.

Having received the report from the messenger, Sharov also decided to attack.

“We’ll take advantage of this and launch a general offensive. Chase out the rebel army.”

They resolutely sallied out from their secluded mountain camp, and in a fish-scale formation, they faced the Liberation Army. The two sides clashed on the plains.

At first, the battle seemed to unfold favorably for the Liberation Army with superior morale, but the situation reversed when Yalder’s Legion struck them from the side. Cleaving a gap into their formation, the First Army’s vanguard, Barbora’s Division, crushed the enemy infantry units. Taking along his elite guards, he too was swinging his spear, inspiring the soldiers. The Liberation Army’s infantry were killed one after the other.

“MASSACRE THE TRASH OF THE REBEL ARMY-! DON’T LET A SINGLE ONE RETURN ALIVE-!! THEY’RE A MIX OF SMALL FRY AFTER ALL, THERE’S NOTHING TO FEAR-!!”

Ghamzeh of the Liberation Army, deeming anymore was dangerous, decided to loosely retreat. One general spoke up in protest, saying it was still early to give up. The situation was disadvantageous, but they still hadn’t been defeated. They had suffered a fierce attack, but their formation of three ranks was still intact. Since the enemy soldiers had come out from their mountain encampment, there was also the choice of toughing it out and waiting for reinforcements.

Since soldiers lead by Altura were on standby at Belta, retreating here would have the same meaning as defeat for the Liberation Army. Their morale was high from successive victories, and they had schemed with the feudal lords. This would have inevitable consequences for their future strategies too. But, Ghamzeh calmly judged the progress of the battle, silenced the general’s objection, and ordered a retreat.

“Any more fighting is meaningless. Now that our mainstay, the ridge crossing, has been impeded, it would be best here to retreat. I have all the responsibility. I would like you to follow my instructions.”

Strictly ordered Ghamzeh, curbing his boiling anger. Having 30,000 annihilated here would affect their control of Belta. They only had to prevent the very worst situation. That was the duty of Staff Officer who decided the strategies. Making their rearguard cavalry lurk as an ambush, they gradually began to retreat.

Sharov judged that any more pursuit would increase the number of casualties instead. Despite being routed, they were withdrawing while maintaining discipline. If they were tempted and sent out a unit, there was the concern of being surrounded back. Rejecting Barbora’s opinion for a full-on pursuit, he ordered to pull back to the mountain encampment.

“Why are we discontinuing the attack here!? If we inflict catastrophic damage here, Belta’s recapture would be easy-! Damn it Sharov, forget your concerns! There is a once in a lifetime opportunity right before your eyes, and you want to let it go!!?”

“However, a report from scouts say there are troops in ambush—-”

“You fool-! We’ll just give the defeated ambushers the boot! The ones with the more superior power is us! In one more step, can’t we drive the enemy’s main force to annihilation!?”

Barbora snapped the staff of command he had in his hand. Despite pressured by that threatening attitude, his adjutant reported,

“Sir Barbora. Our allies are pulling back! If we don’t also move, that might be seen as a breach of military regulations!”

“Much to my chagrin, I’ve no choice-! We’re withdrawing! ……Sharov you coward-!”

Not agreeing, Barbora hesitated to withdraw till the last, but he finally returned to the camp. Cursing his superior officer all the while.

If Sharov had complied with Barbora’s advice here and launched an assault with the entire army, certainly, there was the possibility of the Kingdom’s Army achieving victory and gaining a foothold in Belta.

Of course, their forces would be reduced by counterattacks, sufficient enough to cause anxiety that Canaan’s defense would be in jeopardy.

Preferring slow and steady, Sharov chose to defend, and was successful in protecting Canaan. But, the Kingdom’s Army still continued to have the numerical inferiority, since they weren’t able to drive the Liberation Army main force into destruction.

Which choice would’ve been correct was not known. But just looking at the result, it was victory for the Kingdom’s Army, which had crushed the enemy surprise attack.

Having finished fighting, Schera’s Cavalry entered Cyrus Fortress as per orders. She let their warhorses rest and everyone recover stamina.

While nibbling bread, Schera headed to the medical clinic. Established inside the fortress, it was a sick clinic for treating disease and the wounded. The cavalrymen wounded in the battle earlier greeted and saluted their superior officer. Among them too were people on beds scattering blood while receiving treatment. It they were generals or nobles, they might be able to receive magical treatment. But for them, normal soldiers, prescribed painkillers were all they would get. A man who bore serious wounds, inside his hazy consciousnesses, was dying. He drifted on the threshold of life and death.

Schera approached a medical soldier wearing a white coat. When his eyes met hers, he regretfully shook his head, and headed towards a bed where another was waiting. When Schera lowered her eyes, a young man with a pallid face was whispering something while his body was twitching.

Schera smiled.

“You did well earlier. Thanks to everyone’s efforts, we were able to gain a splendid victory. Hereafter too, fight together with me to kill the rebel army. There’s still much fighting after this.”

When she caressed his cheek, he turned a reliant gaze towards Schera. But, his gaze was unfocused, and seemed to be looking up somewhere in space. Schera’s figure probably no longer entered his vision.

“Lie… Lt. Col… S…Schera. …I… I… I”

He violently vomited blood from his mouth. On the white sheets was spreading a red stain. He had a fatal wound on one of his organs. He did well just being able to make it back here. Through sheer tenacity that he would act alongside his commander until the end, he had made it back here. But, nothing could be done for him in a place like this. No, it would probably be impossible no matter how excellent the doctor. The medical soldier had given him a large quantity of painkiller; there was no other means to take away suffering.

There was only one thing Schera could do. There was only one thing Death could do. While holding that in her left hand, she had a candy in her right.

“Hey, you hungry? I have a sweet and yummy candy you know. It’s one that Second Lieutenant Katarina always shares with me though. I took one of those. I’ll share one with you too. How very fortunate of you.”

“Lt. Col….S…Schera—-”

In the mouth of the young man calling out Schera’s name with blank eyes, Schera tossed in the white candy. Then, gently holding his red-stained mouth, she performed the final treatment with her other hand.

“That red candy… looks really good. But that’s something I’ve given to you, so I’ll control myself.”

Schera closed the eyes of the soldier no longer moving, and she lightly smiled. Leaving the red candy that had spilled out of his mouth and fell next to his face, she tucked that in her left hand into her waist. Schera waved to the wounded performing a salute around her, and she left the medical clinic.

Schera grandly stretched and annoyingly scowled at the blazing sun. When she looked up above the main tower, next to the Kingdom’s flag was triumphantly fluttering a black flag in the wind. Someone from the cavalry had arbitrarily mounted it probably. Tearing the completely stale bread into fine pieces, she threw them into her mouth.

A black crow from somewhere came along to her feet. When she threw just a bit of bread crumbs at the ground, it began hopping, pecking at the ground. It looked up at Schera and cawed, as if wanting something.

“I don’t have anymore food to give you crow. Don’t be lazy and go get your own. After all, you can fly freely in the sky.”

With nothing left to do, Schera turned and left, having eaten everything remaining.

The crow watched her leave with eyes not feeling like it. Losing interest before long, the crow flew away, heading towards a place of rest.

—-Afterwards, until Katarina came to call her, Schera passed the time and took a refined nap atop the watchtower. There were a mountain of things to do, like sending a report to Sidamo, but deciding not to care, Schera left them to her excellent adjutant.

Next to her stubbornly loitered the crow that had failed at procuring food earlier.