It’s been four days since we set up camp on the southern plains of the Tiora River and holed up.
Just as our Revolutionary Army was enjoying a rare moment of leisure, the unwelcome guests we’d been waiting for finally arrived.
[“Traitors who have forsaken the gods and the royal family! Grand Duke Alexander has come to punish you!!”]
The guy in front was blabbering loudly with some kind of amplification magic, but I ignored him for now.
Facing the suppression force that had rushed straight from the capital, my impression could be summed up in one word:
“Wow, they’re all shiny and sparkly.”
Cavalry units decked out in pristine, 100% gold-plated armor and helmets. Spearmen and musketeers clad in colorful uniforms and clearly master-crafted weapons.
Compared to them, our forces looked a bit plain, but our equipment was clearly of superior quality, even if it was just a couple of divisions.
Just by glancing, I could tell the enemy’s formation.
The commander earlier said it was Grand Duke Alexander, right? The king’s cousin who also serves as the Royal Guard commander.
That’s definitely the Royal Guard’s main force, plus the capital’s defense troops from Rahator.
Those idiots really brought the Royal Capital’s main army here.
“Looks more like a display of high-end art than an army. What kind of armor has gems embedded in it?”
“Did our taxes pay for those fancy toys of theirs?”
“Truly an artistic waste of money.”
My subordinates shared similar sentiments, clicking their tongues and mocking the flashy army.
Half out of envy, half to boost morale before the battle.
We deliberately dished out insults we wouldn’t normally say, easing the tension by tightening our nerves.
“Alright, enough chatter. Everyone to your positions. Move as instructed.”
“Yes!”
As soon as our commanders dispersed, the enemy began to move.
They deployed their artillery in the rear and positioned their cavalry at the front—a textbook formation.
The infantry split into three groups: one in a dense formation at the center, with the other two forming combat formations on the flanks to support the cavalry.
“They just arrived, so their soldiers must be exhausted. They must be in a real hurry.”
“More like overconfident. They think they can beat us even if we’re worn out.”
If we were just a bunch of rebelling peasants, maybe. But for a regular army like us, what are they thinking?
Well, it’s good for me. I don’t have to fight a tough battle.
Facing the suppression force, I also deployed our formation. With the Tiora River at our backs, our infantry formed a crescent-shaped defensive line.
I sent the cavalry to the far left flank and distributed the artillery in small units for close-range fire support.
With scouts tracking the enemy’s approach and preparations made since morning, the deployment didn’t take long. Just get the soldiers up, armed, and in position—that’s it.
“Advance the entire army 50 paces and halt.”
“Yes! 50 paces forward!”
We pushed the formation slightly forward, a taunt to provoke them into attacking.
Grand Duke Alexander gladly took the bait, launching an aggressive assault.
“Cavalry incoming! Heavy cavalry!”
“With such a wide formation, they’re trying to break through the front? Textbook tactics.”
The charge of heavily armored cavalry is devastating. If you face them head-on, you’ll be crushed.
It’s a common tactic used across nations in open plains.
The Grand Duke even had his infantry follow behind, clearly aiming to exploit any gaps in our formation.
If they break through here, our army would split in two. Isolated units would be picked off one by one.
The Revolutionary Army might collapse without putting up much of a fight.
‘We’d never do something like this.’
But you know why textbook tactics are called textbook?
Because while they’re effective, they’re also predictable and easy to counter. In other words, perfect for a counterattack.
Did they really think I’d deploy tactics without knowing the weaknesses of my formation? Not a chance.
“Front and second rows, lower your weapons and raise the stakes! Rear ranks, lower your spears and tighten up!”
Before we decided to revolt, the Northern Army would occasionally receive reinforcements—flashy units with top-notch equipment and traditional tactics.
What do you think happened to them?
Within three months, most were found dead, frozen to death. The few survivors were split up and reassigned to other units.
In a place where people rack their brains 24/7 to kill each other, relying on outdated knowledge will get you killed.
The enemy won’t wait for you to adapt to reality.
—Crash!!
Just like now.
“Hold the line! Hold until the Royal Guard’s momentum breaks!”
“Musketeers, fire at will! You’ll hit something! Now’s the perfect chance while they’re slowed down!!”
The stakes we buried after setting up camp.
They’re sturdy wooden barriers, sharpened to stop cavalry charges.
We predicted the battlefield and positioned them accordingly. The 50-pace advance was partly to retrieve them.
We used these in the Northern Army too. It was easier to hide them in the snow.
As the infantry raised the stakes, a wooden wall formed instantly, impaling the enemy.
“Good. They’re completely stuck.”
The first two rows were skewered on the stakes, while the third and fourth were pierced by spears. The rear ranks collided and fell into chaos.
Our musketeers took advantage, firing from the formation or between bodies.
The elite cavalry, trained at great expense, were slaughtered by conscripts worth a fraction of their value.
“Is the artillery ready yet?”
“Almost there!”
“Then hold them back a little longer. I’ll give the signal.”
The suppression force’s infantry rushed to rescue their cavalry, firing as they advanced. The rear artillery pounded us.
They’re trying to break through and destroy the stakes.
I ordered them to wait.
Until the enemy got closer.
The distance shrank.
500 paces, 400 paces, 300 paces, 200 paces.
Finally, at 100 paces.
“Commence firing!!”
The cannons, distributed among the units, emerged from the formation and fired grapeshot in unison.
“Ahhh!!”
“My leg! The bleeding won’t stop, ahhh!!”
“Fall back! If we keep advancing, we’ll all be torn to shreds!!”
The majestic volley from hundreds of cannons delivered a devastating blow.
Grapeshot, a type of canister shot, fires hundreds of small iron balls at once, making it deadly against infantry.
It sacrifices range, but when used right, it’s incredibly effective.
In an era without machine guns or grenade launchers, it’s one of the few close-range firepower options.
“That must’ve killed at least a few thousand.”
“At least a regiment was wiped out. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a direct hit like that.”
The enemy, caught in a trap the Northern Army would never fall for, paid with their lives.
With this, the enemy lost control of all units except their artillery. A direct hit from grapeshot would shatter any discipline or morale.
Even if their infantry still held formation, they were effectively broken. Given time, they might recover, but we had no reason to wait.
“Tell our light cavalry on the left flank. It’s time to feast.”
Our light cavalry, fully prepared, charged at the foolishly halted enemy.
They ruthlessly exploited the exposed flanks and rear.
From the left flank to the right.
They trampled the suppression force like bugs.
* * * * *
“This… this can’t be.”
Grand Duke Alexander couldn’t believe his eyes.
How could this happen? They were the royal army, blessed by the goddess, and those were just a bunch of traitors.
How could they be crushed so one-sidedly?
‘There was no time to react. No chance to counter.’
It was nothing like what he’d read in books or seen in past battles.
From start to finish, everything flowed smoothly, and he was swept away without a chance to intervene.
‘Was sending the cavalry first a mistake? No, that wasn’t bad.’
Starting with a cavalry charge was a common but solid tactic. It got blocked, but that happens.
But the Revolutionary Army’s response was bizarre.
They used strange structures to halt the cavalry, then shot them down, leaving the cavalry unable to retreat.
“I should’ve pulled back the infantry. Even if it meant sacrificing the cavalry, I should’ve saved the infantry!”
He pushed the infantry forward to buy time for a retreat, but they met a gruesome fate. A barrage of grapeshot from the artillery—who could’ve predicted that?
The enemy’s wide formation forced his army to spread out, maximizing losses.
Every unit was hit evenly, with no one escaping the barrage.
And now, half-collapsed, they were being swept away by a cavalry charge.
The one-sided slaughter leading to destruction was horrifying, but what truly shocked the Grand Duke was something else.
“How can they control such a large force so seamlessly? Is that even physically possible?”
The enemy’s units coordinated flawlessly, with no delays in executing orders.
While others would fire, wait, then charge, these guys charged immediately after firing, giving no time to react.
How is that possible? There’s no gap between actions in any army!
How long must they have trained together to move as one?
No, that’s not enough. They must’ve crossed life-and-death situations dozens of times.
Without that, they couldn’t understand each other’s intentions or trust their lives to one another.
“Just… what was I trying to fight?”
Finally, the Grand Duke realized.
They’re monsters. True veterans of war, far beyond his beloved Royal Guard.
This was a battle with no chance of winning head-on. He should’ve listened to General Albrecht and fortified instead.
“Ah.”
As he lamented, the Revolutionary Army’s cavalry reached his headquarters.
The blade of a light cavalryman slicing his neck was the last thing the Grand Duke saw.
* * * * *
…The battle ended before the afternoon.
The suppression force, attempting a hasty attack, was crushed by a counterattack, suffering devastating losses.
The Revolutionary Army’s flanking attack even wiped out the suppression force’s leadership, including the Grand Duke.
Casualties were around 2,000 for the Revolutionary Army.
For the suppression force, over 8,000.
It was a decisive victory for Lieutenant General Karolus and the Revolutionary Army.
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