Chapter 186

In the wake of the passage of the knights of Simon Marquis and Laurent Count, there remained a shattered unit bereft of a commanding officer, the smell of rusted iron and the stench of blood mingling with the flesh, along with broken lances and fallen standards.

Amidst them, the command of Ilerias Count resonated through several nobles and commanders, urging them to demonstrate resistance at all costs.

“Maintain formation! Reorganize the troops!!”

“Do not desert! Anyone trying to flee will be considered a deserter! What are the snipers doing?”

However, the situation had already reached a point where deserting seemed more likely to ensure survival than fighting the enemy’s knights.

While Ilerias Count did not order his legion to retreat for his own survival, they had become insignificant existences unable to fulfill any role.

Colonel Frost observed the scene and thought,

“I felt this way when I served that damned Count Schwabin before, that the serfs and free men with an incompetent lord truly die in vain… In contrast, I have survived because I have served a truly remarkable individual, one who could be counted among the greatest in the history of the Eraline Empire.

No, it was by following Your Excellency that I, a mere bastard, and that serf, Mark, were able to gain lands and titles that were inappropriate for us. Furthermore, if I achieve merits in this war and return victorious, I too can become a baron like my father. It feels like a dream.”

Yet, the future he sought to grasp requires continuous achievements.

What if he fails? He would inevitably fall victim to the backlash of his swift rise.

This reality applies not just to him, but to other soldiers and officers who have gained success thanks to the Croilet family’s favor, even if they are not as seasoned as Frost.

Thus, witnessing the enemy knights retreating to reorganize, Colonel Frost spoke to his soldiers in an appealing manner.

“If I had been born into another family, I, Jack Frost, would not have the status and honor I enjoy today. No, as one of the bastards from a knightly family, I might have become a mercenary or lived a worthless life. And most of those gathered here would have lived in vain and died meaningless deaths.”

As he said, other knightly families in rural areas lack the means to provide a position for bastards.

In fact, many do not even provide the minimal education needed to prepare a bastard to live for himself or as a knight.

This is because acquiring a meaningful level of education and developing capabilities requires dozens of gold coins.

So, unless one is of a high noble family with a barony, it is common to have some second or third-rate retired mercenary teach the art of combat and send them out as mercenaries.

Serfs often do not receive such education, and if they are not the firstborn, they cannot inherit the right to cultivate land, which often leads them to die of starvation or execution as urban paupers, criminals, or bandits.

“However, our lord, SIEL von Croilet Marquis, has given opportunities even to bastards like me and the second and third sons of serfs! Isn’t everyone here enjoying wealth and glory that is beyond our deserving? We already receive sufficient pay, living happy lives in the city with our wives and children. We are even enjoying meat, alcohol, and women, which we could never imagine during our days as bastards or serfs. It’s so much so that we even petitioned to complain about how we are tired of the pickled herring and salted meat that we used to eat only on holidays! Isn’t that right?”

As the Colonel paused, the officers and soldiers began to reflect on where their current happiness originated from.

Soon, the soldiers of serf origin and the officers who were once poor bastards began to weep as they reminisced about the past.

“Before I joined this unit, I thought my future was bleak, considering I would go out to become part of a lowly mercenary band. I never imagined I could participate in such an honorable battle, nor did I think I would have a wife and children waiting for me when I returned.”

“Nowadays, I’m sick of the pickled herring and salted meat we get every day, but back in my serf days, those were foods I ate only on special occasions…”

“I never dared to hope for a better life, but since serving in Your Excellency’s unit, I’ve begun to dream of a better life…”

“Anyone who thinks I’m right, look at those knights raising dust as they reorganize! Those bastards are audaciously screaming that they will kill Marquis Croilet! And they intend to slaughter those who serve the same lord like Ilerias Count’s men. I cannot let such acts happen, even if it means my death. If we protect them, we will always be rewarded by the generous Your Excellency, who promises victory and gives us the fruits of that triumph without reservation. Everyone, are you ready to risk your lives to kill those damned bastards with me?”

At the Colonel’s words, the remaining soldiers drew their swords and raised them high.

“Let’s repay the grace of Your Excellency!!”

“Let’s kill those iron-clad bastards and change our fate!!”

“Long live Marquis Croilet! Long live the Commander!!”

Having witnessed the soldiers’ morale soar, Colonel Frost thought,

“No matter how many countless trainings and several battles the allies have undergone, charging toward the vanguard of the knight’s wedge formation and then turning is a fearful task. If I hadn’t boosted their morale like this… they might have made mistakes out of fear… But in this heightened state, there’s no way they will make foolish errors.”

Moments later, Frostit Colonel’s matchlock cavalry regiment caught sight of the knights charging towards the rear of the Croilet legion.

About a kilometer away, knights clad in silver armor were charging on massive steeds.

Although no one bore lances after several charges, the sight of them rushing forward with gleaming silver sidearms, calling out loudly, was enough to instill fear—embodying death itself.

Believing they had caught the back of Marquis Croilet, the leading knight, Count Laurent, smiled as he spoke from the front.

“I, Laurent, will defeat the renowned Marquis Croilet across all the Eurpian plains! If I manage to do that, I will surely rise to marquis from count! All troops, be ready to take down the Marquis’s army with a will to die!”

Colonel Frost formed his troops into a horizontal formation toward the front line of the knights commanded by the confident Count Laurent.

Then, Frost and his men began charging at the same speed as the knights toward the vanguard of their wedge formation.

Though they were armed with guns, this was madness that cavalry should never attempt, which relies on speed and the tactic of striking and retreating, unlike the weight of armored knights.

Thus, Count Laurent, who was unaware of Colonel Frost’s intentions due to the noise of hooves and dust being raised by their mounts, thought,

“There’s no longer a force to ambush us. Thus, this charge is ours for the taking.”

After about three to five minutes of approach, only then did the Count realize.

However, he did not respond to the assault of the light cavalry, who did not even wear proper armor.

In fact, if they were to respond, the charging knights would have no choice but to end up trampled and crushed.

So, they lowered their lances and charged forward toward the Croilet soldiers visible ahead.

Hoping that those damned Croilet light cavalry would be unable to respond to their attack.

Yet, none of them realized that since everyone believed in Deus equally, there would be no favoritism shown to any one side.

Colonel Frost sent a signal to his soldiers to turn around and quickly began to pivot, maintaining a distance of about 150 meters from the enemy.

The knights leading under Count Laurent fell into immense fear.

For behind the gaps in their visors, they saw more than a thousand matchlocks aimed at them.

In that moment, they faced a fear that they had not needed to feel since donning their armor and mounting their horses.

They confronted the grim reality of dying in a dishonorable and miserable manner, just like the serfs conscripted for battle, and the fact that they would suffer immense pain.

Yet none within that group could muster the courage to resist.

They simply awaited the death that approached them.

As the Colonel’s regiment reached the end of the wedge formation after about a minute’s time, a barrage of bullets rained down upon the knights who could not slow their advance and kept pushing forward.