Chapter 53

“Already here, huh?”

Duchy of Barellmont.

Plains near the Ducal Castle.

Duke Barellmont, the commander-in-chief of the hastily assembled noble coalition forces, clicked his tongue lightly as he watched the approaching Central Army.

Having heard of the tragedy that befell the Loengram family, he had been preparing frantically for days. Now that the day had finally come to see the fruits of his labor, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of frustration.

“Karolus, that bastard who deserves to be chewed to death… To think I’m suffering like this because of him…”

The forces under his command numbered a staggering 46,000. Even for a powerful ducal family, maintaining such a force alone would have been impossible.

Thus, he had to seek help from neighboring territories, but the process was far from easy. How would greedy nobles react to a sudden request for massive aid?

Of course, they didn’t readily agree. Instead, they haggled fiercely, demanding various privileges in exchange for sending troops and supplies.

‘Just the money alone has drained nearly three years’ worth of our budget.’

Except for Count Kirchiais, who cooperated out of a sense of imminent danger, he had to pay a hefty price to assemble even this much of an army.

In other words, the army under his command now was bought by selling the future of the Barellmont family. A single chance created solely for immediate survival.

‘We must win. We must crush his power and foundation. Only then can our family and the kingdom survive.’

To seize this opportunity, simply repelling the invading enemy wouldn’t be enough.

Victory was essential, but they also needed to capitalize on the momentum to counterattack the capital and overthrow Karolus’s regime, restoring the old order. At the very least, they had to secure their position and halt the oppression of the nobles.

It was a daunting goal, but there was no other choice. If they failed, the family would fall. This was a matter of life and death.

As he pondered this, someone approached him.

“Duke, why do you look so troubled?”

“Ah, Count. I must have troubled you with my worries.”

The man had red curly hair and a stout build. He was Count Kirchiais, the deputy commander of the army and the second-largest contributor of troops after Duke Barellmont.

He was the duke’s top ally, having joined the fight personally, knowing that if this fell apart, he too would be ruined.

“I’m just anxious about what lies ahead. How did the great Kingdom of Ullanor come to this?”

“Haha, you worry too much.”

The count shrugged with a laugh.

“Worrying about a future that hasn’t arrived yet will only give you a headache. Focus on the task at hand first. Only by winning here can we even think about future plans.”

“…That’s true.”

“If you really want to ponder deeply, do it after the battle. Once we’ve taken Roytel’s head, your mind will clear, and you’ll think better.”

The duke nodded at the considerate advice.

He was right. They had to overcome the immediate challenge before thinking about the future.

“Thank you. I feel a bit clearer now.”

“I’m glad to be of help.”

Shaking off his worries, the duke focused on the battle ahead. The enemy he had to face.

“We should start preparing to change formations. Have we confirmed the enemy’s numbers?”

“According to the latest report, they number just under 40,000. Probably around 36,000 to 38,000.”

“From what I recall, the Central Army was just under 50,000…”

That number included the troops that had directly participated in the coup and the additional reinforcements they had gathered.

They must have scraped together as many as they could, leaving only a modest defense force to guard the vast capital.

“They’re fewer than us.”

“But we can’t underestimate them. The quality of their troops is beyond comparison.”

Though they had numerical superiority, they couldn’t afford to be complacent. They knew all too well how strong the enemy was.

Duke Barellmont didn’t disregard the intelligence sent by his vassals and relatives in the military.

They were the direct forces of a renowned general known as the Wolf of the North. With countless achievements, how could they be weak?

While the young and reckless might dismiss them as mere traitors, they had to acknowledge their strength. Underestimating the enemy out of prejudice would only lead to disaster.

“In contrast, we’re a coalition. Our training and organization are all over the place…”

Except for the numbers, they were at a disadvantage. The Barellmont family’s personal troops were commendable, but the rest were not.

Among them were even militia-level troops, making it hard to expect uniformity in equipment, training, or combat effectiveness.

“At least we’re fighting on our own land.”

Their only solid advantage was geography. Being on home turf, they knew the environment far better.

They also had time to set up fortifications and defenses, so they had to rely on that. It would be a tough fight, but they had a decent chance.

With that in mind, Duke Barellmont steeled his resolve.

“Send messengers to each unit. Form defensive lines and deploy the artillery. Everyone should move to their designated positions and prepare to meet the enemy.”

After forming a standard formation and waiting for about ten minutes, the Central Army finally arrived and began to spread out, signaling the start of the battle.

* * * * *

The beginning was a light skirmish.

“They’re all out here waiting for us. Just as you predicted, Duke.”

Seeing Duke Barellmont’s forces positioned in the field, the Central Army judged this as an opportunity to destroy the enemy’s main force.

Despite being in a defensive position, they had come out of the castle, indicating they saw no chance in a siege. They had to defeat the enemy to secure a path to survival.

Thus, they must have gathered their entire main force. A decisive victory here would allow them to swiftly subdue the territory and end the civil war.

“Spread the formation wide. Who’s commanding our right wing?”

“That would be Brigadier General Elan. Do you have any orders for him?”

“Tell him to probe them lightly. Don’t go too deep, and if the resistance is strong, pull back immediately.”

“Yes, sir! Understood!”

The Central Army deployed here numbered 37,000 in total. It was a battle of 37,000 against 46,000.

As the Central Army initiated their offensive, the noble coalition forces immediately moved their left wing to counter.

The numbers were similar, but the tactical gap was like heaven and earth.

On one side, Pike and Shot tactics from the 17th century, and on the other, Napoleonic-era line infantry. By common sense, the latter should completely dominate.

“Maintain formation! Move at double time!”

“First and second rows, prepare to fire! Third row and beyond, stand by! If the front falls, fill the gaps immediately!”

Before the pikes could even reach, the overwhelming firepower rained down. How could they withstand that? The Central Army, being a seasoned force, had a rapid rate of fire.

Before they could even close the distance, their formation was half-shattered, and even in close combat, the bayonets kept them at bay.

Just like the Imperial Forces, the noble coalition forces were being crushed.

But then, something unexpected happened.

–Clang!

“What the… Why aren’t the bullets penetrating?”

“Did you think we came unprepared, you traitors! Let’s settle this in close combat!!”

The soldiers, no, the airmen—wait, the soldiers didn’t fall. Despite being squarely hit by musket fire, they didn’t scream and instead advanced unscathed.

It was the power of the iron breastplates. The heavy armor Duke Barellmont had once acquired to train heavy cavalry.

Thinking Karolus might have converted all his troops into musketeers, he had distributed the armor to his infantry, and it was paying off.

“If we can’t hit their heads, they won’t fall. This puts us at a disadvantage.”

“They came fully prepared. This is troublesome.”

“What should we do?”

The numbers weren’t large. Armor was expensive, after all. At most, around 5,000 sets? Not even enough to outfit a single division.

But distributing them evenly to the front-line units wasn’t difficult. Equipping the elite troops and coordinating with the heavy infantry created a near-impenetrable wall.

Of course, even iron armor could be pierced at close range with precise shots, but how easy was that with the notoriously inaccurate muskets?

The distance between the Central Army’s right wing and the noble coalition’s left wing quickly closed. Despite the line infantry’s volleys, the formation didn’t break, and few fell.

It was clear who had the upper hand.

“What do we do? Retreat. Maintain formation and fall back to our original position.”

Without hesitation, Brigadier General Elan ordered a retreat. Persisting in the fight would only result in losses.

“And raise the red flag. If we brought the new weapon for situations like this, we might as well use it.”

“Understood!”

As the Central Army retreated, the noble coalition forces eagerly pursued. Though the weight of the armor and the density of their formation slowed them, they maintained their distance.

“Run, you traitors!!”

“Who are you calling traitors? Would you stand still if you were in our shoes?”

If they were lucky enough to seize the momentum early, they had to capitalize on it.

Following the left wing, the noble coalition’s main force also rose and began to move. Like a human wave, they slowly advanced forward.

And then, immediately after.

“Fire!”

Rockets rained down from the sky.

–Boom!!!

“Bombs! Fire is falling from the sky!!”

“What the hell did these lunatics bring?!!”

Karolus’s new weapon, inspired by the Singijeon, was a self-propelled ballistic missile.

High-explosive charges, launchable even from hastily constructed ramps, painted the coalition forces’ heads with fire.

Watching this, Brigadier General Elan muttered with satisfaction.

“Allahu Akbar, you fools.”

It was a line Karolus always insisted on saying when firing these.