“This is going way too well. What are they planning?” Ever since the start of the battle, Corco had been confused by Rupilo's movements, or lack thereof. Their first engagement still had made some sense. The enemy commander had false or incomplete information about the southern army's weapons and tactics, and the attack of the archers was only a probe meant to rectify those deficiencies.

Now however, the elite warriors of the proud northern lords just stood there and let Corco's line infantry attack them with no reply. He had expected them to try and disturb his deployment, or at least charge after a volley or two, but somehow they had failed to act at all. As a result, all his preparations to overcome a desperate struggle were out of the window, and the king was left confused.

“King Corco, I have already doubled the number of scouts in the surroundings, yet they are still unable to find any suspicious movements,” Tamaya said as her worried smile appeared before the king's brooding face. “Although the enemy's left flank just sent out a sizable contingent to outflank us, our own warriors will be more than enough to entangle them for the rest of the battle. By now, the flanks should have already engaged a good distance away, too far to get involved.”

“Since everything else is normal, how do you explain this nonsense?” Corco gestured to the right flank of the enemy formation, which already had more holes than a swiss cheese. That reminded him that there was much Medala needed to improve on in terms of dairy products. How was he expected to eat pasta without any proper Parmesan?

“I am not an expert in tactics.” Tama's awkward reply returned Corco back to reality.

“But you could still do better than this, couldn't you?” Like he had done countless times since the start of the battle, the king put the telescope up to his eyes and checked the banners atop the hill for any unusual action. “Just tell your ghosts to be wary of any tricks. Something weird is happening on their side and I don't want any surprises.”

“They have begun to move.” Tama's hand lightly tapped his shoulder to alert him, before he could feel a gentle force swing his telescope over to Rupilo's right flank again.

Again, he could hear the sound of drums, the harbingers of glory and terror so familiar to all Medalan nobles. For now the battle wasn't in full swing yet, so they could still communicate in such a way. This would soon change though. If Corco's entire line were to fire, the drums would disappear in all the noise. Now that firearms were about to take over the battlefields, another holdover from olden times was bound to disappear.

As he idly thought about the future, the warriors of the past charged towards his present front line without fear. Corco thought there was no reason to worry. He had placed his most experienced commoner infantry together with his battle-hardened wolf mercenaries at the front of his slanted line. Like machines, they fired volley after volley to gun down the warriors in droves. Now in their rhythm, Corco's muskets would fire and then slowly retreat to reload behind their comrades and cover the retreat of the next line.

As his slanted line evened out in the process, more and more troops on the front line came into firing distance of the charging warriors. Since only one flank had attacked them so far, the fire of Corco's entire line was concentrated on them alone. Even better, since the charge was too disorganized and loose, the warriors failed to use their shields properly and thus couldn't reduce the impact of the lead bullets. If nothing happened, they could scatter before they ever reached Corco's front line.

Confused, the king looked back up the hill, where the rest of Rupilo's troops finally began to move into action. Although they followed the charge of their allies, the few seconds they had wasted were enough to give them a critical disadvantage.

“No wonder I can't figure them out. They have no idea what they're doing either,” Corco mumbled, his voice now drowned out by the constant gunfire. At last, the warriors on the flank had finally pushed through the hail of bullets. As they collided with the pike formation in front of the muskets, they disappeared behind Corco's men. At first his banner high atop the formation seemed to buckle; it swayed back and forth and was even forced back a few steps. Soon however, the halberdiers stabilized their line and the battle at the front turned into a drawn-out, exhausting tug-of-war.

At the same time, the charging core infantry of Rupilo's center had reached the foot of the hill. Still, there was quite a distance left before they reached Corco's de-slanted front line. Although they had to fight through the dense snow and were no longer pushed forward by gravity, it shouldn't be enough to eat their entire momentum. Even the musket fire which was now focused on them wouldn't be enough to break their charge.

As someone who had learned the art of war in Medala, Corco was well aware how scary a frontal warrior charge could be. Right before him, thousands of mounds of muscle, covered in steel, charged their line at the speed of racehorses. The sight really could put the fear of god into a man. This was the reason Corco had been so careful and uncertain all this time: Even with all of his cleverness, even with all of his advanced weapons and tactics, Corco still wasn't sure his new recruits could withstand a full-frontal bullcharge from proper warriors. Although his new methods were well-tested against knights all throughout history, no pike and shot formation had ever been up against an army of cultivators. Their struggle on the left flank only confirmed his worry.

Over on the left, the enemy had placed their shock infantry, those warriors armed with heavy -axes and cultivated for speed and power. Not only were they not as heavily armored as the core troops, they had already been thinned out and demoralized by repeated musket volleys, long before they ever got close to his line. Even then, the formation had still buckled, and Corco had no clear view of how his troops over there were doing. Since the battle in the center was about to heat up as well, all he could do was to trust Paec, the young commander put in charge of the left. Meanwhile, Corco had no time to care about his flank, since the wall of steel enlarged in his view and thousands of battle cries fought for hegemony against the fire of muskets.

This was Rupilo's core infantry, built to withstand punishment. Although they lacked the explosive speed and freakish strength of the shock troops on the flanks, they were endowed with never-ending endurance and an inhuman resistance to pain instead. These were the backbone of a Medalan army, ready to stand and fight for their lord until death. Breaking them would be no easy feat, and even though they were weaker than the shock infantry in a duel, they would still pose an immense challenge to Corco's band of inexperienced commoners in the center.

Though he might have been worried, he wasn't desperate. He wouldn't just cross the Narrow Sea and initiate combat if he didn't have a plan to nullify Pacha's strongest weapons. Up until now, he had been careful to not use all his cards, but now there was no more room to hold back. Convinced that the moment was ripe, Corco moved close to Tama and called into her ear to make sure she would understand.

“Ready the cannons! Staggered shots at ten meters distance!” he shouted, and Tama relayed the orders. Soon, a series of flags were raised behind him to communicate the message across the battlefield.

Although their charge wasn't broken by the musket fire, the warriors had already paid a heavy price for their attacks. Corco's men held the most advanced weapons in this world, and they had been drilled to perform the singular motion of reloading and firing countless times in the past year. More and more warriors fell and dyed the snow red with their blood. Yet still they pressed on without fear. After the initial shock took them to the ground, many would grind their teeth and get back up, blood streaming down their limbs, torsos and faces. Guided by nothing but determination born out of fierce loyalty, they pressed on beyond human limits.

However, the orders to seal their demise had long been given. Some twenty meters before they reached the army, the front of the warriors slowed down until they could put together a larger group of twenty men or so. With their experience, they had the calm to organize a concentrated charge rather than a loose attack. Soon they sped up again and reached the front of Corco's line moments later.

Yet mere steps away from their goal, they were met with the hell of modern war. The boom of the cannon informed Corco, and the rest of the battlefield, about the grand finale of the battle. His spyglass directed at the enemy charge, Corco observed the group of two dozen soldiers, charging ahead with boiling blood and burning eyes. Yet without warning, they all dropped as if they had run into a solid wall. This time, not one of them got back up.

The heavy smell of gunpowder intensified and covered the blood in the air as the cannons spewed smoke, fire and death. In the face of artillery, even the thickest armor and greatest bravery were useless.

Of course, the impact of a single cannonball would barely make a difference on this chaotic battlefield. However, Corco's newly designed canister shot was different. Though 'designed' might have been the wrong word. In the end, the shot ammunition was nothing more than a cheap tin cartridge filled with metal scrap. Upon being fired, it would explode from the force of the blast and release a rain of shrapnel upon the hapless enemy. Essentially, the warrior charge had just been hit by a directed fragmentation grenade.

The power of the pieces was nothing compared to a solid cannon ball, but he wasn't here to sink ships. Each bit of jagged shrapnel bored its way through the armor and flesh of Pacha's elites as if they were made of paper. Just like the muskets, the cannons fired again and again. When they crossed the sea, they had brought a total of twenty-eight cannons with them, and it was finally time to put them to use. With the almost insurmountable wall of the iron in their way, the charge was finally broken. Once the first, disjointed stragglers reached Corco's line, they were easily stopped by the halberdiers. Yet Corco didn't expect a swift victory. Even in the face of hellfire and invisible walls of iron, the warriors of old would hold out for a long time and only retreat if they considered their defeat certain and their honor lost.

Still, for Corco, the central battlefield was already won. They had gotten through the worst period, so now he only had to wait out the results. With the center stabilized, he could focus on the remaining areas of the battlefield.

How are the flanks doing? he wondered, before his eyes turned to the south. On his right flank, the development had been similar to what he had seen on the left, but even more delayed. The shock infantry tried to flank, but was soon intercepted by the warriors of the southern lords. However, the downward slope and the sheer drop off the cliff into the open sea had made any brave attack sheer suicide.

Even more, the fighting on his right looked a lot less intense than the merciless war in the center. In the end, the men who had been stuck on Rupilo's flanks were little more than mercenaries themselves, warriors of opportunistic lords who would have been tasked to save their own lives over securing a dicey victory for an unpopular king. Until the end of the battle, they would perform a back and forth dance with his own men as both sides pretended to fulfill their duties.

Unlike the predictable right, the left flank was the one to surprise Corco. As soon he looked over, as if he had willed it himself, his banner atop his troops began to move. First a step, then another, his banner was pushed forward. At the same time, he could hear shouts of victory from the left. Soon, his semaphore system relayed their success as well. The shock troops of Lord Fulcinius had been exhausted, either physically or mentally, and were being pushed back. He could already see the first warriors disengage and abandon their formation, fleeing for their lives in a disorganized mob.

“Tell the left flank to ignore the broken troops, don't let them pursue. Let them swerve to right instead. Encircle the enemy!” Corco shouted. This was his chance to at least limit the bloodshed, to end the war early. Although whether or not his command would go through was highly questionable, he still had to try and spare as many as he could. There was no need to mow down a fleeing enemy. These were his people after all, even if they were on different sides for the moment.

Though whether or not Paec followed his command, they had as good as won. Already, he could see more and more units of Rupilo's right flank break off and run for the hills. As quickly as it had begun, the battle was over. If they could encircle Rupilo's center as well, he could make them scatter or surrender within the hour. Corco began to dream. A win this big might be enough to negotiate a peace even with his megalomaniac uncle.

“Order the front line to charge,” he shouted at Tama as his eyes sank into an evil stare, “and tell my ten 'bodyguards' to get ready for a pursuit. I should make good on my threats for once.”