Dawn. The mercenary, Clive Hardworth got out of his tent, walking over to a vat of water where he queued up to take a scoop of in order to wash his face and brush his teeth. The Carmine soldiers were an extremely stubborn bunch over here compared to some of the minor nobles who defected almost immediately. Yet, even Clive knew these were upstart nobles. The nobles who had long lineages in the kingdom were almost to a point of immovable in terms of stubbornness.

In one case, a messenger to some old minor lord was returned with his tongue missing and the lord led his household guards to fight in his own mansion when he numbered less than a hundred men. There was something about this kingdom’s old blood and guts that impressed the mercenary captains of the army, much less the Gerheist leadership. They had hoped to have as many of the older ruling families intact as possible, changing their loyalty to another nation only. However, it seemed that the old kings have treated these families well, regardless of the ineptitude of the new one.

“Eh, want a smoke?” Clive asked another mercenary captain, taking out a pipe of his filled with some looted tobacco leaves. As he was rejected, he went for breakfast. Today was a gruel again, but at least there was meat in it. It tasted bland, but at least food was constant. The pay from the Kingdom of Gerheist was good and there was no need for them to have to salvage their own food.

The Carmine soldiers here, however, were of a different breed. The mercenaries purposely avoided banners that had owls on it for they were the toughest soldiers. They often hung back and let the Gerheist’s own force deal with those - that have always ended up in defeat on their side.

Then, the problems came when you actually get into the trenches which they seem to willingly give you, there were tunnels that proved almost impossible to clear and the best you could do is to guard the exits. Yet, at night, they would attack and force you to clear out of the trenches, restoring the integrity of the battlefield to what it was before.

There were plans to build larger trebuchets to simply bombard the gate and the walls, but that will take time. Therefore, the only orders now was to starve them out and probe their positions as well as making a ruckus at night near their lines so that they can’t sleep properly. Squatting in front of a supply wagon, he sipped his gruel slowly, along with a cup of water. Yet, at the distance, this mercenary saw a sandstorm being kicked up. He squinted. They were too slow for horses but too fast for infantrymen.

“Battlestations! Carmine sortie! Carmine sortie!” the man on the watchtower shouted, putting on his helmet and bellowing. The camp descended into chaos as everyone threw down their breakfast and hurriedly grabbed their weapons and shields.

“Shield wall! Shield wall!” Clive bellowed, his Argentavis Mercenary Company rallying around him. They were in an assortmen of armour, but at least their tower shields and short spears were the same. What had gotten Clive and his company out of every sticky situation was that he knew when he was going to win and when things were going to go wrong.

“What the hell is that?” Clive mumbled as he saw what seemed to be wagons rolling towards them, covered in sheets of metal platings.

“Archers! Archers! Nock! Draw!” he heard another commander give the order and the archers raised their longbows, nocking an arrow and aiming the bow into the air.

The rumbling of those wagons got closer and closer and now, Clive could see them for what they are. They were large wagons with metal plating charging right at them. Was this a suicide attack?

“Loose!” the commander shouted and the arrows flew like locusts towards the wagons which were roaring towards them. The arrows simply glanced off them and suddenly, the tower shield which had guarded Clive had a bolt stuck into it and several others around him collapsed.

“Crossbows! Crossbows from inside the machines! Shields up! Shields up!” Clive shouted, raising his own shield as his men closed ranks, taking over those who had fallen from the attack. Then, the war wagons crashed into the shield walls.