Chapter 10:

“Milord!”

“Milord!”

Stepping into the central tent, the biggest tent within the camp, Vincent, dressed in his armour once again, was met with the greetings of his Knights. Dressed in their armour, the Knights clustered around a large table, standing at attention as Vincent approached.

Gesturing for them to relax, Vincent stepped closer to them, peering at the object they had been fussing over before his arrival, noting the chair positioned at the head of the table.

As the Knights took their seats, the tent fell into silence, filling the air with an awkward atmosphere.

They’re hesitant to speak, possibly because of the rumours that spread?

Clearing his throat, Vincent broke the burgeoning silence, causing the Knights to relax slightly, leaning back into their seats, as some of the tension left the room.

Gesturing to the beastskin map on the table, Vincent asked Knight Gene, seated on the second seat from his left, to bring him up to speed.

Standing up confidently, the weathered middle-aged Knight pointed at the top-down view on Greendale, launching into a long-winded explanation. From what Vincent understood, the plan the Knights had come up with entailed surrounding the town with their infantry and one of the Knights, to prevent the enemy from escaping, slowly closing the encirclement before halting just beyond bow range. When the encirclement was in place, the remaining 11 cavalrymen and 3 of the Knights would attempt to break down the wooden gates, using their spiritforce empowered lances as mini battering rams, blowing the gates down under the covering fire from the archers in the back.

From there, the Knights planned to send the cavalry and Vincent's personal guard, along with Blake in, riding straight to the merchant district, surrounding and capturing the merchants within minutes of entering the town and defusing the situation by having Vincent address the townsfolk. Once the merchants had all been accounted for, the infantry would enter the town, beginning the operation to retrieve all the gold the merchants had stashed away.

Finishing his explanation, Gene sat back down as the other Knights nodded their heads in agreement with his words, confident that the Lord would approve of this plan.

Leaning back in his seat, Vincent studied the faces of his men, gathering their thoughts on the plan. Knight Gene, who had presented the plan, seemed assured in the soundness of his plan, a slight smile on his lips. Blake seemed to have no opinion on the matter, his youthful face merely a few years older than Vincent's impassive. As for the other Knights, Oz and Oxford, Oz seemed to slightly disagree with the plan, lips pursed and brows furrowed throughout the whole presentation, while Oxford radiated a bloodthirsty expression, apparently still hung up over the death of his men.

Finally, the final Knight, Sharon, the sole female Knight of House Sutton, had her delicate features twisted in a frown, lips slightly parted as if she had something to say.

“Sharon.”

“Milord”

“Speak your mind.”

“It's too dangerous¨

Interested, Vincent leaned forward, paying attention to the Knights words. Just as Sharon was about to continue, a rough, hoarse voice broke in.

“It’s a waste of time. The woman merely wishes to shy away from danger like a weakling.”

Speaking up, the burly hand of Knight Oz slammed on the table, emphasising his point. Not noticing the frowns directed at him by the other Knights, the fiery-haired giant of a man interrupted the conversation, his spittle flying across the room as he spoke passionately.

“We are Knights!”

“We are meant to be strong and mighty pillars of support for our men, the head of the vanguard, the tip of the spear!”

“The charge is the best way to penetrate the enemy lines. Any siege would be futile because of the walls. With no way to get up the walls, a frontal attack is the most glorious method of retaking the Town!”

“In fact, there's no need for the infantry to surround the town or any cover fire. Just give me some men and I’ll hack down that gate with my axe!”

Repeatedly slamming his fist down on the arm of his chair and slapping the hilt of his axe for emphasis, the rowdy Knight finally halted his passionate rant as Vincent gestured for him to for silence.

Leaning forward, Vincent rested his arms on his thighs as he studied the map, face set in concentration while the gears of his mind turned.

After a few long moments of contemplation, Vincent spoke out. “There's no need for an encirclement.”

Instantly, the faces of Knight Gene, Sharon and the others fell, wondering if their Lord had been swayed by Oz’s rant, while Oz himself broke out into taunting laughter. Just as he opened his mouth with the intent of sending a mocking taunt or two at the other Knights, Vincent spoke up, causing him to awkwardly sit there with his mouth half-open.

“But there will be no charge either.” Vincent's words caused Oz, who had just been laughing a few moments ago, to instantly feel like digging a hole in the ground and stuffing his face within it.

Stifling her laughter at the hot-headed Knights predicament and tomato-red face, Knight Sharon asked Vincent, “What method do you propose, Milord?”

Reaching into a pocket within the folds of his clothes, Vincent pulled out a small wooden object, setting it down on the table for the Knights to see. Overtaken by their curiosity, the Knights, including the embarrassed Knight Oz, leaned forward in their seats, peering at the miniscule object.

“Sir?”

Seeing the befuddled expressions on the faces of the Knights as they stared at what seemed to be a folded ladder, Vincent picked up a knife from where it had been used to secure the map to the table, grasping it in his gauntleted hand.

With a snick! sound, the small length of twine attached to the construction was cut in half, causing the upper portion of the miniature to snap forward, momentum carrying it forward as the upper portion came to a stop, perfectly aligned with the diagonal lower half of the structure.

“Milord, how will this help our siege?”

Speaking up for the first time throughout the meeting, Blake looked doubtful at the object in Vincent's hands.

Grinning with satisfaction at the bamboozled looks on the faces of his Knights, Vincent picked up a small inkstone, setting the small object such that the top of the upper portion touched the edge of the inkstone.

“Imagine the inkstone to be Greendales wall. Other than a lengthy siege or a frontal charge, many would assume that there would be no way to surmount such an obstacle.”

Pointing at the wooden object, Vincent elaborated.

“Now, imagine that this was a ladder.”

“Milord, but ladders are too long and unwieldy to carry through a rain of arrows. Once they're in place, the defenders can easily kick them off. Ladders are simply not feasible on the battlefield.”

Seeing that none of the Knights had caught on, Vincent sighed. Leaning back in his seat, he gradually began explaining to his Knights the purpose, form, uses and implementation of the medieval siege weapon known as the Escalade.

Inspired by the historical documentaries he had watched in his past life, Vincent had cobbled together a small, miniature model of a simple escalade. Basically a folded ladder on a carriage, medieval soldiers would often wheel the large constructions right up to a wall, before cutting the rope holding the top of the ladder down, instantly providing a way for soldiers to scale the walls while being heavy enough due to its carriage that defenders had a hard time knocking them off the walls.

While in his past life, such siege weapons had eventually lost their effectiveness as moats became widespread and weapons such a flaming oil and such grew in popularity, Vincent believed that the escalade was indeed the perfect siege weapon for his current situation, being rather easy to construct on a short notice while possessing the advantage that none had been developed as of yet, giving it the element of surprise.

Ropes were abundant in the camp, while Vincent had already instructed Blake to start the soldiers with collecting the necessary wood needed. After the construction of the ladder parts themselves, they would be mounted on a hinge mechanism, providing just enough give and tension such that when the rope was cut, the upper portion would spring forward, settling snugly against a wall. The whole assembly would be mounted onto a carriage before being nailed down.

In awe at the possibilities of what Vincent had demonstrated to them, the Knights fell silent, causing waves of satisfaction to pulse through him.

Finally, I’m putting some of my memories to good use.

Breaking the extended silence, Knight Oxford spoke up.

“Sir, when I approached the walls, I heard the men talking about the true leader of the town, the one who instigated all of this. A merchant they called Terry is the one calling the shots over there. Even their spokesperson seemed in awe and a little bit fearful when speaking of him. The garrison also seemed to regard him highly.”

“He’s the top merchant in town.”. Breaking in, Knight Sharon spoke out.

“Don’t look down on him as a merchant. He had a devious mind and his cunning has caused many competitors to fall from grace. Many families have been ruined by him.”

“Very well. We shall designate him as our priority target. He is to be apprehended and taken alive at the first opportunity.”

Noting the undercurrent of hidden grief as Sharon spoke about the merchant. Vincent instantly raised his guard against the man. Even in his past life, there existed such people with wits and ruthless cunning among the workforce, constantly making use and taking advantage of others to rise up the corporate ladder and gain the favour of the bosses, in hope of eventually supplanting them.

Afterwards, the Knights continued their strategy planning, adjusting their plans and troop deployments in order to best utilise the new inventions that Vincent had unveiled. Eventually, as noon arrived, the allocation for the following battle had been set.

Already, three escalades were being built within the confines of the camp. Once they were completed, the troops would set out in the mid-afternoon. The forces were split into three parts, each responsible for a certain facet of the plan.

First, the archers would lay down a volley of arrows, suppressing the guardsmen on the walls, giving their other troops time to move. Next, the cavalrymen would charge up to the gates, feigning an attack on the gates, hopefully drawing whatever spare forces the defenders had into guarding the gate. From there, the cavalrymen would maintain the rus, battering the gates with loud but ineffective attacks, knowing that the defenders had most likely prepared an ambush behind the gates to take the mounted troops down if they broke through.

Finally, the infantry would advance, moving their escalades along. While Vincent would have loved the storm the walls and catch the guards unaware by mounting the back walls, the town was simply too small and any movement would be detected, causing House Sutton’s infantry to have a much harder time if the defenders moved to the side walls and out of the suppressing fire from the archers. Thus, the infantry would advance aiming to storm the walls at three points a small distance away from the gate, spreading out their assaults to thin out the enemy.

With 70 infantry, each escalade had enough troops to take the wall no matter which siege engine reached the walls first. During the advance, most of the men would aid a pair of horses in moving the heavy contraption, while the remainder held their shields at the ready to block any incoming arrows. Once the siege engines had reached the walls, the ropes would be cut and the ladder would descend into position, giving the infantry a stable path up the walls.

From there, the men would charge along the walls, aiming to capture the guardsmen. Vincent had specifically added this to the plan, believing that the men were merely deceived by the merchants. Although the men were instructed to kill if needed, Vincent wanted to spare himself any further animosity from the townsfolk. Once the walls had been taken, the archers would mount the walls, drawing their bowstrings and taking aim at any remaining resistors within the walls, allowing the remaining forces to enter the town without fear.

Stepping out of the tent, the Knights dispersed, heading towards their men to make preparations for the upcoming battle. As Vincent watched the sea of people move about within the camp, a voice sounded from behind him.

“Milor- Vincent, are you still going to participate in the battle?”

Blake had come up to him. Just as Vincent was about to brush the concerned Knight off, he stopped. Glancing at the glaive at Blakes side, he recalled his nightmares, how that very glaive had pierced through his body and sent him flying into the air.

Realising how futile it was for him to participate in a battle where existences such as Blake would be participating, Vincent understood that he would merely become a burden on the battlefield.

I’m too weak to be of use. Wherever I go, Blake or someone else may have to look out for me. On a dangerous battlefield, such actions may cause a slip in attention, leading to death. I’ll only endanger whoever is assigned to protect me.

Quelling the burning fire within him that screamed at him to join the battle, to pick up his sword, to become a hero, Vincent closed his eyes momentarily as he made peace with his choice.

The life-and-death battles can wait. My current bottleneck can be overcome with just another few months of training. There's no need to dive into a battlefield. That can wait until I’ve exhausted my potential for natural growth or until my strength is on par with my Knights.

“No. No I won’t.”