DUCIS

“Must they all die?” Wilhelm asks, hesitant to follow my suggestion.

We are in the small command tent, brightly lit by torches. Wilhelm seems to be uncomfortable here, understandable as this tent lacks all the luxuries nobility are used to. The only furniture here are chairs and a giant table with a map on it.

“My lord, we already knew what would happen to your troops when you sent them with Lord Davis,” I say subserviently, “Lord Davis’ army now numbers 90,000—excluding your forces. We cannot defend this city against a number like that. We must order your troops to attack now and take down as many of his soldiers as they can.”

“But can’t we simply order my troops to attack when Davis comes for my city? That way, we’ll also be able to support them, rather than sending them sending them to fight a vastly larger army all for the sake of lowering their numbers.”

Oh? It’s already HIS city now? How confident.

“My lord, once Lord Davis hears of your insurrection, he will put your troops to the sword anyway. These soldiers were meant to die the moment we sent them with Lord Davis.”

Honestly, I’ve explained this to him so many times. I wonder how many times I’ll have to repeat myself before the idea sticks.

Wilhelm sighs, “I suppose…”

Hm… I need a final push.

I bow, “This is all for the sake of you becoming king, my lord.”

Wilhelm smiles. Jackpot.

“Yes, I suppose it is, isn’t it?” He sighs again, “Very well.”

He calls over a messenger and hands him a note.

“Make sure to give it to my lieutenant without letting Lord Davis know.”

The messenger bows, “Yes, my lord.”

With that, the messenger takes his leave. The note contains orders to attack Davis’ army and not to worry about the difference in numbers as reinforcements are rushing to their position as fast as they can. A lie, of course. Eremus said that, with this note, by the time Wilhelm’s troops truly feel desperate enough to run it will be too late.

The messenger is one of Wilhelm’s personal messengers and the note is branded with the Wilhelm family seal. The only better way to convince the troops that these orders genuinely do come from Wilhelm is if he went and gave them in person.

A few minutes pass and Wilhelm seems to contemplate something. This is the part where I’m supposed to wait.

“Ducis,” he finally speaks, “Tell me, can we trust this commander you’ve chosen? Eremus, if I recall correctly.”

“Definitely, my lord,” I say with a smile, “Eremus is quite capable and loyal. He makes the perfect commander.”

“Does he now? Hm… he seemed quite the buffoon to me. Perhaps he is loyal, but I doubt his capabilities. Having an army does not make one a commander.”

I bow deeply to hide my snicker. I’m more amused than angry; this dullard sits upon his high perch and spouts those wise-sounding words of his like he has any idea what he’s talking about. And he dares to call Eremus, who is infinitely more capable, a buffoon? What a halfwit.

But I am playing the part of Wilhelm’s subordinate right now, so I force on my adoring smile and look up.

“How wise, my lord.”

Wilhelm nods in satisfaction.

EREMUS

‘BANG!’

A final impact from the battering ram forces the golden gates open. The soldiers operating the battering ram, overcome with excitement, charge into the entryway, but they are instantly stopped by the enemies shield wall and cut down without mercy.

The atmosphere is different now.

Before, we were just firing arrows at each other from other sides of a wall. People on both sides were killed, especially when I sent in the battering ram, but even then, things seemed relatively calm.

Now though… I can see the enemy army before me. Their armour glistening a royal red and gold as they stand tall and glare at me.

I can sense the intent to kill… and the fear of being killed. The air feels as though it’s about to drown me in its aura of death.

I’ve faced death—last night personally, in fact. But nothing could have prepared me for this. A mass of humans staring down another mass of humans, both sides preparing to unleash their base savagery on to the other.

I force a smirk on my face, it doesn’t do to show nervousness to your troops. With such a small action, it feels as though some of my focus has returned.

The enemy has created a shield wall right behind the gate, and considering the giant tower shields they're holding up, it’s quite the sturdy shield wall. They want to stop our attack at the gate and kill us before we can enter. This will be quite tough…

Still, I suppose I must be thankful that the gate is not narrow enough for us to have to funnel our army too much to make it through. The gate is wide enough to fit an entire unit.

I raise my hand, “All units, get into wedge formations!”

A wedge formation is the most effective way to break through an enemy’s defence head-on. It’s essentially a formation where the soldiers group together to make the shape of a wedge or triangle. It’s usually used only by cavalry, but many historic battles show that it works with infantry too—albeit, much less effectively.

By my calculations, it should take three whole waves with the wedge formation before we manage to break through that shield wall. That means the first and second waves I choose will be chosen as sacrifices.

“Boss, let my unit go first!” Fidel requests with a confident grin and a thump to his steel-armoured chest.

I am tempted to say no. Fidel is a powerful warrior and sacrificing him in a simple charge is quite a waste of his talents and abilities. But as soon as that thought pops in my head, agreement slips out of my mouth.

“Very well.”

I am well aware that I must sacrifice a lot to unite the world under our rule, but even so, I don’t wish to view my soldiers as the nobles do, as simple resources defined only by their abilities.

I will be different. I must.

“And?” Fidel asks, “What happens once we make it inside? Do we stay in wedge formation?”

Inside? He thinks he’ll make it inside? It seems that there’s simply no doubt in his mind that he’ll succeed. Somehow, that innocent optimism makes me smile.

“All units, line up in the order of your unit numbers and ready yourselves to charge! Charge once I give the order to do so, and once you make it inside, continue charging till you get to the Royal Castle!”

I turn to Fidel, “Ready?”

Fidel salutes, that confident grin of his still stuck in place, “Of course, boss.”

“Then charge at your earliest convenience.”

Apparently, his earliest convenience is now as the instant I say those words, he looks to his troops and yells, “Let’s go get those bastards!”

His troops cheer enthusiastically and break off into a powerful run. They pick up speed and kick up dust behind them as they continue accelerating towards the enemy’s shields.

Three seconds to contact, Fidel readies his sword.

Two seconds to contact, the enemy’s shield wall commander yells, “Ready yourselves!”

One second to contact, Fidel’s soldiers begin an ear-shattering roar, out of fear or excitement I don’t know. Perhaps both.

And…

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Fidel accelerates beyond his army, vaults over the enemy shield wall and takes two lives in a single slash.

‘BANG!’

Finally, bodies crash against each other, producing a painful impact. But my calculations have once again proved to be wrong, Fidel’s little stunt created a slight opening which allows his troops to force their way through their defence, shattering their shield wall.

“Unit one, CHARGE!” I order. I cannot waste this opportunity, no matter how surprised I am by Fidel’s abilities.

Unit one advances, and easily forces their way past the broken defence line. The enemy has finally lost even their positioning advantage, now it’s simply a matter of overpowering them.

As ferocious carnage envelops the battlefield, blood spills to the ground in droves. The air is thick with its scent, and the clashing of metal against metal is steadily drowned out by the constant screams of the living and dying.

So… this is war in all its glory…

How… wretched.

I notice my forces’ momentum in the battle falter and take that as my cue.

“Unit two, CHARGE!”

Unit two takes a second to process my order before rushing into the battle. They barely have any momentum, so their assault isn’t as effective as Unit one’s. It seems the viciousness of the battle is infecting their hearts and minds with fear. A quick glance behind me tells me that this is the same case for the rest of my army.

“LISTEN UP, EVERYONE!” I yell to my troops as the battle rages on in front of me, “MANY WILL DIE IN THIS BATTLE, WE KNEW THAT FROM THE START! HOWEVER, DON’T FORGET, WE DON’T FIGHT THIS WAR ONLY FOR US! WE FIGHT IT FOR OUR FAMILY, OUR FRIENDS, AND OUR COUNTRY! WE FIGHT-FOR A BRIGHTER FUTURE! SO DON’T FALTER NOW—NOT AT THIS CRUCIAL MOMENT! SALVORUM NEEDS YOU!”

I punctuate my last statement by stabbing my sword dramatically into the ground.

My army roars its approval, their volume drowning out the screams of the battle; and I nod in satisfaction. Good, I can feel the fires of motivation blazing again.

“Unit three, CHARGE!”

Unit three instantly launches themselves at the enemy like savage demons and tears through them like a hot knife through butter.

Hm… it seems high morale can overcome even lifelong training at times. A good point to remember.

No need to waste this spike in morale by waiting then.

“Unit five, CHARGE!”

Unit five rushes forward.