Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 330

Chapter 330: Night attack(1) Chapter 330: Night attack(1) The moon hung high in the night sky, casting its cold, silver light over the quiet landscape.

Shadows stretched long and dark, cloaking the figures of Gerric and his 300 soldiers as they moved like phantoms through the night.

The only sound was the faint rustling of grass beneath cautious footsteps and the distant chirping of crickets.

“Keep low,” Gerric hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.

He crouched as he moved, his sharp eyes darting between the faint glimmers of light from the enemy’s campfires in the distance.

His soldiers followed suit, their weapons clutched tightly, their breath controlled and quiet.

The men advanced slowly.

The weight of their chainmail and padded armor seemed heavier in the silence, every scrape or clink threatening to betray their presence.  The night had an eerie stillness, amplifying the smallest noises.

A soldier brushed against a bush, its branches snapping faintly, and Gerric shot him a sharp glare.

The man froze, his face pale in the moonlight,as soon as silence came again the group pressed forward again, their movements measured and this time more cautious.

Ahead, the enemy camp lay in a shallow valley, its outline marked by scattered fires and the dim glow of tents.

Shadows flickered as figures moved near the flames-guards pacing their rounds.

Gerric gestured for his men to halt, crouching down.

Damn It, he muttered as he observed as best as darkness allowed him to.

Behind him, his soldiers waited, their breaths shallow, their bodies tense.

Each man knew the stakes of this nocturnal mission.

A single misstep, a stray sound, and the entire camp would be roused.

Gerric wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

 The night was heavy with tension, as Gerric had been ordered by Inor to lead a night’s attack, which was suggested by Lucius to replicate Egil’s infamous ambush.

Still as he and his men crouched behind the rise overlooking the enemy camp, he felt a knot of unease settle deep in his stomach.

Gerric’s men whispered nervously among themselves, their breaths clouding in the cool night air.

One look from Gerric however silenced the murmurs better than any threat could have done.

He gestured forward, motioning for them to advance.

The trench loomed ahead, a yawning blackness in the earth.

Gerric raised his hand to signal a halt, his senses sharp, scanning the defenses for any sign of movement.

Then it happened-a sharp, sudden scream pierced the quiet.

One of his men vanished into the earth with a sickening crunch, the sound of snapping bone unmistakable as the soldier’s weight drove him into a hidden pit.

The man howled in agony, clutching his shattered leg, his cries echoing into the still night.

Gerric’s heart sank.

There were traps around the perimeter .

The silence was broken and their intention given away “Night attack!” a voice from the enemy camp bellowed, and chaos erupted.

The sound of a horn cut through the air, loud and shrill, its tone a call to arms.

Figures stirred in the camp, shadows darting as men rushed to their positions.

The glow of campfires brightened as torches were lit, and the once-quiet hillside was suddenly alive with the noise of shouts and the clamor of weapons being readied.

”CHARGE!” With the only two options being to retreat or to give the order to charge, Gerric promptly chose the second, as he still believed he could at least deliver some casualties before retreating.  Once given the order the peasants poured out of the shadows, some clutching spears, others gripping axes expecting their opponents to be as unprepared as babies out of wombs.

The soldiers however weren’t emerging from sleep as Gerric had expected.

Many were already outside their tents, armored in chainmail that glinted ominously from the near torch.

The dull gleam of helmets reflected the flickering torchlight as they raised their weapons.

 How are they already ready?Whats happening?

Luckily for the rebels, even thought they were already equipped the enemy’s soldiers weren’t still concentrated in a defensive line-they were scattered throughout the camp.

Some rushed from tents, fastening straps or gripping half-ready shields.

Others formed loose groups, ready to meet the attackers head-on, in whatever formation they could make.

The battle started immediately and suddendly as a thunder in the night.

Soon the quiet night, became filled with the sounds accompanying war, taunts, moans of pain, cry begging for mercy, and the simple, yet unmistakable sound of steel meeting steel.

 “Is this the best your lords can send?” A Rebel shouted as he hacked a man’s torso with his axe  “Come closer, and I’ll show you how we peasants cut down noble’s lackeys !” ”You should have fed us when you had the chance!”  The first clash was brutal, and given that while the soldiers in the prince’s army were not in a defensive formation, the initial advantage was with the rebels who using their numbers, swarmed the small groups of soldiers ahead of them.

Nearby, a rebel armed with a spear jabbed it forward against a soldier , who however parried the attack with a quick shield block.

The two exchanged blows in rapid succession, before the rebel slicing through the shaft of the spear ,with wood crossing wood, found its mark in the soldier’s thigh unprotected by the armor .

The man howled in pain, collapsing , the soldier then kicked him as good measured and trusted his spear onto his chest ending him for good.

The rebels surged forward, emboldened by their percieved superiority in battle, fighting with a fervor that they did not believe they could have.

“Is this what your prince feeds his dogs?

Better armor, but the same empty bellies!” a man jeered as he swung a spiked club, smashing into a soldier’s shield with a resounding crack.

“You fight for crumbs while we starve for none!When the last time you ate meat?” another bellowed, plunging a crude spear into a man’s stomach.

“Go back to your fat lords!” a scarred man screamed as she hacked at a retreating soldier.

“They feast while we bury our dead!” Arnold’s soldiers, hastily forming lines of five or six, struggled to hold the rebel charge .

The rebels’ reckless fury overwhelmed them, and groups of soldiers found themselves encircled, their cohesion shattered.

A cluster of soldiers attempted to brace themselves, their shields locked and spears thrust forward.

But the rebels swarmed them with sheer numbers.

A rebel with a rusted axe slammed into the shield wall, splintering a plank before throwing himself forward, forcing a soldier to stagger backward.

The momentary gap was all the rebels needed.

Two men rushed in, cutting down the isolated soldier before the others could react, breaking the formation.

Another group of soldiers retreated under the relentless assault, their line crumbling as rebels chased them down.

A young rebel with matted hair and a wild grin leapt onto a soldier’s back, stabbing him repeatedly with a jagged dagger.

The man’s scream drowned in the cacophony as he fell, his comrades fleeing in disarray.

For a brief moment, the rebels held the advantage, their ferocity driving the prince’s soldiers back.

However while the northern part of the camp was engulfed in chaos with the rebels slaughtering the lone soldiers , the southern side of the battlefield had a brief window of calm that they used to prepare .

The prince’s soldiers, having been given time to regroup, swiftly formed small square formations under the command of their respective lords.

At the back of the line, Arnold stood his posture betraying none of the tension brewing within him with his decorated armor , glinting enough for everyone to see that their general was there, the best encouragement they could have been given.

What the rebels didn’t know, as they slaughtered the helpeless soldiers however, was that the prince had anticipated such a night attack, or at least wanted to make sure that they did not fall prey to the same mistake twice and had issued a directive for every soldier to sleep in their armor.

Only a fool doesn’t learn from his mistakes…

Though some had scoffed at the command, most had obeyed, recognizing the danger of the close rebel army.

With the presence of the enemy so close, the soldiers had reluctantly donned their padded leather first, followed by their chainmail, which allowed them to ease into sleep without fully shedding their armor, as after all sleeping while pressing their bodies onto metallic-small chains was not the best bed to have.

When the attack was discovered, and the horn sounded , in a few instants the soldiers had emerged from their tents, grabbing their weapons while waiting for their lords to appear and give them order.

The rebels, meanwhile, had lost their initial momentum, now scattered across the camp as they took advantage of the confusion to target the retreating soldiers, with Gerric himself taking the lead, not knowing that the gravest mistake one could was break the formation before the entire army was shattered..

As they spread out to finish off the routing enemy, some of the lone men turned their heads to see 400 hundreds footmen charging toward them.

“ENEMIES!” With the little time they had,after a few shouts of panic , they tried to form up some straight line, however they were too spread out and their time was too little for any meaningful preparation.

Hence they could only form up some meager squares while most of their comrades were too far away or too taken up by the slaughtered to understand what was happening .

Of course that was too badly and too hasty of a preparation to have any actual meaning for the up-coming Clash.

Arnold’s soldiers, armored and battle-ready, slammed into their disorganized ranks with the force of a battering ram.

The rebels, caught off guard, scrambled to form some semblance of defense.

But the time they had was far too brief.

The prince’s men crashed into their scattered lines, and the rebellion’s fragile cohesion shattered making thier lines cave in on the centre pressing further and further inside.

Now it was time for the rebels to be on the other edge of the sword