Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 335

Chapter 335: Storming the trenches(3) Chapter 335: Storming the trenches(3) At the base of the hill, the remaining 350 footmen stood in disciplined ranks, their shields locked and spears resting at the ready.

They watched the battle above with tense anticipation, their eyes darting between their comrades locked in combat and their prince’s heir, Arnold, who sat atop his warhorse, surveying the scene with all the calm detachment he could muster.

Arnold’s armor gleamed in the sun,as his sharp gaze moved across the hilltop, taking in the stakes and trenches where his men fought fiercely against the entrenched rebels.

The clash of arms and cries of battle drifted down the slopes, but after an hour, the lines on the hilltop remained largely static.

No decisive ground had been gained or lost, though the mass of bodies showed proof that it certainly was for no lack of trying, as the man fighting within it were having the worst time of their life The young lord brows furrowed beneath his helm as doubt crept into his thoughts.

Perhaps the men at the front had grown too fatigued.

Or perhaps the defenders had simply fortified too well.

Either way, the assault showed no signs of breaking through, but instead stagnated at the top, which meant that they were having the worse of the fight .

He tightened his grip on the reins, the leather creaking in his gauntleted hands.

“We may need to swap the lines,” he muttered to himself before glancing over his shoulder.

He spotted one of his knights.

With a flick of his hand, Arnold summoned him.

“Ride to the lords commanding the front,” Arnold said, his voice calm but firm.

“Order them to begin an orderly retreat.

Have their men pull back in good form.

We’ll reform and reassess as the second line take their palce in the attack.” The knight nodded sharply, his expression unreadable beneath his visor, and turned his horse toward the steep incline.

Arnold watched as the knight spurred his mount up the hill, and sighed.

Time and patience were as much weapons as swords and spears in battle, he reminded himself as thinking that they could just easily break through the fortification was a foolish idea. Something must be done to break the status quo.

———- At the top of the hill, the battle raged fiercely, swords clanging against shields and cries of pain and fury filling the air.  Suddenly, amidst the chaos, the booming voices of knights-tasked with leading their lords’ levies-rang out over the din.

“Fall back!

Fall back in formation!” they bellowed, their commanding tones cutting through the chaos, the soldiers closest to him , hearing the command , immediately started repeating it while obeying.

While those at the back had no problems following the order,as they were far away from the fight, the soldiers, deep in the thick of combat, hesitated, their weapons still locked with those of their enemies,.

After all since they had jumped in, it certainly was not easy to go to the other side as they effectively had to jump from the low ground , while showing their back to the enemy.Some did not even hear the order, confusion flickering in their eyes as they saw their comrades pulling back from the lines.Still, many shields shifted, and men stepped back cautiously as the air around them changed.

“Fall back now!

Keep your formation!” the knights that served as minor commanders shouted again on top of the horse behind the line of men fighting,of course far away from it , as they would never enter the fray as a footmen, for that was not a role that nobility could serve in.

Theirs was the honor of leading the charge from mighty steed, not to grovel in the dirt as peasants .

 Returning to the fight , soldiers inside the bloody trenches jumped back from the edge of the fortifications, retreating from the spears and axes that had been bearing down on them, which were still dangerously close to their turned back.

And in fact as they turned to flee, their exposed back proved to be too good of an opportunity and too tempting to ignore.

A desperate soldier tried climbing over a trench, foot atop the ground as he pushed himself with his army, only to be caught mid-air by a spear thrust upward, piercing back and reaching the lungs , his body soon crumpling into the dirt with blood filling his mouth .

Another who tried to run , with his shield limp at the side , was quickly cut down by a rebel wielding an axe, who let out a triumphant roar at the sight of the unmoving enemy.

Soon other cries rose, not of triumph, but of pain echoed as rebels claimed those too slow to leave combat.

And so as the enemy soldiers began to fall back down the hill, a roar of elation rose from the rebels holding the trenches.

“They’re retreating!

They’re running!” shouted one man, his voice breaking with a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion.

Others echoed the sentiment, thrusting their weapons into the air triumphantly.

The sight of the enemy turning their backs was too much for some to resist, and a group of rebels clambered over the stakes and out of the trenches, determined to chase the fleeing foe.

“Let’s drive them down the hill!

Finish them off!Let’s avenge our comrades ” one cried, already bounding forward with reckless enthusiasm.

But before their pursuit could gain momentum, a thunderous voice rang out from behind them.

“Stop!

Hold your ground!” Inor’s voice boomed, cutting through the chaos.

“Do not pursue!Stand your positions” Most of the rebels froze mid-step, glancing back toward their commander.

A few clicked their tongues in frustration, muttering curses under their breath, as they did not understand why the could not pursue the routing men “Why the hell do we have to stay put?” one grumbled, reluctantly stepping back into the trench.

“We could’ve had them.” Still, the authority in Inor’s voice left no room for argument, and the majority obeyed his command as his authority was still unquestioned within the camp, their bloodlust simmering down to grumbling compliance.

However, a dozen or so rebels, emboldened by adrenaline, ignored the order perhapse not having heard of it or simply having decided to act on their judgment, they continued down the hill, weapons ready.

As they moved forward, they quickly realized they were alone, their comrades having fallen back.

The vastness of the open space before them and the sight of the enemy reforming at the base of the hill struck them with sudden nervousness.

One man slowed his pace, who had not heard the order tightened his grip on the sword as he glanced around.

“Where is everyone?” he muttered, his voice trembling slightly.

Realizing their isolation, the small group hesitated, then turned and scrambled back toward the safety of the trenches, their earlier bravado fading with every step.

The others watched in silence, their bloodlust now tempered by that feeling of awkardness ————– Arnold sat tall on his horse, the sunlight gleaming off his polished armor, a satisfied smile playing across his lips as he watched the scene atop him, more exactly on how some of them had ventured out of their positions before going back.

His eyes shifted from the retreating soldiers up the hill to the enemy trenches, still bristling with defiant fighters.

The earlier exchange had proven to him what he suspected-they still could work with they had, all they had to do was give a bait for them to bite on.

Turning to the nearest knight after quickly developing a general plan, Arnold gestured sharply with his gauntleted hand.

“Send in the second line,” he ordered, his voice calm but commanding.

“Infantry forward.

Archers behind them.

When they get within range, the infantry will halt and shield the archers as they unleash their volleys.” The knight saluted with a quick nod and rode off to relay the command.

The second line, comprised of fresh footmen, began to advance.

Unlike the first wave, there was no rush or confusion; this movement was measured, deliberate.

The infantry marched steadily, shields raised, their weapons glinting as the sunlight caught their polished steel.

Behind them, the archers followed, their quivers brimming with arrows.

“Hold your ranks!” barked one of the knights, riding alongside the formation.

“Keep it steady!” The sound of boots stamping in unison reverberated through the air as they moved.  Atop the hill, the slingers had already resumed their positions, their arms a blur as they spun their slings in practiced arcs.

The steady whirring sound of the spinning leather straps filled the air before the stones were released with deadly precision, arcing high before descending onto the advancing enemy, just as before.

The hail of stones battered the shield wall of the infantry below, the blunt impacts thudding against wood.

The infantry, now advancing steadily, bore the brunt of the assault, their tight formation shielding the archers marching behind them.

Shields braced overhead and forward, the soldiers grimaced as stones rained down, denting metal and bruising flesh beneath armor, but still not killing them .

Some stumbled but quickly regained their footing, their discipline unbroken as they continued the advance .

“Hold the line!” shouted one of the knights leading the advance atop his horse from the back.

“Protect the archers!” The archers, soon reached their designated range.

They quickly took up their bows, pulling arrows from their quivers in smooth motions.

Nocking the shafts, they aimed high, their eyes squinting against the sunlight as they calculated the range.

“Loose!” came the command.

The archers released in unison, and a hissing sound filled the air as the arrows soared upward in a deadly arc.

”Too much!” A footment shouted  ”Too far!” raised another “Adjust your range!” barked another as he peered over his shield.

“You’re overshooting!” “Shorter!

Aim shorter!” another called, pointing toward the tighter clusters of rebels hiding just behind the stakes, unseen however by the archers who stood behind the lines of infantry The archers quickly adjusted, their next volley angled to fall more or less where the enemy defenders crouched.

Again and again, they loosed their arrows, each hailstorm more precise than the last, their deadly rhythm coordinated by the shouts of the infantry in front.

As the hail of arrows descended from the sky, the once-calm determination of the women slingers gave way to panic.

Screams tore through the air as the sharp tips of the enemy’s volley found their marks.

One woman clutched her arm, blood streaming from a wound, while another collapsed with an arrow lodged deep in her side.

The chaos spread like wildfire, breaking their formation as some instinctively tried to shield themselves with their arms, futile against the rain of death.

They had no armor, nor shield to take cover in , as such as soon as the arrow fell they broke.

“Fall back!

Fall back now!” Inor’s voice thundered across the hilltop, simply wording what the women were already doing .

Tears mixed with dirt streaked their faces as they moved, some helping the wounded while others stumbled in their haste to escape the lethal arrows.

Inor watched them go before turning his focus to the infantry.

“Hold the line!” he roared.

“Shields up and crouch!

Protect yourselves!Occupy the trenches!Don’t let any pass through” The infantry responded instantly, falling into formation.

Shields were raised overhead, overlapping into a makeshift roof that deflected the incoming volleys.

The metallic clang of arrows striking shields filled the air, mingling with the muffled grunts of men bracing against the force of the impacts.

It was a good shot that made by Inor, for as soon as the infantrymen saw movement atop, they slowly started advancing taking advantage of the fact that those still on the trenches would be too much preoccupied with not getting shot rather than stand in their pre-chosen ground between the stakes.

“Stay low!” shouted one of them, unknowingly proving the enemy right “Let them waste their arrows!” Above them, arrows continued to rain down, glancing off the sturdy shield wall or embedding themselves into the earth harmlessly, as the enemy slowly made their way atop.