Chapter 119 - 10-6 Continuation
The youths of the Siddim Western Army advanced with caution, backs rounded like wildcats, their gazes darting everywhere. They were on the banks of the Shaal River. The Western Army was in the process of invading the enemy lines with a massive force.
Before them lay chaos. The soldiers of the Kosa army were running helter-skelter. Having been infiltrated by a great army, the enemy was panicked. It was a level of confusion that looked like a collapse of the battle line.
Even so, the youths from the West did not let their guard down. This was enemy territory. There was fear. Huddling close together, spears leveled, they slowed their pace slightly for fear of a sudden sortie, advancing at a trot. They were this cautious. He thought they were all doing well. He did not consider that they were being lured in.
What lay ahead?
The second line of defense. Trenches had been dug. They were only wide enough to place soldiers in a single horizontal line. Beyond that was an earthen rampart where infantry lay hidden.
The moment that situation entered their sight, the infantry of the Western Army began to run at full speed. Their vigor overcame their fear. Enemy arrows were unleashed. Whether they hit or missed was a matter of luck. Not a few of their comrades were struck by the enemy's bows. However, the conclusion was abrupt.
The enemy, terrified by their spirit, fled.
This was decisive. If they attacked, the enemy fled.
Everyone recognized it as such.
The Western Army occupied both the trenches and the ramparts.
The momentum of the Western Army would not stop. It was no longer a time for vigilance. Speed was the key to victory. The enemy army feared them. Before they knew it, the youths were raising battle cries. With the ferocity of wild beasts, they hurried forward.
What stopped that momentum was an arrow that pierced the foot of a soldier at the front. To the left, on the opposite bank of the Shaal River, dozens of Kosa cavalry were riding parallel to them. The river was wide. While the enemy's arrows could reach, it was not an effective range.
The reason it could not be ignored was that the enemy cavalry had driven their horses into the river. The noisy sound of water reached the ears of the Western Army, and everyone stopped to look at the opposite bank. The enemy unleashed arrows while keeping their horses' legs in the water. They approached until they were in the middle of the river. At this point, the aim of the arrows became steady.
"Move, move, move!"
A voice called out, pushing through the great army. It was a train of wagons. The Western youths gave way, and the wagons pushed through the center. The cargo was arrows. With their longbows, these arrows would reach the opposite bank of the river.
Archers immediately began firing. Far from scattering the enemy cavalry on the opposite bank, their numbers increased in the blink of an eye. For a moment, everyone was distracted by the sight of the enemy sinking into the water, one by one, two by two.
To the right of the Western Army was the river, but to the left stretched lowlands eroded by the current. Beyond that was an embankment, and atop the embankment was a gentle hill. It was gentle, but it possessed a height that required one to look up. The enemy was approaching as if to fill that hill.
"Enemy!"
Someone shouted, and then wordless screams rose from various parts of the Western Army.
Drawing great parabolas, dense volleys of arrows covered the sky above. They poured down, aimed precisely at them. Comrades died one after another, spraying blood.
The Western Army was overwhelmed.
Still, they did not flee. They tried to endure, holding up their shields.
There were those who suspected this was an enemy trap. There were those who were frightened. There were none who tried to escape. Even if the enemy had told them that this place was the mouth of a monster and they were destined to be crushed, the Western Army would undoubtedly have stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.
—It seems the enemy-san has come in earnest.
That was the extent of their perception.
Mozu Wolf was atop the hill on the west bank of the Shaal River. With a tense expression, he looked down at the enemy's movements.
The first volley from this side had spread the Western Army like ripples in a pond where a stone had been thrown. The enemy infantry bravely attacked toward the hill.
—They aren't retreating?
The enemy soldiers were surrounded. The thing they should least do here was to flee in confusion. Next, the thing they should not do was disordered bravado.
The enemy chose this bravado. It was a foolish choice.
The enemy was sandwiched between the river and the hill. They had no choice but to be crushed.
Suddenly, Mozu narrowed his eyes. About seven or eight riders approached. The footing was poor, and the horses seemed to find walking difficult.
One of them blew a horn. With this, the enemy's movement stopped.
The hue of the enemy changed all at once. They raised their shields. As they did, they began to step backward. It was a retreat.
Mozu focused on a black-haired man beside the man blowing the horn. Kosa people had good eyesight. He discerned that the man was one-armed.
"The enemy general," Mozu said. "The enemy will withdraw to the second defense line."
He was still a young man. The black-haired youth seemed to be moving his mouth while gazing toward the hill.
Knowing it was out of place, Mozu brought the face of a beautiful woman to mind.
Marvel Boony.
He had heard the characteristics of the enemy's strategist from Pusiteto. He was said to be one-armed. His name was Yugis Necrat. In the southern city of Attaik, he was the man who had held a blade to the throat of the Tawaru chief, Kushitante. Mozu had witnessed that incident. The one-armed man visible from a distance looked like the man from that time.
Though the female assassin Marvel had boasted that she would finish off Yugis.
—I hope it's not the case, but...
Could she have been countered?
He remembered Marvel's strangely resolute eyes. He had thought that she could do it. But as long as the man who seemed to be Yugis was nonchalantly in a place like this, there was a possibility that she had failed.
She was a possessor of brilliant skill, performing jobs that would make anyone recoil if they heard of them, all without anyone knowing. Yet, she could not hide the immaturity typical of a young girl. Thinking back, that immature part was her core.
Mozu owed a debt of gratitude for being saved by Marvel. He held complex feelings toward her, as she was the daughter of his arch-enemy, Sinkuk Wolf. Furthermore, Mozu had the responsibility to swallow those feelings and continue using her. Women who could provide the Great King with comfort probably existed everywhere. She was not such a woman. She could perform great tasks that a woman with a sleepy face could not do even if she stood on her head.
That was precisely why Mozu had sent Marvel into enemy territory again. He had maneuvered it so.
In the emotions Mozu held for Marvel, there was a dampness that could be called pity. Since it was only personal, he had never expressed those emotions openly. He felt he had only ever had dry, abrasive interactions with her. They had faced each other as professionals. He thought that was for the best.
However, thanks to Marvel, the Great King's country had come this far. When he thought of that aspect, he could say he had been cold to her. At first, their relationship might have been hostile. Even so, she had fought in the shadows and pulled Great King Geraha's country to this point. Who knew the influence she had created? This empire should also belong to her.
—No, she is not a woman who would die so easily.
Mozu told himself. Hatred welled up toward the one-armed man. He was a troublesome man. He was not fit to let things end here.
"Shoot those riders! It is the enemy general!"
Mozu screamed with a voice that seemed to shake heaven and earth.
It was not as if the world responded to him. A gust of wind blew across the battlefield, and rain began to fall.
One of Yugis Necrat's purposes in splitting the Western Army into small groups was to search for the enemy's weaknesses. His plan was to find the point where the enemy's resistance was weakest and concentrate the dispersed soldiers there. This was not a strange tactic; in the end, it was a siege operation using a great army. However, he intended for the wide-range dispersion, which seemed like deploying forces in small increments, to be a new innovation to scatter the enemy. If the enemy were dispersed, weaknesses would surely appear.
However, as expected of the Kosa army.
The infantry stayed huddled in their camp without scattering at all, while the cavalry maneuvered. They had done the thing Yugis least wanted them to do.
Fortunately, the number of enemy cavalry was fewer than expected. Also, the crossbows were demonstrating sufficient capability. Even if a great army of cavalry were waiting somewhere, it should be difficult to deal a blow while they were dispersed.
—Besides.
If they want to huddle in their camp, they can stay there. With this few cavalry, that was actually more welcome.
Yugis's plan to search for weaknesses was half-correct. It was between the edge of the wheat field and the foot of the hill. The enemy's resistance was weak. It was said that enemy cavalry were lying in ambush in the wheat field. Partly, they were likely letting their guard down to lure them toward those ambushers. However, Yugis saw that if they invaded with a great army, the cavalry in the wheat field could be intercepted. The problem was the enemy soldiers who had set up camp on the hill. They would undoubtedly rush down like an avalanche.
There was one other route of infiltration.
The bank of the Shaal River, and that was where the resistance was weakest. However, this smelled too suspicious.
Yugis left Godly Curier at the command post and rode his horse to the riverbank, taking his attendant Dash with him.
Before departing,
"I humbly ask for your kind cooperation,"
he did not forget to request of Curier and the captain of the Royal Capital Defense Force cavalry.
"It is the first time, then?" Curier said.
"By all means."
Yugis nodded to Curier.
The riverbank was overflowing with soldiers of the Western Army. At worst, perhaps half of the Western Army had been drawn there.
—This is not good.
Yugis noticed. No matter how he thought about it, it was a situation that required someone's command. He decided he would do it. He decided to entrust it to the cavalry of the Royal Capital Defense Force who had come with him.
"Tell Lord Curier that I will handle the riverbank."
"This is a trap,"
the cavalry of the Royal Capital Defense Force said.
Yugis nodded. "It's fine, I've accounted for it."
Yugis was a lieutenant general of the Siddim army and an assistant to the commander-in-chief. Simultaneously, he oversaw the general operations of the Western Army. He was in a position where leading from the front was not viewed favorably. However, looking at the state before him, leaving this unattended would be the real problem.
"I will attach guards," the cavalry captain said with a displeased face.
"I see. —I am grateful."
With a neigh, Yugis galloped down to the riverbank. Dash and the guards followed behind.
If facing a great army, one only needs to organize that great army into vertical lines, stretch them out long, and strike the front and the flanks. A bottleneck is what can be used for that. Trap them in a narrow path and force them into a single line.
However, terrain corresponding to a bottleneck does not exist so conveniently. Therefore, Mozu had constructed a position to create a bottleneck. It was hard to call it perfect, but it wasn't a bad job.
The first strike was important. While it was regrettable that he couldn't rout the enemy here, the fact that they attacked the hill meant it was a success. This place would become a slaughterhouse. The enemy did not give up, and while being drawn in, they continued to send in the flesh of new recruits one after another.
With the arrival of Yugis Necrat, the situation changed slightly.
The enemy retreated and repositioned themselves in a slightly wider area.
Mozu was lucky. He meant the rain that had started falling. The water level of the river was rising, and the current was speeding up.
"Order the charge," Mozu commanded. "Drop the enemy into that muddy torrent. Also, bring the one-armed man to me. I do not care if he is alive or dead."
The order likely reached Hazab, the Southern commander on site, for a thunderous roar echoed. From atop the hill, large boulders were rolled down one after another.
These were rocks prepared by digging them out of the river. They were about waist-high and not numerous. The rocks bounced off the uneven terrain, gradually increasing speed before leaping into the enemy crowd.
The enemy showed the panic Mozu had expected. With arrows from the hill sealing the enemy's movements, the Kosa army infantry charged into the enemy, repelling the rain.
"The enemy rear has routed."
Soon after, the report arrived.
"And the cavalry?"
"They are pursuing."
Mozu mounted his horse and rode north along with the messenger who delivered the report.
Indeed, the very end of the enemy line was collapsing. It was truly only a part of the very end. It had not spread.
The defeated soldiers were scattered, swimming through the grasslands.
"Tell Hazab to be careful not to block their escape route," Mozu told the messenger. "When their backs are to the wall, the enemy becomes ferocious."
Mozu slowly turned his horse's head and returned to his original position.
Upon returning, he stared in astonishment.
The front of the enemy had become a mud-caked melee. The mud, turned into ink by the rain, stained the soldiers black, and humanoid things that didn't even seem human were slashing and grappling with each other.
The one pushing was his side. He was pushing, but even so, the number of soldiers was too many. There were many enemy soldiers, but there were also many of his own. When had this many soldiers descended the hill?
—He wasn't pushing.
The enemy was retreating effectively. His side was being lured out.
While he watched, the silhouettes of cavalry galloped down the hill amidst the spray of water. He saw one of them fly through the air. He seemed to have been showered with enemy arrows. The cavalry sank one after another into the haze created by the rain's spray. They were falling. The Kosa cavalry were becoming covered in mud.
Mozu searched for Hazab, steam rising from his drenched clothes.
The impression of this morning returned to his mind. On the morning of this day, Mozu had felt a sense of loneliness, as if he had been left behind by the entire world. It was contradictory to feel loneliness in the middle of this battlefield. However, every face he saw felt like someone he didn't know. He felt as if no face was looking at Mozu.
"Hazab! Hazab!"
"Mozu-sama!"
Turning around, it was a Kosa youth holding a signal flag.
"The southern end camp has been seized by the enemy!"
Mozu's mind did not react instantly.
"Where?"
It seemed to be the camp at the southern end of the hilly region.
"It was taken?"
"Yes. However, we can take it back shortly. Fewer than fifty enemy infantry."
Listening closely, it seemed they had abandoned the camp after being surprised by a small number of soldiers.
"Where did they enter from? How did they enter?" Mozu was stunned.
"I cannot say," the young messenger answered crisply. "Probably, one of the dispersed units broke through somewhere and circled to the rear."
That's it. He couldn't think of anything else. But broke through? Where? Was there a blank spot somewhere?
A blank spot. That might be it.
His side had been led to believe the enemy was a great army. They had no choice but to use a rough deployment. If they were approached in detail, naturally, there would be holes.
In short, it was a plan to sneak in stealthily.
While being beaten by the rain, Mozu regained his composure.
If they weren't a great army, he could deal with them.
"Listen, find Hazab and tell him," Mozu commanded. "Let the enemy attack the hill. Enter a defensive posture and lure the enemy. The enemy are strong soldiers."
Mozu should have returned to the command post in the center of the camp.
But before that, he thought he would go see the southern end. Mozu Wolf was a meticulous man. He wanted to see the small details himself and judge them himself. He possessed such a nature.
—I am, at most, a thousand-man commander.
Mozu had a certain pride. This was surely a joke. He prided himself on being a clever man. By observing one thing, he could read ten or twenty things behind it. He could predict the future. His strength was not the appearance of a general, but strictly the brain of a strategist. He had no choice but to lead his own army to victory using his intelligence as a strategist. That was his weapon. Rather than pretending to be a big shot, he could do proper work only by grasping the current situation with his own eyes.
The southern end camp was a small hill.
There, his infantry were swarming like ants. This too was too many. Were there not only fifty enemy soldiers? More than ten times as many infantry were swarming.
"What is the meaning of this!"
Mozu grabbed the field commander and shouted.
Hearing the story, it seemed the crossbows were effective. The enemy was utilizing stone bows. It seemed the roles were divided: those who turned the handle to draw the bow, those who nocked the arrows, and those who aimed and fired at the enemy.
One of the weaknesses of the stone bow is that it cannot be fired in rapid succession.
"However, the enemy is firing in rapid succession," the field commander said, half-sobbing. "They've created a system where stone bows ready for firing are delivered one after another to the feet of skilled shooters. On top of that, high-angle shots from longbows come occasionally. The infantry raise their shields over their heads. The enemy fires the crossbows at that exact moment."
"There are only fifty of them!"
"No. There are five hundred."
"Can you take it back?"
"It is already only a matter of time."
Just then, a battle cry rose from the southern end camp. His side had retaken the camp.
"As you can see," the field commander's face brightened. "There is no longer any problem."
"Then, move the soldiers to the center," Mozu said in a low voice.
"What are you saying!" The commander's voice became high-pitched. "As long as the infiltration route is unknown, the enemy will come again. We should assume as much. Rather, I would like you to provide more soldiers here!"
Mozu peered into the field commander's eyes and discerned that he seemed to be speaking in earnest.
Of the hill near the riverbank set as the center of the camp, the east side was the river, and the west side continued into the fields. An enemy attack came from that west side as well.
Mozu, half-losing his self-control, hurried west.
The west side had a wide rear, and the cavalry could maneuver sufficiently. He should be able to wipe out the enemy.
He was shocked when he arrived. Enemy arrows were stuck in the peak of the hill. They had already attacked up to the halfway point. Because this point had been seized, the path to the southern end must have been opened.
"Why! Where is the cavalry!"
Mozu grabbed the collar of a soldier who was half-ready to flee and shouted.
"T-the enemy's stone bows—" the soldier said.
Again, Mozu thought. How could that be?
Wishing he could stomp his feet if he weren't on horseback, Mozu released the soldier.
Looking down at the foot of the hill, enemy soldiers were lying hidden in the grass. They had crossbows leveled. There were twenty at most. A hundred or so Kosa cavalry approached and were showered with crossbow bolts. Immediately, four or five cavalry fell from their horses. Then, the remaining ninety-five turned back.
The enemy could not fire a second volley immediately. Just by riding through, they should have been able to support his side. And yet, they turned back.
Because he was looking down from above, the foolishness of it was clear to Mozu. But what if one were in that position? They probably couldn't see the enemy. To them, it must have seemed like a field where tiger-traps had been set. Thinking they couldn't approach carelessly, they intended to search for another entrance.
What was this? Mozu became absorbed in analysis, a bad habit of his.
First, the enemy was trying to take the initiative on the battlefield through the shock that the crossbow's accuracy gave his side—through that shock alone. Moreover, it was functioning. His side was being caught off guard. As for crossbows, if one only had the knowledge, the disguise would be stripped away. Even if it took some time, he should communicate the weaknesses of the crossbows.
—But is that all?
Something was very strange.
The enemy, for example, dispersed their soldiers even while pushing through the darkness of night. Why night? To prevent his side from maneuvering. They wanted to deploy under the cover of night's darkness. Furthermore, they went so far as to open the castle gates, forcing his side to turn their eyes backward.
Why did they want to spread their soldiers that much?
—To neutralize the cavalry.
In short, that was it. The enemy had concentrated their purpose on that. By scattering their own soldiers, they could reduce the damage from cavalry strikes. The enemy feared the danger of being crushed in a single blow. Of course, there was also the purpose of dragging his side out of the camp. They must have thought of spreading his side out to search for a breakthrough and circle to the rear.
However, his side huddled in the camp.
If things were bad, there was a possibility that Yugis Necrat had read the situation that far. That if his side scattered, the enemy would instead solidify in their camp.
They had not huddled in the camp. They had been maneuvered into doing so. They had been maneuvered into the Siddim way of fighting.
—Why couldn't I see through it?
Mozu regretted. They were Kosa people. It was the Kosa army. Were they not Kosa cavalry? What good is it if they don't maneuver? It is an organization that wins by moving. The cavalry in Mozu's army were few in number. However, that should have been manageable. Horses existed. It would have been enough to put Southern infantry on horses and search for and destroy the enemy's small units. Even if it took time, if done meticulously, the enemy would probably have lost the form of an army and naturally vanished.
Still, Mozu didn't understand. Why? Why had their maneuverability been sealed so easily?
"Mozu-sama!"
Turning around, it was Hazab. Despite steam rising from his head, his complexion was poor.
"They are breaking through. This hilly region is already at its limit!"
"Why? Don't tell me it's the stone bows?"
"The enemy will not retreat. Their morale is high, and their weapons are powerful. Especially the crossbows—they won't retreat."
Mozu could not blame Hazab any further, who had tears of frustration in his eyes.
"I understand. I will pull back the defense line. Move them to the southern hill. Don't cry, Hazab. We..."
He could not say, we will turn to the offensive.
Mozu felt a presence and looked south.
Beyond the white, hazy rain, the black, drenched city of Malfa towered. It looked like a sinister shadow, like a demon castle.
This was it. It was because of this castle. Because he had to confront this castle, Mozu had chosen to huddle in the camp. He needed to maintain the siege deployment.
It was said that Malfa was a military city planned by Siddim, who feared Great King Aframa, in preparation for another invasion. The enemy had been preparing and waiting for two hundred years. He had not lost to Yugis. Mozu had lost to history.
"Malfa, open all gates! Royal Capital Defense Force, sortie!"
Eventually, a messenger arrived and reported.
"A message from Huchi-sama, urgent reinforcements! Huchi's unit has had its rear taken by the Western Army!"
The Western Army had apparently already reached Huchi Bass.
Mozu looked at Hazab's face. He had a bleak expression.
He did not know what kind of face he himself was making.
'Codin! Codin! Codin!'
The occupation of the hills ended before sunset. The rain stopped, the weather changed completely, and a drenched sunset was reflected in the western sky. Voices praising General Codin Dorsey of the Royal Capital Defense Force welled up from the youths of the Western Army.
What decided the enemy's retreat was undoubtedly the sortie of the Royal Capital Defense Force.
"Even so, I reckon the young master deserves a bit of praise too,"
Dash said in a drawling voice.
Yugis let out a stifled laugh. "It's not my victory, nor is it General Dorsey's victory. It's Siddim's victory."
"Acting cool won't turn it into an achievement for ya."
"Don't be like that, Dash."
This was the victory of the Western youths. It was not Yugis's power. General Dorsey, who opened the castle gates with more exquisite timing than planned; Godly Curier, who gathered the crossbows; and himself, who devised the plan—they were all just parts.
The main body was the Western Army.
They were tenacious. They stuck it out without fleeing. Just thinking that made Yugis feel as if he might burst into tears. Just thinking that his own soldiers were strong made him feel as if he might scream. For the sake of Siddim. They were strong for the sake of Siddim. For the sake of Siddim, they endured. They did not flee.
Telling himself not to cry, Yugis held back his tears.
The dead were not few. Some had died for the sake of his plan. Tears were not permitted.
Rather, with a chilled countenance, Yugis looked down at the battlefield.
Below, the enemy's rear guard was engaged in combat with the Royal Capital Defense Force. Most of the enemy were fleeing toward Brazm, pursued by the Western Army. The left-behind rear guard was in a death struggle close to total annihilation.
Yugis heard later that a unit of enemy cavalry had managed to infiltrate Malfa city.
That was the enemy general, Mozu Wolf.
It was not that he had charged into the city seeking a place to die; Mozu could not forgive that the Great King's army could not leave a single scratch on Malfa city, on a city like this. It was something that must not be. If he retreated as he was, it would become a root of misfortune for the future.
With about twenty riders following him, Mozu could not help but smile.
"I'll show them! My target is the head of the King of Siddim!"
Bellowing that specifically in the Enagamo language, Mozu Wolf charged into Malfa.
The north was also within the sphere of stone civilization. The stone-built streets were nearly overflowing with soldiers wearing helmets and armored bodies.
Mozu spurred his horse forward two, three times, scattering the enemy soldiers. His fellow cavalry surrounded him, trying to protect him. Grabbed by their clothes or legs by enemy soldiers, the cavalry were dragged down from their horses.
"Mozu-sama! Good luck in battle!"
One cavalryman, struck by an arrow from an archer on the wall's walkway, smiled before he died.
"I'll be coming after you!"
Mozu was suddenly alone.
Still, he dodged enemy arrows, shook off infantry, and galloped his horse. The walls were complex even within the city, and since all the gates in the walls were closed, he could not move over a great range. Still, to create the established fact that Kosa had been allowed to infiltrate, Mozu rode around freely in all directions.
Look, even if it is but one soldier, this is Kosa. This is the Great King's soldier.
Mozu screamed things roughly like that. It is Geraha's army. It is our Geraha's army. Our Great King's will has reached your center.
He didn't feel it wasn't miserable.
Mozu hadn't known of Geraha's existence until he heard it from Tenge.
'That one will become the Great King. Father and Big Brothers are all blockheads and useless. But Mozu-nii, you understand, right?'
'Well, I wonder.'
Mozu had brushed off Tenge, who was enthusiastic alone. What a far-sighted enthusiasm it had been. Geraha was of the Wolf clan. He was our younger brother. He had wanted to be of help. He felt sorry for being a disappointing older brother. Mozu found that miserable.
Why couldn't he have done something like an older brother should?
He had wanted to cherish Geraha more.
He had wanted to go to Geraha's country together.
An arrow pierced his lung, and his horse was felled. Mozu Wolf pushed himself up and drew the barbarian blade from his waist. He believed that his own blood, the blood of a Kosa person, would soak into this city, leaving an eternal testament that this place had become a battlefield.