Chapter 50 - 5-1
Under a sky so blue it seemed to stain one's very breath, two men on horseback swayed in their saddles.
One was a man in his prime. Following behind him was a pale youth.
The older man occasionally cast a hawk-like gaze upon his surroundings.
It was a grassland as far as the eye could see. The undulations of the hills were low, and their bases were wide.
The older man was the master of this plain.
He was Kushitante, the chief of the Tawaru tribe.
He was completely bald and wore a beard streaked with white. He was a muscular man who, having passed fifty, was more spirited than ever.
The sharp gaze he cast across the plain was not out of caution for something. He was searching for prey. Grasshoppers that, startled by the horses' hooves, leaped toward the saddle. He would snatch a leaping grasshopper with a quick motion, tear off its legs, tear off its head, and discard them. He ate the chest and abdomen of the grasshopper, but this required care. First, he had to tear away the chest and abdomen. If there were parasites, they would hang and move like white threads. He would remove the parasites and eat the rest.
Eating grasshoppers reminded Kushitante of his boyhood. By returning to his origins in that way, he would then tackle current problems. Then, he could see what needed to be done.
He plucked a grass resembling rice and cleaned his teeth with the stem. He scrubbed his teeth until they bled, then threw the stem away.
"Kuboro," he spoke to the youth behind him. "My thoughts are settled."
"Is it finally time?"
"Yes. There is no longer time to agonize. Let us go."
Kushitante spurred his horse forward.
The Tawaru tribe's range of activity was a vast, vertically long territory bordering the west of the Kandasyata Plateau. In terms of size, it was more than twice that of Kandasyata.
Though not quite as much as the Kandasyata Plateau, the Tawaru plains were also good land.
While it likely included deserts, those could become seas that kept the Kosa people away, and above all, within the Tawaru activity area lay a group of city-states called the "Plains Nations."
Following the example of the horse-riding nomads of the plains, the Tawaru tribe also formed military alliances with cities.
The Plains Nations were the Tawaru's established turf, and they were responsible for public order. The Tawaru tribe managed this well. For example, there was the Ten Kings Council they were currently heading toward. Public order in the surrounding area was good enough that the kings of the city-states could be gathered in one place to hold a meeting safely.
Kushitante, the chief of the Tawaru tribe, had been granted the rank of Dragon King at this Ten Kings Council, and he attended the council with that qualification.
"I wish to save Gorium and Sadiin,"
Kushitante declared at the council meeting.
Gorium and Sadiin were cities located in the south, protected by the Tawaru.
Suddenly, Kosa had besieged them.
If they moved to rescue them, it would lead to a decisive battle with the Kosa army.
Kushitante thought nothing of the ten kings, regarding them as no more than insects.
In fact, the kings lined up were intimidated by the chief's thick, husky voice.
However, the vassals the kings had brought were different.
"If you direct your troops toward Gorium and Sadiin, I wonder who will protect the Plains Nations," said an elder who looked thoughtful. He was a high official of King Kimmel.
"Do you understand that you are violating the covenant?" the young Prime Minister Mozurik said. "We are supposed to always be the top priority, are we not?"
"In your father's time, such things did not happen," the minister of King Pardil added.
Kushitante had no need to raise his voice.
If the chief said he was going, the Tawaru would move.
He could simply return the rank of Dragon King, and in fact, Kushitante did exactly that.
The venue was a tent pitched before the gates of the Kingdom of Kalba. The Kingdom of Kalba, the center of the Plains Nations, was also a city enclosed in a square by high stone walls. The meeting place was set up on a small hill a short distance from the closed, giant gates.
Kushitante exited the tent.
The garrison troops of the various nations guarding the tent stood in formation, waiting without the slightest movement. It was a neat, beautiful horizontal line. There were cavalry on both flanks. The cavalry's armor was a glittering gold, without a single scratch. The wind fluttered the flags of the Ten Royal Houses.
On the other hand, the only one waiting for Kushitante was his nephew, Kuboro.
He took the reins from Kuboro and mounted his horse.
Coming with only two people was intended as a display of the Tawaru tribe's pride. In the days of Great King Aframa, when the Great King himself led the troops, who served as the vanguard? Who was entrusted with the support and reserves?
—It was us.
They had never failed to meet expectations. There was nothing to be ashamed of.
The ten kings exited the tent with their vassals. It seemed the kings intended to see him off, all lined up in a single horizontal row. The vassals were talking in a cluster. It was a bad habit of civil officials.
"Please wait, Dragon King," the young Prime Minister Mozurik called out. "Wait a moment."
Kushitante felt a profound sense of pity. Just a moment ago, he had renounced the rank of Dragon King and slammed the covenant between the nations and the Tawaru to the ground. If they wanted to stop him, they should have said so then, and if they didn't, making him wait was rude.
He looked up at the high stone walls of the Kingdom of Kalba. He thought that perhaps humans become fools when they live enclosed by walls.
Ignoring the high officials, Kushitante rode off with his nephew. He would head to the battlefield with these feet. The advance scouts had already reported the enemy's location. Kosa had divided its army into two. Of those, the ones who besieged Gorium and Sadiin had communication lines that were too far in the rear. Severing them would be easy, and they would likely retreat the moment they realized Kushitante had advanced his troops.
"I wonder what those people will do,"
his nephew Kuboro said the moment the horse broke into a trot.
"Those people?"
"The Ten Kings."
The reason the Plains Nations could remain assertive toward the Tawaru was that they provided armaments and other goods. Inside the walls of each city of the Plains Nations, countless workshops were packed tightly. There were many factories for ironware, pottery, woodenware, weapons, and armor.
—The people of the plains cannot even make a single piece of clothing.
If we weren't here, those barbarians would live naked.
That was how the Plains Nations thought.
They had the skill to be arrogant. Regarding armaments and armor, they produced high-quality goods on average and garnered praise from the surroundings.
Even so, he could not let them get carried away. He would sever the relationship once, make the nations think carefully, and force them to choose their ally anew. With whom would they partner to weather the storms of these plains? The answer would emerge naturally.
"The nations will have to steel themselves. Also, stop calling them 'those people.'"
"But, the spears and bows—?"
"The one from the north, what was it called?"
"Siddim."
"The one from Siddim, what was it called?"
"Necrat. Urgil Necrat."
"Send a messenger to that Necrat and arrange for steel. Have it transported to the south and processed by the skilled craftsmen of Koroi."
The plains and the north were adjacent, separated by wide forests and complex mountain ranges. Necrat was likely one of the kings of Siddim. It seemed he wanted to partner with the Tawaru to suppress Kosa. He had once offered high-quality iron and about ten horses. Gifts of this sort had been frequent lately. However, iron was rare.
"Actually, I've already made inquiries through traveling merchants," Kuboro said. "Though the reply is delayed."
"That Gil-something—"
"Urgil Necrat."
"And can we meet him?"
"If the chief says he will meet him. Since he is a person of the frontier, he will likely cross the mountains."
"Well done," Kushitante praised his nephew.
There was still distance to the camp of the hundred-rider company they were scheduled to join. They would arrive by sunset.
Tomorrow was battle. He wanted to get to bed early.
Early the next morning, Kushitante received the scout's report and advanced the main force. Before noon, they approached close enough to see the enemy's main force. It seemed to be as the scout's information suggested. A three-column vertical formation. The vanguard and the left and right wings were all light cavalry.
Hidden in their shadow, there seemed to be a large number of infantry.
—Why bring them?
Kushitante tilted his head. To attack southern cities, infantry were necessary. If that were the case, they should have been left behind to maintain the siege of the cities.
A war between horse-riding nomads is, no matter what, a clash between cavalry. The loser flees, and it ends. Bringing infantry meant—
—Do they intend to build a fortification? Here?
If so, their objective was that they wanted to protect this place and did not want it breached. It seemed they were serious about taking Gorium and Sadiin.
The meaning of Kosa attacking the southern cities was, in other words, that they wanted to scatter his forces. Thinking this, Kushitante did not scatter his main force; instead, he intended to defeat Kosa's diversionary units individually.
If the enemy was obsessed with capturing the cities, it was far too foolish.
He only had to isolate the besieging army and crush them.
He called the ten-household head, who was of squad leader rank and had gone out on reconnaissance.
"The infantry, who are they? Surely not from Koroi."
"No. They are likely people from the land of Mamukuri. I am told they have tattoos."
"Where is their camp?"
"Completely unknown."
"You, what is your name?"
"Kijimute."
"Kijimute, I would like to let you rest, but—"
"I don't need rest. My subordinates are begging me to go quickly."
"Well said. Investigate the rear of the enemy army. There is a base nearby. If there are reinforcements, crush it there and sever communication. Once you grasp the location, come to me."
Kijimute galloped away enthusiastically.
Kushitante further ordered the archers to aim only for the light cavalry. His plan was to treat the enemy infantry as a feast, surrounding and finishing them off at the end.
Soon, the enemy began to move.
"An oblique formation?" Kuboro said.
He agreed. There were variations in the density of the dust. An oblique formation involves lining up troops diagonally to bend the enemy troops diagonally as if interlocking. The main force can then pierce the gaps of the diagonally extended enemy troops or suppress the head and surround them. There was a rocky mountain to the right, and the enemy likely wanted to press them against it and grind them down.
However, as long as there were infantry, the dust was unreliable. Unlike horses, it is easy to order humans to walk as if kicking up sand.
Kushitante's policy was decided.
He would have the vanguard deal with the enemy's right wing, the unit believed to be the main force, to prevent the completion of the encirclement. He would make his own main force swing wide to the left to observe the enemy's full layout. He would set his support against the enemy's left wing. The reserves would follow the main force, staying alert for the opponent's traps.
After giving the necessary orders, Kushitante shouted to the soldiers following him.
"Show your valor to the sky, for the Great Bird God devours cowards!"
Tawaru's plain horses were not inferior to Kosa's horses. All of Tawaru's warhorses were castrated, so-called geldings. Kosa also castrated their warhorses. However, they were not as thorough as the Tawaru. Among Kosa's plateau horses, some stopped running as well once castrated.
In that regard, the geldings from the plains were obedient.
He charged toward the reins.
The enemy troops also came. The dust raised by the Kosa army towered high and thick like summer clouds.
The vanguard began suppression with bows. Bowstrings sang, and countless arrows flew, their feathers trembling. The arrows headed toward the enemy vanguard like a black bundle. They were light cavalry. The light cavalry moved to the left from Kushitante's perspective. They intended not to allow him to flank them.
Along with the movement of the enemy vanguard, the hidden infantry were revealed.
They lined up shields and thrust a vast number of spears through the gaps. The arrows of the enemy archers were raining down in front of the infantry, laying a barrage that was difficult to approach.
It might have been a crisis. If he moved left, he would clash with the enemy light cavalry, and the attrition of his main force would be great. Charging into the enemy main force's infantry was reckless. The right was wide open, but it was an obvious trap. If he advanced, he would be surrounded and pressed against the rocky mountain.
However, Kushitante had a premonition.
Something was immature. He had the impression of clumsy handling.
He ordered Kuboro.
"Lead the reserves and strike the left light cavalry. Drag them around."
Understood, and Kuboro turned his horse's head.
Kushitante chose the wide-open right. He charged into the dead end the enemy had created, and without slowing down, pivoted to the left. The ones forming the encirclement were the infantry. As he thought, it was an oblique formation. Once inside an oblique formation, gaps surprisingly become visible. Because the lines are arranged diagonally, seams inevitably appear.
He charged into those seams. Once mixed with the enemy, the arrows of the enemy archers rarely came. They feared hitting their own allies.
He pushed through the enemy infantry with his spear, pushing and pushing, and broke into the encirclement line.
Pusiteto's unit, leading the support, began to widen the hole Kushitante had opened.
When approached by horses, the infantry first tried to step aside. They intended to thrust their spears while dodging. Did they not know that the cavalry's spears could reach them? There was no need to thrust; if they missed, the spear shaft would be grabbed, and it would become troublesome. He just had to mow them down. Simply slapping the side of an infantryman's face with the spearhead could, surprisingly, knock them over. The soldiers of the encirclement were heavy infantry. Once knocked down, they could not easily stand up. Kushitante's followers would deliver the finishing blow. As he advanced, bathed in lukewarm blood splatter, he suddenly noticed.
The cavalry of the enemy main force were making their hooves thunder. They seemed to be rushing back and forth around the encirclement. Kushitante was startled. A strange man was leading them.
—Geraha Wolf!
He was a dark-skinned giant. A dirty face full of warts. Yet, he was somehow youthful. He was shouting something frantically. This man must be the general.
Among the Wolf clan of the Kutai division, there is a monster-like man named Geraha—.
He had heard the rumors.
That he was a deformed man of monstrous strength who could tear a person apart with his bare hands.
—How cute.
The man who seemed to be Geraha Wolf was flustered. Kushitante sneered. He was likely just a useless man with a slightly large body who could only make people obey him.
The cavalry of the enemy main force were, in short, being pushed out of their own encirclement. They could not participate in the battle. In that state, they were the same as dead soldiers. Geraha seemed to be panicking because of that.
On the other hand, Kushitante's main force also had not completely broken through the infantry's line. They were heavily armored infantry. They showed a movement of stepping backward, as if trying not to break their lateral coordination. The more he attacked, the further back they retreated. It was a ridiculous story; looking back, the rocky mountain was becoming distant.
A soldier's true purpose is to move forward, and they were not skilled enough to fight while retreating. Eventually, some appeared who turned their backs and ran, and the enemy infantry, infected by the air of defeat, began to flee all at once.
Chasing them on horseback and trampling them would be the finishing touch.
Kushitante searched for the figure of Geraha Wolf.
A suspicion had dawned that this development itself might be a trap.
As if slipping through the gap in that thought, Geraha Wolf led his cavalry and cut in right before Kushitante's eyes. He intended to obstruct Kushitante's pursuit and let the infantry escape. Even so, his maneuver was fast. It happened in an instant. In an instant, Geraha's battalion was facing Kushitante's army.
The monster of the Wolf clan had a brazen look, as if he wouldn't move for anything. It recalled the defensive lateral line of heavy cavalry, a tactic passed down from Kosa.
Unfortunately, the gathering of Tawaru's archers was delayed.
—How frightening.
War is frightening.
Kushitante gnashed his teeth.
And then this happened. Just a moment ago, he had thrown the enemy into chaos. He should have trampled the infantry right then. War is not decided by the number of enemy soldiers killed. But what is the point of not killing when you can?
Victory is to crush the enemy's will, intentions, and ambitions.
To make it so they cannot stand up.
If he had returned the Mukuri people as a mountain of corpses, Geraha Wolf would have lost trust. The people of Mamukuri would have doubted Geraha's ability.
There would be no recovery, or if there were, it would have been delayed. The enemy's intent to invade, or at least one corner of it, would have been thwarted.
However, there was the dark-skinned giant before his eyes.
Lifting his chin, he looked down on him with a sullen face.
—The Great General put his own body on the line to save us.
The Mukuri soldiers would interpret it that way, and they would spread it that way. Eventually, they would believe it.
Geraha would not lose trust. With this, he would recover.
The infantry who had fled would not remain infantry forever. Cavalry would pick up the infantry and let them escape on spare horses.
"I tell you all. Shoot that monster dead. The others are fine. Aim for him!"
Kushitante shouted in a thick voice.
—Heroes are dangerous.
One must not let heroes be born among the Kosa people.
The Tawaru tribe followed an old covenant. If a Great King of Kosa were born, the Tawaru must serve him. That covenant was the basis for the Tawaru's right to occupy the plains. It could not be ignored.
Whether Kushitante's order reached their ears or not, Geraha Wolf and the Kosa people turned their horses and showed their backs all at once, like leaves fluttering in the wind. They galloped away just like that. Their maneuverability alone was truly breathtakingly skilled.
In the end, it turned into a futile game of chase, and Kushitante gave up on Geraha Wolf. The Kosa people's riding was divine. The riders of the grasslands possessed a technique that should be called "back-shooting." They would let go of the reins, nock an arrow to a short bow, and shoot while turning around. These arrows hit often.
If one pursued the cavalry who began to lag behind the enemy cluster with desperate intensity, they would almost certainly be showered by those back-shooting arrows. If one pursued them obsessively out of sheer annoyance, there was a possibility of being lured to an unexpected place.
Rather than that, he should ensure the safety of Gorium and Sadiin.
He sent his deputy Pusiteto to Sadiin, and Kushitante headed for Gorium.
The soldiers who had besieged Gorium had already departed. They must have panicked upon receiving news of Geraha's defeat. There were several tents they couldn't take back, and white smoke rose from the remains of campfires.
Sadiin was likely in the same situation.
Kushitante, the chief of the Tawaru, saved the allied cities, and the Kosa invaders failed to capture the cities. Kushitante had undoubtedly won.
The governor of Gorium, dispatched from the Koroi Empire, came and told him to enter the city so they could welcome him. Kushitante refused. He did not want to let his soldiers' tension slip by letting them drink alcohol. Although it could be said he won—
—It was as good as a loss.
He could not dwell on bitter thoughts. It wasn't over yet. He ordered the establishment of a camp outside the city. The sun was about to set.
He had seen the monster of Kosa with his own eyes. This was a genuine harvest.
—What kind of man is he?
Kushitante thought while secluded in his tent.
During the pursuit, all the enemy cavalry moved their horses to positions protecting Geraha Wolf. They might be devoted to him. He seemed to be popular. However, he was not impressed by the oblique formation from the daytime.
—He wanted to finish us off for sure.
Or else, he wanted to pin them to this region. That desire likely went too far, resulting in a sophisticated formation.
The objective was clear. It was to hold Kushitante back so that another Kosa army could move freely. The main force was over there. Geraha Wolf's army was merely support. His younger brother Sanga was dealing with the other enemy army deployed in the north.
Sanga was an outstanding master of cavalry. He was not worried. He had told him not to force a decisive battle, but to tease the opponent and buy time.
Kushitante's camp spent the night while remaining alert for a night attack.
The next day, he sent scouts in all four directions. If the scout reports indicated no immediate threat, he intended to put the soldiers inside the walls of Gorium to let them rest.
However, early the next morning, as the east whitened, Kijimute's horse galloped in.
Kijimute leaped from his horse and, not metaphorically, tumbled into Kushitante's tent.
He wanted to smile at the scout's energetic appearance and wanted to show appreciation, but Kushitante did not break his stern expression.
"Was there a camp?"
"There was, but it's an empty shell. More importantly, chief," Kijimute lowered his voice. "I found him. Only eight ri from here. The monster of Wolf."
"Eight ri?"
He was hiding in the shadow of a rocky mountain along the Mamyut highway. He was not using fire, nor had he pitched a tent. There was no sign of movement, nor did it seem like a break.
"Is he there? Geraha Wolf?"
"He is. He is guarded by about fifty riders. It's a small number, but they must be elites."
"Why? Why so close?"
Kijimute shook his head.
—Did he sustain an injury?
He immediately ordered the tents to be folded and preparations for departure to be made. He sent a messenger to Pusiteto in Sadiin to communicate the rendezvous point. Geraha Wolf would be captured by Kushitante's unit alone.
Preparations for departure were completed in the blink of an eye.
Accompanied by his nephew Kuboro, he began walking toward the horses. The soldiers were all mounted and waiting. Suddenly, he noticed a shadow flickering in the morning sun. It seemed to be a messenger from the north.
Kushitante waited tensely for the messenger to approach. There was an ominous feeling.
An arrow was stuck in the messenger's back.
Feeling anger, he ran forward and helped the messenger dismount. Several soldiers began rushing around to provide treatment.
"I am grateful," the messenger said, sitting cross-legged on the ground.
"Can you speak?"
"I have come for that purpose. Chief, please listen. Sanga-sama has come to terms with the Kosa enemy army. Furthermore, it seems he held talks with the representatives of the Plains Nations. He is coming south by way of the west."
"Sanga? Come to terms? He made a peace treaty on his own?"
"That is correct."
"Did he betray us?"
"If so—!"
With a spray of blood, the messenger lurched forward. With eyes wide open and cheek pressed into the dirt, he had expired. Kushitante wiped the blood from his face. The blood dripped down his white-streaked beard.
His nephew Kuboro was posing with his crescent blade. The blade was wet and red. He had attacked.
Kushitante also drew his sword and slashed upward from Kuboro's white neck toward his chin. Blood sprayed up, scattering as fine as mist, creating a halo in the morning sun.
The life of Kuboro, who fell on his back, seemed to crawl across the ground as a flow of blood.
More than the fact that he had killed the nephew he cherished, or the fact that he had learned of his brother's foolish betrayal, he regretted the death of the nameless messenger. Kushitante's head was ice cold. Sanga had likely fallen for Kosa's machinations. He intended to pursue Kushitante by taking a wide detour. The Kosa main force would likely come by way of the east to intercept Kushitante, planning a pincer attack.
Now that he understood the enemy's design, Kushitante did not fear.
He appointed a new messenger and gave the next order to Pusiteto.
Kushitante turned to face the soldiers.
"My brother!" he said in a thick, husky voice.
The soldiers fell silent.
"He fell for the honeyed words of the hateful Kosa. My brother's cowardice shall be settled by us. First, we shall destroy the treachery of Kosa. From this moment, we capture the monster of Wolf!"
The soldiers sounded their bowstrings on horseback.
Ooh. Ooh.
Amidst the unending war cries, Kushitante began walking toward the front of the line.