Chapter 253 - Episode 246: The Pride of the Southern Nobles ①
The southeastern region of the Kingdom of Lordberg is the largest in terms of both population and economic scale among the four regions, excluding the central part of the kingdom.
Inevitably, the noble factions of the southeast became the most powerful among the four regional factions, and their leader, Marquis Bittenfeld, boasted the greatest authority among the regional lords.
The population of the Marquis's territory reached 100,000, and the population of the capital, Grutzreich, approached 50,000. Excluding the royal capital, it could be called the largest city in the country. However, even the great metropolis of Grutzreich had now been transformed into a battlefield, facing the invasion forces of the Republic of Betumia.
"Your Excellency Bittenfeld, I have a report. The Betumian forces are showing movement again; it is believed they will launch an attack."
"Hmph, again? They never learn."
Upon receiving the report from a personal Baronet to whom he entrusted the detailed practicalities of defense command, Marquis Bittenfeld muttered with a snort and left his office while putting on his helmet. The Baronet followed behind him.
"We shall be able to hold them off this time as well, yes?"
"Of course. We shall surely repel the enemy."
When the Marquis spoke, the Baronet answered forcefully.
"Then it is well. I shall watch your fighting from the tower."
As a remnant of an era of war, the residence of the House of Bittenfeld took the form of a manor-castle aimed at balancing defensive power and habitability. Within the manor was a tower for surveying the surroundings, and the Marquis headed there.
Regardless of the strategic aspect, in terms of tactics, he was far from being a great general. Therefore, frontline command should be left to subordinates who specialized in military affairs. The Marquis was well aware of his own capabilities.
Although Marquis Bittenfeld was tall, his body was thin, and he had a nervous-looking face. Due to his appearance, he was often underestimated by those meeting him for the first time, but his interior was, in one sense, cold-blooded, and in another, ferocious. Because of such a personality, he was sometimes compared to a snake.
When he received news of the invasion by Betumia this time, Marquis Bittenfeld dealt with it calmly and boldly.
As a result of urban expansion, the capital Grutzreich had become a fortified city with double walls. Inside the inner wall were the Bittenfeld manor, the houses of long-time residents, and public facilities; the area between the inner and outer walls was the district where the commoners lived.
This time, Marquis Bittenfeld judged that Grutzreich as a whole was too wide to defend completely, and he cut off everything outside the inner wall... approximately two-thirds of the city area.
First, he forcibly requisitioned food—which was already insufficient—from the commoners living outside the inner wall, scattering money in exchange, and proclaimed that they should evacuate as the Betumian invasion would soon reach the city.
Furthermore, for the long-time residents living inside the inner wall, he recommended that the women evacuate as much as possible, and recruited volunteers from among the men to serve as military strength. He gathered all the territorial army in the capital and shut himself inside the inner wall with a total force of approximately 5,000.
Moreover, to prevent the Republic of Betumia's army from utilizing the area outside the inner wall, he even employed the drastic measure of burning down the city districts, taking advantage of the abundance of wooden houses.
By narrowing the defense range and intentionally limiting the troop strength, he achieved a solid defense. By forcibly collecting food from the people, he also accomplished stockpiling until the next early spring. Marquis Bittenfeld had decided and carried out these things with ease.
"Father, is the enemy attacking again?"
Waiting for Marquis Bittenfeld upon his arrival at the top of the tower was his thirteen-year-old heir, who had insisted on remaining as the next lord despite being encouraged to escape the territory. Though his body had not yet finished growing, he was properly clad in armor.
"Yes. But it is a futile effort. Our army shall once again brilliantly repel the enemy."
To his son's question, the Marquis answered in a voice that showed not a hint of agitation.
More than a month ago, the last 'Far-Talk' connected from the royal capital had delivered the direct words of Oscar Lordberg III: "Wait, for I shall certainly send reinforcements by the end of winter."
The Bittenfeld family had sworn loyalty to the royal family for generations as high-ranking regional officials. The current Marquis Bittenfeld, of course, followed suit. He did not doubt for a moment that reinforcements would come.
That was precisely why the Marquis intended to shut himself inside the inner wall of this capital and hold out until the end of winter. For that purpose, he had even burned a wide area outside the inner wall.
The various nobles of the Kingdom of Lordberg, inferior in both armament and troop strength, could not match the Republic of Betumia in open field battles, but if it was a siege while shut inside a fortified city or fortress, they could fight reasonably well. Grutzreich was one of the defensive bases still intact that proved this fact.
"...It has begun."
The inner wall of the capital, which had now become the absolute line of defense, suddenly became noisy, and arrows could be seen flying from the top of the tower. Seeing this, Marquis Bittenfeld muttered without any agitation, but the heir beside him showed a slightly tense expression.
It was not only arrows that flew. Occasionally, attack magic such as fireballs and ice bolts could be seen flying. Both from the inside of the wall and from the outside.
"Hmph, the enemy has grown impatient now that winter has arrived. They are more desperate than at the beginning."
"W-will the gates hold...?"
"It is fine. We have even dug a moat. Besides, illnesses have appeared among the enemy soldiers. It will not fall so easily."
The enemy forces surrounding Grutzreich numbered approximately 15,000. Although the defenders had the advantage, it was a difference in strength that would normally cause anxiety.
However, Marquis Bittenfeld had taken every possible measure. He created a moat around the gates alone so that a large number of enemies could not attack the gates at once, and he unsparingly deployed weapons such as Crossbows and Ballistas that he had ordered last year. Regarding the Crossbows, he was currently having them replicated inside the inner wall.
To spread disease within the enemy camp, he poured excrement, and even the blood and bodily fluids of decayed corpses, onto the enemy soldiers climbing the city walls. He had beastman slaves perform the task of squeezing blood and fluids, and in some cases, he even threw slaves who had contracted diseases into the enemy ranks while still alive.
He had already given up on clean ways of fighting. This was a battle to show the pride of the southeastern nobles. He had to do it without choosing his means. That was how Marquis Bittenfeld thought.
"...Hm?"
Marquis Bittenfeld, who had been intently watching the front line, felt a sense of incongruity. The Republic of Betumia's army had begun to retreat.
Even if today's offensive was not intended to seriously take Grutzreich but rather to exhaust them, this retreat was too early. It was strange.
"Father, cavalry units from the west! Are they allies?"
Hearing his son's words, he shifted his gaze to the west of the battlefield—to the front right from the perspective of Marquis Bittenfeld and his son—and indeed, a cavalry unit was approaching from that direction.
Looking at the armor they wore, they were clearly not the Republic of Betumia's army. Receiving the approach of a new force, the Betumian attack units were likely trying to reorganize their formation for the time being.
"That is... the First Corps of the Royal Army!"
Seeing the flags hoisted within the cavalry unit, the Marquis let out a voice of surprise, as expected.
The First Corps, the most elite within the Royal Army and which could be called the strongest in the country. They had participated in the war with the Pallas Empire last year and remained on border defense duty, but since the Betumian invasion began, they had transitioned to an interception battle in the southeast of the kingdom, and their whereabouts had been unknown.
Rumors of their total annihilation had been whispered, but it seemed they were still intact.
The First Corps was known for its distorted composition specialized for attack, with half of its strength being cavalry. Those approaching the Betumian forces surrounding Grutzreich were all cavalry.
Judging by the direction of the charge, it seemed they were attempting to break through the enemy and merge with them.
"A messenger to the gate! Have them prepare to welcome that cavalry unit! Prepare to open the gates!"
When Marquis Bittenfeld turned around and shouted instructions, the guard waiting atop the tower saluted and ran off to convey the order.
Having seen that, the Marquis turned back toward the battlefield.
The First Corps' cavalry unit took a dense formation and pushed forward in a shape like the tip of a spear. However, the Republic of Betumia's army was not without measures. An elite infantry unit, likely deployed to protect the flanks, formed a line and created a forest of spears in front of the First Corps.
Then, the First Corps changed course toward the front left. Hundreds of cavalry moved in perfect unison, undulating like a single living creature to deviate from the forest of spears and sharply turn toward the Betumian soldiers who had not yet formed their lines. It was an extraordinary level of training.
"...Hoh."
"Oh, amazing!"
At the First Corps moving with such tremendous coordination, Marquis Bittenfeld let out a small sound, and his heir showed a look of excitement.
The Betumian soldiers who were faltering were likely low-skill conscripts or volunteers. Receiving the charge of the First Corps, they were trampled without any means of resistance.
"Ah!"
Then, the heir watching the battlefield cried out. From around the center of the Betumian forces, a large fireball flew toward the First Corps. No matter how much of a charging cavalry unit they were, if they took such a thing head-on, there was a possibility their momentum would stop.
However, the fireball did not land. It was shot down by the wind magic 'Wind Blade' launched from the front of the First Corps' formation, scattering explosive flames in the air.
"Whoa..."
"...Divine skill, truly."
Beside the heir whose eyes were sparkling at the sight, Marquis Bittenfeld muttered in a half-exasperated voice. Launching magic while galloping at full speed on a horse and intercepting another high-speed flying magic was not something an ordinary person could do. It was almost in the realm of acrobatics.
Perhaps this shocking development was the deciding factor, as the Betumian attack units became completely cowardly and retreated. The First Corps broke through the enemy remnants without difficulty, arrived at the inner gate of Grutzreich, and made a grand entrance.
Surviving allies had merged with them, and furthermore, they had repelled the enemy's offensive with a daring charge. Marquis Bittenfeld descended the tower, mounted his horse, left the manor, and welcomed them as the commander.
The one who came to the Marquis as the representative was, as expected, the Corps Commander of the First Corps.
"I am Baron Georg Karlgrain, Commander of the Royal Army's First Corps. Excellency Bittenfeld, I thank you for welcoming us into Grutzreich."
Baron Karlgrain was currently around 40 years old, a large man cloaked in the pressure of a ferocious beast. In addition to his martial arts skill, said to be among the top five in the kingdom, he was known as a highly skilled wind mage. Despite originating as the third son of a mid-level civil servant family, he was a powerhouse who had climbed to the position of First Corps Commander through his overwhelming ability.
While the previous First Corps Commander, Count Burkhard, was a strategic general type, this Baron was clearly a warrior.
"I, too, thank you for scattering the enemy. It is heartening that the First Corps has joined us. The soldiers will be pleased... What is your number? It seems you are only cavalry."
"To utilize the mobility of the cavalry units, the infantry units have been hidden in the forests in small numbers to engage in guerrilla warfare, acting completely separately. Our number is about 400 riders... though it likely decreased a bit more with the previous charge."
Hearing this, Marquis Bittenfeld was inwardly impressed. To have maintained nearly eighty percent of their cavalry strength while fighting for over a month in the southeastern kingdom, where Betumia's domain had expanded considerably. As expected of the kingdom's most elite.
"I see. You must be tired from fighting for so long. First, I want you to rest comfortably... His Majesty the King promised that he would certainly send reinforcements to this Grutzreich by the end of winter. Let us fight together until then."
"Yes. For the defense of Grutzreich, we of the First Corps swear to fight valiantly, risking our lives!"
Allies who could not be more reliable had joined. With this, the hope of holding out until the end of winter was more than sufficient.
The southern part of the kingdom could still fight. Marquis Bittenfeld was convinced of this.