"Cavalry and a separate detachment, along with a group dressed in shabby cloaks."
Jaxen faithfully followed Enkrid's orders.
Upon observing the positions of the forces in the back, he pinpointed exactly where they were located on the military map.
It was neatly and clearly marked, almost like the work of an artist.
In other words, it was both visually pleasing and easy to understand.
Enkrid had just muttered his thoughts based on Jaxen's observations.
The cavalry in the rear, a fairly large detachment, and lastly, the five cloaked figures.
The fact that Jaxen only spotted five people among the detachment meant they weren't ordinary individuals.
His gut feeling and intuition told him as much.
Purely a hunch, but Jaxen was confident, and Enkrid didn't dismiss it.
"What do you think?" Enkrid asked, folding his arms, waiting for Jaxen's response.
Jaxen was brushing the dust off his armor.
He casually knocked the dust off, watching it scatter into the air before settling on the ground.
It was still hot. The season for cool weather was far off, but Jaxen wasn't sweating profusely.
Was he just taking it easy, or was this truly an easy situation? Enkrid wondered as he waited for the reply.
"I think they are sorcerers."
Five sorcerers.
Martai had prepared quite a force.
What would be the best move here? Enkrid didn't know. He pressed on Jaxen.
"Then what do you think we should do next?"
He asked out of genuine uncertainty, though his tone showed confidence. When in doubt, just push your subordinates, as he had learned.
"Do you think we'll lose if we fight them?"
The ever-optimistic "Big Eyes" asked instead.
Enkrid analyzed the enemy's strength, what he had learned from them, and the strength of his own troops.
He didn't think they would lose.
After all, they hadn't even shown their full power to the enemy, and there had been no need for theatrics.
Audin hadn't really fought yet, and Enkrid hadn't tried to change minor details either.
"It's a plan designed from the start for a full-scale battle. Fighting in the city with the walls would cause irreparable damage."
Kraeus's eyes gleamed as he said this. Enkrid understood it too and moved accordingly. The decision was the battalion commander's, and calling for an all-out battle was just their opinion.
Externally, it would seem like they were forced to open the city gates and face the enemy directly.
"I'm going to report," Enkrid said quickly as he walked toward the command tent to speak with Marcus.
"This should be fun. My dear fiancée."
The fairy commander, who had overheard, carelessly addressed him with a nickname. Strangely, no one corrected her .
Everyone was so used to it by now, they either didn't notice or simply ignored it.
Even the first company commander and other leaders were used to it, and even the brigade commander's aide didn't mind.
The fact that the scribe had written it down seemed less important with all that was going on.
"Let's control the separate detachment in the rear," said the commander of the border defense. He was the first to take initiative.
Marcus, of course, was already smiling and issued his orders.
"Open the gates."
As Enkrid watched Marcus give the order, an automatic question came to mind.
From Enkrid's perspective, it was a question that was far too obvious.
No matter how much faith he had in his forces, wasn't this a bit too much?
"Normally, this would be considered a suicide mission, wouldn't it?"
The power gap was clear. Charging into battle against such an enemy in a chaotic fight was madness. In strategic and tactical terms, any commander who chose this path would be called a fool.
Marcus simply stared at Enkrid without responding.
Then, he asked:
"Is that what you think?"
Instead of answering, Enkrid shook his head.
"That's not the case."
Why wouldn't it be?
Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen.
Even though the enemy had more numbers, Enkrid wasn't afraid.
Fighting on a battlefield where the numbers are clear is actually more comfortable than being dragged into urban combat.
Well, urban warfare wouldn't necessarily be inconvenient, either.
Most importantly...
'I don't think we'll lose.'
That thought was the first to cross his mind.
Enkrid knew how to compare forces and read the flow of battle. It was only natural.
If he hadn't been able to do that, he wouldn't have survived this long.
"I've revealed my name and told them to leave, yet they remain. Now, I think it's time to show them what we're capable of."
Marcus said with a gentle smile. Enkrid was well aware that Marcus frequently mentioned the time he had revealed his name, and it seemed to have left quite an impression.
Enkrid nodded in acknowledgment.
"I'll lead the charge."
It was the place he had always dreamed of—at the front of the battlefield.
Now, he could stand there.
No one would stop Enkrid.
With sword in hand, Enkrid stepped forward at the front of the open city gates.
Though his troops might have felt uneasy...
"The Madmen are going out first, huh?"
"Then it'll be fine."
No one showed any signs of anxiety. They hadn't seen it properly, which is why they acted so boldly.
If the enemy had encountered them on the battlefield, simply having a "Madmen" unit would have made them change their strategy.
However, Martai's forces remained calm. Their reaction was one of disbelief—almost like mocking them with their own antics.
This was all due to Marcus's clever deception.
At least Krais saw it as a political victory.
Or rather, a victory through trickery.
Spreading exaggerated or minimized stories about their forces, especially the crazed unit, had been effective.
Ultimately, the result mattered, whether it was through politics or trickery.
"Why wasn't this a full-scale battle from the start? I almost died from waiting."
Rem, stepping forward, asked. Krais mentally retraced his reasoning.
Destroying siege weapons had been unexpected, but the reason for targeting the supply lines and disrupting the enemy was clear.
Why?
'Because we need to end it all in one blow.'
The longer the fight dragged on, the more disadvantageous it would be for the smaller side.
Moreover, the enemy had the support of nearby nobles, while they had set the Black Blade ablaze.
Who knows what kind of trick the Black Blade might try next? Recently, they had also dealt with the Cultist's Holy Sect, after all.
They had systematically struck at the faces of their enemies.
Thus, there was no benefit in prolonging the battle. The longer the fight, the more weaknesses would appear.
Krais had always planned for this.
One fight, to end everything.
For that to work, the enemy's focus had to be entirely on them. They needed to be provoked, angry, and willing to face them head-on.
A strategy that was almost like psychological warfare.
"Just because."
Krais didn't bother explaining further to Rem. Enkrid would understand with just a few words, but explaining it to Rem would make it too long. Sometimes, it was better to keep some things unsaid.
'That's me.'
Krais muttered to himself.
More than anything, Rem knowing wouldn't change anything.
"Damn it."
Rem chuckled and stepped forward. Even though he'd figured out why Krais was keeping quiet, he wasn't annoyed. What mattered now was the time to swing the axe.
Krais trusted his troops. He believed their overwhelming strength would make a significant impact.
'Right?'
Still, a trace of anxiety crept in. It couldn't be helped. It was just his nature.
Marcus felt the same way.
He too was armed and stepping forward as part of the infantry. As a commander, he had his guards and stayed in the rear, but he was still out there with the soldiers.
Marcus looked at the battlefield through the eyes of a commander.
Enkrid's response at the front would determine a lot in this fight.
It was a fact that hit both his mind and his instincts.
'It's a bit dizzying.'
But what else could he do? This was the best option.
"I'm nervous."
Marcus was taken aback, thinking his adjutant had somehow read his thoughts.
But he didn't show it on the outside. Instead, he answered with nonchalance, trying to appear at ease.
"Is that so?"
"Do you think we'll be okay?"
"Of course."
He replied confidently, as a commander should, maintaining the appearance of certainty.
In Marcus's line of sight, the enemy's main force was approaching, assembling in formation.
"Move forward!"
At the leader's shout, the front-line troops began to move, stepping forward in perfect sync.
"Hah!"
Their battle cry rang out, and the air reverberated with it. Dust was kicked up as if to push towards them.
The military discipline was palpable. The anxiety of the soldiers was cutting through the air, stirred by the battle-ready intensity of the disciplined troops.
That wasn't to say their own guards were incompetent.
Their soldiers had fought in the mountains, in the water, against beasts and Aspen, surviving as battle-hardened veterans.
Marcus didn't need to step in.
"Charge!"
It was the 3rd Company Commander. Was it his loud voice that earned him the position? Perhaps not, but his booming command seemed to reach every soldier.
"Forward!"
With that sharp command, the main force of their army took a step forward.
Thud.
"Hah!"
The same method was used to raise their battle spirit in sync. Meanwhile, Enkrid's Madmen unit was pushing forward as well.
The two armies were about to meet in a clash.
At that moment, a disturbance arose in the enemy's front lines.
More accurately, something was charging toward the space between the two armies, where they had been facing off.
It was a surprising move, almost like a work of art in military tactics.
While both sides were eyeing each other, an unexpected strike was made.
Of course, Enkrid and his group were also using this moment of standoff to push forward.
Thud, thud, thud!
The ground began to shake. The vibrations were so strong it seemed like the earth itself was trembling. From the source of the sound, riders could be seen charging forward.
It was the cavalry, their horses clad in metal plating, the sound of hooves pounding the earth.
The enemy's lances were the first to be seen.
Thud, thud, thud!
The sound of galloping horses reached the ears of the allies. Marcus heard it, and so did Enkrid and his men.
If the cavalry charged straight into the main force, the damage would be devastating, and they would be at a disadvantage from the start.
At the head of the cavalry was the commander, a figure without a banner, leading the charge.
Marcus had been aware of the enemy's cavalry and had been sending scouts to monitor them.
But then, cavalry appeared from the opposite side.
That's right, those were the same forces Enkrid's "madman" unit had reported on in the strategy map.
The enemies had been hiding one of their ace cards.
That hidden dagger was now charging directly at the main force, with the "madman" unit standing in the way.
The hidden dagger was now charging directly at the main force, with the "madman" unit standing in the way.
"They're going to get crushed!"
The adjutant shouted.
Marcus thought to himself that this young officer always spoke out of turn. Of course, Marcus had been thinking the same thing.
As a commander, he knew not to let any sense of doubt spread among his troops.
Thud, thud, thud!
The speed of the cavalry was terrifying. Against these charging riders, infantry would be like dry twigs—breakable and easily crushed if they collided.
Marcus trusted Enkrid. He believed in the power of his unit.
But against cavalry? Was it really okay to face an opponent charging with full intent?
It was an unexpected blow.
The Martai bastards, pulling out their secret weapon from the very start.
It had caught them off guard.
The commander of the Bentria Baron's forces had decided to lead the charge himself. Greg had objected, but there was no room for such defiance.
"Breaking the enemy's morale and shattering their formation from the outset is the foundation of warfare."
This wasn't a strategy for city militias; it was the strategy of a noble leading a cavalry unit.
It was different from the strategy of a provincial infantry commander.
Greg had to admit it.
What that commander said was more efficient, more effective, and more deadly.
And so, the Bentria Baron's commander unleashed his cavalry.
Fifty elite riders.
They weren't specialized for direct charge tactics like heavy cavalry, but they were still cavalry.
Usually, they employed strategies to flank the enemy's sides, but today, their opponent was infantry.
Charging straight at them would give the cavalry the advantage. It was always that way—cavalry vs. infantry. The cavalry would counter the pikes with their own lances and infantry, making the fight turn in their favor.
"We're going to wipe out those arrogant Border Guard peasants. Anyone have any objections?"
At the commander's order, the fifty cavalrymen shouted in unison.
"No objections!"
"Let's go!"
With a swift motion, they prepared for the charge. Was it difficult?
No.
The horses were ready, and as the cavalry dashed forward, the commander thought to himself.
"Bastard."
When had it been? When he was deployed to a frontier village?
"Enkrid's walls? What a joke."
That was when he made up his mind. If he ever met that arrogant fool, he'd crush him. That was his resolve.
Originally, he had planned only to silence the fool with a sharp reprimand, but now, it seemed like he might just end the fool's life altogether.
The cavalry wore light armor, and the riders avoided heavy weapons. They favored glaives. A unit known for their expertise with long spears, they would wield their weapons with precision.
Their tactic was to hook the spear handle to the side of the saddle, sweeping past enemy formations while charging. The speed of the cavalry combined with their sharp weapons made them deadly.
That was their strength. Charging forward, cutting down anything in their path.
The ten or so infantrymen in the middle of the line were just an appetizer.
Their true goal was the enemy's main force.
They were planning to cut through the frontlines swiftly and decisively.
The commander was caught up in excitement. The exhilaration surged within him. His side had the advantage. They were mounted, and their enemies were mere foot soldiers.
How could he not be thrilled when victory was practically guaranteed?
His blood boiled, his heart raced, and the commander shouted.
"The walls? What a joke!"
It was a cry from deep within his soul.

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