Viscount's Rise

“Your Majesty, the enemy have started to form up.” A messenger came into Aled’s tent to inform him of the enemy movements.

“So it seems.” Aled was already wearing full armour, just waiting for the day’s main event to start. He had not been able to sleep well the previous night and had woken up early, and it would seem that that had ended up helping him as Casburland’s forces started gathering not long after dawn.

*sigh*

Aled was not looking forward to this battle to begin with, and if the information that he now had was true then he was going to enjoy it even less. As he made to leave his tent, Aled made a small prayer, something that he could not remember the last time he had done. ‘In the name of Elanitia, let the work out well.’ He was not a particularly pious man but these were not particularly normal circumstances that he found himself in. Any assistance, even divine assistance, would make Aled thankful.

“Let’s go see Duke Oakley, he is going to be the one taking the brunt of the assault after all.” Aled said as he signalled for his guards to follow him. ‘In both cases.’ Normally he would be happy about that. Normally. Aled knew full well that he was one of the most valuable targets on the field and leaving this field leading his own men rather than on the end of a pike was not an easy challenge.

“Hold!” The shout was heard from the centre of the Fiverian army before it got repeated by several knights or lords further away. The army soon came to a halt, more professionally than would have been expected from an army composed of three hostile factions. A few hundred meters in front of them, the same thing played out in the Casburlandian army, though it was clear that they were able to pull it off much quicker. The centralised authority of Casburland really showed its worth as the army looked like a well oiled machine, and not a collection of three distinctly disjointed parts.

“Let’s see who blinks first.” Aled muttered to himself as he sat on his horse overlooking the field from the left flank. By his side, also mounted, were his elite guards. Not only were they donned on expensive armour, their horses were too. They were small in number but were, with few exceptions, one of the strongest units on the field. The personal guard of King Marek was likely the only unit that would match up. But barely more than 20 men would not be anywhere near enough to turn the tides of battle. That would be a futile effort.

If it was a battle between any other nations, they would have sent out knights as glorified messengers to convince the other side to back down or surrender. But this custom had long been abandoned between Fiveria and Casburland. If either one tried, they would lose a knight for free to enemy archers. Instead they just engaged in a staring contest until one side lost patience and started the battle.

And it appeared that it was King Marek who was more impatient to start, ordering his army to slowly march forward in the same formation. Not that Aled wasn’t impatient but it was Duke Oakley in command of this battle, and he was not about to try to take over command of the combined Fiverian army now. Especially not when he knew that there was more to come.

“Stand your ground!” The shout could faintly be heard from the centre, Duke Oakley’s voice was a distinct one and could be heard from a great distance if he wanted to be heard. It was a helpful trait to have when leading an army. Aled repeated the command to his own men. If Duke Oakley was not going to be moving with him, there was no way that he was going to strike out on his own. He did not have a death wish just yet.

“He wants to fire with the crossbows first?” Aled asked nobody in particular. It was an odd decision to say the least, the archers could likely have already gone through one or two volleys at this point. Not to mention that the Duke had not even sent anyone to request that the King move his cavalry to a more advantageous position. Even if they were never truly going to send the king himself into attack, the threat of a charge by heavy cavalry was a potent one.

“Fire at will.” Aled had had enough of waiting, ordering his own archers to start shooting. And by the looks of it, Duke Burn had the same idea. With arrows raining down on them from the flanks of the Fiverian army, the marching archers of Casburland stopped their march as they started to return fire. The infantry of Casburland continued marching with their shields raised towards the sky, while their cavalry stayed back to protect the archers from any opposing cavalry charges.

“Fire!” After what felt like an eternity, another order came from the centre. And no sooner than it had been given, bolts were sent flying at the centre of the opposing army in a near constant stream. It was evident that the order of fire was something that the Duke had trained him men in. There was no other way to get 4000 men to be firing at a constant rate. Aled and Duke Burn had not put so much effort into training their archers, nor had their subjects. It was just not a worthwhile investment, it was already expensive as it was to train archers to be somewhat accurate.

“He was not wrong, there is some serious potential to the crossbow.” Aled gaped, his thoughts almost showing on his face. The crossbow fire had nearly completely halted any forward movement of the enemy’s centre, forcing their flanks to slow down to not get too far ahead of the centre. This would be the difference of several volleys from the flanks before either side got within melee distance.

“Do you think this will make that old donkey break?” Aled asked one of his knights who had fought beside him on many battlefields before. It would be a nice outcome if the enemy would retreat, it would mean that they could turn the army around and confront Duke Ryder, or at least force him to pretend that he was coming to reinforce them. At best they would remove him as a future problem, at worst things would go back to the status quo.

“I do not think that we have tested the donkey’s tenacity enough for that, your grace.” The knight responded. It was an internal joke among the royal knights of Fiveria to call King Marek a donkey because of how stubbornly he would fight a battle. If he did not have competent advisors, they were sure that he would be more than happy to fight to the bitter end.

“No such luck then.” Aled would normally have meant it as a joke but this time it was a hope against hope that Marek would retreat. He had other pressing concerns to think about and was making sure to keep an eye over his shoulder, in case he saw Duke Ryder’s men appearing in the distance.

Darkwood

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