Saviour of the Crown, page 30
“And to whom will these shamans report?”
“To me, and I, in turn, will report to the general. I should also point out that we’ll have a number of elemental mages we can utilize, giving us yet another advantage.”
“But the Halvarians have those, too, don’t they?”
“They do, but they tend to be used sparingly, most often staying close to their generals. Whereas we’ll place ours in amongst our warriors, where they can be more effective.”
“I know this is a lot to absorb,” added Beverly, “and you don’t have much time to get used to these ideas, but I promise you, they will be of great benefit.”
“If I may make a suggestion?” said King Dagmar.
“By all means.”
“Might Andover’s cavalry reserve accompany Duke Fernando’s? My men might not be as heavily armoured, but they’d still be of benefit to Erlingen.”
“An excellent idea,” said Beverly. “I shall amend my orders to that effect. Any other questions or suggestions?” She waited, but no one spoke up. “I must stress to all of you the importance of using the shamans to keep in touch. Should you encounter anything in the way of enemy troops, no matter how insignificant you deem them to be, you must pass it on to me. At this point, I’d like everyone to report to their respective armies. We shall march at first light.”
“Where do you want Shaluhk and I for the march?” asked Natalia.
“You can join my group, but I’d like your shamans to be available tonight if possible. We’ll need to make introductions.”
“I shall see to it at once.”
The room began to empty, and then Aldwin appeared at Beverly’s side. “You were magnificent. Gerald would be proud.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re my husband.”
“No. I say it because it’s true. You were the very model of calm decisiveness. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’d done this dozens of times.”
“It didn’t feel like it to me.”
“Why? You’ve been a general for some time.”
“I have, and I’ve even led the Army of Merceria, but this… this feels different.”
“Different, how?” asked Aldwin.
“More monumental. Does that make sense?”
“In a manner of speaking, it is. After all, it’s not only one Petty Kingdom that needs a victory—it’s all of them.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier.”
“You must do what the marshal does and trust in those under your command.”
“I wish I could,” said Beverly, “but I know all the Mercerian commanders on a first-name basis. I can’t say the same here.”
“There’s still time, and if I know you, you’ll have that rectified before we reach Torburg.”
* * *
They crossed the border two days later, entering the village of Lieswel, to find out that a messenger from the Duke of Erlingen was waiting. He was immediately brought to Beverly, who was busy watering Lightning.
He dropped to one knee and held out a scroll case. “Message for you, General.” Aldwin took the scroll, removed its contents, and passed them to his wife who read it over.
“Bad news?” he asked.
“It appears a new threat has emerged.”
“Where?”
“A Holy Army has seized Galmund and is marching on the capital.”
“Galmund? That’s southeast of Torburg, if I recall.”
“I’m surprised you remember. I didn’t think you paid attention to such things.”
He chuckled. “I’m a smith. I pay attention to every little detail. I just like to maintain an air of mystery. Any indication of how large this Holy Army might be?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“Your pardon, General,” said the messenger, “but Temple Commander Marlena suspects there may be as many as one thousand.” He noted their stares. “The duke chose her to replace you as the leader of his army.”
“A good choice. Might you know how she came to this estimate?”
“She revealed that the Holy Army had set upon her own order some years ago, and it was unable to stop the Five Hundred. Fearing that the Temple General might see fit to interfere, they’d likely try to field superior numbers to prevent a similar outcome.”
“Have you rested?”
“I have, General. I was just getting ready to ride into Andover when the Army of the North arrived. Shall I return to Torburg with a reply?”
“Yes. Tell the Temple Commander we will march with all haste, and she is to do all she can to delay the advance of the Halvarian legions.”
“Yes, General.” He rose, gave a bow, then rushed back to his horse.
“It appears things are moving quickly,” said Aldwin.
“Indeed.”
He smiled. “You sound just like your father.”
“I shall take that as a very high compliment.”
“As you should. Shall I fetch Krazuhk? Her Air Magic may be of great use for us as we march.”
“An excellent idea. I knew I kept you around for something other than your sparkling conversation.”
Thirty
Torburg
Summer 968 MC
“This is it,” said Edora. “The moment we’ve all been waiting for. The Holy Army will hit the duke’s army from one side while we strike from the other. It’s only a matter of days now.”
“I’m not so certain of that,” said Moreau. “We’ve encountered stiff resistance ever since we left Anshlag. I fear it won’t get any easier as we approach their capital.”
“Those raids are little more than a nuisance.”
“Oh, they’re much more than that, Your Grace. They strike as we’re about to march, forcing our men to take up defensive positions, and then they withdraw, repeating the process numerous times a day.”
“Then hunt them down,” replied Edora. “You have the horsemen to do it.”
“It’s not quite that simple. They are armoured.”
“There are eight hundred horsemen at your disposal—use them!”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“We’re so close I can taste victory,” she said. “Centuries of conquest in the name of the empire, and it all comes down to this—one final battle that will crush all resistance.”
“Have we any new information regarding our allies?”
“They halted two days shy of Torburg and are awaiting my orders.”
“Which will be?”
“To advance to battle, but I shan’t give that order until we’re ready to finish the encirclement, and I can’t do that unless your legion clears the road.”
“I shall send every horseman I have,” replied Moreau.
“On second thought, move your men back up the road. The Eighth Legion will take your place.”
“I must object, Your Grace. The Ninth has not fought clear across the Petty Kingdoms only to be relegated to the rear.”
“I’m not punishing you; rather, I’m rewarding you. Let Rakert’s legion wear itself down, then you can strike the final blow against the Army of Erlingen.”
Moreau offered a deep bow. “You honour us, Your Grace.”
* * *
Temple Commander Romanus stood there, pleased with all he’d accomplished. The efforts of his master, Talivardas, had finally borne fruit, and now, years after they’d infiltrated the Church, he was about to strike the final blow. The Holy Army would trap the Army of Erlingen between themselves and the empire’s legions, annihilating the Petty Kingdom’s resistance once and for all.
Rostyslav, his aide, appeared at his side. “The men are restless, Commander.”
“And by the men, you mean the volunteers?”
“Yes.”
It amused Romanus no end that he’d used the Church’s influence to entice people into their service. If they discovered the army’s true purpose, they’d abandon the march, but the Holy Fathers had excelled at preaching that Erlingen was full of heretics and in need of cleansing. It had served them well, with more than four hundred warriors joining their so-called Holy Crusade. Not that he relied on them, for the bulk of his army was comprised of Temple Knights of Saint Cunar, warriors whose reputation alone put fear into the hearts of men.
“Might I ask a question, Commander?”
“Certainly.”
“Once the battle commences, will we be able to utilize our magic out in the open?”
Romanus cast his gaze about, worried someone might have overheard, but it appeared his aide had been careful. “No,” he finally replied. “Doing so would risk these Temple Knights learning of our true nature. Presently, they all believe we are on a righteous path, marching to punish unbelievers. Were we to employ spells, they would soon see through our ruse, which would lead to catastrophic results.”
“Even if it puts our lives in danger?”
“I’m afraid so. I know this makes things difficult, but we are about to complete the Great Dream. Surely you can pretend to be a Temple Knight for another week?”
“I shall do my best, Commander.”
“Good. Now, have our scouts reported anything of interest?”
“No. We have eyes on Torburg, but their army has yet to arrive. Are you certain we wouldn’t be better off to capture the city while we can?”
“While that might sound like a good idea, it requires us to garrison it, leaving us shorthanded once battle commences. Better to leave that responsibility to the enemy. We are tasked with tying up the Army of Erlingen while our Halvarian allies manoeuvre in behind them. If we move too soon, we’d be facing superior numbers, and then where would we be?”
“We are half a legion strong, Commander. Surely that’s enough to defeat the Duke of Erlingen’s forces?”
“I appreciate your eagerness,” said Romanus, “but the Five Hundred are still out there somewhere.”
“If they were still a threat, why haven’t they marched?”
“I might remind you they played havoc with our plans for Hadenfeld.”
“Yes, but we’ve heard little of them since. I put it to you that they’ve disbanded. It takes coins to house and feed five hundred Temple Knights; without the Church’s financial support, how would they continue to exist?”
“You raise a good point, but their Temple General has proven herself to be a master of surprises. If a way existed for her to support her people without the Church, she’d have found it.”
“We chased them out of the Antonine,” said Rostyslav. “Do you really expect them to show up here in Erlingen?”
“Your version of events and mine differ.”
“How?”
“We did not drive the Agnesites from the Antonine; in fact, we were trying to do just the opposite, but their Temple General outwitted us.”
“I was led to believe we sent a Holy Army after them.”
“Oh, we did, but it met with failure.”
“I don’t understand,” said Rostyslav. “I was told we’d decisively defeated them.”
“That was a lie, meant to cower those who still opposed us in the Antonine. The truth of the matter is that they escaped into the eastern reaches of Hadenfeld.”
“Hadenfeld? But we sent the Holy Army to subjugate them, didn’t we?”
“Yes. Two years ago, but it failed.”
“Failed? We forced their king to accept the Church. I’d count that as a victory.”
“You misunderstand the purpose of that campaign. The Primus painted it as a victory, but I assure you, it was nothing of the sort. We marched in there with the intent to force them to accept a garrison of our knights, thereby neutralizing any military threat that Hadenfeld might have deployed against the empire.”
“But wasn’t that achieved?”
“No,” replied Romanus. “Unfortunately, King Ludwig proved a more capable commander than we expected.”
“So the entire campaign was all for nothing?”
“Not nothing. The king agreed to let the Church continue performing services but refused to allow our order to garrison troops there. A particularly galling result, considering he gave refuge to Mathewites.”
“Were you there?”
“No. I was travelling the Petty Kingdoms trying to convince the rulers not to give sanctuary to the disbanded orders. Not that my efforts yielded much in terms of success. It did, however, give me access to the Temple General of our own order, which is how I learned what happened in Hadenfeld.”
“What a disgrace.”
“I would agree, but I wasn’t there to see things first-hand. I did, however, discover they relieved the Temple Commander who led the invasion of his command. Those brother knights who survived were also sworn to secrecy.” Romanus grinned. “That’s one advantage of having such a strict order. We don’t have to worry about word getting out.”
“But surely Hadenfeld could tell of our defeat?”
“True, but we’ve seen no evidence they’ve done so. My guess is the king wants to avoid being the target of another crusade.”
“Is Hadenfeld hiding the Five Hundred?”
“I couldn’t say. Official reports from the campaign were considered too sensitive to be placed in the Church’s archives.”
“But our Temple General would’ve known, wouldn’t he?”
“Perhaps, but if that’s the case, he chose not to share the information.”
“I doubt it matters much,” said Rostyslav. “Any threat from Hadenfeld would have to march clear across Zowenbruch. And if they did defeat our crusade, they would’ve taken casualties.”
“Even a reduced army could prove troublesome to our plans,” said Romanus, “which is why we must remain vigilant.”
“I’ll be sure to post extra sentries, Commander.”
“Good. Now, let’s carry out some drills, shall we? Our new recruits look like they need seasoning.”
* * *
Temple Captain Waleed watched the Halvarians advance, their cavalry in the lead, but rather than the typically lighter provincial warriors, these were their imperial horsemen, and much like the knightly orders of the Petty Kingdoms, they wore plate armour.
The empire’s horsemen trotted cautiously down the road—and why wouldn’t they? Waleed’s command had been harassing the enemy advance for days, yet the Halvarians refused to send men to clear out the woods to their south—the very woods that concealed his white-clad Temple Knights.
His plan was simple: wait until the leading edge of the column passed, then charge the footmen following. He turned, surveying his Temple Knights. Most were second sons from wealthy families, trained from childhood to be knights. More than half had served in battle, either before joining the order or after, and he was confident they’d do their duty this day.
He returned to watching the roadway, where the cavalry had passed, and footmen now clogged the road. The Halvarian legions had a reputation as a highly disciplined army, perhaps even rivalling the Temple Knights, but Waleed saw none of that here. These men were worn out and ill-equipped, leading him to surmise they were provincials, not imperials.
He flipped down his visor, then drew his sword, raising it into the air. All around him, his knights repeated the gesture, signalling their readiness to begin the charge.
It started slowly at first, with the Temple Knights emerging from the woods in ones and twos. They halted in the open, forming up into their ranks while Waleed assumed his position on the right side of the line, then gave the command to advance.
First came the trot, the riders keeping to a tight formation. In theory, they should’ve been stirrup to stirrup, but such a close formation was notoriously difficult to maintain, so for this campaign of hit-and-run tactics, they’d adopted the habit of leaving a foot or so between stirrups.
The Halvarians, perhaps mistaking them for their own cavalry, at first ignored the presence of the knights, but as they advanced in a fighting formation, the footmen scrambled to present a defence.
Waleed ordered the charge, the command repeating down the line. They increased their pace, first to a canter, then to a gallop. The earth shook with the pounding of their hooves, and then they struck the column, pushing aside footmen or crushing them beneath their horses.
He was soon in the midst of a chaotic melee, slicing down with measured strokes, conserving his strength while using clean, well-practiced swings. To him, it wasn’t a battle; it was a series of individual encounters chained together, one after the other. Halvarians fell by the dozens, their counterattacks useless against the Temple Knights’ plate armour.
Waleed heard a sword scrape across his thigh, then struck out with a blow from on high that tore into his foe's helmet, splitting it. Blood gushed, reddening his blade, but he ignored it, pulling back to swing at another target.
Three more warriors fell beneath his weapon, and then he broke through the mass of men, forcing him to bring his horse around, ready to carve once more into the column, but the provincials had broken, many dropping their weapons and running in fear. They’d destroyed at least one company, perhaps more, but then Waleed realized he’d miscalculated, for a large force of armoured cavalry was coming up the road from the enemy’s rear.
He sheathed his sword, replacing it with the mace tucked in his belt, ready to meet this new challenge, but it would all be for naught if his men weren’t prepared to do the same. He flipped up his visor, shouting, “To me, to me!”
The Temple Knights heard his call, and before long, they’d formed up on either side of him, ready to meet this new threat. Wounded footmen lay on the ground, many screaming out for mercy while others bled to death. Waleed ignored them, concentrating on the approaching cavalry, who were still some two hundred paces away. He gave the command, and for the second time today, his knights advanced in two ranks, keeping their line steady. Closer and closer, they rode until he gave the signal to charge.
It was as if a peal of thunder had been released from the sky. The line shot forward, the horses lathering under the continued strain of the charge. For a moment, it felt as if time stood still, and then they were in amongst the enemy, reaching out with mace, axe, and hammer, smashing at the plate armour of their adversaries.
“To me, and I, in turn, will report to the general. I should also point out that we’ll have a number of elemental mages we can utilize, giving us yet another advantage.”
“But the Halvarians have those, too, don’t they?”
“They do, but they tend to be used sparingly, most often staying close to their generals. Whereas we’ll place ours in amongst our warriors, where they can be more effective.”
“I know this is a lot to absorb,” added Beverly, “and you don’t have much time to get used to these ideas, but I promise you, they will be of great benefit.”
“If I may make a suggestion?” said King Dagmar.
“By all means.”
“Might Andover’s cavalry reserve accompany Duke Fernando’s? My men might not be as heavily armoured, but they’d still be of benefit to Erlingen.”
“An excellent idea,” said Beverly. “I shall amend my orders to that effect. Any other questions or suggestions?” She waited, but no one spoke up. “I must stress to all of you the importance of using the shamans to keep in touch. Should you encounter anything in the way of enemy troops, no matter how insignificant you deem them to be, you must pass it on to me. At this point, I’d like everyone to report to their respective armies. We shall march at first light.”
“Where do you want Shaluhk and I for the march?” asked Natalia.
“You can join my group, but I’d like your shamans to be available tonight if possible. We’ll need to make introductions.”
“I shall see to it at once.”
The room began to empty, and then Aldwin appeared at Beverly’s side. “You were magnificent. Gerald would be proud.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re my husband.”
“No. I say it because it’s true. You were the very model of calm decisiveness. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’d done this dozens of times.”
“It didn’t feel like it to me.”
“Why? You’ve been a general for some time.”
“I have, and I’ve even led the Army of Merceria, but this… this feels different.”
“Different, how?” asked Aldwin.
“More monumental. Does that make sense?”
“In a manner of speaking, it is. After all, it’s not only one Petty Kingdom that needs a victory—it’s all of them.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier.”
“You must do what the marshal does and trust in those under your command.”
“I wish I could,” said Beverly, “but I know all the Mercerian commanders on a first-name basis. I can’t say the same here.”
“There’s still time, and if I know you, you’ll have that rectified before we reach Torburg.”
* * *
They crossed the border two days later, entering the village of Lieswel, to find out that a messenger from the Duke of Erlingen was waiting. He was immediately brought to Beverly, who was busy watering Lightning.
He dropped to one knee and held out a scroll case. “Message for you, General.” Aldwin took the scroll, removed its contents, and passed them to his wife who read it over.
“Bad news?” he asked.
“It appears a new threat has emerged.”
“Where?”
“A Holy Army has seized Galmund and is marching on the capital.”
“Galmund? That’s southeast of Torburg, if I recall.”
“I’m surprised you remember. I didn’t think you paid attention to such things.”
He chuckled. “I’m a smith. I pay attention to every little detail. I just like to maintain an air of mystery. Any indication of how large this Holy Army might be?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“Your pardon, General,” said the messenger, “but Temple Commander Marlena suspects there may be as many as one thousand.” He noted their stares. “The duke chose her to replace you as the leader of his army.”
“A good choice. Might you know how she came to this estimate?”
“She revealed that the Holy Army had set upon her own order some years ago, and it was unable to stop the Five Hundred. Fearing that the Temple General might see fit to interfere, they’d likely try to field superior numbers to prevent a similar outcome.”
“Have you rested?”
“I have, General. I was just getting ready to ride into Andover when the Army of the North arrived. Shall I return to Torburg with a reply?”
“Yes. Tell the Temple Commander we will march with all haste, and she is to do all she can to delay the advance of the Halvarian legions.”
“Yes, General.” He rose, gave a bow, then rushed back to his horse.
“It appears things are moving quickly,” said Aldwin.
“Indeed.”
He smiled. “You sound just like your father.”
“I shall take that as a very high compliment.”
“As you should. Shall I fetch Krazuhk? Her Air Magic may be of great use for us as we march.”
“An excellent idea. I knew I kept you around for something other than your sparkling conversation.”
Thirty
Torburg
Summer 968 MC
“This is it,” said Edora. “The moment we’ve all been waiting for. The Holy Army will hit the duke’s army from one side while we strike from the other. It’s only a matter of days now.”
“I’m not so certain of that,” said Moreau. “We’ve encountered stiff resistance ever since we left Anshlag. I fear it won’t get any easier as we approach their capital.”
“Those raids are little more than a nuisance.”
“Oh, they’re much more than that, Your Grace. They strike as we’re about to march, forcing our men to take up defensive positions, and then they withdraw, repeating the process numerous times a day.”
“Then hunt them down,” replied Edora. “You have the horsemen to do it.”
“It’s not quite that simple. They are armoured.”
“There are eight hundred horsemen at your disposal—use them!”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“We’re so close I can taste victory,” she said. “Centuries of conquest in the name of the empire, and it all comes down to this—one final battle that will crush all resistance.”
“Have we any new information regarding our allies?”
“They halted two days shy of Torburg and are awaiting my orders.”
“Which will be?”
“To advance to battle, but I shan’t give that order until we’re ready to finish the encirclement, and I can’t do that unless your legion clears the road.”
“I shall send every horseman I have,” replied Moreau.
“On second thought, move your men back up the road. The Eighth Legion will take your place.”
“I must object, Your Grace. The Ninth has not fought clear across the Petty Kingdoms only to be relegated to the rear.”
“I’m not punishing you; rather, I’m rewarding you. Let Rakert’s legion wear itself down, then you can strike the final blow against the Army of Erlingen.”
Moreau offered a deep bow. “You honour us, Your Grace.”
* * *
Temple Commander Romanus stood there, pleased with all he’d accomplished. The efforts of his master, Talivardas, had finally borne fruit, and now, years after they’d infiltrated the Church, he was about to strike the final blow. The Holy Army would trap the Army of Erlingen between themselves and the empire’s legions, annihilating the Petty Kingdom’s resistance once and for all.
Rostyslav, his aide, appeared at his side. “The men are restless, Commander.”
“And by the men, you mean the volunteers?”
“Yes.”
It amused Romanus no end that he’d used the Church’s influence to entice people into their service. If they discovered the army’s true purpose, they’d abandon the march, but the Holy Fathers had excelled at preaching that Erlingen was full of heretics and in need of cleansing. It had served them well, with more than four hundred warriors joining their so-called Holy Crusade. Not that he relied on them, for the bulk of his army was comprised of Temple Knights of Saint Cunar, warriors whose reputation alone put fear into the hearts of men.
“Might I ask a question, Commander?”
“Certainly.”
“Once the battle commences, will we be able to utilize our magic out in the open?”
Romanus cast his gaze about, worried someone might have overheard, but it appeared his aide had been careful. “No,” he finally replied. “Doing so would risk these Temple Knights learning of our true nature. Presently, they all believe we are on a righteous path, marching to punish unbelievers. Were we to employ spells, they would soon see through our ruse, which would lead to catastrophic results.”
“Even if it puts our lives in danger?”
“I’m afraid so. I know this makes things difficult, but we are about to complete the Great Dream. Surely you can pretend to be a Temple Knight for another week?”
“I shall do my best, Commander.”
“Good. Now, have our scouts reported anything of interest?”
“No. We have eyes on Torburg, but their army has yet to arrive. Are you certain we wouldn’t be better off to capture the city while we can?”
“While that might sound like a good idea, it requires us to garrison it, leaving us shorthanded once battle commences. Better to leave that responsibility to the enemy. We are tasked with tying up the Army of Erlingen while our Halvarian allies manoeuvre in behind them. If we move too soon, we’d be facing superior numbers, and then where would we be?”
“We are half a legion strong, Commander. Surely that’s enough to defeat the Duke of Erlingen’s forces?”
“I appreciate your eagerness,” said Romanus, “but the Five Hundred are still out there somewhere.”
“If they were still a threat, why haven’t they marched?”
“I might remind you they played havoc with our plans for Hadenfeld.”
“Yes, but we’ve heard little of them since. I put it to you that they’ve disbanded. It takes coins to house and feed five hundred Temple Knights; without the Church’s financial support, how would they continue to exist?”
“You raise a good point, but their Temple General has proven herself to be a master of surprises. If a way existed for her to support her people without the Church, she’d have found it.”
“We chased them out of the Antonine,” said Rostyslav. “Do you really expect them to show up here in Erlingen?”
“Your version of events and mine differ.”
“How?”
“We did not drive the Agnesites from the Antonine; in fact, we were trying to do just the opposite, but their Temple General outwitted us.”
“I was led to believe we sent a Holy Army after them.”
“Oh, we did, but it met with failure.”
“I don’t understand,” said Rostyslav. “I was told we’d decisively defeated them.”
“That was a lie, meant to cower those who still opposed us in the Antonine. The truth of the matter is that they escaped into the eastern reaches of Hadenfeld.”
“Hadenfeld? But we sent the Holy Army to subjugate them, didn’t we?”
“Yes. Two years ago, but it failed.”
“Failed? We forced their king to accept the Church. I’d count that as a victory.”
“You misunderstand the purpose of that campaign. The Primus painted it as a victory, but I assure you, it was nothing of the sort. We marched in there with the intent to force them to accept a garrison of our knights, thereby neutralizing any military threat that Hadenfeld might have deployed against the empire.”
“But wasn’t that achieved?”
“No,” replied Romanus. “Unfortunately, King Ludwig proved a more capable commander than we expected.”
“So the entire campaign was all for nothing?”
“Not nothing. The king agreed to let the Church continue performing services but refused to allow our order to garrison troops there. A particularly galling result, considering he gave refuge to Mathewites.”
“Were you there?”
“No. I was travelling the Petty Kingdoms trying to convince the rulers not to give sanctuary to the disbanded orders. Not that my efforts yielded much in terms of success. It did, however, give me access to the Temple General of our own order, which is how I learned what happened in Hadenfeld.”
“What a disgrace.”
“I would agree, but I wasn’t there to see things first-hand. I did, however, discover they relieved the Temple Commander who led the invasion of his command. Those brother knights who survived were also sworn to secrecy.” Romanus grinned. “That’s one advantage of having such a strict order. We don’t have to worry about word getting out.”
“But surely Hadenfeld could tell of our defeat?”
“True, but we’ve seen no evidence they’ve done so. My guess is the king wants to avoid being the target of another crusade.”
“Is Hadenfeld hiding the Five Hundred?”
“I couldn’t say. Official reports from the campaign were considered too sensitive to be placed in the Church’s archives.”
“But our Temple General would’ve known, wouldn’t he?”
“Perhaps, but if that’s the case, he chose not to share the information.”
“I doubt it matters much,” said Rostyslav. “Any threat from Hadenfeld would have to march clear across Zowenbruch. And if they did defeat our crusade, they would’ve taken casualties.”
“Even a reduced army could prove troublesome to our plans,” said Romanus, “which is why we must remain vigilant.”
“I’ll be sure to post extra sentries, Commander.”
“Good. Now, let’s carry out some drills, shall we? Our new recruits look like they need seasoning.”
* * *
Temple Captain Waleed watched the Halvarians advance, their cavalry in the lead, but rather than the typically lighter provincial warriors, these were their imperial horsemen, and much like the knightly orders of the Petty Kingdoms, they wore plate armour.
The empire’s horsemen trotted cautiously down the road—and why wouldn’t they? Waleed’s command had been harassing the enemy advance for days, yet the Halvarians refused to send men to clear out the woods to their south—the very woods that concealed his white-clad Temple Knights.
His plan was simple: wait until the leading edge of the column passed, then charge the footmen following. He turned, surveying his Temple Knights. Most were second sons from wealthy families, trained from childhood to be knights. More than half had served in battle, either before joining the order or after, and he was confident they’d do their duty this day.
He returned to watching the roadway, where the cavalry had passed, and footmen now clogged the road. The Halvarian legions had a reputation as a highly disciplined army, perhaps even rivalling the Temple Knights, but Waleed saw none of that here. These men were worn out and ill-equipped, leading him to surmise they were provincials, not imperials.
He flipped down his visor, then drew his sword, raising it into the air. All around him, his knights repeated the gesture, signalling their readiness to begin the charge.
It started slowly at first, with the Temple Knights emerging from the woods in ones and twos. They halted in the open, forming up into their ranks while Waleed assumed his position on the right side of the line, then gave the command to advance.
First came the trot, the riders keeping to a tight formation. In theory, they should’ve been stirrup to stirrup, but such a close formation was notoriously difficult to maintain, so for this campaign of hit-and-run tactics, they’d adopted the habit of leaving a foot or so between stirrups.
The Halvarians, perhaps mistaking them for their own cavalry, at first ignored the presence of the knights, but as they advanced in a fighting formation, the footmen scrambled to present a defence.
Waleed ordered the charge, the command repeating down the line. They increased their pace, first to a canter, then to a gallop. The earth shook with the pounding of their hooves, and then they struck the column, pushing aside footmen or crushing them beneath their horses.
He was soon in the midst of a chaotic melee, slicing down with measured strokes, conserving his strength while using clean, well-practiced swings. To him, it wasn’t a battle; it was a series of individual encounters chained together, one after the other. Halvarians fell by the dozens, their counterattacks useless against the Temple Knights’ plate armour.
Waleed heard a sword scrape across his thigh, then struck out with a blow from on high that tore into his foe's helmet, splitting it. Blood gushed, reddening his blade, but he ignored it, pulling back to swing at another target.
Three more warriors fell beneath his weapon, and then he broke through the mass of men, forcing him to bring his horse around, ready to carve once more into the column, but the provincials had broken, many dropping their weapons and running in fear. They’d destroyed at least one company, perhaps more, but then Waleed realized he’d miscalculated, for a large force of armoured cavalry was coming up the road from the enemy’s rear.
He sheathed his sword, replacing it with the mace tucked in his belt, ready to meet this new challenge, but it would all be for naught if his men weren’t prepared to do the same. He flipped up his visor, shouting, “To me, to me!”
The Temple Knights heard his call, and before long, they’d formed up on either side of him, ready to meet this new threat. Wounded footmen lay on the ground, many screaming out for mercy while others bled to death. Waleed ignored them, concentrating on the approaching cavalry, who were still some two hundred paces away. He gave the command, and for the second time today, his knights advanced in two ranks, keeping their line steady. Closer and closer, they rode until he gave the signal to charge.
It was as if a peal of thunder had been released from the sky. The line shot forward, the horses lathering under the continued strain of the charge. For a moment, it felt as if time stood still, and then they were in amongst the enemy, reaching out with mace, axe, and hammer, smashing at the plate armour of their adversaries.
