Even as Granach, the head of another gang of bandits, moved his forces, he couldn’t decide whether he should leave Anheim or launch a counterattack against the deputy’s army.
While they were both bandits from Triot, Granach was a bit different from Dagover. He knew that acting too brazenly would only spur the kingdom to move against them, and so he’d picked targets carefully, mostly dairy farming villages. He rarely attacked people, and when he did, it was usually to collect a bounty.
It was only after he came to the Kingdom of Wein that he had become more blasé about taking lives, and that was only because his new recruits had a penchant for violence. Gradually, Granach fell into the habit as well.
Granach was well respected for his strength, but he didn’t have a firm demeanor. Thus, while he had begun to move his men after hearing Anheim’s deputy had begun to target bandits, he wavered over whether to move as far as possible or to find advantageous land to launch a counterattack. This time, things had gone into motion before he could reach a decision.
Unlike the deputy’s army, Granach’s forces had been sleeping outdoors huddled around each other. That night, their leader awoke to a guard’s scream. The eastern sky had taken on a pale glow, and it was late enough in the morning that it was easy to distinguish faces.
“Boss!”
“What’s all this ruckus?”
Even leather armor was hard to sleep in. Still, monsters roamed about even before the Demon Lord had made his return. While it was a pain, his men all slept with their armor on.
They had a sentinel on duty to keep watch, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t suffer losses if monsters attacked. They weren’t nearly as deadly as the ones in Triot, though, so Granach planned on staying in this land.
Granach yelled at the underling who had approached him, startling the nearest brigands out of their slumber.
“I-it’s Dagover…”
“What about him?”
For a moment, Granach considered the possibility that he had come to attack them under the cover of the deputy’s campaign, but then, that doubt immediately was replaced by a new problem. His henchmen spoke loud enough for all to hear. “That damn Dagover lost! The survivors from his gang came to us and are asking for our help!”
“W-wait. What?”
“Like I said, Dagover lost, and the rest of his men…”
Granach yelled over him. “You dumbass! Wake everyone up! Grab your weapons!”
“B-Boss?”
“Our enemies won’t be far! Hurry and—”
“We’re under attack!” The shout rang out before Granach could finish. Holzdeppe and his knights had urged what remained of Dagover’s men here and used them for cover to storm Granach’s men.
The survivors from Dagover’s crew didn’t just rush in and ask the sleepy faces of Granach’s crew for help. They knew that the knights were right at their heels, and in their fear, they ran further and further into Granach’s encampment in a mad dash to find safety among the other gang. Whatever their intentions, the result was chaos.
Unable to grasp the situation, some of Granach’s men joined them in running about, while others reached for their weapons. The group lost whatever cohesion it had as they scrambled to respond to the situation.
Seeing their moment, the knights rushed in and unleashed havoc upon the bandit masses.
“Stay vigilant! There’s just a few of them!” yelled Granach, but in the uproar, even he could no longer hear his own voice. Screams of terror, startled shouts, frantic footsteps, and the cries of those cut down completely took over.
Amid the confusion, the bandits frantically swung their weapons, heedless of whether they struck foe or friend.
The knights pushed into the center of the bandit camp, never faltering in their advance. The confusion had turned to pandemonium, and it was then that Werner’s infantry arrived and joined the fray.
“Show no mercy!” Werner barked. The soldiers divided themselves into groups of three, each singling out a bandit, then simultaneously stabbing him through with their swords, reducing him to nothing more than dead weight. The soldiers who had tirelessly pursued the survivors of Dagover’s crew traded their heavy spears for their lighter swords, making it easier to attack. The only one still equipped with a spear was Werner.
However, for the soldiers who had used the surviving bandits as a decoy to rush into this free-for-all, using swords was both more convenient and advantageous than using spears. Swords were more suited for such a scuffle, and the soldiers brandished them without qualms as the bandits’ bodies piled on the ground.
The bandits had been lax in caring for their weapons. Their blades shattered and their hilts broke as their blood spurted into the air. Men who had been trampled by hooves writhed on the ground, while others screamed as their shields fell to the ground with severed arms still holding onto them. The follow-up stroke would silence their cries.
The bandits had numbers on their side, but in their confusion, they instead prioritized their escape. While a rare bandit would offer a counterattack, they had nothing going for them but their own courage. There was no organized resistance. Just as Werner had said during their efforts to reclaim Fort Werisa, no group could act under orders in the midst of chaos.
The pandemonium only grew, and when Goecke and his mercenaries arrived, they rushed into the largest group of bandits and mowed them down. The bandits were completely torn asunder, and now, all they could do was run about like headless chickens. Granach had been in a stupor, but he admirably sidestepped an enemy as he boiled with anger.
“You bastards!” Granach attempted to counter with his sword, but it only rattled against the haft of his enemy’s spear. The man who came into view looked to be no older than a student; it was Werner, and he wore a fearless grin that ill-suited his young age.
Granach swung once again, but Werner used his spear to keep him at bay and out of reach. If he shortened the distance between them, he’d be in reach of Werner’s spear, and thus, he had no choice but to step backwards. He tried to lop off the spearhead from the hilt, but instead, Werner drew in his spear and thrust it forward.
“You damned coward!”
“An interesting insult coming from a bandit,” Werner retorted snidely. He made a few more stabs with his spear, advancing as he thrusted, and varying the speed of each strike to mess with his foe. With Werner having closed the distance, Granach knew he could no longer run. The moment he turned around, Werner would run him through from behind.
As soon as Werner retracted his spear, Granach rushed forward in a frenzy. Had he been thinking straight, he probably wouldn’t have fallen for this trap. However, he had been at his foes’ complete mercy ever since the early morning, and the screams he heard had driven him to his wits’ end. Remaining calm given the circumstances would have been impossible.
Werner saw Granach try to shorten the distance between them and drew back his spear to hold it in its center as he swung its blunt end forward in a scooping motion. It hit Granach right in the jaw, sending him stumbling backward.
Next, Werner lifted his spear into the air and swung it downwards with all the strength he could muster. There was a dull sound as the impact shuddered up the haft to his arms.
The blow had pulverized Granach’s shoulder. Unable to resist the stabbing pain, he crumpled to the ground. Neurath had been watching the surrounding enemies to make sure they didn’t interfere in the fight, but now, he rushed to tie Granach up.
“Good job, Lord Werner.”
“No, I’m sure this guy is better than me with a sword.” Werner wasn’t trying to be humble. Granach’s current mental state and circumstances had left him agitated and unbalanced. In other words, Werner had already won the moment they had forced him into enough of a corner to prevent him from making full use of his abilities.
“Shall we finish them off, Lord Werner?”
“Let’s first get our soldiers in order. We need to treat those who are injured. We’ve had them running the whole day.”
“Understood.”
Soldiers walked often and a lot, meaning their daily exercise far surpassed that of a bandit. Professional armies were called as much precisely because they trained to push themselves beyond their limits. For this campaign, Werner had mixed an army with mercenaries, and if the situation called for it, he had no qualms about marching them to their limits.
Still, he couldn’t ignore their fatigue forever. Werner had already created a situation that made it impossible for the bandits to run, and thus, he feared the potential damage of forcing his army into a counterattack. Their real enemies were the Demon army. He didn’t want to risk losing any men to the bandits.
And, while it may have been quite harsh to say, a few escaped bandits were nothing but monster feed. Even should they try to hunt them down, sending only a small group after the bandits would prove more dangerous than the bandits themselves. That was just how this world worked.
It wasn’t until later that night that Werner would learn an army led by Baron Zabel—whom Werner had contacted in advance—almost completely wiped out the remaining scattered bandits.