Ashcroft and the other adventurers nearby listened to all this in astonishment, but the shock Wyatt felt was even more extreme. The rest of them were all focused on Beldarus and the river filling in, but Wyatt was finally coming to realize something else. The kobolds’ tactics were entirely based around dividing the adventurers into small groups and crushing them, then relentlessly repeating that process. It’s impossible for ten to defeat one hundred, but in theory the ten would be able to defeat that many foes if they only had to face them five at a time. That would only be in an ideal situation, but it was the fundamental basis of their strategy. The kobolds had meticulously separated the adventurers again and again, using the forest environment to their advantage and working together to do it. Then they’d concentrated their own soldiers with absolute efficiency, finishing off each and every enemy they had separated from the main force. This was not something they could have accomplished by simply deciding to do it beforehand and acting with quick wits.
...Their soldiers were acting together as one body, which meant that somewhere there had to be a head, a commander who had firm control of the battlefield and was moving pieces on it even now. And it wasn’t Gaius Beldarus, who was fighting on the front lines. With all that he’d done in battle, there was no way he was also the one commanding all these forces.
“We have to strike at the head. Or make it unable to function,” Wyatt muttered to himself. But they had no way of knowing when they would be able to mobilize their main force. They couldn’t measure the amount of water now flowing down the river, so it was possible they wouldn’t be able to cross it until night, and they would never be able to traverse the unknown territory of the Greatwood at night, let alone fight in it. Which meant they would have to make camp and re-launch their attack tomorrow...and they’d lost the supplies with which to do that. Of course, people could go a night without eating and drinking, but there was no guarantee they’d be able to fight decently in such states of exhaustion. That meant that he didn’t even know if they’d be able to finish this by the next day.
They could head back to the encampment they’d left outside the forest and replenish their supplies there, but launching another invasion after going back that far would be difficult. Now I realize I should have just let the men who were lured into the forest die and continued down the riverbed myself. Wyatt ran his eyes over the nearby adventurers in irritation. Of course, he couldn’t have made that choice, considering his position as guildmaster. He would have lost all the trust of the adventurers, and none of them would have followed his orders after that. It would be the equivalent of abandoning the role his lady had given him, and all the funds and authority that came with it. So he couldn’t have done that.
This battle would not be the end for Wyatt. He would break through this barrier and continue on... and he was here to make it so that he could begin moving once again. Should we head back to Ryburgh and come back on another day, with a proper force and proper tactics? No, that wouldn’t work. In that time, the Black Rose of Igris could expose the plot of his lady, Keighley Zigan, to the other lords, and that would be the end of that. Besides, open hostilities between the Keighley and Dugard factions were likely to break out in that time, and if that happened, Wyatt would never be able to send a force hundreds-strong to subjugate “some monsters.”
That’s right. Why did I even do all this work to bring soldiers to the Greatwood in the first place? I barely got this force ready in time. He covered his face with his hand, pressing down on the center of his forehead with his pointer finger and his temple with his thumb, as if he meant to crush his own skull. He held this torturous pressure to his head, desperately holding back the impulse to scream.
At the same time, Wyatt was forced to realize that he had been pushed even closer to the brink of ruin than he’d ever been before. He had to finish this before sunset today.
“Heatley’s heading along the river, making for the village.”
The messenger nodded in confirmation. Heatley was clearly acting under his own discretion. The young, courageous knight had let his ardor stir him to rashness. Of course, what he was doing was necessary to carry out Wyatt’s plan to hit the village from two directions at once; this had been the reason he’d brought sub-commanders in the first place.
“Ashcroft. Take the forces here and head for the village.”
“We’re still fighting?!” His subordinate’s response was politically, tactically, and empathetically lacking, so Wyatt replied with his fist.
“I-I’m terribly sorry, Sir.” Ashcroft mumbled, one hand clasped to his chin.
Wyatt continued as if the previous exchange hadn’t happened. “I’ll take Quincy and Margot and go around to attack the village from another side.” Two lightly equipped adventurers with swords nodded in acknowledgment. They were more often involved in searching and exploratory work than fighting, but they had both grown up in the mountains and were good hikers.
“Will just the two of them be enough?”
“Good point, Ashcroft. I think I’ll take one more.” The look on his subordinate’s face said that this wasn’t what he’d meant, but Wyatt ignored him and turned to a small man who had been standing behind him. “Cyril. You’re up. You found a route to go around the village when you were with Theron, didn’t you? Tell me.” He drew his Sword Eater from its sheath and placed the blade against the former hunter’s cheek.
“Eek! I-I don’t have a route! I just know some landmarks you could use to find a way around!”
“Wow, a straightforward answer for once. Well done.” The guildmaster smiled and drew his blade across Cyril’s right cheek, creating a red line there. The former hunter screamed like a child and fell to the ground.
“We won’t be able to get in contact with Heatley at this point, so there’s no coordinating with him. We just have to take advantage of his actions.” Wyatt turned back to Ashcroft. “With numbers this small, they shouldn’t be able to confuse us anymore. I don’t know how many times I’ve said this at this point, but avoid the traps and make your way cautiously, carefully, straight to the village.”
“Y-Yes, Sir.”
“You and Heatley’s group will be both the main force and a diversion. Draw the kobolds’ attention and fighting strength to you, and pressure them to stay there. The enemies shouldn’t be able to ignore you.”
The young knight and adventurers all nodded in unison.
“Meanwhile, my unit will set fire to the village. When you see the smoke, that’s when you’ll begin your attack in earnest. They should be in disarray. Then all we need to do is lure the dogs and Beldarus into an open space and hit them with all of our strength.”
“Roger.”
“Understood.”
“Got it!”
“You can count on us.”
As they all assented, Wyatt looked over the group, a dark fever lurking behind his eyes.
“We’ll set off at once. We’re finishing this before the sun sets, no matter what. Now that there are so many fewer of us, you can expect your rewards to be that much greater.”
＊
Thirty or so soldiers marched in single file along the torrential, revived river. One among them, a knight, bashed the trees with his fist as he walked by. It was the rear commander, Heatley.