For a while afterward, I simply watched the battle unfold, waiting for the execution of our strategy. Without a unit to command myself, the majority of my time was actually unoccupied. Though, granted, that was probably a more accurate representation of what an emperor’s usual role on the battlefield was.
Still, it was impossible for me to enjoy my period of respite. Not with the amount of death happening before my eyes. It didn’t help either that today’s outcome would all but determine my future—or lack of one.
As for how the battle was progressing, our right flank was still in the process of being pushed back, with the Ramitead and Ethaiq forces resisting fiercely for each inch of ground they were forced to concede. The former fought with particularly stark fervor, likely out of desperation to make up for their failure with the construction, while the latter, despite my misgivings about its commander, was clearly well trained and a force to be reckoned with. In contrast, the Mardrusa and Warren forces appeared to be under considerable pressure.
Elsewhere, a chunk of the enemy militia in the center of their formation had skipped past a mere withdrawal and into a full-blown rout. There were enough of them that their momentum had become unstoppable, like an avalanche smashing through a dam.
I chalked it up to the untrained militia being unable to differentiate between an order to fall back and one to retreat. The former was a strategic maneuver to reposition, or make distance between one’s forces and the enemy, and it was no doubt what the Raul commanders had wanted to achieve. Conversely, a retreat was a call to cease fighting and withdraw from the battlefield, usually because one recognized their forces were losing.
With untrained militia, though, it was difficult to get them to pull any kind of maneuver off outside of “go forward” and “go back.” Upon receiving the order to fall back, some of them must have mistakenly seen their allies retreating as a sign they’d lost the battle and cut and run because of it. If the movement was allowed to gain momentum, and go on for long enough, it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy, and the battle would end in a loss in truth. This phenomenon wasn’t limited to militia, however—even trained soldiers could fall prey to it.
One only had to look at the famous Battle of Fei River from Chinese history to see how devastating it could be: It was purported that the Jin army had managed to defeat a Qin force ten times its size using the chaos.
Soldiers on the ground could hardly see past the rank in front of them, much less the overall battlefield. If their allies around them began to rapidly back away, it wasn’t much of a leap to assume they’d lost. That was why commanders directed orderly retreats, assuaged the fears of their men, and executed any who tried to desert.
As a matter of fact, the Raul army was doing just that, with the soldiers who’d been monitoring the militia from behind mercilessly cutting down those who were trying to flee. If they didn’t manage to stem the tide, defeat would become inevitable. After all, once the dam broke, nothing could stop the torrent. And to my eyes, several of the enemy’s militia units had already reached that point.
On the other hand, there were other militia units still charging at our defenses. Perhaps they felt bolstered by the Imperium force’s determined offensive. The situation was particularly bad at Ginaugh Hill, where it seemed our side only had the breathing room to focus on defense. It gave the Imperium force further momentum, which was a very much unwanted development. I’d given Timona directions on how to counter it, though, so I could only hope that he’d pull through.
Before long, our right flank began to fall back even further, which was when the Dozran army finally showed up. It numbered five thousand men, which was far too large for a marquess, but I knew why thanks to a report the Count Palatine had given me.
Since the Dozran army’s allegiance was as yet unknown, its arrival forced the tip of our right flank—Count Ethaiq’s forces—to pull back a substantial distance. It stung, because they’d been holding out relatively well so far, but they couldn’t expose themselves to a potential second front. Emboldened by this, the enemy’s left wing began to launch repeated, ruthless assaults.
The Dozran army’s positioning made it glaringly obvious that they favored Raul. But while they began to deploy their forces across the hill’s southern side, they refrained from explicitly joining either side’s cause, instead choosing to monitor the situation. I suspected they were going to wait for the victor to become obvious before committing.
That meant that if Raul kept pushing our right flank back like this, there was every chance the Dozran army would make up their mind and join the fight on their side, causing my lords’ armies massive losses.
But as the situation balanced on a knife’s edge, it seemed our battle mages had finally reshuffled and reached their new positions. The time had come to unleash the plan we had been sitting on for so long.
Multiple thunderous roars echoed throughout the hills, the rumbling so loud it seemed the earth itself was shaking. Moments after each one, holes blasted open in the enemy’s ranks, large enough that they were obvious even at this distance.
“So it’s begun,” Deputy General Bourgault-Ducoudray said.
I hummed in affirmation.
Our flock cannons—all thirty—had started their fusillade. The stone cannonballs, each the width of a grown man’s shoulders, rained down upon the enemy without mercy. And just like we’d done with the carvers earlier, the flocks were being rapidly cooled with magic, allowing them to fire again before even five minutes had passed.
By all rights, flocks weren’t capable of rapid fire; they simply weren’t designed for it. Well, calling it “rapid fire” was a stretch, since there was a several-minute cooldown time between shots, but that didn’t change that we were achieving what this world’s standard military doctrine would consider impossible. Despite the distance, I could easily see the enemy’s distress in their movements.
“I suspect it’s the first time in history they’ve been used this way,” the deputy general remarked.
Flock cannons had three fatal flaws. The first was that they weren’t capable of precise aiming. The second was the time it took to dissipate the staggering heat they generated when they fired. And last of all, the recoil from firing alone could cause fissures in the barrel. As such, they had a reputation for being defective weapons that couldn’t hit anything, could only fire a shot every hour, and broke down after only a few rounds.
From another perspective, however, if one didn’t care about those flaws, they were perfectly serviceable pieces of ordnance. The aim issue we could solve by creating a situation where the cannons didn’t need to aim. Case in point: There were fifteen thousand enemy soldiers on the battlefield, creating a target-rich environment. All we had to do was aim in the vague direction of their formation’s center.
Next, we could solve the cooling issue with magic, which in turn could be guaranteed even in a mana-burnt environment through the use of the mana-sealing wards we were using as makeshift batteries. Our water, ice, and wind magic created great swathes of steam that blanketed the southern side of the hill in a white veil that impaired visibility, but our forces there—cannons included—weren’t engaging in precision fire to begin with, so it wasn’t an issue.
Finally, we could somewhat alleviate the issue of fissures developing in the cannon barrels by reducing the amount of gunpowder we used. The heat shock from the rapid magical cooling would inevitably damage the flocks beyond repair regardless, but I had fully committed to the plan. We didn’t need sustained, periodic fire—we needed a one-shot, veritable storm of cannonballs. It seemed the artillery crews were getting used to the work too, because the time between the shots gradually became shorter and shorter.
“As we suspected, a percentage of our shots aren’t reaching the enemy,” Deputy General Bourgault-Ducoudray pointed out. “They’re rolling down the slope.”
“Unfortunate, but enough are reaching that it’s no issue,” I said.
Our cannonballs blasted hole after hole in the enemy lines, staining the battlefield crimson. At first, the idiot rubberneckers had cheered with each roared shot, but they soon began to fall silent. They weren’t the only ones—everyone on our side of the hill had gone quiet. It was hard not to, bearing witness to the sheer, overwhelming firepower of the flocks and the terror and chaos they caused. Parts of the enemy’s left flank had already begun to fall back.
“One can hardly even see them as cannons,” I mused aloud. “Rather, they are mere accelerative devices, their only purpose being to impart an initial velocity to stone cannonballs the width of a man’s shoulders.”
This was part of why we hadn’t dug a dry moat or installed chevaux-de-frise on Byner Hill’s southern side. Aside from wanting to lure the enemy here, as well as use it as the entrance and exit for our own forces, the slope made it the perfect terrain for the flock-fired cannonballs to crash a trail of destruction through the enemy.
After all, a cannonball didn’t only cause damage upon impact. It bounced and rolled across the ground, leaving further damage in its wake. Enemy soldiers fell almost like bowling pins. Many of the projectiles broke apart, since they were stone rather than iron, but the shrapnel was lethal in its own right.
“It’s doubtful we would’ve been able to expect much from the flocks on level ground,” I continued. “But at this elevation? Even a rolling log can reap its toll.”
The gravity assist only added to the cannonballs’ velocity. Whether they fell short and continued their journey, or crashed into the enemy directly, the result was the same: dead Raul soldiers.
“All it takes is a heavy stone and a little speed, and people die.”
As each cannonball struck, it left a hole in the enemy’s forces, the crimson visible even from our vantage point atop the hill. It was the kind of spectacle that could only be met with silence from the onlookers, even those who had been so boisterous such a short time ago.