231 Two Types of Battle (1/2)
This was already his fourth true battle, but Alcer still wasn't used to it. He wondered if he ever would be. Despite his reservations, the decorated soldier had learned a thing or two about combat in his time with Saniya's army. As far as he was concerned, there were two types of battle the southern soldiers could face. The first type was the kind he had lived through in his first skirmish, as well as his first major engagement against Lord Rupilo's forces.
In those fights, Alcer and the other troops had fought without concern, and destroyed all in their path. These had been one-sided affairs, decided by only the gun in his hands. In these fights, they could fight without a care in the world, only repeating the same motions until the enemy was routed. Apart from the noise, he wouldn't even be aware of the battle around him. In those times, war felt easy.
The second type was a battle like the final engagement against the northern armies, a desperate struggle between two evenly matched opponents. During those moments, war had felt like hell. At last, he had understood his opponents how must have felt every time they were faced with his musket fire. To his good fortune, and to the misfortune of their most recent foes, today's battle was of the first type.
Ever since the start of the battle, Alcer's platoon had stayed atop of the rampart they had spent days to construct. To his right and left, the muskets cracked and launched their projectiles down the hill, into the muddy fields, or into the men who were stuck inside them. Meanwhile, in his front, the halberdiers had the easiest job of them all. They simply stood and watched, as not one of their enemies had made it even close to their position.
The angry, uncoordinated mob had rushed up to them full of bravado, but most of their scattered, individual groups had simply halted in front of their moat, clearly confused on how to proceed once they were confronted with their first obstacle. They were all powerful warriors, so they could have swam through or jumped over the moat and continued, yet almost no one did.
There was no coordination between the groups, so hardly any were willing to take the first plunge. The scant few who tried their luck looked exhausted from their spirited, but pointless rush up the narrow pathway, when they had pushed their own allies into the mud to the sides. Now that they were drained and still had to climb a hill, their enthusiasm came back to haunt them.
They somehow jumped over or swam through the moat, but were gunned down before they could even make it halfway up to the rampart's crest. A select few others thought themselves clever and tried to circumvent their position, but got stuck in the muddy fields and were taken out by the defensive army's flanks. A handful of arrows flew back to reply the incessant musket fire in kind, but most lost steam before they even made it up to their elevation. Once more, war seemed easy.
All the while, most of the powerful enemy warriors were still stuck at the foot of their earthen wall. By now they would have realized that it was the most dangerous spot they could have chosen in the world, but their overeager and oblivious allies at the back pushed against them and prevented their retreat. At the same time, the moat and rampart in their way prevented their advance. All they could do was curse or beg as they fell one by one.
Where their previous enemies would have used sandbags and shovels to fill in the moat, they only had pointless stares to offer, filled with pleas or wrath. Where their previous enemies brought with them weapons to match their own, they only had a few, disjointed arrows to offer in reply.
Yet just as Alcer was convinced that this battle would end in an overwhelming, one-sided victory again, just as he was convinced that their battle was of the first type and that everything was long decided, he saw some unusual movements within the enemy army. However, they didn't come from the elephants in the back, no doubt to most of his allies' surprise. Unlike them, Alcer knew better.
While the giant beasts in the back were intimidating, he didn't feel as great a threat from them as his fellow officers did. Earlier in the day, Alcer himself had struggled to walk up their rampart, which would give in under his weight and slide back down in muddy waterfalls. He couldn't even imagine how hard it would be for such a giant monster to go up the same path. The rampart would collapse and bury the beasts under it before they would ever reach the top.
No, instead of those monsters, he was much more concerned with the enemy troop movements. If only they could organize a proper charge, the enemy warriors would still be dangerous. In their war against the north, he had lived through a close-combat battle with real cultivators, and was wary of any push-back even from a wounded enemy. So when he spotted some proper movement in the midst of the enemy formation – movements which seemed coordinated and planned for once – it took his attention right away.
In the center and somewhat towards the back of the mess of bodies, a group began to ball up and form proper lines. He wasn't sure if it was a new unit the various sects had formed on the spot to break through, or if one of the sects had finally decided to step up and take the lead, but it wouldn't matter much. Either way, he felt like they would be trouble.
”Guman, what is that group doing down there? The ones in the center, a dozen or so heads from the front.” Since his own eyes weren't good enough to make a proper judgment, he asked Guman the former hunter in his team, the one who had eyes as strong as a cultivator. For a second, Guman concentrated on his orders, before he called out in surprise.
”That's ridiculous.”
”Report, soldier!” Alcer shouted back, annoyed and flustered. ”What's going on down there!?”
”There's a group making their ways through the masses, they're trying to get to the front. They are just... shoving other warriors out of the way as if they were kids. What's with these people?”