Chapter 107: War (Part 2)
Chapter 107: War (Part 2)
Matthew, Count of Nort, spoke up loudly, "How will you organize the order of attack?"
At this, everyone held their breath—this was the question that all the gathered nobles had been waiting to ask.
After all, in the feudal system of the North, their armies were their foundations; no one wanted to expend their forces for victory without personal gain. Many nobles were participating under some degree of compulsion, though the Lackman family had offered benefits they couldn't refuse.
Robert pressed his gloved hands down slightly, saying calmly,
"Everyone, hold your horses. I'm not about to send your troops to die for nothing."
"The Duke has raised an 'Honor Legion' of ten thousand conscripted peasants. These brave souls will serve as the vanguard, testing the strength of these dragon lackeys."
The nobles, reassured, finally relaxed—so there was a line of cannon fodder.
However, Andre frowned, voicing his objection, "How can we let commoners serve as cannon fodder? This goes against the spirit of knightly bravery and mercy."
"Hahahaha!"
The nobles laughed again, the atmosphere light. This "Little Lion" was endearingly naive—after all, they were Northern nobles; who would concern themselves with these so-called "grey cattle"?
Seeing Andre's earnest expression, Robert stifled his laughter, explaining,
"They volunteered as valiant warriors. Should they fall in battle, the duchy will generously compensate their families."
"Though whether they have families, or if the compensation will reach them, well…" he added silently to himself.
Before the war, these "Honor Legion" members were mere peasants, untrained for combat.
Equipped with poor weapons and virtually no armor, they were here to feed horses, carry supplies, and absorb the initial blows for the elite troops.
They were typically tenant farmers or serfs under the local gentry, with no personal freedom or claim to any spoils.
This was the type of people.
Treated as expendable by the Northern nobility.
Andre, feeling the mocking gazes around him, lowered his head, saying nothing.
Robert pointed to the map, continuing his tactical outline.
The Lackman family's personal army of over eight thousand, the "Eagle's Claw," would take the central position, advancing after the peasant militia scouted the enemy's strength.
The Bosk family's "Lionheart Legion" of three thousand would form the right flank, while the Nort family's five thousand troops would secure the left flank, protecting the sides once inside Storm Highlands.
The smaller private armies of the lesser nobles, totaling about four thousand, would be scattered among the allied forces, theoretically following commands, though Robert had little faith in coordinating them. They were intermixed mainly to prevent them from fighting each other before the battle began.
Meanwhile, the three hundred Northwind Eagle Guards would patrol the skies, overseeing the battlefield and striking key points from above. Though, for reasons unknown, the sixth Northwind Eagle Guard, sent out to scout, hadn't returned yet, much to Robert's frustration.
A baron from the Lackman Duchy asked timidly, "My lord, what about the dragon?"
"I hear it's a fearsome creature."
His territory lay close to Storm Highlands, and he frequently heard terrifying stories of the "Flying Flame Dragon" from the North.
In the songs and tales, this red dragon was described as Tiamat's favored child, an infernal embodiment of the flames, an unstoppable force that threatened the North.
Robert scoffed.
"Ha, the so-called 'Flying Flame Dragon'?"
"Don't be deceived by the foolish songs of bards. Neither the Northwind Eagle Guards' reports nor my own divination spells support that. It's merely a young red dragon with a slightly unusual breath, if not smaller."
The mage "Gray Eagle," present in the tent, spoke in a raspy voice.
"This is Lord Shroud, the duchy's chief mage, whose mastery of spells, I believe, is unmatched here."
Robert continued, "Indeed, those tales are likely spread by the dragon itself to inflate its reputation."
"Gentlemen, follow me."
As if words alone weren't enough, Robert strode outside, followed closely by the nobles.
They arrived at the supply area.
Everyone's gaze was immediately drawn to an enormous object, draped in heavy cloth, towering over two men high. It required a dozen horses and hundreds of peasants to transport, and there were three of these behemoths in total.
They'd noticed it before, curiosity piqued.
"Gentlemen, behold—"
At Robert's signal, two guards stepped forward to pull off the heavy covering.
Revealed was a massive, cumbersome mechanical weapon crafted from rough black wood and dark-gray metal. The bulky base, heavily reinforced with iron, sat on a set of large wheels for slow movement.
Atop was a conical bolt case wrapped in riveted iron plating, with a long, curved crossbow arm fixed to each side.
A gigantic arrow, as thick as an arm and over two meters long, lay atop the machine, its iron tip glinting ominously, stained with what seemed to be old blood.
It was a fearsome dragon-slaying ballista!
"Ahhh—"
The crowd gasped, awestruck by the monstrous siege weapon.
Robert, clearly pleased by their reactions, explained with pride, "This is a Dragon Slayer Ballista. Its arrowhead is infused with dragon's blood, capable of piercing through dragon scales with ease."
"One hundred and forty years ago, General Turner Lackman used it to kill the ancient white dragon that terrorized the North—the Glacier Wing."
He raised a finger, emphasizing,
"With just one shot, he pierced the heart of that wretched dragon."
"And back then, General Turner only had a single Dragon Slayer Ballista."
"Now, the Lackman Duchy has spent tens of thousands of gold coins to acquire these three, requiring hundreds of horses and thousands of men to transport them here. I hope this demonstrates our efforts and my confidence."
"If that dragon dares show itself, these three ballistae will bring it down."
Robert's tone exuded certainty.
"Flying Flame Dragon?"
"Ha, I'll make it the Falling Flame Dragon."