The loyalists rushed to make last minute changes to their formation as their enemies prepared for their assault.

  The hamlet was tiny, only a collection of shabby huts. The servants from the royal entourage and some of the children travelling with the camp followers took shelter inside of the buildings. The wagon train settled in between and around the shacks. The settlement was simply too small to fit every cart and person safely.

  The locals on the other hand were braver. They were curious about the upcoming battle so most clambered on top of their thatched roofs to observe the fighting. After all, this event would be talked about for generations to come.

  Meanwhile, Jan and his scouts carefully observed the enemy’s formation. “It’s as we thought. They have around one thousand infantry on each flank, with maybe a hundred, hundred fifty knights in the center of each line,” he paused, “now are you sure about this?”

  “Absolutely,” Varre replied.

  The loyalists on the other hand had three and a half thousand soldiers, with six hundred heavy cavalry total. They’ve started the campaign with four thousand, but minor losses and deploying some forces to act as guards in both Banbury and Tresannes ended up removing a portion.

  The senior commanders initially suggested spreading the units out evenly. They were surrounded, but they still held the upper ground. The battle would be bloody, difficult, and morale would be a problem, but with the mages’ supporting the lines should resist the enemy advance. Hopefully.

  But Varre had a different idea.

  He only assigned five hundred infantry each to three of the sides. And no knights. The soldiers were equipped with spears and large shields, with their only objective being tying the enemy forces down. At these numbers, they stood no chance of victory.

  The North however, received everyone else. Two thousand infantry, along with all six hundred knights would group up on a single side. Fortunately, the buildings and the chaotic layout of the carts made it difficult for the enemy to read the defenders’ moves accurately. This plan should catch them by surprise.

  Staying up on the hilltop was dangerous. The weakened sides were at risk of breaking and the carts of the wagon train were arranged to prepare a secondary line of defense. However, this wasn’t enough. The king would join the Northern flank, where he would be kept safe from the enemy. Perhaps more importantly his honor guard would be a heavy hammer aiding in his plan. Every able bodied man had to fight. There were to be no reserves.

  As the sergeants relayed the last minute orders, the heralds sounded the alarm. The enemies have begun to move.

  Clement led the Southern flank, as his soldiers slowly marched up the rolling hillside. Tobias was most likely hidden somewhere among his forces, so Elvira joined that side as well, ready to duel him.

  Langogne took the other three sides. As far as anyone knew, they did not bring any other wizards. Mages were rare, so a regular noble, even a duke, would be unlikely to have any in his retinue, especially on short notice.

  Still, the seven wizards on Varre’s side were split evenly. Just in case. Two on each remaining stationary side, while the twins, and one other mage, joined the main force on the North. Even if duke Francois managed to hire some, they probably weren’t at the level of a senior mage, like Elvira or Tobias.

  As the enemies got closer, the five hundred men lines began forming up for battle. They left the hamlet behind, giving themselves some room to maneuver. Sporadic arrow fire rained on their shields, but both Langogne and Clement outfitted most of their archers with melee weapons. Their goal was to overwhelm the defenders, and crowd them in.

  The Northern side stayed back. Hoping to catch their enemies off guard and hiding their real numbers from sight.

  Soon, screams rang out around the hilltop. The approaching enemies began their charge. At this short distance, no more than a hundred or so feet, they didn’t have to worry about exhaustion so much. The defenders clenched their teeth and gripped their spears tighter. There was no more pulling back. For either side.

  And so, Varre gave the signal.

  He lowered his sword, as trumpets rang out around him. The bulk of his force arranged on the Northern flank broke out into their own charge, heading directly for the enemy force.

  Two thousand men ran forward, screaming, ready to face a mere thousand opponents. But that was just the bonus. The center of the formation was held by six hundred heavily armored knights, thundering across the dirt.

  Varre stayed a few lines behind, but as he raced his horse, surrounded by the Royal Guard, even he could see Langogne’s reaction. Surprise. And then panic.

  Their hundred fifty or so knights crashed into and intercepted a roughly equal number of loyalist cavalry. But the rest? They had their field day. The arrangement effectively split the horsemen into two separate, two hundred men each units that smashed into the disorganized mass of peasant infantry that formed as the attackers raced across the fields.

  They cut straight through it. This wasn’t the dense, multiple rows deep formation that Clement managed to pull off in his defense of Elstercross. This was a much thinner line, primarily intended to surround the hilltop. On top of that, they hadn’t dug in and didn’t have the time to support each other. The horses plowed through them, dropping enemy soldiers like flies.

  The enemy’s knights had an easy time on the other flanks, though not quite as much of a field day. There, the defending infantry had been prepared to receive them. The soldiers had formed up. They dug their heels into the earth, held their shields up high, and pointed their spears at the riders, or mounts directly.

  Though the cavalry certainly hurt them, the enemy knights were eventually stopped and had to devolve into short range dueling, or had to retreat and attempt a second charge. Not an easy feat as their own infantry quickly poured in to fill any openings.

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  And the same thing happened in the North. After the knights’ charge, which left bloody gaps in the enemy’s formation, an overwhelming mass of infantry slammed straight into the disorganized rabble. Cutting people down left and right, just as they started recovering from the initial shock of the cavalry.

  Hundreds of people were killed or injured within the first minute. Even Varre got to experience some of the combat. He charged along with everyone else, slamming straight into enemy cavalry in the center. Though his Royal Guard did the best they could to ensure his safety, slaying any enemy in sight, they couldn’t do everything in the face of such chaos.

  Varre enhanced himself, along with everyone around him and prepared for combat. Indeed, he soon saw an enemy knight exchanging a few blows with a guardsman and then race forward, straight at the monarch.

  Varre pointed his sword out, hoping to catch the enemy unaware, but unfortunately the Langognean saw him. The horseman froze, probably shocked at the opportunity to fight the enemy commander directly, but recovered quickly. He lowered his head and sped up.

  The man’s lance was abandoned. Either already broken, or dropped in the chaos of battle, but he still held a longsword. He swung it at Varre, as soon as he got in range, but it was deflected.

  The king’s enhanced attributes were now noticeably higher than his natural state and he reacted quickly. Even though he felt an impressive strength coming from the enemy, no doubt just as enhanced, he could hold his own.

  The charge devolved into a duel. The men couldn’t maneuver easily, situated on top of their horses, but they exchanged blows, as the animals circled around each other.

  The Langognean had the clear advantage in experience. Varre had only practiced dueling on foot before, and now mostly operated on instinct. But somehow, he found that his blade always ended up in the right spot to block the enemy. He couldn’t be sure if this was the result of his training, or his luck stat, but it seemed to be working.

  Perhaps, the king would have eventually lost. The enemy likely had a much greater understanding of mounted combat, and perhaps more energy to spare for a lengthy fight, but he was dueling a monarch. And no one could accept such risk for long.

  Though it felt like minutes, in practice the duel lasted no more than thirty seconds, by the time Captain Hakon realized what had happened. He had already turned his horse around and raced to his liege with fury in his eyes. He was raising his sword, ready to chop the Langognean’s head clean off his shoulders, but even he was too slow.

  A ball of light flew over and slammed the knight in the face, killing him instantly.

  Varre turned over his shoulder and saw Jury, one of the twins, winking at him. He had more than one guardian angel watching over him this day.

  Not taking any chances, Hakon still lobbed off the enemy’s head, making sure he was dead, before sticking closer to his liege. Determined to protect him.

  Despite his resolve, it didn’t last too long. Soon, another group of knights managed to scramble through the guardsmen in the chaos and Varre engaged in another short exchange.

  This time at least, the captain got to show off his skills. He used his superhuman strength to chop the enemy clean in half, armor and all, for even daring to come this close to the monarch. He couldn’t do everything in such a hectic, dangerous situation, but he wasn’t going to allow his liege to come to any harm if he could help it.

  Soon, it was over. The battle had lasted for a maximum of ten minutes, before the Northern flank, apparently personally led by Duke Francois broke. The men turned to flee, escaping down the hill and heading for the tree line a mile or so away.

  Normally, the victorious defenders would chase after them, but Varre had another plan.

  He quickly turned to one of his flag carriers to send out a signal. In case that wasn’t enough, the heralds stationed on the hilltop noticed it too and sounded their trumpets. Phase two of the plan was about to begin.

  Light cavalry, the scouts and the squires, continued racing down the hill, picking off isolated stragglers, but the rest had a new job. The army immediately split in half. Fortunately, this was pretty well practiced. The months back in Westbridge, training the troopers were showing results.

  The slower infantry was on the sides already and mostly remained in something resembling a real line formation, while the knights, who tumbled up a bit more in the center, could quickly reposition. One half was led by Count Jan, and quickly started heading East, while the second, led by Baron Gregory, West. Varre decided to stick with Gregory, only because the chaos of battle already pushed him closer.

  The armies marched along the sides of the hill. The casualties were low, especially among the infantry, so each force still consisted of roughly one thousand footmen and three hundred knights.

  They hurried, careful not too exhaust themselves, but aware of the strict time limit and soon came in sight of the enemy forces.

  Just as they feared, the other Langogne flanks had almost fully enveloped the poor five hundred men strong formations, desperately holding on for dear life. The mages did their best, but the average wizard could only hit one target at a time, powerful explosions exhausting their aura too quickly to last for a whole battle. A small trickle of troopers was constantly breaking off, as the injured fled and headed back to the wagon train.

  If they were left alone, they wouldn’t last another hour. Fortunately, their reinforcements had arrived.

  The Langogneans must have been shocked to discover another force, larger than they are, suddenly heading straight for their backs. Some tried to reposition, to prepare for the coming charge of heavy knights, but that put them at risk of getting hit in the back by the enveloped defenders. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  And no one felt that more than the enemy cavalry. They had poured deep into the defenders’ square, cutting left and right, only to be stuck now. Both between the loyalists and their own allies. They couldn’t reposition to meet the coming charge.

  Three hundred knights charged and carved deep lines into the enemy formation. Just as before, they hadn’t had the time to reposition and dig in. The horses plowed through them, trampling whoever survived the lances underfoot. And that was just the beginning.

  Soon, one thousand infantry slammed right into the side of their formation, pushing them like a wave, right against the enveloped square. Within minutes, this formation broke yet again. At least half were gone, either surrounded themselves, or stuck up on the hilltop. Those that previously felt smart, sneaking around the square and hitting from above were now in a hopeless situation.

  The only survivors were those on the opposite side, those on the Southern end of the formation. With the battle clearly lost, they did the only thing they could. They fled.

  The light cavalry was busy chasing the Northern sections of the army, so these men were ignored. The rest of the army, quickly marched South, ready to save the last square. The one facing the rebels.

  Varre had only witnessed the Western flank personally, but he imagined the East went much the same. Count Jan did not have the advantage of another fifty heavy Royal Guards leading the charge, but the side attack would be devastating enough without them.

  The supporting force moved quickly, knowing that every minute of delay meant more casualties, but the men were getting tired after nearly an hour of constant fighting and marching.

  Still, they came in sight of the defenders within fifteen minutes. The situation was even more desperate here. The square was completely surrounded now, with all avenues of escape cut off. One thousand rebels enveloped the loyalists, slowly closing in.

  Elvira on the other hand was busy dueling with Tobias. Explosions filled the sky overhead. The fight had apparently lasted all the way until now, though the frequency of shots was lower than what Varre had remembered from the Elstercross battle. Perhaps both were starting to run empty.

  Baron Gregory hurried the soldiers further and they prepared to slam into the enemy ranks. Clement and his forces haven’t noticed yet, but it was just a matter of time now.

  Varre was about to lower the visor on his helmet, when he spotted another unit approaching from the East. He smiled. Jan had just finished too and was about to hit the last remaining force of the rebels from the other side. The battle was already won.

  In one episode, an army that is far smaller than an enemy force defeats them by surrounding them.

  The defender can allow his flanks to suffer, while he concentrates his forces into a single point and breaks through.

  Let's see how the battle ends!