Chapter 90: A Revelation from God
Fighting with both hands free versus fighting while holding the reins was on a completely different level. First off, I hadn’t been riding for very long, and even with the Horsemanship Manual’s help—with its proficiency and basic stance correction—there’s no way I could’ve performed as cavalry without it.
So I’d had considerable fear about releasing the reins. Riding a bike with both hands off shows you’ve got real skills and the confidence to control it. Riding a horse is even more extreme—you’re literally putting your life on the line. If you don’t maintain rhythm and balance, you could easily fall off.
So I’d essentially been fighting with a self-imposed handicap. The enemy could attack freely with both hands while I could only use one. That’s why when I faced two-on-one situations, I relied on Schatten’s athleticism.
When I got surrounded, being able to dodge and counterattack using Schatten was purely thanks to his physical capabilities. Why else would a thoroughbred be a thoroughbred? They were horses so expensive only high nobles could afford them, but they boasted that kind of high performance. How good would a warhorse worth dozens of gold coins be?
Having such a good horse while the rider’s skills were terrible was pretty embarrassing. My subordinates acknowledged my command ability but thought I was worse than them as a rider—not that they disrespected me for it, but I was kind of self-conscious about it.
Why are you riding such a great horse like that?
It was only thanks to my command ability using the scouter that I didn’t get pushed around by the rough cavalrymen who’d nitpick my riding skills. Cavalrymen were basically pretty rough types who cared more about self-interest than discipline, but their courage in charging into enemy lines without hesitation was worth recognizing.
The cavalry I led crushed the enemy’s center, then pursued scattered fleeing enemies or surrounded and mercilessly slaughtered those who resisted. The enemy cavalry outnumbered us, but at the front they’d lost mobility after failing to break through the spear formation, and with their center penetrated and isolated, the outcome was already decided.
Moreover, with two enemy commanders taken down, there was a gap in the command structure, leaving them with zero coordination—the enemies in the rear chose to flee. Light cavalry specialized in raids and pursuit, but they were also good at running away. So I stopped pursuing those who’d already fled far enough.
"Don’t chase the runners—attack the ones who are trapped!"
Instead, I had my men focus on the remaining enemy light cavalry who were stuck and couldn’t move because of the wall of spears. Fiel and August heard my orders and relayed them to each lieutenant. But some of the riders ignored orders and chased the fleeing enemy anyway—they were the cavalry Fried had sent.
"Captain, those men ignored orders and broke off."
"Leave them. Those idiots—Euznirk will deal with them himself."
Fiel and I worked hard attacking the enemy.
We killed fallen enemies by striking them from above, sent them flying with Schatten’s body slams, and stabbed cavalrymen in the back as they tried to mount abandoned horses. The crimson pattern on my armor seemed to shine brightly. I was drenching it in blood killing enemies like this.
"Sir Streit! The enemy commander has requested surrender!"
I thought they’d resist longer, but their commander chose surrender over annihilation. I had my subordinates tie up the unconscious Bayon. About 30 enemy cavalry surrendered, and the rest had fled or died. Our casualties were 15 dead, mostly from Fried’s cavalry.
And those were the same cavalrymen who’d broken off without permission to pursue the enemy. Since they were Euznirk family cavalry, they’d chosen their own interests over faithfully following my orders. The lieutenants were angry, but the riders had already broken off—there was no stopping them now, so I told everyone to let it go.
"You’re Streit?"
"That’s right."
The enemy commander who’d removed his helmet showed me proper respect.
Pretty polite for a French knight?
Honestly, I was the one feeling awkward.
"I am Gundir of Holland. Rather than an honorable death, I’ll surrender thinking of my men’s safety, so please accept with God’s mercy and don’t forsake us."
Holland was part of the present-day Netherlands.
So this man wasn’t French.
No wonder he was polite.
If he’d been French, he would’ve demanded wine and good bread right off the bat.
"I accept. Though you’re the enemy, I guarantee you treatment befitting knights."
"Thank you, but would you permit us to recover our fallen men’s bodies?"
The commander seemed to have exceptional affection for his subordinates.
Most of his men were also from Holland, so I understood.
Following battlefield custom, our cavalrymen seized the surrendered cavalry’s equipment and horses. There was minor resistance, but having surrendered, the prisoners had no choice but to be stripped. As with Jean de Plessis captured at Feuzen or Épinay’s Clodis, we didn’t touch the equipment and horses of knights who had ransoms.
Six knights were captured, including Bayon.
Bayon, having regained consciousness, said to me with mixed feelings:
"Never thought I’d lose so pathetically."
"I didn’t think I’d win so easily either."
"Having lost, I don’t want to make excuses. One thing I’m curious about—how did you know we’d come raiding? It should’ve been too tight on time to gather intelligence."
"I had a revelation from God to save Beren because Burgundy would attack."
"...Are you joking?"
I was imitating Joan of Arc a bit. From Burgundy’s perspective, Joan of Arc was a terrifying and hateful figure that made their teeth grind. She’d died 20 years ago, but there were still many regions throughout France that mourned or honored her. For Burgundy, it was like poking a sore spot.
Bayon glared at me as if he couldn’t comprehend, then was dragged off to prison. Michael, who’d been cleaning up the battlefield in front of the garrison, approached me. He looked at the prisoners’ backs as they walked away and said:
"Excellent achievement. Those Euz nobles are going to faint again, huh?"
"If the main force wins gloriously, won’t the envy toward me die down?"
"As if those greedy pigs would let it go. Just ignore them."
Like Michael said, ignoring them was probably the best policy.
I was a central noble anyway, and those men were border nobles.
Then I reported about the cavalry Fried had sent.
Michael’s face, which had been beaming from victory, crumpled.
"What? They ignored orders and broke off?"
"They went chasing after the fleeing enemy."
"They completely smeared mud on Fried’s face. Anyway, these regional lords treat central orders like garbage. Problem is, this kind of thing’s been going on for hundreds of years. Damn bastards."
Just as the regions hated being controlled by the center, the center equally hated the regions acting on their own every chance they got. I’d witnessed through this war how severe the conflict between center and regions was, and I fully understood why the War Minister’s family had to be born warriors.
Without a tough warrior like my father-in-law, the regional lords probably wouldn’t give a damn.
"Mission accomplished."
"Well done. The archers taking no casualties was thanks to you handling things properly."
"No sir. It’s thanks to Oscar, Gustav, and Ted responding diligently."
Actually, the greatest threat to the enemy cavalry had been our archers. Cavalry stopped and blocked by a spear wall were nothing but easy prey for archers. The archers killed more enemies than the light cavalry I led. Oscar’s unit blocked the enemy cavalrymen who squeezed through trying to eliminate the archers.
We effectively blocked the enemy’s offensive with a proper division of roles.
If Michael and I were the hammer and anvil, Oscar and the Rosenheim soldiers served as the auxiliary anvil. The Rosenheim soldiers had three wounded but fortunately no deaths.
Thanks to that, the archers suffered zero casualties, so they could hunt enemy cavalry without worry. And that in turn helped Michael concentrate on the front. I commended Oscar, Ted, and Gustav for their achievements. A little praise goes a long way.
My subordinates, who’d been dejected with nowhere to contribute, brightened up considerably.