“Eon, I need to get back. Can you give me a ride?”
“I can make a po—”
“You want to ride on my back?” Ouroboros interrupts her.
“Can I?”
“Sure, but is it fine to let the soldiers see me?”
“No it isn’t. That’s why I’m asking you to drop me off near the camp. And please, return to the crystal, or whatever your home is.”
“Are you going to finish the war you started with the republic and federation?”
“No, I won’t. I’m going straight for the kingdom, for Phyr. I’ll have my revenge. They ruined my last chance at returning to my peaceful life. I want to win fair and square, just so that I can make their defeat sting even more.”
“Fair enough.”
Before long, Tenil has mounted the dragon. The smooth scales are rather slippery, but Ouroboros knows how to ensure she won’t fall off, that is, he uses his power as a god to glue her onto his back. No matter what, Tenil can’t be separated from him for as long as the magical link is active.
Ouroboros takes to the skies, though not very high. Air gets colder and thinner at high altitude, so to ensure the trip won’t become uncomfortable for Tenil, Ouroboros flies just above the trees.
“Say, Eon, if your alias is the Black Dragon King, does that make me a queen?”
The dragon replies with its bestial voice, “Well, I suppose it does. I did pay a visit to this world some centuries ago. I ravaged the land to imprint the terror of the Black Dragon King into the hearts of men. And that’s when the plot twist happened. Dragons of Cerphet came to stop me, thinking I’m a dragon like them. Well, I played the part and ‘imprisoned’ myself. So, the point is, since people believe I’m the Black Dragon King rather than a god, it does make you a queen in their eyes. However, a more accurate title would be goddess, I think.”
“You sound way too technical.”
“Wasn’t your question supposed to be technical?”
“No.”
“Ah, I see. Let me rephrase myself then; yes, you are my queen.”
“Hehe.”
“I didn’t know you can giggle like that.”
“Oh? When did I giggle?”
“Just now.”
“No I didn’t.”
“You’re giggling even now!!”
“You must be imagining it.”
“No I’m not! What’s so funny!?”
“Nothing～♪”
“You... Are you high?”
“...♪”
“Right, just keep whistling...”
In time, Ouroboros drops Tenil off near the camp. It’s midday, so they don’t dare to fly too close, lest they’ll be seen. However, the mile Tenil has to walk on her own isn’t much. She is back at the camp before she even knows it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Art of Revenge
Having returned to the camp, Tenil is causing a ruckus as soon as she assumes the command again. She is ordering her men to prepare to leave. They’re abandoning the republicans. Of course, they won’t just let them do it. The Gunlai general is demanding an explanation from Tenil herself.
“If you leave, we will have to kill you for betraying us,” a republican interpreter translates the general’s threat.
“Oh? Will you?” Tenil is smiling like a devil. “Did you forget that killing us will cost you dearly? You will lose thousands of soldiers, if not even tens of thousands. Whether you like it or not, your men are not as experienced as mine, and I can always unleash the beast within me. So, which is it? Will you try to kill us and risk losing the war with Roshia due to the heavy losses, or will you let us walk out alive, and hopefully win the war too?”
Once her message has been conveyed, the general expresses his anger by grinding his teeth. It seems he is on the same page with Tenil. Whether he likes it or not, it’ll cost him dearly if he attempts to exterminate the Knights of the Red Flag. If the federation finds out about the losses, they’ll definitely launch a large-scale counteroffensive. Should that happen, the republic would certainly lose land and resources.
“You have one day to leave our land, or you will be killed, regardless of the potential losses to our side,” the interpreter conveys the general’s words.
“Fair enough.”
Tenil flashes a triumphant smile. She’s made a dangerous enemy today, but then again, she is certain they’d have tried to kill her off at some point anyway.
They have enough rations to keep the soldiers fed for today and tomorrow, but from there on, it’ll be a painful diet, that is, if they fail to seize more resources. Tenil is planning on taking head on the Phyrian army that should be led by General Harrol to her knowledge.
Today, they flee the republic, tomorrow, they fight Phyr. If Harrol’s forces are eliminated, the rest of Phyr will be drastically weakened. It’ll be a long campaign, so Tenil is planning far ahead.
By the end of the day, the Knights of the Red Flag have crossed the border, exhausted. The Phyrian army may not know about their presence just yet, but once they start marching again in the morning, someone is bound to see them.
***
Indeed, tomorrow at noon, General Harrol receives a report from a scout. He and his division of 10,000 knights are stationed at a former Valorian garrison. It’s located on a hill, surrounded by a stone wall. For the most part, the terrain is rocky, so there is only a handful of trees nearby.
“General Harrol...! The Knights of the Red Flag are on our land! They’ve crossed the border and are marching North!”
“Is that true!?” Harrol demands.
“Certainly!”
Other officers in the strategy room are silently waiting for the commander to give orders.
“Where are they? What seems to be their goal?”
“They are in the forest West of the vast marsh that is South from here. All we know is that they have been heading North.”
“I see. We are mobilizing at once!”
“Sir,” a captain speaks up, “they might be trying to attack us. Should we not wait here and let them come? They cannot win a siege battle without siege engines.”
“That is exactly why we are not staying,” General Harrol remarks. “Since they cannot win a siege battle, why would they come here? It is the Red Demon we are talking about! She would never try something as foolish as that! She will go for the nearby villages and towns, and eventually, she will make us starve.”
“Ah, understood.”
“Therefore, we are mobilizing! We will challenge them in a pitched battle! They are tired and likely hungry too, so we have the upper hand when it comes to strength and numbers.”
An hour later, Harrol’s division leaves the garrison, marching Southwest to meet their foe. Just as Harrol has surmised, Tenil’s men are at a disadvantage, both in numbers and stamina. Also, Harrol’s troops have seen action about as much as Tenil’s.
Since Harrol’s job is to get rid of Tenil, he’d chosen to stay at the garrison near the border. It won’t take long until they engage in battle. Mounted scouts are constantly reporting about the whereabouts of the Knights of the Red Flag. They’re marching right next to the vast marsh, following a road.
“I can see them,” Harrol speaks to himself as he uses a small periscope to spy on the Red Demon. Since they’re at the Northwestern edge of the wide expanse of the marsh, they can indeed see Tenil’s men who’re at the Western edge.
The distance between them is closing fast.
“What the...?” Harrol is confused by the actions of the rebels. “Why are they retreating that way?”
About 300 archers of Tenil’s division start fleeing towards an islet in the marsh, a hundred yards off the dry land. A patch of pines grow on the islet, so it’s defendable ground. The rest of the knights retreat South as if they were afraid to die. To Harrol, it looks like Tenil is using those 300 archers as scapegoats.
However, it’s the Red Demon. She must have a plan, but what is it? Is she trying to lure th
em to attack the archers so that she can go around them and take the garrison? Since the islet is an ideal location for a last stand attempt, attacking the stranded archers may prove disadvantageous and time consuming.
But then again, if they manage to eliminate those 300 archers without fatal losses, Tenil’s numbers will shrink permanently. She has no nation backing her, so each fallen soldier matters since she has no reinforcements coming to her aid.
“Sir, what shall we do?”
“We set up a defensive formation at the edge of the marsh and send the third regiment to attack while we keep Tenil’s main core away from their allies. If they try to go around us, we send our cavalry to intercept and pull our forces back from the marsh.”
“Yes, Sir!”
They form a C-shaped defense line next to the marsh, rear facing the islet. Archers are positioned at the center, whereas one regiment is going to charge the stranded archers. It takes a while to set it up because of the numbers.
Once they’re ready, the appointed regiment of 2,000 men charge the archers. Truly, those abandoned rebels are so close, so easy to get rid of—at least that’s how it should be. They’re only a hundred yards off the dry land, but the gap is gradually growing in Harrol’s mind, like the islet was drifting away.
The rebel archers release hails of arrows at the vulnerable footmen. Some stumble and fall face-first into the mud, and some get stuck in it. Arrows skewer the armored knights by their weak spots, such as throats and joints. What’s more, since the 300 archers had to cross the wet earth, they caused the already soft marsh to become even worse. Because of that, some knights drown in the mud and water. Blood dyes the golden grass red.
When your enemy is nigh, pretend to be afar.
When your enemy is afar, pretend to be near.
When you are at your weakest, pretend to be strong.
When you are at your strongest, pretend to be weak.
That is the essence of the strategy; although the islet is so near, it is, in fact, so far away they can’t reach it. In other words, the opponent is afar, so they pretend to be near. Furthermore, they’re pretending to be at their weakest, but the truth is that they’re at their strongest on such an islet surrounded by mud. They might be the 300 that were sick only recently, and some of them are still affected, but even so, Harrol’s men can’t reach them. The marsh and the constant rain of arrows ensures it.
“Sir! The rebels are sending their cavalry to attack us!”
“Eh? Are they stupid!?” Harrol is even further confused. However, the moment he realizes that he is indeed confused, fear creeps into his heart. A man may see through one’s tactic, but it is the victorious strategy that cannot be seen through. That thought horrifies Harrol, for he can’t guess what the enemy is thinking.
“Prepare for the worst! They must be up to something!”
However...
“What?” Harrol is once again confused.
The small cavalry force that Tenil has with her circumvents around the formation, barely out of the archers’ range. They ride swiftly as if time were their enemy.
“Send our cavalry after them! Do not let them get to the garrison! Do whatever you must to stop them!” Harrol roars.
Their division consists of 1,000 riders, so experienced or not, Tenil’s cavalry, which is a very meager one, cannot defeat the superior cavalry, unless they lay a trap, which is obviously next to impossible under the current conditions.
Harrol grabs his periscope, taking a look at Tenil’s troops. They might be up to something very tactical, if not even decisive. Harrol is genuinely terrified. He knows the Red Demon is a prodigy when it comes to maneuvering.
“They are coming!” Harrol shouts. He can see the Knights of the Red Flag advancing with their flag held high. They are indeed attacking.
“Archers to the rear! Footmen to the front! Move it!”
Rather than maintaining the C-formation, he goes for a stronger one that can withstand a heavy frontal assault, one that resembles a cube. The footmen at the front, there is no way the archers can get caught in melee combat, unless the whole front crumbles. It is an ideal formation for a pitched battle.
No matter how he looks at it, Harrol can’t find an error in his maneuvering.
“Pull the men away from the marsh! Let the stranded archers be! We will deal with them later since they cannot cross the mud either!” True, the archers are useless at the moment, for if they tried to cross the mud now when hundreds upon hundreds have been plowing the earth with their feet, they’d only drown in the marsh or get shot by Harrol’s men.
“...!!!” Harrol can see Tenil yelling, standing at the forefront of her ranks.
The rebels cry so loud they are competing with thunder.
““““““““““GUTS!!!!!””””””””””
Tenil is shouting something again.
““““““““““BLOOD!!!!!””””””””””
And once more, she raises her voice while holding her large, gargantuan sword above her head.
““““““““““““““““““FROM THE ENEMY!!!”””””””””””””””””
The Division of the Red Demon roars as one, charging the ranks of the Phyrian army. Harrol orders archers to rain hell upon them, but it does little to stop the stampeding veterans of the war. Their battlecries resound in the air, shattering the courage Harrol’s men had a while ago.
They clash.
Locked in a pitched battle, neither side can escape without losses now. Kill or be killed, that is all there is to it. Neither Tenil nor Harrol’s men can pull off any maneuvers anymore. The one with stronger soldiers will emerge victorious.
Despite the clear advantage in numbers and equipment, Harrol can’t help the beads of cold sweat. Is that the extend of the Red Demon’s talent? Is there nothing else to their strategy? Are they trying to trade their forces?
No, no, and no, Harrol reasons. That is the answer to all of those questions. He just can’t see the ultimate stratagem yet, the hidden evil in the battlefield, evil only mind’s eye can see.
Over ten minutes later, a lieutenant shouts, “Sir, our cavalry is coming back from North!”
That is the first clue to the puzzle.
“Let me see,” Harrol takes a look at the cavalry, which is closing in on their rear. It is their cavalry, numbering a thousand—except that there is a smaller cavalry force in front of their superior cavalry. “No way...”
It all comes to his mind now. There is a pond North from their location, and Tenil’s cavalry was aiming for that body of water. They let the pursuing cavalry chase them, and they’ve managed to fool them by making a U-turn around the pond. Because of that, they’ve successfully maneuvered behind Harrol’s army, about to charge the exposed rear.
The 300 riders of the Red Demon’s division might be at a huge disadvantage, but since the main force is occupied with Tenil’s frontal assault, the archers are bound to be annihilated. Moreover, Harrol’s cavalry will be forced to slow down since they’re literally charging their allies.
“Sir! The enemy has stopped firing!”
“It can’t be...”
“Sir?”
Tenil must’ve instructed her archers to stop firing the moment they see the cavalry charge Harrol’s ranks.
“Archers! The enemy is behind us! Shoot! Kill them!” He is ready to sacrifice his cavalry to stop the incoming threat. If the cavalry reaches their ranks, it’ll be over for them.
The red flag is fluttering in the breeze, confidently watching over its men.
Harrol’s archers shoot at the threat coming at their rear to no avail. It’s too late now. They do kill a handful, but since the small band of riders is spread out, there is no stopping them with hails of arrows.
“Curse you...!” General Harrol has been bested.
Tenil’s cavalry sweeps the ranks of archers clean, Harrol’s cavalry right behind them. Their commander decides to trade for
ces instead of trying to stop the damage. The 1,000 riders go around their allies and flank Tenil’s troops from the Western side, the marsh on the Eastern side.
However, the Red Demon is prepared for it; the female commander with the humongous sword intercepts the cavalry herself, having predicted that the cavalry might want to trade numbers. And since the Eastern flank is protected by the marsh, it’s rather obvious they attack the Western flank.
The archers under the red flag focus their fire on the cavalry too, as there is no fear of friendly fire. Furthermore, they’ve been prepared for it, unlike Harrol’s men, which proves fatal for the cavalry.
Checkmate.
The manipulated battle ends soon—with only a handful of Harrol’s men left, he himself in the middle of the surrounded men. They can’t move, for if they do, the Knights of the Red Flag will stab them to death. It’s 30 versus 6,000 at the moment.
“Tenil!!!” Harrol yells, “Where are you!!!?”
“Right here,” the Red Demon steps forth, the massive chunk of hulking iron coated in organic debris.
General Harrol demands, “Let me and my remaining men go!”
“Why would I? Once I have gotten the information I need, I will kill you and let your men go.”
“Then,” Harrol holds his sword at a middle-aged man’s throat, “I will kill your father if you won’t!”
“What!?” The man in question is startled. Indeed, Tenil’s father, an archer, has become a hostage.
Tenil’s bizarre, striped face shows no change. “If you want to live, make way,” Tenil tells Harrol’s men.
The defeated soldiers drop their weapons and make way for Tenil as she walks towards Harrol, the last armed soldier.
“I’ll seriously kill him!!!”
“T-Tenil...? Is that you?” Her father is shocked by the sight of her daughter having such a face. He isn’t afraid of the blade at his throat, not when he is seeing her daughter like that.
“Yes, it is me,” Tenil replies, still walking as if her father’s life didn’t mean anything to her.
“I WILL kill him!!!”
Tenil is getting close enough to swing her weapon. She lifts the massive chunk of hulking iron in the air, preparing to strike.
Languished Life Page 24