Chapter 175: The Main Team
Last night, Simon fell asleep as soon as he finished eating. All night, his dreams were filled with images of the bloody battle at Dunmere City, the terrified eyes of slave soldiers, splattering blood, and the crimson mist rising from exploding fire jars.
Just half a year ago, he had been a shut-in researcher comfortably working in a lab. Now, he had to face the brutal reality of ancient warfare just to survive.
This was a hundred, no, a thousand times more terrifying than witnessing a street fight. The sheer psychological pressure of seeing a dark mass of roaring enemies charging at you was overwhelming.
But he had to endure it. He had to get used to it. Because this might very well be his life from now on.
On the city walls, the supplies consumed yesterday had been replenished. The rookie soldiers, who had never experienced war before, seemed to have matured overnight. Yesterday’s victory taught them that as long as they stood united, the reavers weren’t so fearsome.
"My Lord, I doubt the reavers will attack again in the next couple of days," Benjamin said, peering through a monocular telescope at the enemy camp.
Simon was also observing. Campfires still burned in the reaver encampment, where slaves scurried about, forced to rebuild siege ladders and other equipment. Meanwhile, the reavers roasted cattle and sheep over the fires, the rich aroma making many soldiers swallow their saliva.
"Don’t drool. Once we win, I’ll make sure you all eat meat too!" Simon said to the soldiers.
The men burst into laughter. Benjamin grinned. "His Highness is right. All these years, the reavers have been stealing from us. After we win, we’ll raid their cattle and sheep, let you eat until you’re sick of it!"
"Better yet, I’ll lead the cavalry out and bring back reaver wives for you!" Lancelot chimed in crudely, having appeared out of nowhere.
The laughter grew even louder.
In the military, flowery words meant nothing. These soldiers were mostly illiterate; practical promises worked best. Simon pointed beyond the walls. "Do you see that land out there? Is it fertile?"
"Fertile!" The soldiers shouted in unison.
"Good. From now on, for every reaver you kill, I promise you ten plots of land outside Dunmere. The more you kill, the more land you get. And when we retake the Snake Pass one day, every one of you will become a damned landowner!"
"Your Highness, do you mean it?" A soldier suddenly asked.
"My word is iron. Captain Lancelot and Commander Benjamin are both witnesses." Simon replied.
The soldier’s face flushed with excitement. "Your Highness, I’m originally from West Ham. I fled to Dunmere as a refugee. If we reach the Snake Pass, can I pick land in my hometown?"
"Of course."
The soldier nodded firmly. "Your Highness, many of us in the Brambleford Army are from West Ham. For your promise, we’ll fight to the death."
Simon and Benjamin exchanged satisfied glances.
In warfare, a soldier’s motivation was crucial to victory. Most soldiers had little desire for distant campaigns. The reason the Brambleford Army fought so fiercely for Dunmere was simple: behind these walls were their homes and families.
But if they were to push north and retake the Snake Pass, that motivation would wane, except for those who had once called West Ham home.
This gave Simon an idea. "Commander Benjamin, I want to establish a special cavalry unit, the Squad Divincox."
"Squad Divincox?" Benjamin’s expression turned thoughtful. "If I’m not mistaken. Your Highness’s vision is far-reaching."
Simon nodded; his plan was the same: to form a cavalry from the remnants of Prince Augustus’ forces and displaced West Ham refugees. Such men would fight desperately to reclaim their homeland.
"Exactly." He explained his thoughts to Benjamin.
Benjamin nodded approvingly. "My Lord is farsighted. But the Eldorian Empire lacks warhorses. Where will we get enough mounts?"
"If we don’t have horses, we’ll take them from the reavers," Simon said, eyeing the herds in the enemy camp.
Benjamin shook his head sceptically. With their current defensive stance, launching raids for horses seemed impossible.
As Benjamin predicted, the Alkamite tribe didn’t attack for the next three days.
Then, on the third evening, a massive army appeared north of the Alkamite camp.
Through his telescope, Simon saw banners emblazoned with a wolf’s head, the royal standard only the Father was entitled to carry.
At the same time, the Machinery Department delivered four more cannons to Dunmere, along with five hundred fire jars and a supply of granulated gunpowder.
That night, Simon ordered all cannons mounted on the artillery platforms.
The reaver host stretched beyond the horizon. There was no telling how many troops had arrived, but the sheer number of slave soldiers alone was daunting.
As the battle loomed, the atmosphere in the city grew tense. Every face was grim.
Can we hold?
That question weighed on every mind. Soon, they would have their answer...
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Reaver Command Tent
Agarth and Amon entered the royal tent together, where a towering man sat like an iron pagoda.
Agarth’s expression darkened. "Fern, has the Father not come?"
The man, Fern, the same envoy who had visited Eldora, smirked. "Why would my father bother with a minor outpost like Dunmere?"
"Then why do you bear the royal standard? Isn’t that disrespectful to the Father?" Agarth’s voice was hoarse.
Fern stood. "By my father’s order. The banner is just to intimidate these Eldorian Empire dogs. Or do you question the Father’s command, Banner Chief Agarth?"
"I would never defy the Father’s word," Agarth said stiffly.
Fern sneered. Agarth had always favoured his elder brother, the heir apparent, while looking down on him, the second son destined for some remote territory.
The flames flickered inside the tent. Black shadows danced in the candlelight.
Fern looked at Agarth and said. "For this attack on Dunmere City, the Alkamite Tribe must follow my orders completely."
Agarth didn’t like it, but he still nodded.
Fern then asked. "How is Dunmere’s defense?"
Agarth explained everything from the previous few days of attacks.
"Exploding gunpowder jars?" Fern asked.
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