Chapter 160

Chapter 160

***

Many people have pondered. They still ponder. How to win a fight.

Among them, some left writings. That doing this and that wins. But looking at those writings, they spouted absurdly obvious things.

When attacking, troops must be 3 times more than the enemy's, exploit the enemy's weaknesses with my strengths, words like that, that was.

Wouldn't about half the people think, WHO WAS SUFFERING THIS HARDSHIP BECAUSE THEY DON'T KNOW?

That half, falls away. And pretend they know going somewhere. Basically showing off as if it's nothing much while knowing nothing.

However, the other half was not like that. They ponder at least once, WHY DID THAT PERSON SAY SUCH WORDS? Here again half find the answer, and the remaining half fail to find the answer.

Those who found the answer finally understand. AH, IT'S SOMETHING EVERYONE KNOWS, BUT WHEN ACTUALLY ENTERING REAL COMBAT THEY COMPLETELY FORGET IT.

Ultimately, one only knows by clashing. Trying engaging in a fight staking one's life, uncountably many things were transmitted through feeling.

Among them, only a minority survives and realizes the essence of victory.

Here again, if told to put into words what that realization was, there were no particular words to say. Ultimately, they too end up saying only obvious things.

And again, people ask them to please tell them the secret to succeeding. Doesn't everyone know? Why ask while knowing? If it's about looking for an easy method, this was the only thing to say. That there was no such thing.

Rickart too had seen books regarding strategy, tactics, and the art of war while coming and going. The thought he had reading them, THIS PERSON HAD FOUGHT THIS KIND OF FOUGHT, was all.

Some emphasized momentum, and some emphasized meticulous plans. They were all correct words. It was merely spinning a yarn based on what that person experienced.

Rickart respects all authors of the books. It was merely just that. He only respected them, he didn't particularly follow the things they said. Even if there were similar parts, he didn't greatly care.

Rickart believed more in the things he himself experienced, and the techniques and realizations that became increasingly more meticulously refined doing so. That belief had never betrayed him.

So if asked how to win to Rickart, there was only one thing Rickart would say.

"First, observe. Organize an encampment here to let the soldiers rest, and knights surveil the upstream and downstream sides."

Rickart walked along the riverside together with the knights and said. The shore next to the river had bushes growing densely; ordinarily it wasn't a place one would dip their feet in while sane.

There were enemies across the river. Over there, not only bushes but obstacles preventing river crossing by driving stakes were installed perfectly.

The enemies were staring closely at Rickart's side from across the river.

"Are you crossing the river?"

Raimund asked.

"Mustn't we cross the river to win?"

"The water depth reaches up to the chest, more than half will be swept away while crossing. A barrage of arrows will also pour down."

"I am not a person that recklessly without countermeasures. I am not telling you to cross here. However, it would be nice if the enemies believed so."

At Rickart's words, Raimund nodded his head exactly as if he knew something. Not many words were needed. Because the knights of the knighthood had abundant experience, exactly so-called thud if you prompt thud.

For now, they dug trenches, drove stakes, pitched tents, and organized the encampment first. Whether the soldiers completely didn't care about the enemies across the river, they laid their bodies exhausted from marching down and rested comfortably.

Because they knew that if they couldn't cross from this side anyway, the opponent couldn't cross either.

But it wasn't exactly that Rickart had a good method right this instant. Crossing the bridge made no sense, and crossing the river made even less sense.

That didn't mean he was frustrated either. Because what was called observation always provided the answer.

If one observed the enemies meticulously, and observed oneself too, the answer naturally shot up from within that.

So he just looked. Walking exactly as if taking a stroll along the riverside, he looked at the sky once, looked at the grass once, looked at the river water flowing too, and stared blankly at the enemies.

Naturally the enemies looked at this side too. They just looked at each other. There was nothing to hide, intentions were clear, and everything was just visible.

They just spent two days like that. Going back and forth upstream and downstream along the riverside to reconnoiter, the enemies exactly followed them stuck from across the river like magnets.

Then when three days passed, Rickart noticed one change. The enemies were sturdily reinforcing the bridge side and the riverside differently every day. Troop deployment was also more meticulous, making sure there were no gaps.

The will that they would absolutely make sure they couldn't cross over no matter what was transmitted well. Rickart found a clue here.

"Those guys over there, how long would it take them to tear all that down?"

"Pardon?"

"In order to move they'll have to tear all that down."

"Well, I think it will take quite a while. Wouldn't it take about half a day?"

Raimund also looked across the river and said. Half a day was six hours.

"Ray, you're overestimating the enemies too much. That's by our standards."

"Then how long do you think it will take, Commander?"

"They wouldn't be able to do it even if they worked all day."

Although the knighthood had accumulated experience as a single army for a long time, the enemies were conscripted troops. In other words, because it was people living in different regions clumped together under one person, their combat prowess was all different.

Here, what was called combat prowess didn't just mean holding a weapon and fighting, but meant the comprehensive capability of an army such as organizing an encampment, taking it down, moving, and the like.

Rickart slowly saw it now. The thing beyond what was visible to the eye.

And as always, it embraced the truth. The truth that was only visible to those who observe closely with patience.

"Let me ask you another thing. If we took down the encampment and the entire troop strength moved up to the upstream we saw yesterday, how much time do you think it would take?"

"We would be able to arrive around evening."

"What if we force march?"

"Half a day."

Every time he asked, Raimund answered immediately without even thinking. It wasn't just roughly calculating in his head, but a conclusion naturally obtained because he had done it countlessly over the meantime.

But conversely, did the enemies know how much their own capability was? As Rickart thought, it seemed they didn't.

To outward appearances troop placements or obstacle installations and the like seemed meticulous and solid, but that was because they took a long time and did it little by little that it had reached the present.

Then, he just had to disrupt it. He felt the key to victory lay there. And that thought soon turned into certainty.

When the path toward victory became visible, the plans accompanying it were established in an instant.

"Let's do this. From now on we have a week's worth of food left, so for four days, take down the encampment every morning and form an attack formation. And around evening, organize the encampment again and tell them to sleep."

"Are we doing a training exercise?"

"That too, but relay to the soldiers that we are truly attacking. On the fifth day we move upstream. We will fight the decisive battle there."

Raimund thought quietly then nodded his head. He quickly understood exactly what Rickart intended.

"......It seems like a decent plan. Of course the soldiers will suffer a bit though."

"If the body is tired but we can save even one more life, that's better."

Rickart looked at the enemies perfectly deployed without gaps across the river and said.

From the next day, the plan was executed. From early morning the soldiers took down the encampment and organized an attack formation.

Though they were brave, they knew best exactly how reckless and dangerous an act crossing the bridge to attack was.

So even while following Rickart's orders their hearts couldn't help but pound thud crash. Some even simply accepted death early on.

Conversely the enemies, as the knighthood moved exactly as if they would attack, were greatly flustered beyond expectation and panicked. Even though a defending fight was much easier than an attacking one, they looked exactly like they weren't mentally prepared.

However around evening an instruction that the attack operation had been canceled was propagated inside the knighthood. The soldiers sighed a sigh of relief, pitched the encampment again, and went to bed.

But this repeated the next day as well. And the day after that too. After repeating roughly three days, the soldiers thought that Rickart's resolve was wavering.

A fight called battle naturally had times when one must did it even bearing losses. Because they perhaps thought it was because of that, the soldiers requested Rickart to issue the attack command.

Of course Rickart had no intention of doing so, but it was slightly touching. He newly felt exactly that THEY FOLLOW ME TO THIS EXTENT.

Conversely the enemies started getting irritated at what the hell they were doing. Thinking about it, attacking across the bridge made no sense. So the enemies reached the conclusion that they were playing with them.

From the fourth day onwards, even if the knighthood organized an attack formation, they didn't make any particular response. And as expected, the attack was canceled that day too.

Like that, the fifth day dawned. It was the time before the sun had revealed its appearance yet. It was such a time when the world was pitch-black then gradually turned blue. Because it was already autumn, the air was quite chilly.

Perhaps because it was repeated every day, the soldiers folded the encampment truly in an instant. And even before the order fell they went to their spots and tried to set up their ranks, but it was different from before.

"Organize a marching formation."

They were bewildered but it was much easier than organizing an attack formation. By the time the sun stealthily poked its head out, the entire force of the knighthood left the enemies across the river and started moving upstream along the river.

The enemies stared blinking their eyes blink blink. The soldiers knew first that something unusual was happening, but they hesitated whether they had to submit a report even going as far as waking up the commander. So the report went up about an hour late.

"Why are you saying that only now! You crazy bastard!"

The ones who threw a fit complaining why they woke him up when it wasn't anything big, were now throwing a fit asking why they hadn't told him faster. He hurriedly submitted a report to the highest-level command.

2nd Imperial Prince Lotharius, while enjoying a banquet accompanied by wine from the crack of dawn, spoke exactly as if it was no big deal.

"If they move, we can just move too right?"

"That is true. But it seems we must hurry. The enemies already moved about an hour ago."

"It is fine. Do not make a fuss. It says in the art of war that if the commander is anxious, the soldiers are also anxious. Anyway, the fact that they must cross the river does not change. Convey to the units that finished preparations first to go upstream."

His words weren't wrong per se. The problem was whether it suited the current situation.

Especially, although it was said they gathered under Lotharius, the entire thing was not an organically connected army.

While some units finished march preparations reasonably fast, some units looked exactly like they wouldn't be able to did it even if they did it all day. Among them, there were also units that intentionally did it late.

Because they had received the order, the units that prepared first departed, but that number was at the level of a few hundred.

However no matter how much they went upstream, the knighthood that should be across the river was nowhere to be seen. Because starting early in the morning they moved swiftly, and unlike usual they were force-marching.

Only after the knights rode on horses for a long time could they barely see the knighthood going way up ahead.

They noticed first. That something was wrong here. That they were in big trouble.

However, there was a difference between experiencing it in the field and feeling and judging it in the command center. Those in the field discovered first that this had a problem, but the command center didn't.

"Even if the enemies cross the river, it will take a long time to set up their ranks. We are over 10,000 troops, and it is a known fact that the enemies are 6,000. While the enemies' bodies are wet from crossing the river and in confusion, if we set up formation and fight we can win as much as we want."

Lotharius's words were always correct. There was nothing wrong. Merely, thinking only at his level, he overlooked the fact that reality was not solving a problem.

From this point on, Lotharius's army began to crack. The judgments of the subordinate units split.

Some insisted they must quickly go upstream even now and fight the enemy, while others insisted they must go clumped up together. But those weren't even properly reported and they moved arbitrarily.

While they panicked, Rickart led the entire knighthood troops and continued the force march. Walking for roughly six hours, they arrived upstream in one breath.

The depth of the river water was about knee-calf deep, and across the river was merely desolate. The enemies had failed to follow them far more than expected.

And unlike the enemies, Rickart judged instantly on site.

"Knights will cross first. Soldiers will organize attack formations after crossing the river and slowly come down. 200 knights will protect the flanks, and the rest will follow me to maneuver widely around the enemies."

Saying so, he stood at the very forefront himself and crossed the river, while hundreds of knights rode their massive warhorses and followed behind him. The river water splashed splash splash so much that the bottom was exposed briefly.

Rickart, who crossed the river just like that without receiving any particular obstruction, led the knights and initially went down toward downstream. Not long after, a few enemies hurriedly coming upstream were seen.

Unlike the knighthood moving with one commander, one order, and as one army, the enemies were in a state where everything was shattered even before fighting the battle. With several commanders, several orders, into several units.

As the knights lifted their spears and charged wildly, what was there even for Rickart to play an active role or not. The terrified enemies abandoned their weapons and fled, and the knights chased them and slaughtered them unilaterally.

The sound of the ground vibrating rat-a-tat and the screams of the enemies mixed. After trampling the enemies a few times like that, rather than the downstream river, they moved inland and began to envelop the enemy widely.

Not even knowing the current situation was like that, Lotharius slowly moved upstream riding a horse only around afternoon. By his side was only a crowd of flatterers.

"If we catch the Commander of the Knights, Your Highness' reputation will spread throughout the entire Empire. Then an even larger force will gather, and you will be able to make your younger brother submit without even the need to fight."

"I find that overly regrettable. While we raised the banners, we must compete for supremacy at least once......"

"When you ascend to the throne, since you must embrace all subjects you must not shed blood unnecessarily. Please bestow mercy."

"Those are correct words. Our Imperial family has considered protecting the weak as honor. I cannot exactly put my personal greed forward."

Lotharius closed his eyes softly and spoke exactly as if enduring. He himself was more or less a bit intoxicated.

However, not having moved far, they discovered friendly forces running up panting from the front. With hundreds throwing away their weapons and running up simultaneously, it was a somewhat bizarre sight.

"What is going on?"

Lotharius asked. However, the people flatteringly beside him also did not know how the current situation was turning out. The one who told the truth was an unknown knight who almost died on site but survived.

"Th, the enemies crossed the river. They already organized an attack formation and are currently coming down downstream."

Then Lotharius and the crowd of flatterers heavily frowned. What was this sound? That's impossible.

However even while doing so the routed soldiers were running up wildly. They all had expressions exactly like they had met the grim reaper.

And from afar a loud shout started to be heard small.

-Rise Up, Knights! Invoke the Storm!

Hearing that sound they all stood still with stiff expressions exactly as if time stopped. Then suddenly someone spoke.

"Let us form ranks even now and wage a battle."

"Must we not step back first and collect the soldiers?"

"Only a few vanguard units have been annihilated, the main force is still perfectly fine. The knighthood is 6,000 at most combined and we are 10,000. If we run away without even fighting, not only will this be dishonorable but we will become the laughingstock of the entire Empire."

"To be defeated is a greater dishonor!"

"Do you speak of defeat even before fighting!"

"The fight has already begun!"

Just a moment ago they were laughing haha and flattering, but when a serious matter actually hit, opinions split among themselves and they began to fight.

At times like this the supreme commander must make a decision, but Lotharius stood blankly stupidly with his mouth open.

As his subjects looked back at him exactly as if urging a decision, Lotharius stuttered and said.

"I, I, I commanded properly, but y, you, the foolish soldiers failed to execute it properly."

In that instant the subjects put on blank expressions too wondering what they just heard. Making such remarks in the current situation, it was hard to believe even after hearing it. What was he saying? He's evading responsibility? Now?

Meanwhile the shouts of the knighthood were heard louder.

"Rise Up, Knights! Invoke the Storm!"

Lotharius ended up flinching in surprise. The main force troops who hadn't even fought yet were already in a demoralized state.

And the appearance of the enemies began to be visible; despite force marching without rest from morning until now, and coming down while destroying enemies, the ranks of the knighthood looked rock-solid.

The spears poking out exactly like a hedgehog were perfectly angled exactlv as if measured by a ruler, and their steps even made a sound exactly like one person walking.

CHEOK! CHEOK! CHEOK! CHEOK! CHEOK! CHEOK!

Not a single person was slacking off vainly, and from the commander down to the lowest soldiers, they were moving as one body.

But a truly serious matter ended up erupting. 800 knights divided into two squadrons struck the rear and flanks of Lotharius' army. When they hadn't even properly formed ranks yet.

DUDUDUDUDUDUDUDU!

Warhorses close to almost a thousand kicked off the ground. The thick dust clouds remaining behind them made their might look even more massive.

It was such a sight that made one want to deny reality until the end. But things had happened.

PEOK! KWAJIK! PEOBEOK! KWAJIJIK! PEOK!

Exactly like turtles without shells, they merely trampled and swept through Lotharius' army that was completely unprepared for battle. Soldiers continuously died, pierced and trampled. Lotharius lost his memory from here onwards.

Not because he got hit by the enemy's attack, but because his mind turned blank white and he threw his body into the river water. Many threw their bodies into the river water. Because that was the only place to run away.

In the midst of that, the somewhat loyal ones grabbed the reins of the horse the 2nd Imperial Prince rode and pulled him. While he immersed his body in water submerged up to his waist himself.

It wasn't a depth where a person would fall in and drown, but the site was so chaotic that there were many who drowned. It was a whopping ten-odd thousand people. The scene of ten-odd thousand people throwing their bodies into the river water all at once was truly worth seeing.

As time passed their positions reversed. The knighthood didn't exactly pursue them crossing over the river.

After achieving their objective, they stopped exactly right there. Cleanly. Exactly like a frighteningly sharply honed blade. It was unbelievable that this was achieved by 6,000 people and not one person.

Lotharius, who barely crossed the river, looked back. With his whole body wet, he had a miserable appearance exactly like a drowned rat.

Even without deliberately searching, it stood out at exactly one glance. Under the late afternoon sun, the person riding on a blood-red horse.

Rickart was accurately staring at Lotharius. It was a distance that would be heard if he shouted, but he merely scoffed snicker and turned his horse's head away.

The place he headed was not Adelorn, but the place where the supplies Lotharius stockpiled to fight the battle were. Massive amounts of gold, silver, treasures, and food were all untouched there.

The personnel who died this day from a single clash were about 3,000. Not casualties, but just the dead personnel. The injured personnel were not of the knighthood's concern. Since it was certain they were incapacitated.

Rickart kept the words he spoke. That it would be a painful lesson.

However, whether he could understand that lesson and make it his own depended on the student.

Lotharius didn't know why he lost. He thought, I commanded well but the subjects, the soldiers failed to understand properly.

Ultimately, he too was one of the people who thought the art of war and such were no big deal, just obvious things scribbled down.

What's more, he mistakenly thought that because he was smart he understood it quickly. Actually, knowing nothing, he failed to even recognize the fact that he knew nothing.

From Rickart's perspective, he failed to observe the enemy, and failed to observe himself as well.

It was a pitiful thing. Both to himself, and to those following him.