Chapter Thirty-Three: The Elegy of the Moris Empire (Part Three)

These super-long spearmen truly lived up to their reputation as the hardened veterans of the Morris Empire. Upon realizing the difficulty of maneuvering their lances, many threw them aside and drew their swords, sabers, and other close-combat weapons, launching near-suicidal attacks against the cavalry. Though their efforts yielded little, they at least inflicted some casualties on the enemy—far better than standing still to be cut down.

Yet even the bravest soldiers, as casualties mounted and enemy cavalry poured in, could not prevent the inevitable collapse of this resolute phalanx. By then, the Paladin Commander had already broken free from the spear formation, and the fractured, loose ranks stood no chance against cavalry. Without pause, the Paladin Commander led his subordinates to break through to the rear ranks of musketmen, unleashing another massacre.

He did not linger among the musketmen; instead, he led a contingent straight after the retreating artillerymen. The soldiers dragging the cannons had never expected the front line to be breached so swiftly—after all, there were several layers of spear phalanxes! Before they could even reach the second line to continue their support, the Paladin Commander and his men slaughtered them all, beheading every last artilleryman without mercy. These technical troops stood no chance against cavalry—suicide would have been quicker.

The general of the second line watched in horror as the first line was overrun. The entire twenty thousand strong force was fractured by the Paladin Commander’s charge, their once-tight formation now in disarray, and the artillery corps utterly annihilated, forfeiting all the cannons of fifty thousand men. Who would have thought that, after just two volleys, they’d be forced to retreat, only to be chased down by the Holy Order? The spear phalanx couldn’t even hold for a quarter of an hour!

Seeing the second line unwilling to send reinforcements, the Paladin Commander turned his force back and launched assaults against other well-ordered Morris formations. This time, he no longer rode at the forefront, for each assault would be met by a volley or two from the musketeers. He now remained behind the cavalry ranks, waiting for the musketmen to fire and retreat, then used his superior mount and coordination with his cavalry to surge to the front, unleashing his battle aura to carve a path through the spear phalanx and commence his slaughter.

Thus, under the relentless leadership of the Paladin Commander, each disciplined formation was torn apart. The musketmen, having emptied their barrels, could no longer reload; many drew their swords and sabers, engaging the slowed cavalry in brutal hand-to-hand combat. The battlefield descended into utter chaos.

Such chaos greatly favored the Holy Order. Even though the elite of the Morris Empire fought fiercely and fearlessly, their resistance crumbled under repeated cavalry charges. Without tight formations, the infantry fell easily, and the mounting casualty ratio gradually broke the spirit of the Morris troops; collapse was but a step away.

The generals of the second and third lines, witnessing the carnage of the first line, quickly realized they too could not withstand the Paladin Commander’s assault. The power of battle aura was simply overwhelming. Never having faced the Holy Order before, the Morris Empire made a grave mistake, assembling tight formations against a group of religious fanatics led by a Grand Knight wielding battle aura. No doubt, the English Empire had been shattered in just such a manner years ago.

Resolute, the second line general gave the order: the entire line charged toward the embattled first line. Musketmen in front, spearmen behind, the ranks jogged forward, pressing toward the slaughter. The third line general, not to be outdone, rallied his troops and advanced in step.

The battered soldiers of the first line, powerless to resist, saw their reinforcements pressing forward from behind. Their near-broken morale revived somewhat—they glimpsed hope of victory, hope of survival. The Morris troops, on the verge of collapse, began fighting desperately, darkening the Paladin Commander’s expression. Glancing at the advancing second line and its few cavalry, a cruel smile flickered across his face.

“If you’re so eager to die, let me send you on your way first,” he murmured.

Gathering more than a thousand Holy Order cavalry, he boldly launched a counter-charge against over ten thousand troops of the Morris Empire’s second line.

First, the cavalry of both sides—roughly equal in number—clashed head-on. The Holy Order, superior in horsemanship and martial prowess, easily slaughtered the light cavalry of Morris, hardly slowing as they left behind a field of corpses and surged toward the ten thousand infantry.

The second line general had not anticipated that the Paladin Commander, embroiled in melee and unable to muster large forces, would dare to lead a thousand men against a formation ten times their size. The advancing troops had no time to halt or reform their lines; the musketmen hastily fired a volley and then slung their guns behind them, drawing close-combat weapons.

Without tight formation, the ten thousand Morris infantry required no battle aura to break through—they were easily pierced. The remaining cavalry, now fewer than a thousand, wheeled and charged again, cleaving through the ranks once more, then again, and again.

On the plains, the cavalry’s advantage over infantry was fully displayed. Even outnumbered ten to one, the swift cavalry trampled the Morris Empire’s ten thousand soldiers, who, lacking the elite resolve of the first line, soon collapsed. As the slaughter continued with minimal losses to the Holy Order, the second line could no longer organize resistance.

The second line general watched through tearful eyes as his troops broke even earlier than the first line. Consumed by guilt, he saw his soldiers fleeing in all directions, drew a fine flintlock pistol, pressed it to his temple, and fired. With the loss of their supreme commander, the second line’s ten thousand soldiers were beyond salvation.

As the Paladin Commander led less than a thousand cavalry in joyful slaughter of the now helpless Morris troops, the third line’s force, over ten thousand strong, approached the killing grounds in step to the beat of the military band. For the first time, the Paladin Commander, surveying the enemy’s orderly ranks, deeply felt the insufficiency of his own forces.