Rallying the scattered troops

After leaving Baron Wembley, Victor immediately headed to Vice Legion Commander Ronald.

"Victor, there you are. Why didn't you spend a little longer talking with your father? He was quite worried about you this morning," Ronald teased.

"Thank you for your concern, Lord Ronald. I made it back safely," Victor replied solemnly.

"So serious, just like your father when he was young," Ronald said helplessly.

"The light cavalry under my command took heavy losses. Your platoon is already the most intact of the lot. Of our six squadron commanders, one was killed and two were seriously wounded. You'll take temporary command of the Third Squadron. Fortunately, there shouldn't be any more fighting, so the danger is low," Ronald said casually.

"I also have an assignment for you. This afternoon, take your squadron around the outskirts of the battlefield and rally the routed troops from our main force. Don't concern yourself with fighting the northerners. If you encounter their men, withdraw. I doubt they'll be particularly eager to fight us either. After all, only their cavalry arrived; the infantry behind them hasn't caught up," Ronald instructed.

"Yes, Legion Commander Ronald," Victor answered.

"Proceed carefully. Your main objectives are to gather the routed soldiers and get detailed intelligence," Ronald reminded him.

Victor returned a military salute, then turned and left.

"A fine lad. A pity Elino is already engaged and Catherine is too young. Otherwise, he'd make a good son-in-law," Ronald mused, stroking his chin.

After taking over as the Third Squadron's acting commander, Victor immediately went to assess the three platoons under his command.

He found that, apart from his own Seventh Platoon, which still maintained a largely intact complement of over forty men, the Eighth and Ninth Platoons had only around twenty men each. Their losses had been devastating.

Worse still, the Ninth Platoon's commander had been killed, while the Eighth Platoon's commander was Richard Violet, Baron Violet's second son.

Victor knew full well that restoring the squadron's fighting strength required an immediate reorganization. He therefore sought out Richard and James to discuss the arrangements.

"Richard, I intend to merge your Eighth Platoon with the Ninth Platoon to form a new Eighth Platoon," Victor said, getting straight to the point.

Although somewhat surprised, Richard knew this was their best option under the circumstances. He nodded in agreement. "I understand, Victor. I'll do everything I can to lead the new Eighth Platoon."

Next, Victor turned to James. "James, I need you to do something important. I want you to serve as deputy commander in Richard's platoon, while transferring your household soldiers to the Seventh Platoon."

Although James was reluctant to part with the comrades he had lived and worked alongside every day, he understood the importance of the bigger picture. He answered firmly, "No problem, Victor. I'll give it my all."

Victor then appointed the loyal and dependable Santos as the Seventh Platoon's deputy commander. He knew Santos's experience and ability would play a crucial role in the platoon.

Once the reorganization was complete, Victor arranged for everyone to eat. After lunch and a short rest, the soldiers looked thoroughly refreshed and had grown more familiar with one another.

Victor understood the importance of morale, so he made a special trip to the Logistics Department to replenish their arrows, javelins, and other equipment, ensuring every soldier had enough gear for the fighting ahead.

After announcing that their mission was to rally routed troops, and stressing that they were to avoid needless fighting and prioritize their own safety, Victor led the cavalry out.

An hour later.

Victor led the reorganized Third Squadron across the battlefield, searching for routed soldiers to obtain more intelligence about the battle.

The sun blazed overhead, and smoke and the stench of blood filled the air. Yet the soldiers remained highly vigilant, with the fierce fighting that had just erupted still fresh in their minds.

Before long, they encountered the first group of routed soldiers—a Crossbowman Platoon from the Duchy's Direct Legion. Every crossbowman looked frightened, their armor battered and broken; they had clearly just endured a brutal battle. Victor signaled his troops to halt and personally approached them. In a firm but reassuring voice, he asked, "Brothers, where have you come from? How is the fighting up ahead?"

A crossbowman at the head of the group answered, panting and still shaken with fear, "My lord, we're from the Duchy's Direct Legion. We've just withdrawn from the front. The Northern Alliance's heavy cavalry is terrifying. Their black armor was like a moving city wall. They broke straight through our Spearman Phalanx!"

Victor's brow furrowed, and he pressed further. "Tell me in detail. How did they break through the phalanx?"

The crossbowman struggled to recall the scene, his voice trembling slightly. "The force of their charge was tremendous. Our arrows couldn't penetrate their Iron Birch Bark Armor at all. Even those knights' horses wore barding. Every warhorse stood a meter eighty at the shoulder and weighed eight hundred kilograms. They were all Wind-Howling Steeds from the northern grasslands. They were like black waves. Wherever they went, every force sent to block them was swept aside."

Victor nodded, gestured for the crossbowmen to join his troops, and arranged for them to rest briefly. He knew now that the Northern Alliance's heavy cavalry was far more terrifying than he had imagined.

Before long, they encountered a second group of routed soldiers—a force of serf soldiers led by a knight. The hundred-odd men looked utterly exhausted, but still maintained some order. Victor rode forward and asked, "Which force do you belong to, and who is your commanding officer?"

"My lord, I'm from Wright County in the central region. I'm a knight in Baron Vise Rose's service, and my name is Jack. The baron has been killed, and our forces were scattered. I escaped the battlefield with as many of my fellow townsmen as I could find."

Victor saluted Jack. "Knight Jack, I'm Victor, acting commander of the Third Squadron. Could you tell me how the fighting stands up ahead?"

Jack removed his helmet, revealing a resolute face. He sighed and said, "Lord Victor, things look grim. We encountered the Northern Alliance's elite cavalry, and their fighting strength far exceeded our expectations. Our Spearman Phalanx collapsed the instant they charged into it. All we could do was retreat in panic."

"How exactly did their cavalry fight?" Victor pressed.

Recalling the battle, Jack spoke heavily. "Their heavy cavalry formed a Wedge Formation, moving incredibly fast and striking with tremendous force. Our arrows were almost useless against them; their armor was too thick. Their warhorses had also received special training and worked together seamlessly. They were practically an invincible force."

After listening, Victor considered this for a moment, then said to Jack, "Thank you for the intelligence, Knight Jack. We'll report this to the right wing's Main Camp as soon as possible. For now, please bring your men along with us. We'll do our best to keep you safe."

Jack nodded gratefully. "Thank you very much, Lord Victor. We'll stay close behind you."

Victor then continued leading his troops onward. Before long, they encountered a third group of routed soldiers—a squad of four messengers. These messengers had clearly met with misfortune while carrying out their duties, but they might possess important intelligence. Victor quickly approached and asked, "Where have you come from? Do you have any news of the Northern Alliance's latest movements?"

One messenger hurriedly answered, "My lord, we're all messengers attached directly to the Second Legion. The Northern Alliance's heavy cavalry broke through the outer defenses and charged straight at Grand Duke Jola's headquarters. The grand duke has been killed. I saw them carry out his body with my own eyes. There was no mistaking the crest on his armor!"

Victor's heart tightened. The most important news had been confirmed. He told the messengers, "You've done well. Now, Richard, take twenty men and escort them to see the Legion Commander immediately."

With that, Victor turned to the deputy beside him and ordered, "Santos, we'll follow behind with the main force. Help Knight Jack maintain order in the ranks."

Richard departed with his orders, while Victor led the mixed force of over two hundred men back toward the Main Camp.

They had obtained enough intelligence; there was no need to keep gathering routed soldiers. Besides, advancing farther would inevitably bring them into contact with the Northern Alliance's cavalry. Their force was too unwieldy now, its morale shattered and its core of dependable troops too small. A single enemy charge might break it.

As he rode, Victor thought, How could Baron Colt dare to kill Grand Duke Jola outright? Even if he wanted to support Marquis Mora, there was no need to go this far. Unless his aim isn't as simple as putting someone on the throne. There must be something else, something more important, that requires him to act so ruthlessly.

After discovering this, Victor was not optimistic about his father's assessment. Count Colt's appetite might be greater than they had imagined. The nobles of the entire eastern region might soon have to bleed heavily.