Curtain Falls
After the right-wing Cavalry left Black Stone Plain, Victor continued to organize the remaining troops to clear the battlefield.
At this moment, he was listening to the scribe's battle report statistics under the legion's banner.
"Battle casualty count complete." The clerk's voice trembled with the shock of survivors. "The Second Regiment suffered 87 dead, and the First Cavalry Detachment had 39 lightly wounded..."
"Tell me the total!" Raymond roared, his one eye wide open. The Heavy Cavalry had not left the battlefield; after beheading Chieftain Bloodhoof, they no longer had the stamina to continue the pursuit.
"Our army suffered 4,300 casualties, most of the Barbarians right flank army was annihilated, the number of Barbarians soldiers' corpses exceeded 10,000, about 7,000 Barbarians soldiers were captured, and more than 8,000 Barbarians warhorses were seized."
Raymond removed his deformed breastplate and walked over, the scar under his left eyepatch twitching slightly. "The Viscount's command sword needs some oiling." He tossed a blood-stained white cloth to Victor, "And while you're at it, wipe the blood off your face."
Viscount Hawke suddenly struggled to crawl over, his belt drawing blood from his neck. "I will appeal to Count Colt! You have no right to execute..." A flash of cold light, Victor's sword was pinned between his legs, the Golden Sunflower Crest the hilt vibrating.
"Say another half a word," Victor bent down and drew his sword, "And next time you'll cut off the tongue."
"Captain Raymond, please stay here," I said as I made my way to Hot Water Fortress. "Jackson, you take a few men and come with me."
After saying that, Victor whistled and summoned Grape, who mounted his horse and headed north. Jackson also called a squad to ride after them.
The midday sun beat down on the Hot Water Fortress pass. Baron Brown squatted behind the wooden fence, peeling an apple, the peel sizzling as it fell into the campfire. Suddenly, three short gong sounds rang out from the watchtower—the remnants of Gubai's army had finally appeared at the end of the valley.
"Three hundred and twenty paces, Bed Crossbow cocked!" Captain Marvin roared in a hoarse voice. The winches of thirty Bed Crossbow creaked and groaned, and the thick bolts gleamed blue in the sunlight—the most precious stock in the Hot Water Fortress armory.
Chief Gubai wrapped the wound on his abdomen with a blood-stained strip of cloth, left a day earlier by Raymond's Heavy Cavalry lances on the Black Stone Plain. He gazed at the simple yet deadly fortifications ahead: three layers of sharpened wooden stakes linked by iron chains, behind which stood a two-zhang-high earthen mound, and thousands of crossbows gleamed coldly behind their firing ports.
"First team, charge!" Gubai's battle axe cleaved through the heatwave.
Three hundred Barbarians Light Cavalry launched a probing charge. Their horses had barely crossed the boundary stone in the middle of the valley when the roar of Bed Crossbow tore through the air. Five Cavalry, pierced by massive arrows, were still carried more than ten paces by the force of the impact, their remains dragging dark red ruts across the gravel road. When the surviving Cavalry reached within a hundred paces, a dense wall of composite bow arrows rained down, and the leather-armored Barbarians fell like wheat in swathes.
"Change to rockets!" Baron Brown spat out an apple core. The asphalt-soaked arrowheads ignited the pre-laid strips of hay, and black smoke billowed into a wall of fire three zhang high. The Barbarians warhorses reared up in panic, throwing their riders into the inferno.
At 2 PM, Gubai launched his second attack. This time, he sent out 500 infantrymen carrying hastily made wooden shields. Captain Marvin waved his command flag with a cold smile, "Time for the big guys!" Twelve improved Catapult were launched from their bunkers, their arms carrying earthenware jars filled with caltrops and Fire Oil. When the Barbarians entered within two hundred paces, the burning jars exploded in mid-air, unleashing thousands of scorching iron spikes like a torrential rain. Heavy armor was like paper before the scorching iron rain; Gubai's left shoulder was pierced by an iron spike, and his mount, with three caltrops stuck in its eye sockets, charged wildly.
At four o'clock in the afternoon, on the battlefield reeking of burning flesh, Gubai counted that he had only four thousand soldiers left. The leader of this Vulture Tribe tore open his broken chainmail, revealing a chest covered with old scars. "Personal Guard, charge with me!" Three hundred heavily armored warriors pounded their iron shields, and ancient war songs echoed through the valley.
Dust suddenly rose from behind the valley. Pim's Light Cavalry had finally arrived, four thousand of Light Cavalry splitting into three groups to cut into the barbarian army's flanks. The knight from Golden Pear Territory threw away his empty bow and drew his hand sword. "Snake Formation! Maintain distance!"
The Light Cavalry, operating in small squads, traced zigzag patterns through the enemy lines. Each squad advanced fifty paces before immediately turning back, never engaging the enemy head-on. Gubai's troops were torn to pieces, yet he could find no clear target for a decisive battle.
Baron Brown seized the opportunity to open the gates and led his Heavy Infantry forward. The veterans of the Northlands formed a moving steel jungle with their halberds, driving the Barbarians troops toward the burning zone. Captain Marvin led the defenders of Hot Water Fortress to flank from the west, focusing their attacks on the horses' legs; the Barbarians warriors who fell to the ground were quickly finished off with spears.
Gubai retreated to the foot of the cliff, with only nine guards remaining. The chieftain, who had once conquered seven tribes, gazed at the vultures circling above the cliff—these carrion birds had followed the fleeing army all day. Pim's Cavalry formed an iron ring around the perimeter, Brown's crossbowmen occupied the high ground, and Marvin's Heavy Infantry blocked the last escape route.
"Bring the wine!" Gubai suddenly roared. The Personal Guard handed over a blood-stained leather bag containing the last of the mare's milk wine. The chief tilted his head back and drank it down, the blood-stained wine dripping from his chin. He drew a gold-inlaid dagger and suddenly pierced the throats of three of his guards—a tradition of the grasslands, whereby the chief must preserve the honor of his guards before he dies.
"Come on!" Gubai tore open his tattered battle robe, revealing his muscular chest.
Pim's Cavalry, however, reined in their horses, having received Victor's strict orders: capture the enemy chieftain alive.
Baron Brown's voice pierced the blood-soaked air. "Put down your weapons, and I'll treat you with some dignity!"
Gubai's one eye swept over the corpses of his tribesmen scattered across the ground, and he suddenly burst into maniacal laughter. He gripped his battle axe in reverse, the blade pressed against his heart. "The spirits of the Vulture Tribe will watch over you from the heavens!" He pressed his entire weight forward, the axe blade shattering through his sternum with a teeth-grinding cracking sound. The proud chieftain knelt on the ground, using his last strength to twist the axe handle horizontally, shredding his heart into minced meat.
The surviving Barbarians soldiers knelt down in droves, smearing their faces with blood-stained mud and howling like wolves—this was the highest form of surrender among the steppe tribes.
Victor arrived at the battlefield at the very end of the battle and witnessed the demise of the Vulture Tribe chief and the right flank army.
Captain Marvin presented Victor with Gubai's gold-inlaid battle axe, which Victor held high and loudly proclaimed to everyone, "We have won!"
Cheers echoed throughout the valley.
The victorious soldiers began striking the ground with their swords and shields, starting as scattered sounds and eventually growing into a deafening roar that shook the valley. Ron belted out a Northlands war song in his hoarse voice, James yelled off-key lyrics along, and even the usually silent Jackson banged his shield with the handle of his axe.
In this blood-soaked valley, Victor Golden Sunflower's banner flutters angrily in the wind, while the weights on the scales of power in the Northlands shift subtly with each metallic clang.