The officers on the Northwest Legion's position calmly watched the approaching orc raiders. When the first wave of arrows fell before the lines, several contemptuous snorts even came from the infantry square.
"Artillery, prepare!" As the order was relayed down the chain, the artillerymen quickly adjusted the angles of their guns. These rigorously trained gun crews could complete the entire process of loading, aiming, and firing within twenty seconds.
"Demolition Shell, range four hundred meters, fire!"
Amid thunderous cannon fire, dozens of field guns spat tongues of flame at once. The shells traced graceful parabolas through the air before exploding roughly ten meters above the mass of Orcish Cavalry.
Shattered metal fragments poured downward in a fan-shaped spread, instantly riddling dozens of cavalrymen and their mounts. One riderless War Horse dragged its entrails behind it and galloped on for over a hundred meters before crashing to the ground.
The surviving raiders had yet to recover from their shock when the second wave of shells came shrieking in. Some Blossom Shells exploded only after striking the ground, sending soil and severed limbs into the air with the blast wave.
"Change formation! Spread out!" the Orcish Centurion shouted himself hoarse. The well-trained steppe cavalry immediately broke apart into smaller groups, but the Northwest Legion's web of fire was deadlier than they had imagined.
When the raiders closed to within two hundred meters, the thunder of Flintlock Guns firing in salvo suddenly erupted. Three lines fired in rotation, forming a continuous curtain of bullets.
The soldiers in the front line fired from kneeling positions, then swiftly fell back to reload as the second line took their place. The cycle repeated without end. The sound of bullets punching through leather armor was like a torrential downpour beating against a tent, and the charging cavalry