War Begins

A force of eight or nine hundred men was exceptionally lavish for this era. Almost no one in the entire Northern Frontier could field an army of such scale, which was why the Northern Frontier's lords had been helpless against the Krad People.

Joining forces against them was even less realistic. The Krad People did not seek to conquer cities or seize land; their goal was to plunder the supplies they needed to survive, so they would never unite.

Capturing the Northern Frontier lords' castles would cost them dearly. As long as they seized the grain of residents who had failed to evacuate in time, along with whatever food had been left behind, they could barely solve some of their survival problems. Combined with hunting in the forest and gathering roots, surviving the six-month winter became possible.

Even so, the terrible winter still claimed nearly thirty percent of the Krad People's population. Some died in raids between tribes, but far more perished from hunger and cold.

Reiner rode his tall Warhorse at the very front of the formation. A faint stir of unrest had appeared among the troops. Having seen the enemy's overwhelming numbers, they found it difficult to remain calm.

Reiner's regular soldiers fared somewhat better. At the very least, they could still maintain their basic formations. But the conscripted serfs brought by the knights could not. They had known from the start that the enemy would be numerous, but they had not expected to be this terrified.

Yet when they truly saw the dense masses of enemies with their own eyes, they could not overcome the fear in their hearts. Eight or nine hundred men might not sound like much in writing, but it was actually an enormous number.

The hands gripping their pitchforks and clubs began to tremble. Their motley, tattered thick clothes offered little warmth, but Reiner knew they were shaking from fear.

The regular soldiers were also whispering among themselves. They doubted whether they could defeat such a numerous enemy. Although Reiner had led them to victory in his first battle after returning, doubts still lingered in their hearts.

The knights, mounted on tall Warhorses and surrounded by several retainers and conscripted serfs, turned solemn at the sight of such a vast enemy force. Beneath their helmets, their expressions grew grave. Sure enough, more enemies had entered the territory this year than in any previous year.

"Do not be afraid, warriors!" Reiner shouted. He knew that if the soldiers allowed fear to take hold, they would have even less chance against the enemy.

Reiner's greatest advantage now was a group of physically strong, thoroughly trained regular soldiers, as well as the killing machines of cold-weapon battlefields—the knights.

"Look at those Krad People across from us! They are so short and weak! They have gone at least two days without food! But you! You are the soldiers of Baron Reiner! Every day, you eat the meat and bread I provide! You are taller than them! Stronger than them! Better fighters than them! And you have better equipment! You surpass them in every way! They are no match for my brave warriors!"

Reiner shouted to his soldiers, hoping to build their confidence. Morale was an immensely important thing for an army in any age.

"The Holy Father watches you from the heavens! Your families are waiting behind you for news of your victory! Glory! You will win immense glory in this battle, and your families will be proud of you! And if we win this battle, your households may pay one-tenth tax! My vassals will not object, because I will pay enough money to make up for your taxes!"

"Now fight, soldiers! The enemy stands before you! Follow in my footsteps! Under my command, defeat the enemy!" Reiner shouted, and his words set the soldiers' blood boiling.

Led by the knights, they erupted into thunderous roars and cheers. "Victory! Long live Baron Reiner! Long live the Moreland Family!"

Reiner's heart surged with emotion as well. Though he was already a Baron and possessed the memories of his predecessor, when such a stirring scene truly unfolded before him, he could not avoid feeling exhilarated.

Still, he did his best to remain calm, leading the high-spirited army as they quietly awaited the enemy's arrival.

The Krad People, dressed in ragged animal hides, shivered as they advanced through the cold wind, rushing toward the hope of survival in their hearts. When they saw the army of Moreland Castle already drawn up before them, they were stunned.

Many among them had taken part in raids in previous years, but they had never encountered an enemy gathered at the border, waiting for their arrival.

Highlander, the leader of the Krad People, sat astride a reindeer and stared solemnly at the enemy before him. He knew that his tribesmen were not strong in individual combat, and their discipline could not compare with the enemy's at all—though the enemy's discipline was not much to speak of either.

However, most lords and nobles of this era had not recognized the importance of discipline. It could almost be said that armies of this age competed only to see who was less terrible. Any army that was not quite so terrible could be considered elite, but the Krad People were practically the worst army in the world. They could not compare to regular troops at all.

Highlander's sorrowful expression made him look even older. Though he was only in his thirties, the harsh living conditions and bitter cold made him appear at least forty.

He knew that if they could not defeat the enemy and plunder their supplies today, his entire tribe would vanish into the Frigid Forest. The responsibility passed down by his ancestors, as well as the sweet taste of power he had come to know, would not allow such a thing to happen.

At that thought, the worry in his gaze turned to resolve. He had to defeat the enemies before him. Even if every tribal warrior had to be sacrificed, they had to seize enough supplies.

"Warriors of the tribe! Delicious food and beautiful women lie ahead, but these damned Redka People who falsely call themselves an empire stand in our way! If we defeat them, we will gain vast amounts of food and women! The iron tools in their hands will be ours as well!" Highlander shouted to the tribesmen, white vapor billowing from his mouth.

His words likewise encouraged the Krad People. Though they showed no great outward excitement, their will to fight became much firmer.

"Archers, prepare!" Reiner said in a muffled voice. The iron armor on his body no longer provided even a trace of warmth; despite his many layers, it felt as though he were wearing a suit of ice.

The Krad People's formation was extremely dense. They lacked supplies, and even animal hides could not keep them warm effectively. They could only crowd together as closely as possible, relying on their companions' body heat for warmth.

Reiner's Archers were not melee troops, so they had the good fortune to wear thick gambesons and fur armor. Since they had once been hunters, they were also equipped with warm animal hides.

They pulled arrows from the ground and nocked them onto the fine Recurve Bows Reiner had equipped them with. After several months, they had already mastered these powerful bows. They only waited for Reiner's command, and they would immediately loose their arrows.