A Powerful Enemy Approaches! The Chance for Victory (New Year Bonus Chapter)

Faint dawn light.

With a burst of urgent hoofbeats, an attendant rider returned with the expected bad news: the Saxon Barbarians had launched a full-scale invasion and were preparing to press their advantage by attacking Duke of Tintagel's lands.

The Saxon Barbarians had risen through plunder. They would repeatedly raid and ravage an area before occupying its land.

Barbarians were not particularly skilled at siege warfare.

Their current main target was London. Everywhere else, they merely looted what they could, and that plunder could draw more Saxons into the invasion of Britain Island.

The Saxons, Angles, and Jutes were allies, often slaughtering and pillaging the Britons together.

Wealth stirred men's hearts.

That was how the Saxons had gradually devoured Britain Island.

Outside the castle.

As a small unit of barbarian cavalry came into view, a Saxon messenger arrived that morning.

--Saxon Noble Knight (One-Star).

--Jute Guard Rider.

Under Duke of Tintagel's livid gaze, the Saxon messenger directly tossed the heads hanging from his horse outside the castle.

There were five heads in all.

Two belonged to commanders of the British Legion appointed by him, while the other three belonged to knights loyal to him.

Standing atop the walls, Duncan listened as the Duke's attendant spoke with the barbarian messenger. The other man spoke Old English, chattering away for a while before making an unmistakably threatening gesture.

He felt that he could understand some of it, but not all of it. Perhaps he simply had not killed enough Saxon Barbarians yet.

Raven Queen Triss softly translated, "The Saxon messenger wants Duke of Tintagel to acknowledge defeat and pay them roughly fifteen thousand gold coins in tribute."

"Otherwise, the Saxon army will destroy everything here."

Leaving aside whether Duke of Tintagel could even produce such a vast sum, his eager attempts to win their group over yesterday already showed that this British duke had no desire to submit to the Saxons. The Britons were fairly weak in battle, but even after retreating into Wales, they had resisted for nearly a thousand years.

Sure enough.

The negotiations between the two sides ended on bad terms.

By evening, the Saxon army had already encamped more than ten li outside the castle.

Duncan left the city alongside the Duke's knightly retainers to scout the enemy.

Anya had already reached a preliminary agreement with Duke of Tintagel. To "show her sincerity," the Roman noblewoman had lent out her lover from among her personal guards to assist the Duke's few light cavalrymen in scouting the enemy.

In the current situation, Duke of Tintagel needed to seize every source of strength available to him.

The situation was even worse than expected.

Saxon reinforcements had arrived, swelling their army from just over a thousand men to around three thousand. They appeared to have pulled reinforcements from elsewhere, intending to crush Duke of Tintagel in one decisive push and force him into the mountains of Cornwall.

Unlike their last clash, two conspicuously marked figures had appeared among the barbarian army this time.

--Hengist [Leader][King][Odin's Gaze][Legend] (Two-Star Gold)!

--Horsa [Leader][Chieftain][Odin's Gaze][Legend] (Two-Star Gold)!

"Hengist and Horsa?"

"Are they the barbarians' leader units? I don't think I've heard of them."

Using God's Eye View to observe the camp across the river, Duncan saw that the two targets marked as leader units were the most conspicuous figures in the enemy camp. They were surrounded by numerous barbarian noble knights, as well as priests of Germanic Polytheism.

Hengist and Horsa were Saxon Barbarian leaders who invaded Britain Island. At first, they had served as mercenaries helping the Britons resist the Picts—the wild men of early Scotland, indigenous people never conquered by Rome. The Britons under Roman rule considered the Picts a savage people and had long suffered their raids, even appealing to the Empire for aid many times.

Later, the two brothers realized just how weak the Britons were and began coveting this land.

They defeated the Britons' army and established the Kingdom of Kent in the Kent Region.

The enemy was conducting a blood sacrifice.

This horrifying ritual originated in Scandinavia. Known as the Blood Eagle, the priest would first carve the shape of an eagle into the victim's back, then cut open the offering's back and expose the spine. Next, he would sever the connections between the spine and the ribs on both sides, peeling the ribs apart one by one. At the end of the ritual, the victim's lungs would be pulled out and shaped into a pair of wings.

It was also called Blood Raven Sacrifice, generally used against captives who dared to resist. Another blood sacrifice involved hanging corpses upside down. Odin had hung from Yggdrasil for nine days and nine nights, so rituals dedicated to him required the offering to be hanged.

Duncan nearly threw up at the sight.

To him, killing someone meant no more than a blade through the head. This was the first time he had witnessed such a savage and primitive blood-sacrifice ritual.

"Compared to Roman gods and Greek gods, the deities worshipped by the Germanic Barbarians demand far bloodier sacrifices."

The deities of Ancient Greece merely liked sleeping around; they did not enjoy bloody, cruel sacrifices. (Looking at you, Zeus.)

These two must be the barbarian leaders who established the Kingdom of Kent.

"They have a lot of markers."

Duncan had previously only seen "Thor Warrior." Now that he saw "Odin's Gaze," he could not help focusing his mind to examine it more closely.

--[Odin's Gaze]: The target has conquered the Kent Region of Britain Island and established a Germanic Barbarian kingdom there. His offerings to Odin have drawn the attention of the polytheistic deities, greatly increasing his influence and ability to rally the Germanic Barbarians. (Odin's Gaze lasts for three months and must be maintained through sacrifices to retain the deities' attention.)

--[Legend]: The target possesses Legendary Points among the Germanic Barbarians. He is regarded as a leading figure in the successful invasion of Britain Island, and tales of him are spread throughout Germania. (Killing the target can seize his Legendary Points.)

Both brothers were Two-Star Gold units; their strength had to be formidable.

No matter what, even the founding ruler of a small nation would not be weak. Moreover, the two of them seemed to have quite a few special statuses on them.

"A leader unit with Legendary Points?"

Duncan felt an urge to make a move, but after weighing his own strength, he truly had no way to deal with them. Not to mention the Barbarian noble cavalry guarding them, even the accompanying Germanic Priests would be enough to give him a hard time.

As the final faction of European Polytheism, the "Norse Pantheon," these Barbarian priests still possessed a certain degree of supernatural power. On the battlefield, they could inspire nearby soldiers.

Besides that, they could divine, prophesy, and cast a small amount of sorcery.

"This battle will be difficult."

If Duke of Tintagel had not suffered such a crushing defeat yesterday and could still maintain a certain advantage in troop numbers, Duncan might have found an opportunity to command a British Legion. With the boost from his God's Eye View and his formidable personal combat power, he could barely have clashed with the Barbarian regular army.

But now, the British Legion was nearly wiped out, and those prisoners who still dared resist had been used for blood sacrifice. Duke of Tintagel's remaining battered troops alone could not possibly hold them back.

"In the medieval era, individual strength still cannot contend with an absolute military advantage."

Two Two-Star Gold units.

There were also several Two-Star Silver-Gray units—Thor Warriors, Tyr Warriors, High-tier Barbarian Warriors, and the like. All of them were difficult opponents, well-equipped and highly skilled in battle.

"Fortunately, there are no particularly powerful spellcasting units."

The highest-ranked Barbarian priest Duncan had observed was merely One-Star Silver-Gray. It seemed the Norse Pantheon faction's main attention was not focused here. Those powerful Barbarian priests might be on the battlefield along Germania's two-river defensive line.

Perhaps they were secretly hacking at the Church's Ascetic Order Sanctuary, fighting for the final right to claim mortal faith.

The enemies across the river seemed to have discovered them.

After a brief warning call, more than a dozen riders quickly came to drive them away. They were likely Barbarian scouting cavalry as well.

"They still dare come?"

Duncan looked at the light cavalry beside him, whose expressions were somewhat uneasy. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Ride around and draw their attention."

"Leave the rest to me!"

Since they had come all this way.

If he did not kill a few of them to crush their momentum and establish his own, tomorrow's battle would be even harder.

—Saxon Pirate Riders.

The enemy army bore two different kinds of markings. One marked regular soldiers, while the other marked "pirates." These dozen-odd riders were pirate-born cavalrymen. After joining another troop of Barbarian light cavalry, around thirty riders surrounded them.

The captain of the scouts on this side was a young man named Gil. He was not a formal knight, but he was likely of noble birth, and his fighting skills surpassed those of the others.

His expression was hesitant. After a brief pause, he still chose to obey Duncan's order and draw the enemy over.

He had seen Duncan force back more than a dozen Barbarian noble cavalrymen by himself.

"Come on."

"Let's get a feel for it first."

By now, Duncan had long become battle-hardened. After remaining alert for those specially marked units and checking whether any Barbarian priests were nearby, he urged his horse forward and headed straight for the Saxon Pirate Riders.

Whoosh.

An arrow flew out.

The captain of the Saxon Pirate Riders fell from his horse and died instantly. This sudden scene left the Saxon pirates frozen on the spot.

What the hell?

Their captain had died for no apparent reason, struck in the forehead by a lofted arrow. Startled, they scattered in all directions. Even their horses slowed, their faces filled with terror. They could neither advance nor retreat.

Unhurriedly, Duncan nocked another arrow.

Since they had come, he had to take at least five or six heads before leaving. The Saxon Barbarians should still possess combat skills he had yet to seize.

Double Kill!

Rapid fire.

Triple Kill!

Duncan charged straight at them. His horsemanship far surpassed that of the Saxons, having reached the level of Hunnic Elite Cavalry from the steppes. If it came to mounted combat, he was not particularly afraid either.

Thus, an extremely bizarre scene unfolded on the open ground across from the Barbarian camp.

The Saxons had sent more than thirty riders to drive off the scouting light cavalry. On one side, they chased three to five light cavalrymen all over the field, while on the other, Duncan calmly faced the enemy head-on. In only a short while, the Saxon Pirate Riders actually collapsed.

The scene became Duncan alone pursuing more than a dozen Saxon Pirate Riders, while still having enough spare capacity to turn his horse around and intercept the other troop of Barbarian cavalry.

One quiver of arrows was spent.

Six heads secured.

Duncan had never carried many arrows with him, because his quiver was specially made. It usually held only six to twelve arrows and was a Ranger Quiver, like the kind used by Elves. It could secure the arrows so they would not fall out while moving, with every arrow placed in a fixed position. He could reach out and instantly draw the arrow he needed.

Under normal circumstances, it would contain one or two specialized armor-piercing arrows. But limited by the backward technology of the current era, he had not specifically prepared any.

Mongol Armor-Piercing Arrows were heavy arrows, and longbow arrows were heavy as well. Both required custom manufacture.

English longbowmen's arrows were usually about ninety centimeters long. Ordinary arrows were only fifty to seventy centimeters long, but these heavy arrows, nearly a meter in length, could shoot straight through a person.

Even the Mongols did not carry many heavy arrows for mounted archery, because they would hinder horseback combat.

Across the river.

The moment Duncan saw movement in the barbarian camp—several units marked Two-Star Silver-Gray had appeared, along with barbarian priests—he immediately fled with the others.

They simply could not win this fight.

Those Two-Star barbarian elite units were all noble warriors clad uniformly in heavy armor. Warbows could barely penetrate their defenses, inflicting only minor wounds. It would take many arrows to kill one man, and they also had to watch out for any hidden trump cards.

The scouting cavalry squad immediately withdrew. On their way back, the others looked at Duncan differently.

Reverence!

It was practically written across their faces. In these chaotic, war-torn times, a man's strength could attract not only women, but many more men as well.

"How are we supposed to fight this battle?"

"With only those few hundred defeated remnants Duke of Tintagel conscripted at the last minute?"

Duke of Tintagel had even begun dragging farmers into service.

Anyone who had played Total War knew what farmers were capable of in battle. Even several thousand of them could be easily routed.

In a head-on clash, the entire peasant force would be waving white flags.

Duncan looked at the somewhat panicked soldiers atop the walls, his expression turning grim. Even Raven Queen Triss's Magic could not influence a war on this scale. Moreover, Raven Queen Triss's previous rampage had come at a price, requiring an extremely rare Ancient Rome Sacrificial Stone.

Something that precious was not worth wasting here.

Defenses were being arranged atop the walls.

Castles of this era were really just Roman Empire military fortresses, incomparable to the fortresses of the Middle Ages. Their walls were neither high enough nor sturdy enough. Though this was a defensive battle with some terrain advantage, the overall gap in military quality between the two sides was enormous.

The barbarians had fought year-round, raiding within the Empire and clashing with the Huns. Their combat experience was exceedingly rich, and every adult man was a well-trained infantryman.

A hundred of them cutting down a thousand-man mixed peasant force was no exaggeration at all.

Just as Duncan was deep in thought.

Suddenly, he saw the Britons push out an old siege weapon. It had likely been left behind when the Roman Legion withdrew years ago. Its surface was covered in dust, but fortunately, it could still be used.

—A Ballista!

Hm?

Wait!

Could I use this thing? Would it receive my calibration bonus?

An idea immediately formed in Duncan's mind.

He rode directly into the city and arrived where the ballista had been set up. Under God's Eye View, as he took control of the ballista before him, an aiming Cross Star gradually appeared.

It worked!

He really could operate a ballista using the aiming crosshair!

Duncan estimated the distance, signaled for the others beside him to assist, then controlled the ballista and aimed at a point roughly five hundred meters away.

Bang.

A spear-like bolt tore through the air and struck exactly where Duncan had aimed, with an error of less than one meter.

Nearly half of the spear had buried itself in the earth.

The power was insane!

If it were fired on a battlefield, it could probably pierce straight through a human body.

Although the ballista had been invented by the Greeks, it flourished in Roman hands. At the height of the Empire, a regular legion of five thousand men was equipped with fifty ballistae as standard.

They had shot the Parthian Empire's armored cavalry senseless. Those were the era's finest heavy cavalry, iron-clad heavy horsemen of the first rank.

Even light ballistae could shoot through both rider and horse. If they fired stone shots, they could directly smash and fling corpses away.

However, the ballista's flaws were equally obvious: slow. Slow to move, slow to deploy, slow to fire—slow at everything. To bring out its power required tactical skill and a bit of luck.

The Mongol commander Mongke being killed by a catapult was an accident. Such things had rarely happened in history.

"I think I know what we can use to turn this around!"

Duncan fell into thought. "Now it depends on whether the enemy gives us the chance."

Decapitation.

Their only chance to turn defeat into victory was to shoot the enemy king dead.

Duncan estimated that he would have only one chance to act. Once exposed, it would be difficult to find another opening. With the ballista's sluggish firing speed, the target would have long since run out of range.

As long as this shot landed.

Forget a Two-Star Gold leader unit—even that Three-Star Witcher might die on the spot.

The only problem was that operating a ballista was far harder than drawing a bow and shooting an arrow. Duncan could still make errors, and moving targets were even harder to grasp. He could only rely on his instincts in the moment.

The Kingdom of Kent had only recently been established, and its interior was far from stable. The barbarian king desperately needed a major victory to maintain his authority and prestige.

King Uther was stronger, so Duke of Tintagel became the soft target.

The barbarians were no fools. They always picked on the weak.

The Heptarchy of Britain Island began with the founding of the Kingdom of Kent. It was the prototype for the Seven Kingdoms in the American series Song of Killing and That Stuff—Game of Thrones.

These seven kingdoms were founded by the Jutes, Saxons, and Angles.

Together, they made up England—roughly 130,000 square kilometers of land, about the same size as FJ Province.

To Duncan, Britain was nothing more than a starter village.

There were no powerful forces here that could casually field tens of thousands of regular soldiers, nor would he run into the main forces of the steppe Huns and be shot into a hedgehog by the enemy.

This was a local war.

The Saxons had tried invading Gaul, but they could not defeat the Franks. So the losers took to the sea.

"I wonder if I can get my hands on an English Longbow?"

Right now, Duncan simply could not find a wondrous-item-grade war bow. The English Longbow would not be invented until many years later.

If he had a longbow in hand, killing heavy cavalry would be much easier.

Without a bow, he could use artillery instead.

A Ballista would work too.

Duncan gradually became familiar with operating the Ballista and began to get a feel for it. Its Cross Star had a greater margin of error; with its long range and interference from shifting winds, he might need a bit of luck.

PS: Happy New Year, everyone. May all your wishes come true. Here's an extra chapter—five thousand words.