Major General Marlow considered himself a clever man.
An exceptionally clever man.
The moment Prince Chris's vanguard outside the city began recruiting people with food, Major General Marlow received word. An officer under his command immediately suggested that the Garrison Regiment seize the opportunity to strike and rout the enemy outside.
There was a chance it could work.
The players led by Little Knife had been few in number then. The entire Mountain Tiger Warband had fewer than a hundred people outside Ankandela, and they had just fought a battle against bandits flying the banner of Wallace's rebel army. They were hardly at their peak fighting strength.
If Marlow was willing to use the refugees as his vanguard, driving them ahead to absorb the players' musket volleys while the Garrison Regiment charged behind them, that single overwhelming rush might actually defeat the Mountain Tiger Warband and drive them back.
But driving them back was all he could do. Wiping them out was impossible.
For one thing, the players were formidable fighters. Even if they could not win, they could still run.
For another, Marlow's Garrison Regiment had no horses. Every last soldier was infantry now.
How the hell were you supposed to wipe out an enemy without horses?
It was like the Song Dynasty. It had actually won more foreign wars than it lost, but because it lacked sufficient cavalry, it could defeat its enemies without destroying their fighting strength. Winning was as good as not winning at all.
Marlow understood this perfectly, so he rejected the proposal to attack outright.
Why attack?
There was no need. Driving the enemy back would only net the food in their camp. How much could there be, and how long would it feed the Garrison Regiment?
*Even if the Garrison Regiment had enough