Standing beside Pig, Mia looked up at the battle erupting on the distant ridge, her beautiful, blinking eyes full of confusion.
Then she turned and ran over to Chris, tugging at the hem of his clothes.
"Pretty boy, pretty boy, why do they charge straight uphill when they fight?"
Chris followed the direction of Mia's finger and looked toward the ridge to the north. From three or four kilometers away, he raised his binoculars and took a few looks, immediately understanding what she meant.
Ah, those players really are fighting recklessly. I gave you two days so you could advance gradually and build fortifications.
If you don't want to do construction work, take a detour.
A head-on charge was certainly a bad idea. On the map, however, the slope behind the northern ridge was gentler. Cavalry certainly could not charge up it, but infantry could advance at a quick trot in small square formations, supported by suppressing fire from Crouching Tiger Cannons.
At the same time, skirmishers could charge from the front, using Flintlocks to deliver accurate fire, harass the defenders, and draw their attention.
With those tactics, combined with the players' fearlessness in the face of death, taking the ridge within two days should not have been much of a problem.
Honestly, Chris did not doubt that the players could seize the high ground within a day with their current ferocious frontal assaults. But the casualties would certainly be heavy, and even if they took it, they might not be able to hold it.
Climbing the ridge from the east was difficult, but the Minisians had a much easier route up from the west. In other words, attacking and reinforcing the ridge was easier for them than for the players.
Sure enough, as Chris watched, he saw the players'