Chapter 18
Chris saw what was happening among the townsfolk in the distance: a man charging out of the crowd with a sword in hand, rushing toward the Restoration Army alone, with only a scattered dozen or so people following behind him. It was a tragic, heroic sight.
At that, Chris looked away and stopped paying attention to what was happening in the distance.
To be honest, Chris had hoped from the outset that the mercenaries under his command might prove more reliable. He had hoped the enemy would retreat without a fight. But he had never counted on the town militia to help him.
There was a saying: trust in the people's strength, but not in their wisdom.
The reasons behind that were complicated, not something that could be explained in a few words.
Put simply, a person walking alone was clever and sensible. A crowd walking down the same road was foolish and blindly followed others.
So to Chris, the Bich Town militia's behavior was perfectly normal.
"The enemy is approaching, Your Highness. What should we do?"
Isaac shouted the question.
"Just hold your positions."
Chris glanced back at the low shrubs, rocks, and uneven terrain on the hillside, then swept his hand outward.
"Go take command of them now... I mean the soldiers other than the barbarians. Have them find cover nearby. Once the enemy gets close, you're free to open fire. Shoot at them as fast as you can.
"I'll command the barbarians myself."
"Your Highness, is there a particular reason for this?"
"No."
Chris spread his hands toward Isaac and spoke in a helpless tone.
"Apart from your old comrades and Connie's lads, most of those mercenaries are green recruits. Do you really think we can count on their fighting ability?
"Sure, their morale is