Rookie Cavalry

"We're finally out!"

Moriarty could not help exclaiming as he gazed at the vast grassland ahead.

Deep down, he had made up his mind: he would never set foot in the mountains again.

A golden eagle of the grassland ought to soar freely over the grassland, not go into the mountains to live like a gopher.

The past dozen or so days in the mountains had been no life for a human being.

"Chief, something's wrong!"

"There are clear signs of fighting on the ground, and our people are nowhere to be seen. I'm afraid something might have happened."

Dorian could not help pointing it out.

To make it safely out of the mountains, they had abandoned their original route and taken a long detour.

The results had been obvious. After they changed their marching route, the journey had indeed been much more peaceful.

The only drawback was that it had added to the distance and greatly increased their noncombat losses. Many wounded men had fallen along the way.

Still, it had all been worth it. They had paid a terrible price, but they had finally broken out of the enemy's encirclement.

Their joy lasted only until the moment they left the mountains, however. When they discovered that the people left behind had vanished, everyone's expression turned grim.

The army had run out of food two days ago. Sheer willpower was all that had gotten them out of the mountains.

They had thought they would find supplies once they got out, but they had never expected the enemy to be so ruthless as to cut off even their last way out.

"Damn those enemies! They're fucking despicable!"

"If they've got the guts, they should fight us openly! What kind of heroes resort to these underhanded tricks?"

Moriarty could not help bursting into curses.

No wonder the way out of the mountains had been so smooth. The enemy had changed tactics.

They meant to cut off their food and starve them to death.

The Cors Tribe was more than two hundred li from here.

In their current condition, getting back to the tribe before their strength ran out was an almost impossible task.

"Chief, let's borrow some grain from the Goshawk Tribe!"

"This pasture is their territory. If we go after herders who are on their own, we won't be discovered so quickly.

"We can worry about the future later. First, let's give our people a full meal."

Dorian seized the opportunity to make his suggestion.

As longtime neighbors, the Cors Tribe and the Goshawk Tribe were enemies to begin with.

One more debt made no difference. Given the relationship between the two sides, they did not care about adding another grudge.

"All right!"

Moriarty agreed at once.

Now that the Cors Tribe had suffered such a heavy blow, the Goshawk Tribe would surely kick them while they were down.

Conflict was inevitable, so they might as well strike first.

With their current strength, they would most likely be no match for the Goshawk Tribe.

But dying on the battlefield was better than starving to death halfway home.

After a few words to raise morale, the force set out again.

On a hilltop several li away, Victor was looking through a telescope at the "band of beggars" that had emerged from the mountains.

"Commander, the guerrilla tactics you devised are incredible. We led the enemy around by the nose the whole way.

"A force of more than two thousand men spent over ten days struggling through the mountains, and we wore down half their strength.

"Fighting like this, we won't fear the enemy no matter how many of them there are!"

Howard exclaimed in heartfelt admiration.

Only after putting the tactics into practice himself did he understand how formidable mountain guerrilla warfare was.

This method of luring the enemy deep in and setting traps at every turn was practically tailor-made for the Tuwu People.

"Don't get careless. The Tuwu People fell for it because they'd never encountered these tactics before.

"In the past, whenever the Empire fought them, the two sides clashed head-on on the grassland. That shaped the way they fought.

"After they suffer a few losses, they'll change their established way of thinking.

"To keep this secret, we can't let a single one of these enemies escape.

"Have someone keep an eye on them. We'll strike after they've gone hungry for another two days."

Victor gave the order without expression.

Pure mountain guerrilla warfare could certainly tie down the enemy, but it would never have inflicted such heavy losses.

The Cors Tribe had lost so many men mainly because they had been lured into the territory of magic beasts and blundered into a fight with a herd.

What existed had a reason for existing.

Since large numbers of magic beasts lived in the Dragonbone Mountains, that variable naturally had to be taken into account when devising tactics.

Making use of favorable surrounding conditions was itself a part of guerrilla warfare.

"Commander, there's really no need to wait two days. We can strike now.

"Look at their marching pace. They're moving much slower than normal people, a clear sign of extreme exhaustion and hunger.

"Send out the cavalry, and a single charge will scatter them.

"We can wipe out the enemy in an hour at most."

Captain Maddox, standing nearby, made the suggestion.

The soldiers needed military merit, and he, the newly appointed cavalry commander, needed it even more.

In the Northern Frontier Corps, he had only been a cavalry squad leader. Following the normal path of promotion, he could not have hoped to become a battalion commander in less than ten years.

When the Third Army formed a cavalry battalion, he had been made its temporary commander, but the position was rather hollow.

In name, he was a battalion commander, but in reality, he had only one cavalry company under his command.

As recently as five days ago, these soldiers had still been archers serving under Victor.

They had only become cavalry because they knew how to ride.

They were certainly elites, but no one knew how much combat power they had in this role.

Rookie cavalry of unknown fighting strength needed a novice enemy to practice on even more.

This group of demoralized, starving Tuwu People was undoubtedly the softest persimmon to squeeze.

"Oh? Since you're so confident, I'll leave the task of annihilating them to the cavalry battalion."

"Don't rush to scatter them. First, use them to practice mounted archery tactics and gain experience for the major battles to come."

Victor spoke with a faint smile.

Elites were made through feeding, but even more so through fighting.

No matter how good their training was, it was no substitute for taking them onto a battlefield.

Soldiers who had seen blood and soldiers who had not were two entirely different things.

The Third Supplementary Army was the best example. After the fighting of the past few days, its officers and soldiers were undergoing a transformation.

Their former air of laziness was long gone, replaced by a murderous aura.

They still had some way to go before becoming elites, but a qualitative gap had already opened between them and the other supplementary armies.

Victor reckoned that after a few months of training and a few more victories, they would be able to join the ranks of elite troops.

It sounded simple, almost as though elites could be mass-produced, but putting it into practice was not easy.

High-intensity military training placed enormous demands on the soldiers' bodies. Without meat to replenish their strength, they simply could not endure it.

If they had not captured a large number of livestock, Victor would never have dared put them through it.

Leading the troops to consecutive victories was even harder.

Soft persimmons were not available every day, and venturing deep behind enemy lines meant putting one's head on the line. It could become someone else's at any moment.

"Rest assured, Commander. Our cavalry battalion won't disappoint you!"

Maddox immediately gave his assurance.

With that, he ran off to assemble his men under everyone's envious gazes.