novelraw Chapter 172: Krafte War - City of Gunfire (3)
Chapter 172: Krafte War - City of Gunfire (3)
The deafening sound of cannons shook the earth, and the explosive roar of shells striking the enemy echoed across the battlefield.
Through his telescope, Damien De Millbeau watched a massive explosive shell fly into the enemy lines, creating an explosion intense enough to crater the ground.
Even human limbs were sent flying in the blast.
“Ugh, that's intense. A cannon that separates bone and flesh from a dozen men in a single shot.”
Is that the might of those so-called Eastern Empire's Blue Dragon Cannons?
Honestly, seeing the ridiculous cannons unnecessarily carved with dragons, he hadn't been without a measure of contempt. But witnessing power on a different level from the howitzers of Francia or Krafte, he felt a sense of awe that had not been there before.
You really shouldn't judge a man or a weapon by its appearance.
To be reborn as the true ‘Master of Defense,’ Damien De Millbeau, it is necessary to have a more open mind.
Damien, who had convinced himself of that, nodded and spoke again.
“Hey, Davi. The power of the Eastern Empire's cannons is amazing, isn't it? I thought Francia had a knack for artillery, but when it comes to howitzers, we definitely can't match them. Imagine being hit by something like that, ooh. It sends a chill down my spine.”Damien expected the impertinent major to, as usual, remark on his ‘unbecoming conduct as a commander.’
But from his side, only silence flowed.
“...Davi?”
“Hut, y-yes! Your Excellency the Commander!”
Giselle finally reacted with a start, flustered, and Damien looked over her face with a displeased expression.
“My, where has your usual thoroughness gone?”
Usually she was the model of a staff officer, yet with the battle just beginning, her mind was somewhere else.
“Oof!”
“Your Excellency, Count Milbeau!”
“Huh?”
Damien instinctively raised his head and saw a cannonball flying toward them with a roar.
“Huk!”
Damien shot to his feet to dodge, but then flinched when he saw Giselle standing there blankly beside him.
This woman is a commoner who can’t even use mana, do I have to take her with me to dodge?
What if she gets hit by a stray shell and dies, leaving me to take the blame from Countess Aquitaine?
In the short time it took for all sorts of thoughts to flash through Damien's mind,
A magic barrier was cast in the sky, and the cannonball that bounced off it fell on the roof and exploded.
“W-woah!”
Debris and shrapnel flew as screams erupted, but fortunately, a direct hit was avoided.
“Are you alright, Your Excellency, Commander Millbeau, Major Davi?”
Hearing the voice, Damien let out a sigh of relief, patted his chest, and replied.
“Uh, uh, thank you, Second Lieutenant Aquitaine.”
At Damien’s expression of gratitude, the handsome, blond young man smiled brightly.
“I’m glad!”
My, so pointlessly cheerful. How could the brother of that fearsome Black Witch be so completely different?
He had heard they were half-siblings, but he was struck anew by how completely opposite they were.
“Hey, Davi, at least say thank you—”
Thinking Giselle would be dazed again, Damien turned his head and was surprised to find Giselle's gaze fixed on Louis d'Aquitaine.
She was just dazed a moment ago, but what’s with that ardent gaze now?
“…Thank you, Second Lieutenant Aquitaine.”
“I-I’m glad I could be of help, Major Davi.”
Louis d’Aquitaine was embarrassed again.
Damien De Millbeau, who was watching the scene, narrowed his eyes.
‘…Could this be it?’
That… something about love blooming on the battlefield?
What are these damn kids doing in the middle of a life-and-death battle? Back in my day!
Damien De Millbeau swallowed the words that were about to tumble out.
Ah well, whether their eyes meet or not, it’s their business.
Ahem, they’re both under the care of Aquitaine's Black Witch, so no need to interfere, right? Whether their eyes meet or not, it's not my business.
Yes. Young men and women can catch each other’s eye when they're going through hardships together.
Let it go, let it go—I, who am restrained and don’t make a scene, am destined to live a long life!
Damien De Millbeau, once again praising his excellent self-preservation instinct, nodded to himself and turned his gaze back to the battlefield.
But wait.
…No matter how much they’re half-siblings, is it okay for a commoner officer and the young master of Aquitaine to have feelings for each other?
Somehow, he grew very curious about what expression the Black Witch of Aquitaine would make if she saw this.
Damien De Millbeau, amidst the blooming misunderstanding, chuckled at the dangerous and amusing thought, then turned his gaze back to the battlefield—and was utterly astonished.
*
Barua Central District, Revolutionary Army Command.
Staff officers and messengers were running around diligently, with the flags on the operation map moving in response to the news they brought.
I looked at the movement of the flags and spoke.
“They are launching a simultaneous offensive.”
“Yes, Marquis. It appears to be a move to prevent us from identifying the main attack.”
“Hmm.”
I was lost in thought briefly.
No matter how thoroughly the city was fortified, our prediction that the Great King would launch an offensive was correct.
From the looks of it, he seems to have seen through the openings in the defense line that we deliberately left to lure the enemy…
The problem is identifying where the main attack will occur.
We had stockpiled supplies in advance and closed most access roads to the city. The remaining entry routes were the four in the north, south, east, and west.
The Great King was attacking all four locations.
“Where do you think the main attack will be?”
Alexandre Berthier looked at the operation map with a frown and spoke.
“From the movements, it is still impossible to judge. But given the form of the all-around attack, it seems their intention is to first conduct a reconnaissance-in-force and then concentrate their offensive on the direction that wavers.”
“…Normally, that would be the case.”
But the opponent is that Great King, and he is not normal.
We have prepared enough reserves and arranged to fight a delaying action with a small number of troops by retreating, rather than concentrating our forces on the defense line in advance.
Still, our strongest card, Eris, is only one person.
And the Great King must know that too.
As that thought crossed his mind, urgent news arrived.
“Messenger! Your Excellency the Marquis! A message from the Northern Army Commander, Louis Desaix! He says the enemy is concentrating their offensive on the North and West Gates!”
“Hmm, two places are the main attack simultaneously. The Great King is also coming on strong—”
This much falls within the range of what I had anticipated.
Since the enemy's artillery power has been considerably reduced, and with our Eastern Empire's artillery, we inevitably have the upper hand in an artillery duel, so the enemy—
“Messenger! Your Excellency the Marquis! A message from the Southern Army Commander, Damien De Millbeau! He says the enemy is concentrating their offensive on the South and East Gates!”
“…What?”
Our forces are more numerous, yet they're concentrating their offensive on all fronts? What on earth does this mean?
*
“Uwaaargh!”
“Henri! Damn it, you monsters!”
The accurate fire of the Schützen steadily picked off Revolutionary Army soldiers preparing to fire from the defense line.
“Hold steady! Stand firm! For Francia!”
Even General Nicolas Nere's deep, solemn encouragement couldn't maintain the Revolutionary Army's morale on a battlefield filled with smoke and gunfire.
“Fire!”
At the command, the Krafte Army's first rank fired—
“Second rank, aim!”
No sooner had the first rank twisted their bodies than the second rank, which had come forward, quickly aimed their guns.
“Fire!”
And fired.
The Krafte Army, which had been conducting retreating fire in the initial engagement, was moving in the exact reverse order. As they advanced, they were firing volleys with incredible accuracy, and despite the obstacles, casualties were mounting.
In the middle of it all, howitzer shells fell with a roar and tore through the Krafte Army's battle line, but their quick advance nullified the threat.
“Your Excellency the Commander! The distance is too close, the artillery is concerned about friendly fire!”
“It can't be helped, tell them to switch to the rear reserve and counter-battery strikes!”
“Understood!”
Louis Desaix bit his lip as he watched the Krafte Army relentlessly push forward, pressing against his own troops.
The enemy attacking the North and West gates, which he was in charge of, were, by all appearances, the elite standing army, the core force of the Krafte Army.
He had anticipated the enemy launching a main attack on two points simultaneously.
But normally, when attacking such a defense line, one conducts a light offensive doubling as reconnaissance-in-force, not an all-out offensive with no end in sight.
That was what was confusing Louis Desaix.
“Messenger!”
“Oh, what does His Excellency, Marquis Lafayette, say? This is the main attack, where are the reinforcements?”
“My apologies, Commander Desaix! A fierce attack is also being launched on the Southern Army's defensive point! It seems to be a wave attack with the entire force as the main attack!”
“What?”
They are pressuring the Revolutionary Army while launching such an offensive simultaneously?
Is that possible?
Desaix, who had been questioning this, soon found his own answer.
It is possible. For the Krafte Army.
They must still have a considerable standing army left, so it is possible, if only temporarily, to overcome the numerical difference and the sturdiness of the defense line with their qualitative advantage.
However, their elite standing army should be a force to be preserved as much as possible. To commit them like this from the very beginning and take such heavy losses?
“He says he will send the first reserve army first. Since the Southern Army's side is also fierce, he asks that you retreat appropriately rather than holding the line to make use of it!”
“…Good, I understand.”
Louis Desaix replied, though he could not calm the confusion in his heart.
How is this kind of war possible?
Generally, war is a game of kings.
They fight moderately to get what they want, and the side that suffers heavy losses gives up what the other wants, ending the war.
But in the last battle, and in this one.
They were fighting with all their cards, fighting to the limit, causing countless casualties.
Both the Marquis, who had meticulously planned a defense line at the cost of abandoning the entire city, and their great king, who had gambled all his remaining cards from the very beginning.
Their war was something Louis Desaix, a soldier from an era where romance still remained and a man of the Guard, could not understand.
If wars like this continue, will not all human nations one day be annihilated?
Louis Desaix had an ominous thought and swallowed dryly.
But, even so, this is his battlefield.
He has responsibilities, and Marquis Lafayette is a superior worthy of being followed.
Then he will simply carry out his mission as given.
Desaix, having steeled his heart, gave a firm order.
“Relay to the first defense line, retreat to the second defense line! Do not take unnecessary losses and narrow the defense line!”
*
Mounted on his horse, Karl II looked at the city filled with smoke from gunfire and flames, and his army relentlessly charging toward it.
The Revolutionary Army, which had seemed to hold on for a while, soon began abandoning the first defense line rapidly and retreating.
“Ooh—!”
“As expected of His Majesty the Great King! A victory of resolute decision!”
The cheers of the generals could be heard, but the Great King shook his head.
“This is only the beginning.”
A defense line given up so easily means, conversely, that it was built with the intention of being abandoned from the start.
Naturally, something of that magnitude would have been prepared.
The Great King raised his telescope—
And the sound of cannons erupted in succession from the city.
Despite the rain of howitzer shells, the soldiers who had steadfastly advanced, captured the defense line, and raised the flag of Krafte were now showered with iron and shrapnel.
The Great King closed his eyes as he looked through the telescope at his soldiers, who were being torn apart by grapeshot fire as soon as they crossed the obstacles.
“Hah.”
In an urban warfare scenario, the use of direct-fire cannons is extremely limited.
To use that as a means of mass slaughter, wiping out the soldiers entering through the limited and narrow areas.
Even though the faces of the generals had turned ashen, the sound of cannons continued to roar ceaselessly.
The Great King soon pulled on the reins of his horse and began to gallop towards the battlefield.
“G-Great King!”
“It’s dangerous!”
He could hear voices trying to stop him from behind, but the Great King did not stop and headed for his battlefield.
He galloped for a long time and saw with his own eyes the tragedy unfolding on the battlefield for his, or the next generation's, glory.
The elite army, the pride of Krafte, who had steadfastly advanced through the howitzer fire and broken through the defense line, had been reduced to blood and chunks of meat.
“Ugh, uweck—”
Amidst the sounds of young officers retching at the bloody tragedy, officers who had set out with ambition to serve the living legend, the Great King looked with cold eyes at soldiers trying to turn and use the abandoned enemy cannons.
Naturally, the cannons were full of nails.
Since it was obvious that they would be attacked by the infantry before they could reload after firing once, they had fixed the cannon barrels so that they could not even be turned and had used them as a one-time use grapeshot at close range.
Did they use those precious cannons as consumables for that?
Without considering the consequences, only for this moment, to destroy all momentum of the Krafte Army in this battle.
At that moment, the Great King's eyes caught sight of an explosion at the feet of a Krafte soldier who had been trying to advance even after treading on the tragedy, and the soldier falling, clutching his ankle and screaming.
“Landmine…”
“Th-this is, this is just a massacre! Isn't this a defense line aimed solely at slaughtering soldiers without any honor?”
At General Gerhardt’s horrified voice, the Great King looked with a desolate gaze at the soldiers who had survived but were flinching, unable to advance, and walked towards them, saying.
“No, this is our battlefield. This is the glory we pursued.”
“Huk, Your Majesty the Great King?”
The Great King slowly walked among the soldiers who were surprised to see him at the front line, and picked up the fallen, blood-soaked standard of the Krafte Army from the ground.
And he held it high.
“My proud soldiers!”
“Your Majesty the Great King!”
In that hellscape, amidst the gruesome tragedy, the Great King raised his voice and cried out to the soldiers answering his call.
“I, and all of you, will one day face death! Are you afraid of that? Are you so afraid of death that you will render the blood of these countless comrades in vain?”
He knew that this was pushing them into a hellscape.
“Your Great King is with you! Your glory is before you! Advance! For Krafte!”
“L-long live His Majesty the Great King! Advance!”
As the Krafte soldiers began to advance, the Great King slowly followed behind them, holding the standard.
A path stained with blood, a flag stained with blood.
A battlefield filled with the scent of gunpowder and the smell of blood.
A city of gunfire, filled with soldiers who, even in the face of death and terror, advanced in pursuit of his glory.
Ah.
The Great King smiled brightly on that battlefield.
“This is my life.”