novelraw Chapter 173: 173. Krafte War - City of Gunfire (4)
Chapter 173: 173. Krafte War - City of Gunfire (4)
Episode 173. The Krafte War - City of Fire (4)
The engagement, which had entered a lull as the sun went down, resumed with a vengeance as soon as morning came.
The sound of cannon fire, the sound of cannon fire, and the sound of cannon fire.
As the air-tearing roar of howitzer shells flying and landing was repeated countless times, it reached a point where it was impossible to distinguish between those fired by the enemy and those fired by our side.
“Damn it, it’s on fire! Put it out!”
“Water! Bring water here!”
I glanced at the soldiers running about frantically as the barracks caught fire, then lowered my gaze back to the map.
The command building I had been using was also hit by artillery fire and had burned down, so I too was commanding from a field command tent.
“All fronts have retreated from the Second Defense Line and are engaged at the Third Defense Line!”
“The Southern Army’s casualties are severe! We desperately need Her Majesty’s support!”“The Northern Army is not faring much better! The casualties from the simultaneous all-front attack are—”
A chaotic situation with cries erupting from all directions.
There was no such thing as a main attack force.
From the very beginning, they had thrown in their entire main force, their standing army, unleashing a fierce assault on all fronts.
If they had concentrated their offensive on one front, we could have deployed Eris for a focused defense, but that was impossible with a simultaneous offensive on multiple fronts.
The enemy properly understood that Eris had only one body.
After a fierce battle from the outset, losses had piled up considerably, and Eris, along with the priests, was rushing from place to place protecting and healing the soldiers, so busy she couldn't even catch her breath.
“...The enemy’s losses can’t be ignored either.”
“That is certainly true. The grapeshot bombardment we delivered as we abandoned the first defense line and retreated must have inflicted quite severe damage on the enemy’s main force. The ongoing artillery fire from the Eastern Empire’s army is also causing immense losses……”
Alexandre Berthier, who was facing me, shrugged his shoulders.
“They must be madmen, to still be pressing the offensive.”
“No matter how strong the Krafte Army is, they can’t keep this up forever. There will be a limit to their offensive capability.”
Grapeshot bombardment, landmines, the Eastern Empire’s howitzers, obstacles laid out as if to fill the entire city, and the endlessly connected defense lines.
The core of our defensive battle was to shake their morale through mass slaughter and delaying tactics.
No matter how great an elite army they were, as long as they were humans of flesh and blood, they were bound to be shaken as their comrades kept dying and they grew exhausted.
No matter if their opponent was the Great King, launching a wave offensive on all fronts to push us back simultaneously, without a main attack or anything of the sort, to avoid a concentrated defense by Eris, was their limit.
In the end, in this chaotic battle we had dragged them into, there was no other way but to push forward with morale and fighting spirit.
“For now, we have no choice but to hold on fiercely. They are an army of humans too. If we hold on, a moment will surely come when they finally collapse.”
Perhaps I was just trying to convince myself that it would be so.
We had prepared this thoroughly. We had gained as much experience as we ever could from the fierce battles of the past, and we were fighting in the most advantageous location in the most advantageous way.
“All that’s left is to believe in the Revolutionary Army.”
In any case, unlike in a field battle, thanks to the defensive lines set up with the goal of a delaying action, the battle had been going on for over a day.
It would probably take more than a day or two for the Krafte Army’s momentum to be completely broken.
“From now on, it will be a battle of stamina. Tell each unit commander to rotate their troops and let them rest, even if only for a moment.”
“Understood, Your Excellency, Commander! However, we have already expended a quarter of our ammunition reserves. Will that be alright?”
Unlike a field battle of exchanging volley fire, urban warfare, characterized by continuous sporadic fire from behind cover, consumes a lot of ammunition, and with the entire city under siege, resupply is impossible.
It wasn't strange for him to be worried, but...
“That’s not a problem. After all, the other side will be short on supply too.”
Under the same conditions, they would have a harder time than us, who had intended a long-term battle from the start and had stockpiled ammunition.
Besides...
“It is unlikely that the Krafte Army, which doesn’t normally prepare a large amount of ammunition, would have prepared enough for such a prolonged urban battle, and even if they had, we have Morelle.”
The cavalry, useless in urban warfare, had been kept on the outskirts from the beginning and would be constantly harassing the enemy’s supply lines.
Morelle was already an expert at that, so I was sure he was doing a fine job.
I looked at the one-eyed Orc, Karok, who was standing next to me with his arms crossed and a stern face.
All that remained was to decide when to play the final card.
*
The outskirts of the occupied city of Barua became the Krafte Army’s base and barracks.
“His Majesty the Great King, nearly half of our ammunition has already been spent.”
“The enemy’s Chasseurs are continuously raiding our supply units! It would be better to pull back some troops to protect the supply lines—”
“Our losses are already immense, where would we find troops to pull back from here?”
With the Hussars having suffered massive losses in the skirmishes of the last battle, there was a limit to what the cavalry alone could do against Francia’s Chasseurs.
The idea that Cuirassiers were suitable for hunting Chasseurs was only true when they could be cornered with the support of Hussars; it was a remote possibility for heavy cavalry alone to catch light cavalry that just ran around shooting.
Thanks to this, the Krafte Army was being relentlessly tormented by Jerome Morelle, a master of supply line destruction, throughout the fierce urban warfare.
The Krafte Army, having quickly learned the lessons of the previous battle, had drastically increased the amount of ammunition they carried, but even that was woefully insufficient in a situation of fierce, non-stop urban combat day and night.
The Great King, who had been watching the bloodshot-eyed generals, who had been up almost all night, debating with each other, spoke slowly with a similarly fatigued face.
“The casualties are already high. Pulling back troops to protect the supply lines here is not feasible.”
“But, His Majesty the Great King, at this rate, our ammunition will soon be exhausted.”
The Great King remained silent for a moment, then opened his mouth.
“Continue the offensive only until evening, and let the troops rest fully during the night. That way, a small amount of ammunition will remain.”
“That may be so, but it will not be enough to continue the battle the next day.”
The Great King let out a small sigh.
The momentum that had faltered against the enemy’s defense lines, which had mobilized even immense artillery fire and landmines, he had somehow managed to recover by taking the risk of marching with his soldiers.
However, even after recovering from the initial blow, the enemy was endlessly fighting a delaying action in the sickeningly fortified city, drawing them deeper and deeper into the urban area.
No matter how great the discipline the Krafte Army boasted, it was impossible to maintain formation and organization on such a chaotic battlefield full of obstacles.
And in such a chaotic battle, the gap between the Krafte Army and the Revolutionary Army narrows considerably.
Was this not a battlefield that seemed to have been prepared for them with a truly vicious efficiency? That Marquis Lafayette understood very well how to effectively torment them.
But even so, he could not slow the offensive.
“Then should we halt the offensive and wait while protecting our supply lines? During that time, their Saintess-Queen and priests will be raising their wounded.”
“...M-My apologies, His Majesty the Great King.”
The decisive difference between the Krafte Army and the Francian Army stemmed from that.
Their Saintess-Queen not only protected them on the battlefield but, given time, could heal an immense number of wounded.
She alone was an absolute advantage that Krafte lacked, and yet Francia was even mobilizing a considerable number of priests into battle, thanks to a cooperative archbishop.
But for Krafte, which had already lost many of its elite standing army at the first defense line, such replenishment could not be expected.
“The losses to the standing army are already severe. The longer the battle drags on, the more overwhelmingly disadvantageous the war situation becomes for us.”
The Great King pointed to the center of the city on the map with his staff and said.
“Marquis Lafayette is a cautious man who cares about the sacrifices of his subordinates. Even if we halt our offensive in the evening and rest our army, he will at most reinforce his guards on rotation, he won't rashly abandon his advantageous defensive positions to launch a counterattack.”
“That is a sound judgment, His Majesty the Great King.”
“Therefore, we too will rest our soldiers as much as possible, and launch an all-out offensive the next day. If the ammunition is exhausted...”
The Great King let out a smirk.
When he had retreated in the last battle, he had not thought that Krafte would be pushed this far by a single defeat.
So he had retreated. But, what if he had gambled for victory back then?
It was a meaningless hypothetical now.
The Great King slowly opened his mouth.
“...Once the ammunition is spent, we will enter into melee combat.”
In a sporadic firefight in a city filled with such messy obstacles, their elite status was greatly diminished, but in melee combat, the Krafte Army, with its fundamentally high level of training and discipline, would have the advantage.
The Revolutionary Army's strength, their Cuirassier units, were not very helpful in urban warfare.
The existence of Francia's unique knights was a concern, but their small numbers were not enough to deliver a decisive blow in an engagement involving tens of thousands of soldiers.
Besides, they had their own card to play.
The Great King slowly turned his gaze to Count Albert von Wittelsbach, who had a grave expression.
“When we enter melee combat, I will have the Imperial Army participate as well. You also had business with that Marquis Lafayette, did you not?”
“Of course, His Majesty the Great King. The knights of the Empire will stand at the vanguard and annihilate them.”
To Count Wittelsbach, who replied with blazing eyes, the Great King answered with a light nod.
“Good.”
The Imperial Army they had brought were cannon fodder who had been shattered even by Iberica’s barbarians, so nothing could be expected of them, but the knights, including Count Wittelsbach, were valuable assets who could stand against the knights of Francia.
The Great King’s lips twisted into a slight smirk as he spoke.
“This is the watershed, gentlemen. Whether we gain everything, or lose everything. A truly Krafte-like battle. Is it not?”
“It is, His Majesty the Great King!”
Before the generals who shouted in unison, the Great King replied with a satisfied smile.
“Let us roll the dice, gentlemen.”
*
Boom— Kra-koom—
Louis d'Aquitaine shot his eyes open, startled by the explosive sounds that were about to give him a neurosis.
Then he realized it was just nightfall and, with a tired face, raised a hand to press firmly against his eyes.
He had been using magic at the front until he was utterly exhausted and had been ordered to rest.
He had vaguely thought that he wanted to be of help.
He believed he could be of help, and he wanted to join the glorious fight to protect Francia for his sister's sake.
The actual battlefield he faced was vastly different from the glorious and splendid place he had imagined.
It was a terrible, cruel space that felt as if his blood was drying up.
While his sister was single-minded, Louis, who had inwardly disliked Pierre de Lafayette's somewhat bleak eyes, could now understand why they were that way.
More accurately, it was because a good number of those standing on this battlefield had such eyes.
...Including himself.
He had seen his mother and the vassals who had cherished him die before his eyes since he was young.
Because of that, he had thought he had lived a rough life and was strong, but to think it was all a child's delusion.
“Haaa...”
Louis was about to splash his dry face and get up when—
He was terrified to realize that someone was watching him.
“Hup?!”
“Ah, I’m sorry. Did I startle you?”
And the very person who had startled him calmly handed him a cup.
“Here, it’s the cocoa you like.”
“Ah, th-thank you. Major Davie.”
Louis took the cup Giselle handed him and immediately took a sip.
The warm and sweet taste, as if it had just been made, spreading in his mouth quickly calmed his startled heart, and Louis smiled naturally.
“Ah, thank you. I feel this every time, but this is really good.”
“It’s just something from the supply that I made for you, that’s all.”
“Still, it’s especially delicious when you make it, Major, haha....”
After they both warmed themselves with cocoa in an awkward but decent atmosphere, Giselle slowly opened her mouth.
“I was on standby, so I just came by, but you were resting so I was about to leave. But you woke up right on time.”
“That’s lucky, then. I would have been a bit disappointed if I couldn't have this.”
Giselle chuckled and opened her mouth.
“You’ve gotten much better, though. At first, you really had the air of a young master from a noble house-”
“Ahem, ahem... I have learned a lot.”
A short silence fell.
As Louis, thinking it wasn't a bad time, drank the slightly cooled and lukewarm cocoa, Giselle spoke.
“I’ve... been thinking about it for quite a while.”
“Yes?”
“After all, I thought I should reach a definite conclusion.”
What did she mean?
As Louis was feeling a little bewildered, Giselle opened her mouth.
“Do you, by any chance, know someone named Ellen Davi?”
Louis's mind went blank as if he had been struck on the head.
He flinched in spite of himself, and the cup fell from his loosened grip—the liquid that spilled from the fallen cup soaked his feet.
Feeling the lukewarm, sticky sensation of the blood-like liquid, Louis thought dazedly.
What kind of expression am I making right now?
Giselle, who had been staring intently at Louis, with a bitter look on her face—
“I was hoping it wasn’t true.”
—muttered quietly with a smile.
“...I suppose, it seems it's really true.”