31 – Rotate Ethlon Plains (3)

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My name is Mark, a mediocre soldier who lived in poverty and joined the army of Baron Creutel, no, a private who served for a year.

Until yesterday, we repeated rest and training in the barracks, and finally the day of fighting for the first time in my life arrived.

At noon, when the morning sun was shining brightly, our troops moved to the plain beyond the river where they would fight the enemy.

Our camp was on the other side of the river from where we were supposed to camp, and our pants were wet down to the knees because we had crossed the river.

I felt a little uncomfortable because of my wet pants, but I couldn’t complain as long as I stood in the front holding the spear.

I just have to endure the ‘unfavorable environment’ as I was trained as a soldier.

As I was immersed in such thoughts and tried to hold back my complaints, Sergeant Jackson next to me grumbled.

“Damn it, why do you have to cross the river? Can’t we just provoke the enemy and make them cross the river on their own? is not it? Private Mark.”

“I mean.”

As soon as we crossed the river, our platoon moved to the far end of the formation as we had been instructed beforehand.

As we moved and made six rows of squares with long spears, crossbowmen carrying shields slightly larger than their bodies crossed the river and crossed us.

Then they stood a little further in front of us and planted the shields they had brought with them, slightly larger than their own, into the ground.

After confirming that they had all their shields installed, our second lieutenant, Lord Night Frost’s bastard, looked at us and began to speak with a serious expression.

“The enemies are coming soon! However, as soldiers of the proud Mr. Creutel, as his subordinates, we must annihilate them! Gentlemen, so be strong! Finally, shout loud enough for your enemies to hear! Long live His Excellency Kreutel!!!”

After that, after a short silence, the soldiers of our platoon started shouting.

“hurray!!”

“Crush the enemies!! Hooray for Your Excellency!!”

“I will make an achievement in this battle! Long live His Excellency!!”

**

And after some more time, enemies began to appear from a little far away.

It was so far away that the enemy’s appearance only appeared as a dot, but as they approached, they began to appear larger.

Although they had two arms, two legs, a head, and a torso, just like us.

Unlike our forces, the enemy units were armed with farming tools such as ‘forks’, ‘long forks’, and ‘hoes’ rather than proper equipment, and were wearing thin tunics worn when plowing the fields.

Looking closely, the distance between the soldiers and their gait did not match.

Can these things really be our opponents?

Around the time I was thinking about that, our platoon commander pulled out the knife pierced to the left of his waist and gave an order.

“All platoons, lower the windows and make dustproof! When the crossbows retreat to our left, advance slowly!”

Following that order, my squad moved to the front of the square and lined up in a single line.

Then, while the soldier next to me and a man stood at a distance enough to fit in, our squad leader, Sergeant Jackson, lowered the halberd at an angle.

After seeing that, my body was already trained, and we all followed Sergeant Jackson’s halberd and stuck out the spear.

By the time it was finished, the enemies had come close enough to discern the shape of the helmet they were wearing.

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Just when the footsteps of thousands of serfs gave the illusion of shaking the ground, the voice of His Excellency Baron, standing right in the center of the infantry square, resounded.

“Crossbowman, open fire!”

When the order was given, the captains of each crossbowman repeated the order, and soon after, crossbow arrows flew towards the enemy and pierced them.

“Aww!!”

“Um…Mom!!”

“I want to go back…”

“Cheer… caureuk…”

A lucky few did not die from arrows in the arms and legs, but those who were shot in the neck or chest died without a final or even final death sentence.

The blood shed by the dying soldiers began to dye the grass, which had grown green before I knew it, red.

And after a very short time passed, the platoon leader pulled out his sword and started shouting loudly again.

“All platoon members! Head down!! Enemy arrows are flying!”

Again, the instinct as a soldier imprinted on my body, following the training to follow orders, subconsciously lowered my head.

And right after that, enemy arrows started flying from the sky.

As I was lowering my head, praying that the flying arrows would not hit my body, I heard someone’s screams from the platoon next to me.

“Ugh…”

I don’t know who it is, but being hit by an arrow… I shouldn’t be hit by an arrow like that…

Then the crossbowmen on our side fired arrows at the enemy, and a few seconds later the enemy fired arrows at us again.

In the meantime, I just bowed my head and waited for the platoon commander’s order to charge, lest I be killed by an arrow in a vital spot that my helmet and breastplate couldn’t cover.

At least when facing the enemy, you won’t have to worry about getting hit by their arrows.

As if to answer such expectations, the platoon commander now shouted in a triumphant voice.

“Sergeant Clark! back please I, Frost, lead the platoon! Follow me!”

With those words, the platoon leader in helmet, breastplate and armour, holding a halberd, stood in the center of our squad.

And finally…

‘Boooooooooooo!!!’

The trumpet sounded the order to charge.

The platoon commander didn’t even give us an order, and before we knew it, he started to go ahead with his halberd.

Although he was a young aristocrat 10 years younger than me, when I saw him proudly marching forward with a halberd, I thought, ‘This is why this nobleman is playing a platoon commander’…

It must be really scary to stand in the front, but the way he overcame it and walked out to the battlefield was what I thought was an aristocratic look.

And, of course, we followed the platoon commander’s back and took one or two steps forward.

As we proceeded according to the platoon leader’s steps, we came to the point where the enemy’s spear point and our spear point collided.

From this point on, as I learned in training, I was swung around by a group called ‘Platoon’ as if I had become a machine in the hands of a farmer.

When they fired spears, I fired them, and when an enemy pitchfork, long fork, or hoe came up in front of me, I removed it.

After a long battle that lasted for several minutes, one of the enemy’s serfs, who had never been trained, lost the pitchfork he was holding.

Seeing him bend down to pick it up, I naturally stabbed the enemy like I would stab someone with a wooden spear in training, then pulled out the spear.

The stabbed foe uttered a bloody agony.

“Ahhh… Sal, save me.”

“die. A rotten serf.”

The man who died by me must have been stabbed in the heart, and blood gushed out from the stabbed chest.

Then, I again spear-to-shoulder with my comrades by my side to survive this battlefield.

And it’s a little late for the enemy to come out right away and face their farming tools, and to check each other.

As soon as I thought that, the guy right behind the guy I had stabbed to death trembled and held out the farm implement he was holding.

At that time, a very slight, very slight gap opened, and I stabbed the enemy in front of me without missing this gap.

This time, the neck, maybe that guy will die without making a sound.

Having killed two people who were supposed to stand in line like that, there was a small hole in the square of the enemy opposite me.

Seeing this hole, I shouted as I took a step or two ahead of my comrades as I threw out my spear to survive this battlefield.

“Private, Mark!! I pierced a hole in the enemy square!!”

Upon hearing that, our platoon commander looked at me with a smile on his face from under the helmet and said.

“Follow the mark of the entire platoon and charge! Destroy the enemy square! Platoon riders, raise the platoon flag and signal so that the infantry commander, Lord Balt, can see! If you hold on a little longer, we will be the protagonists of this battle! charge!!”

Following the command, I threw away the fear that I might die and took one step with the spear, or just ran out with the spear.

If they ever panicked at me, they stabbed me at random, and before I knew it, some of my enemies ran away without even paying attention to the fact that their dictator was behind them.

After stabbing quite a few enemies like that, one, two, three… Before I knew it, I ran to a place where there were no enemies.

And the other soldiers in my platoon also followed me slowly to this place where there were no more enemies.

Seeing the scene, I burst out laughing.

It’s still too early to feel completely relieved, but the joy and joy of having survived the first hellish war, the guilt of killing innocent people who are ‘innocent’ even though they are enemies, and the sympathy for those who were brutally murdered by me mixed feelings. Laughter.

“ha ha ha!! Damn, I survived!!”

Hearing that laughter, Sergeant Jackson came next to me and patted me on the shoulder.

“Yeah, damn it! If you break through the enemy’s square, you shouldn’t be dizzy!! you are the hero!! Doesn’t it mean that this child will be given when he returns?”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, if you wear a sergeant, your salary goes up, so your marriage…”

But Sergeant Jackson couldn’t finish his words.

Because even though the ‘sound of shaking the ground’ was incomparable to that of the moment when the foot soldiers collided, it wasn’t directed at us…

Because it was screaming loudly.

And looking at where the sound came from, there…

The knights led by the baron were charging at the enemy knights.

The knights’ armor, shining silver as the sunlight reflected, shimmered like stars, and the momentum of their attack was so…

Sometimes it seemed as if the priests were seeing the end of the world.

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Moving at a speed that is neither fast nor slow…

Death shining silver.

**

It’s hard to charge with a lance, but to be at the forefront of a knight charge as a baron…

is this a real story?

But, thanks to Jack Frost and the rest of the knights saying this with their eyes shining, we can’t beat it.

“Your Excellency Baron, you just have to charge at the first line holding the flag. Don’t worry and charge! And if you wear quilted armor on top of your armor, you will die unless you are trampled on by a horse!”

In the real European war, knights shouldn’t have died too much, but…

A baron with a name must do something like this…

However, I have no choice but to defend my territory, which I, ‘Ciel von Kreuttel’ created and nurtured, from those damn bastards.

With that in mind, I fixed the large flag with the coat of arms of our baron in my right hand and held it high with both hands.

And, waving the flag, he ordered them.

“Knights of Kreutel! Show those foolish and wicked people who think that stealing and starting a war is an honor to repent of an honorable knight’s fight! All rush!!”