Chapter 193: The War Between the South and North 8

Having successfully ambushed and destroyed Chris IV’s encampment, General Tilly and his subordinates celebrated the triumph of their stratagem – harbingers of imminent victory.

“Well done, all of you. All that remains is encircling and annihilating the disoriented foe. Persevere until the very end.”

“Yes, General!”

As Tilly rallied his troops to resume their advance, an alarming report reached him:

“Gen…General!”

“What is it? Why such urgency…?”

“Catastrophe has befallen us! The enemy, instead of faltering into disarray, charges swiftly toward our camp!”

“What…what did you say?”

Bewildered by this unanticipated development contradicting his expectations, Tilly found himself momentarily disconcerted.

‘Preposterous…when their main force comes under attack, the standard doctrine dictates withdrawing to defend it, does it not? Then what compels these fools to…’

Reeling from this deviation from his calculations, Tilly hurriedly issued new orders amidst the confusion:

“Dammit! No choice remains – we too must hasten our advance! All forces, follow me!”

“Un…understood, General!”

Hastily reorganizing his troops, Tilly commenced their drive.

His current camp remained intentionally disarrayed to maintain the illusion of disarray befitting their ruse.

Yet even theatrics required proper preparatory measures to receive an enemy onslaught of such magnitude – which Tilly’s forces presently lacked.

Permitting the foe’s incursion under such circumstances would inevitably invite catastrophic losses.

Mindful of this reality, Tilly and his soldiers advanced with utmost urgency to swiftly encircle and crush their adversaries.

Unfortunately for him, Chris IV’s army proved far from easily malleable…

“The…enemy approaches!”

“Repel them! Drive them back at all costs!”

As tens of thousands poured into Tilly’s disorganized encampment, his troops – feigning disorder – began sustaining mounting casualties in real time.

The invading enemy forces rampaged unchecked through their ranks, unleashing unrestrained devastation.

Artillery barrages and magical bombardments proved virtually impossible amidst such chaos without properly arrayed formations or safeguards.

In stark contrast, their foes operated under no such constraints – free to obliterate every target within range through firearms and offensive spells.

“Open fire! Annihilate the enemy utterly!”

Volleys of bullets and myriad magic blasts converged upon the Imperial forces.

Their own mages struggled to retaliate effectively, unable to adequately shield their own scattered comrades amidst the mayhem.

Worse, Tilly himself remained unaccounted for amidst the turmoil, depriving his beleaguered troops of centralized command.

Thus disarrayed and rudderless, the Imperial ranks swiftly crumbled before Chris IV’s Northern warriors’ relentless onslaught.

“Slaughter them all! Descendants of mighty Odir, leave no foe unslain!”

Closing to melee range, these self-proclaimed “barbaric warrior” scions exhibited the ferocity befitting that moniker – hacking through opposition with unstoppable brutality and contempt for mortality.

Heedless of blade wounds or gunshot injuries, the indomitable Northerners charged ever onward.

Their unrestrained savagery chilled the Imperial troops’ resolve, causing their combat motivation to evaporate rapidly.

“They’re…too strong!”

“What do we do? Should we…retreat?”

“We cannot! We must endure! General Tilly shall come to our aid shortly…”

“By then, we’ll all be dead!”

Amidst the dire crisis, the Imperial ranks disintegrated into incoherent pandemonium – nearly half already surrendering while the remainder clung to desperate hopes of Tilly’s imminent relief.

However, their stubborn resistance proved futile against the unyielding Northern juggernaut’s remorseless advance.

Unless swiftly halted, Tilly’s main camp garrison faced inevitable annihilation.

Then:

“Vile barbarian scum! You dare defy the Imperium’s might?”

“Look…over there!”

“Gen…General Tilly!”

At the eleventh hour, Tilly’s banner and thunderous voice heralded his arrival – reinvigorating his demoralized, splintered troops.

In turn, Chris IV and his forces finally acknowledged this newly manifested adversary.

“So you are the Imperium’s vaunted archmage, Tilly?”

“And you must be Chris IV, the vile usurper who brazenly invaded Imperial soil despite your barbarian roots. You shall reap a dire reckoning for such temerity!”

“You arrogant fool – this place shall become your tomb! All forces, advance! Crush these feeble Imperial lapdogs!”

With that brief exchange of taunts, Chris IV and Tilly’s armies charged headlong into furious melee.

Though operating within the Imperial camp’s confines, leaving Chris IV’s host technically encircled, his indomitable Northern warriors plunged recklessly into the fray with frightening ferocity.

Moreover, their twin strengths of martial prowess and raw power granted them a distinct advantage in such chaotic close-quarters combat.

Thus, despite their initially compromised positioning, Chris IV’s onslaught met Tilly’s counter-attack with unrelenting parity.

“Forward march!”

“Slaughter and pillage all in your path!”

Obeying Mansfeld’s commands, his mercenaries surged across the bridge toward their objective.

Only a pitiful handful of sentries – perhaps a dozen at most – impeded their advance, eliciting his private disdain:

‘Leaving such a vital defensive chokepoint so negligently undermanned…as expected of that supposed “Wallenstein” whelp – a mere novice. At this rate, victory shall pose little difficulty.’

Anticipating an effortless triumph, Mansfeld paid the paltry guard force no heed – his gaze fixed solely upon Wallenstein’s camp beyond, where campfires flickered invitingly.

His prize – the key to restoring his tarnished fame and securing a comfortable retirement.

Utterly confident his troops would simply trample these token defenders aside to seize their objective, Mansfeld remained obliviously dismissive.

Until:

-KABOOOOMMM!-

“!”

“What…what was that?”

A sudden, deafening detonation shattered the silence, leaving Mansfeld, Christian, and their bewildered soldiers aghast at the unfolding spectacle.

“That was…”

In a singular, horrifying instant – their vanguard troops crossing the bridge spontaneously immolated by a colossal magical conflagration.

Scores perished in that flash, reduced to cinders before their comrades’ disbelieving eyes.

The appalling sight of their vanguard’s annihilation momentarily paralyzed the remaining troops with existential dread.

Then, amidst the charred ruins straddling the bridge, one of the handful of ‘sentries’ emerged – a robed female mage emanating palpable mystical energies.

“What…what is she…?”

As the ominous sorceress favored them with a chilling smirk, the mercenaries found themselves rooted, their bravado extinguished.

Her sinister presence elicited an unmistakable aura of menace as she addressed them with frigid menace:

“The first time since my defection from the Dragonian Imperium, is it?…Seems I must loosen these muscles once more.”