Chapter 122:Battle of Ramdas Plain (9)

“Indeed, in this world, where there is a beginning, there must also be an end.”  

“Boreas! Faster, even faster!”  

Keldric was determined to sever this damned ill-fated bond.  

The beginning had been the handiwork of that fool Fritz and that spineless Joseph.  

But behind them stood the Mormon Merchant Guild’s chairman and further still, Baron Gottfried, the true root of it all.  

Jacob, who had been like a father to him, was dead. If that was the case, then the one who set that death in motion must bear a price equal to it.  

This was what Keldric considered the rightful end.  

“Waaaah—!”  

The soldiers roared as they charged. The retreating Lys cavalry, caught off guard, panicked in utter disarray.  

Just moments ago, Keldric had fallen neatly into the trap set by the retreating archer cavalry. But this time, he was certain this was no trick.  

This time, the retreat was real. They had no reinforcements left.  

Though a fair number of Lys cavalrymen remained, what could that handful of mounted troops possibly do now?  

Would they really charge headlong into over two hundred infantrymen? No sane man would.  

And so, this time, he would capture them. He had to.  

As Keldric raised his arm to signal, Sir Henri and the other knights did the same.  

Then, among the following cavalry, a standard-bearer waved his flag vigorously. The banner, fluttering in the wind, served as a signal flare.  

“Don’t let them escape!”  

Unlike when they had first struck, the fleeing Lys cavalry did not retreat in a unified formation.  

And that only brought greater disaster upon them.  

“Grab them!”  

“You fucking bastards! Drag them down!”  

“Stab them! Aim for the legs!”  

Groups of five or six soldiers began hunting down the scattered horsemen one by one.  

No matter how strong cavalry were against infantry, they still needed numbers to be truly devastating.  

Already, their ranks had thinned from Keldric and the knights and now, scattered like this, they’d be better off begging for mercy.  

Moreover, Sir Lothar’s forces still had over two hundred soldiers remaining.  

Even if they shook off a few infantrymen, breaking free from this sea of soldiers across the open plains was hopeless.  

“Sir Keldric! Over there! The cavalry are regrouping!”  

A knight riding alongside Keldric shouted.  

Keldric glanced in that direction sure enough, a dozen or so horsemen had shaken off their panic and were slowly gathering.  

“Leave them to me!”  

Sir Henri declared confidently.  

Before Keldric could respond, Henri and another knight had already galloped toward them.  

‘Sir Henri can handle it.’  

After all, someone had to bring order to this chaotic battlefield.  

Keldric silently thanked Henri for taking the initiative, then refocused ahead.  

As much as he wanted to assist Henri, there was still more important work to be done.  

“Move aside—!!”  

Keldric bellowed furiously. The battlefield shook with his roar, and the burning pain in his back from an arrow wound flared sharply.  

A few frenzied Lys cavalrymen lunged at him, shouting incomprehensible curses but Keldric crushed them effortlessly with his mace.  

Fighting like this, one by one, was no battle at all. It was perfect for picking them off individually.  

With every reckless charge from the Lys cavalry, another shattered skull sprayed blood across the snow before collapsing.  

How long had they been running like that?

“Sir Keldric! Over there!”

At last, the figure they had been relentlessly chasing began to shimmer into view before Keldric’s eyes.

Near the outskirts of Baron Gottfried’s camp, a man was desperately trying to rally the remaining troops. Keldric quickly scanned him from a distance.

The armor he wore, like the knights around him; the helmet held like a mere decoration in his hand, fearless amidst the battlefield; the gestures he made as he drew his sword and shouted out orders—

And more than anything, the banner boldly displayed, the crest on his armor how could one miss it? It was unmistakably the crest of House Gottfried.

“Baron Gottfried!”

Fire lit in Keldric’s eyes. Unknowingly, his grip on the reins tightened.

“Pick up the pace!”

As Keldric roared in fury, the knights and cavalrymen trailing him instantly understood.

☩   ☩   ☩   ☩   ☩   ☩   ☩

“Damn it!”  

Baron Gottfried, who had been sitting in his chair comfortably watching the progress of the battle, hastily mounted his horse as the tide of battle began to flow strangely.  

No, it wasn’t just strange it was bizarre.  

The  Lys had clearly trapped the knights and cavalry, and he had seen with his own eyes how two knights and more than ten cavalrymen had been taken down.  

“They’re they’re breaking through that?!”  

It all started with one large-framed knight.  

He suddenly grabbed the mace hanging at his waist, then immediately rallied the remaining three or four knights and cavalrymen and charged forward in a breakthrough.  

Up until that moment, Baron Gottfried had not doubted for a second that their reckless attempt like moths diving into a flame would be snuffed out swiftly.  

Even that large knight leading the charge while Gottfried had seen his imposing figure from afar during the previous Battle of Schaffendorf… it was clearly a whole different story now.  

But the situation on the battlefield kept taking strange turns.  

At first, the  Lys cavalry swarmed in again, seemingly trying to reestablish the encirclement, but once the knights had closed in, shaking them off was near impossible.  

In the end, the encirclement was broken. Baron Gottfried, amidst the iron and blood scattering within the ranks, glared at the large-framed knight who had fought alone and extracted everyone.  

Before long, his gaze searched through the now pathetically broken formation, looking for someone.  

‘Gorka, you foolish  Lys bastard!’  

Gorka, the  Lys mercenary captain. His real combat experience and skill were undoubtedly impressive.  

However, there was one thing he had misjudged: he had treated the middling  Lys medium cavalry and the knights as equals.  

If it had been  Lys medium cavalry being wiped out by nomads, fine. They might have gotten caught up in that kind of tactic and perished heroically.  

But knights were different. Even when cornered, they created opportunities.  

Still, it didn’t change the fact that the whole thing felt absurd. Baron Gottfried let out a dumbfounded laugh.  

Even for a knight really? They actually broke through that? And even countered nearly every attack along the way?  

Sure, some other knight might have broken through somehow, but no one could guarantee the safety of the lead knight in such a case.  

And yet, and yet…  

“Milord! The Lys are requesting retreat!”  

A knight rushed over and reported urgently. Baron Gottfried gave him a sharp, irritated glance.  

“…Signal the retreat.”  

“Yes, sir! Retreat! Retreat! Bugler!”

Bwooo!  

The horn trumpet echoed across the battlefield.  

The plains of Ramdus, which had already quaked once from the knights’ breakthrough, now shook violently again with the thunderous hoofbeats of the  Lys cavalry in chaotic retreat.  

Baron Gottfried stared at the  Lys cavalry hurriedly returning. And he thought:  

‘Was it a mistake… to try to match a breakthrough with a counter?’  

In truth, neither Gorka nor Baron Gottfried had made a completely wrong decision.  

Anyone else in their position would likely have chosen the same course.  

However, they failed to anticipate a single variable—  

The variable being that one brave knight who had almost single-handedly broken through the encirclement.  

If only they had known this would happen they should have widened the distance from the moment the breakthrough began.  

What if they had fallen back while riding and then responded with horseback archery from afar?  

But looking back on it now made no difference.  

A variable is called a variable precisely because it cannot be predicted. Baron Gottfried clenched his trembling hand into a tight fist.  

“Milord! The  Lys cavalry is scattering in all directions!”  

“What the—?!”  

Snapping out of his thoughts, Baron Gottfried flinched. His eyes flew wide open and turned back toward the battlefield.  

“Ah…!”  

Instead of answering the knight, a sigh escaped his lips.  

The retreating  Lys cavalry, who had tried to fall back in formation, were beginning to drift apart.  

The reason: the furious pursuit from behind by the knights and the enemy forces.  

The wider the gaps grew between the fleeing  Lys cavalry, the faster the collapse of the battlefront accelerated.  

Baron Gottfried knew this.  

But the time for him to do anything had long since passed.  

The Lys barely listened to him anyway. Even if Baron Gottfried had tried to act in time, it was doubtful anything would’ve worked.  

At best, they’d listen to Gorka. They never had much reason to obey Baron Gottfried’s orders.  

To make matters worse, Baron Gottfried wasn’t even their direct employer.  

For a dire situation to spiral into catastrophe, not much was needed.  

The fact that the scattered  Lys cavalry were now being hunted down?  

That the retreating Griffin mercenaries, spread thin, were fighting delaying actions?  

To put it bluntly Baron Gottfried couldn’t care less.  

More accurately, with defeat now certain, Baron Gottfried had no mental space left to care.  

“They’re coming this way!”  

Baron Gottfried’s shaky eyes turned to the front.  

As the scattered  Lys cavalry fell one by one, a group of cavalry came charging, smashing through everything in their way.  

Among them, the knight at the front looked familiar.  

It was the same large-framed knight Baron Gottfried had been keeping an eye on earlier.  

“Hhk!”  

Startled, Baron Gottfried hastily tried to turn his horse. Or at least, he tried to.  

A single thought struck him like lightning.  

It was the memory of those days when he had trudged through the snowfields, fleeing and chasing, suffering for days on end.  

‘If I run from here…  

Just where the hell am I supposed to go?  

Back when I fled from Schaffendorf, at least there was a way out. Count Lassau even sent reinforcements.  

But now, Baron Gottfried had none of that. All that remained for him now… was a future stripped bare.’

Baron Gottfried had only two choices left.  

To surrender to a future that seemed doomed to utter ruin and abandon everything or to struggle desperately and fight tooth and nail to survive.  

“Listen, men! Retreat to the fortress at once!”  

Unsurprisingly, Baron Gottfried chose the latter.  

He knew all too well what defeat in a territorial war meant. It wasn’t something that could be dismissed with a simple “we lost.”  

Had it been a reasonable compromise ceding a few mines, hunting grounds, or tax rights Baron Gottfried would have gracefully admitted defeat and raised the white flag.  

But now, that was impossible.  

Of all people, his opponent was Baron Jaben, and this war had taken on the nature of a proxy battle between two powerful counts.  

In the end, surrendering wouldn’t truly mean surrender.  

At the very least, it wouldn’t end with just the usual “loss of family assets.”  

In the worst case, his title could be stripped, or his entire house might fall. The thought terrified Baron Gottfried beyond endurance.  

Near the Ramdas Plains stood an old fortress owned by House Gottfried. If they could just reach it…  

“My lord! We can’t hold them off!”  

But the world was not so forgiving, and Sir Lothar’s knights, sensing victory within grasp, had no intention of letting the opportunity slip.  

Baron Gottfried frantically pulled on his helmet and looked back.  

Sir Lothar’s knights had already breached the palisade defenses of the camp and were smashing through everything in their path.  

Among them, the gaze of a particularly massive knight burned with unmistakable bloodlust and fury.  

Horrified, Baron Gottfried shouted,  

“Their horses must be exhausted! How could they possibly catch us if we flee?!”  

“They’ve already changed mounts! It’s better to make our stand here—!”  

In theory, yes. They just had to reach the fortress.  

But that was no longer an option. The knights had closed the distance in an instant, roaring as they swung their weapons.  

“Engage them! Engage!”  

“Fight with honor, as knights should!”  

Baron Gottfried’s own knights spurred their horses forward.  

No matter how foolish or disgraceful their repeated defeats had been, they could not betray their lord.  

CRASH! BANG!  

“Guh—!”  

“Damn it all!”  

With a deafening impact, the massive knight sent two of Baron Gottfried’s knights flying. The chainmail links shattered outward as the mace struck home.  

The giant knight rampaged like a bear.  

Every time his mace swung, a terrifying whoosh cut through the air, and men were sent flying.  

THUD!  

A mercenary desperately thrusting his spear had his skull caved in. Blood gushed from the dented helmet.  

Another soldier tried to drag a knight down with a hook resembling an axe or sickle only to meet his end with a single mace strike.  

Blood sprayed in all directions. Pained groans and screams began to fill the camp.  

The knights were smashing through everything in their path and at the end of that path stood Baron Gottfried.  

“N-no…!”  

Thanks to that, between the hulking knight and Baron Gottfried, only a few terrified soldiers remained.

“Get lost!”

Even those few scattered, throwing down their weapons and fleeing as soon as the hulking knight barked at them.

Baron Gottfried stared at Sir Gerhard in disbelief.

“L-Lord Gerhard! How could you—!”

“I gave my word to Lord Keldric over there, staking my honor and beliefs.”

“W-What…!”

“With this, I’ve deferred my ransom. Please don’t resent me too much, my lord.”

“What the hell are you saying?! Protect me! Please!”

Even as he flailed, the knight named Keldric had dismounted and was swiftly closing the distance.

Before he knew it, Baron Gottfried was on the ground, trembling all over.

He scrambled backward on the ground, trying to escape, but a hand like an iron pot lid grabbed the back of his armored neck even faster.

“Ugh…!”

Firmly seized, Baron Gottfried stared at Keldric with terrified eyes. His body dangled in midair, flailing.

“I-I am Ansen Schultheiss, Baron of Gottfried…! I demand honorable treatment and respect for a prisoner!”

Keldric said nothing. Hearing Gottfried’s desperate plea, he simply let go of the mace in his hand and clenched his fist tightly.

“W-Wait! Money! I’ll give you money! Anything you want just name it…!”

“What I want… is something you can’t give me.”

Keldric muttered in a low voice. His eyes, behind the helmet, blazed with fire.

Thud!

A massive fist slammed into Baron Gottfried’s chest.

His breastplate caved in. Chain links burst off in every direction.

“Gu—ghk…! Huhk…!”

Baron Gottfried couldn’t breathe. His vision turned yellow.

Keldric stepped in again, clenching his fist once more as he spoke.

“Because you took it from me.”

Right after that, a fist came crashing toward his face.

Wham!

It was the last thing Baron Gottfried ever saw.