Knight: Becoming King of the World

’Forget it. I’ll just do as the lord says.’

Claude sighed to himself and cast all his worries aside.

’I just need to follow loyally and do my job. As for the scheming and power struggles between nobles, why should I concern myself with all that?’

「Nightfall, at the front lines.」

Roland and the Baron had both chosen to make camp near the village, avoiding a night battle.

The villagers had long since scattered and fled. The timid ones ran immediately, while the bolder ones dared to gather their belongings before leaving.

This tense atmosphere didn’t last long. By dawn the next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, both sides were ready for battle.

The sooner they fought, the sooner it would be over, and the sooner they could rest. Only the victor would deserve to eat lunch in peace.

Roland led twenty companies of imperial infantry and eight companies of archers, about three thousand men in total. Clad in uniform armor engraved with the crest of the Bro Clan, the soldiers marched in neat formation through the village entrance, armed with steel pikes, One-Handed Swords, war blades, and sturdy shields.

The eight companies of archers wore light leather armor. With quivers full of arrows on their backs and longbows in hand, their eyes were vigilant.

Facing them was the Baron’s Private Army of about four thousand men. Their equipment was a chaotic mess. Some wore battered leather armor, while others were wrapped in nothing more than thick cloth. Their weapons were also of varying lengths, ranging from rusty swords to crude, homemade axes.

The soldiers of the Baron’s Private Army were scattered throughout the village, trying to use the buildings as cover to form makeshift defensive lines.

Sure enough, just as Henry and Claude had suspected, more than half of this four-thousand-man army consisted of Recruited Soldiers and serfs.

When a company of Henry’s infantry chanced upon a small patrol from the Baron’s Private Army, the two sides faced off warily at first. Then, one of the Baron’s soldiers, unable to contain his panic, let out a roar and charged the imperial infantry with his axe raised.

This act instantly ignited the battle. The infantry met the charge without hesitation, and the clash of pike against axe rang out with a sharp clang of metal.

Roland had already secured the village’s high ground—a somewhat dilapidated two-story wooden building. He stood there, hand on his sword, observing the battlefield with a sharp gaze.

This had been the home of the former village chief, what passed for a "mansion" here.

He watched as the point of contact between the two sides rapidly expanded, the fighting spreading like wildfire. Roland’s expression remained neutral; he knew the outcome of this battle was already decided.

This was his first time leading troops independently. No matter what, he had to keep the casualty ratio respectable.

The imperial infantry companies quickly executed their pre-planned tactics. Each company split into several squads, which maintained tight formations with shield bearers in front and pikemen behind, creating mobile hedgehog formations.

These squads weaved nimbly through the village streets, constantly slicing through the Baron’s Private Army’s formation, breaking them into smaller groups to be eliminated one by one.

In a narrow alley, an imperial shield bearer was surrounded by three soldiers from the Baron’s Private Army.

The Baron’s soldiers wielded a motley collection of weapons, using shortswords and daggers to try and pierce the shield’s defense from all angles.

However, the shield bearer was steady as a rock. He held his shield tight, constantly adjusting its angle to block every attack.

Meanwhile, the pikeman behind him found an opening and thrust his pike, accurately striking one of the Baron’s men in the chest and felling him.

Seeing this, the other two soldiers from the Private Army panicked, and their assault weakened.

With one of the three dead, they were already on the verge of surrender.

The shield bearer seized the opportunity, shouting as he shoved his shield forward, sending the two men staggering back. The pikeman followed up with another thrust, while an archer from behind loosed a full-draw arrow at close range, ending the fight.

In a more open square elsewhere, the archers played a decisive role.

They formed two ranks, the front kneeling and the back standing, and fired in rotation, loosing a storm of arrows upon the Baron’s Private Army.

It couldn’t be helped; Henry’s soldiers followed orders to the letter. This was something most nobles’ archer units couldn’t achieve. So-called suppressive volley fire could only be maintained for one to three volleys before devolving into free-firing.

The armor of the Baron’s men was too poor to offer any resistance. They fell one after another under the arrow storm, their screams rising and falling across the square.

Some of the Baron’s men, led by their officers, tried to organize a counterattack, but their chaotic formation and lack of unified command were glaringly obvious.

They either swung their weapons blindly or scrambled for cover in a panic, never managing to strike back effectively.

’Hmph, what a rabble. I’ll see to it you’re utterly defeated!’ Seeing the Baron’s Private Army in complete disarray, Roland decisively ordered an all-out charge.

The infantry immediately rallied, charging the Baron’s Private Army with a roar like tigers descending a mountain. The pikemen raised their pikes high, thrusting rows of grim spearheads at the enemy. The shield bearers used their shields to bash their opponents, knocking them to the ground.

The soldiers of the Baron’s Private Army broke and fled under the imperial infantry’s assault. They were either pierced, knocked down, or trampled by their own comrades in the chaos.

At the edge of the village, the Baron finally realized how dire the situation was. He tried to rally his remaining soldiers for a last stand.

A long period of laxity had left him unable to correctly judge the rapidly changing battlefield.

He brandished his Long Sword, shouting orders in an attempt to make his soldiers regroup.

However, his voice was insignificant, drowned out by the war cries of the imperial infantry and the clang of weapons. His troops had lost the will to fight; all they wanted was to escape this man-eating battlefield.

Roland simply led a company of infantry and charged toward the Baron as if he were undefended.

The two leaders met. The Baron let out a furious roar and spurred his horse forward to meet the charge, but after just a few steps, his mount was brought down by concentrated fire from the archers.

If nothing else, the Baron’s combat roll was quite good. He immediately got to his feet and his blade clashed with Roland’s.

Roland hadn’t brought his axe this time, but his Swordsmanship was just as formidable. Though the Baron was still fierce, he soon revealed an opening under Roland’s assault.

After a few exchanges, Roland’s sword pierced the Baron’s shoulder. The Baron cried out in pain, clutching the wound as he tumbled to the ground.

With the Baron’s fall, the last vestiges of resistance from his Private Army completely crumbled.

Surrender spread like a wave. Soldiers threw down their weapons and raised their hands, or scattered and fled in the chaos.

Unfortunately, in the midst of this chaos, the Baron’s most prized few dozen Cavalrymen managed to rescue him.

Roland couldn’t exactly face down dozens of Cavalrymen and risk his life just to kill a single noble.

’Henry said that staying alive is what’s most important.’

Roland’s army quickly took control of the battlefield and gathered the surrendering soldiers. After the battle ended, his troops lined up in the village to count their casualties.

Only a small number of soldiers had been killed in the fighting; most had only suffered minor injuries.

The Baron’s Private Army, on the other hand, had suffered heavy losses. Aside from the captured soldiers, only a few dozen of the Grassland Warriors whom the Baron treasured had managed to break through the chaos and escape.

These Grassland Warriors had superb Riding Skill and fought fiercely. Even so, they couldn’t change the outcome of the battle in the face of such overwhelming odds.

The wounded Baron fled in disgrace with these defeated remnants of his army.

The Grassland Warriors surrounded the injured Baron, performing a Rapid Charge across the desolate plains.

The wind howled past their ears. The Baron clutched the wound on his shoulder, his face pale and his forehead beaded with cold sweat.

He glanced back at the village from time to time, a trace of resentment and anger flashing in his eyes.

"My lord, once we get back, we can harass the enemy. We can use fire arrows to burn the village down and give them a taste of their own medicine," one of the Grassland Warriors said, urging his horse closer to the Baron, his eyes glinting fiercely.

The Baron was slightly taken aback by the suggestion. He then shook his head, his tone laced with exhaustion and helplessness. "No. This village is the fief of a friend of mine. I don’t want to do that."

The Grassland Warriors exchanged glances, a hint of confusion in their eyes. To them, war was a life-or-death struggle, and any means of striking at the enemy should be used without hesitation.

"Once we reach Odoche and regroup with the main army, everything will be alright."

The Grassland Warriors fell silent for a moment but ultimately chose to obey. The Baron’s command was their code.