WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 208: The Walls Are Bullshit

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"Cavalry, a detached unit, and a group in drab cloaks."

Jaxon carried out Enkrid's order exactly.

After spotting those positioned in the rear, he marked their location on the military map with precision.

The markings were neat, orderly, and almost like a painter's work.

In other words, clear to look at and easy to understand.

That was what Enkrid had just summarized out loud.

Part of the cavalry held in reserve, a vicious-looking detached force around company size, and finally five cloaked figures.

If only five people stood out to Jaxon, that meant they were not ordinary.

Sixth sense and instinct.

It was purely a gut call, but it came from Jaxon, and Enkrid did not ignore it.

"What do you think?"

With his arms folded, Enkrid asked Jaxon, who had just returned.

Jaxon was dusting off his armor.

With a light pat, dust scattered in the air and fell to the ground.

It was still hot out. Cool weather was still far off, yet Jaxon was not sweating at all.

Was it really that easy for him, or was he just acting relaxed? Enkrid let the thought pass and waited for an answer.

"I think they're mages."

Five mages.

Martai had prepared far more than expected.

So what was the best move here? He did not know. Enkrid pressed Kraiss.

"All right. What do you think the best next move is?"

He was asking because he did not know, but he still sounded confident. If you do not know, pressure your subordinates. That was what he had learned.

"You think we'll lose if we go out and fight?"

Big Eyes asked instead.

Enkrid weighed the enemy's level, what he had seen and learned, and his own side's strength.

He did not think they would lose.

They had even avoided showing the enemy their real strength from the start.

Audin had not fought seriously, and Enkrid had not bothered to turn a "tap" into a "smack."

"This whole setup was built for a full-on battle from the start. If we drag this into street fighting inside the walls, the losses will be absurd."

Kraiss's eyes gleamed. Enkrid understood and moved. The decision was the battalion commander's to make. The idea that now was the time for full engagement was only their side's judgment.

From the outside, it would look like they were opening the gate and charging out with inferior numbers.

"I'll go report."

Enkrid immediately headed to command at a brisk pace and spoke to Marcus.

"This should be fun, fiance."

The elf company commander, listening from nearby, slapped that title on him as she pleased. Strangely, nobody corrected her.

Maybe everyone was used to it by now, because they just let it pass.

The 1st Company Commander, the other officers, even the battalion commander's lieutenant all heard it and ignored it.

The lieutenant was also acting as scribe, writing furiously. For a second Enkrid wondered if that word, fiance, would make it into the record. Just a stray thought.

No wonder everyone ignored it.

More important things than weird nicknames were being discussed.

"We'll handle the detached force in the rear."

The Frontier Defense Captain spoke first. He stepped in aggressively.

Marcus was no different. The battalion commander gave the order with a broad smile.

"Open the gate."

Watching him, Enkrid found himself with a question.

From Enkrid's point of view, it was an obvious one.

No matter how much confidence he had, was this not pushing it?

"From a normal point of view, this looks suicidal. Doesn't it?"

The gap in force was clear. Starting a chaotic melee against that kind of opponent was madness. Usually. From a strategic and tactical perspective, a commander who tried this would be called an idiot.

Marcus stared straight at Enkrid.

Then he asked,

"You think so?"

A question came back instead of an answer. Enkrid shook his head.

"No, I don't."

Why would he?

Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon.

Even if the other side had more men, Enkrid was not afraid.

It was easier to fight on an open field where friend and foe were clear than to force things into street fighting.

Not that street fighting would have bothered him much either.

More than anything,

'Doesn't feel like we'll lose.'

That thought came first.

Enkrid knew how to compare forces and read the flow of battle. Of course he did.

If he could not do even that, he would never have survived this long.

"We gave our name and told them to withdraw, but they stayed. I think it's time to show them."

Marcus said it with a gentle smile. He seemed deeply impressed by the moment Enkrid declared his name, since he kept bringing it up.

Enkrid nodded.

"I'll take the lead."

The position he had always dreamed of, the front of the battlefield.

Now he was allowed to stand there.

No one stopped him anymore.

Sword in hand, Enkrid stepped out first through the open gate.

His side might have shown anxiety, but,

"I heard the troublemakers are going out first?"

"Then we're fine."

No one showed fear. The enemy was charging like that only because they had not seen the truth.

If Martai had faced them on a real battlefield before this, the mere existence of the Madmen Company should have changed their strategy.

But Martai's army stayed calm. Their reaction was absurd, like they were saying, go on, entertain us.

In a way, that meant Marcus had fooled them well.

At least Kraiss saw it as a political victory.

Or a victory of trickery.

It had worked, spreading stories that made their strength, especially the Madmen Company's feats, partly exaggerated and partly diminished.

Either way, what mattered was victory. Whether by politics or tricks.

"So why wasn't it full frontal from the beginning? I almost died of boredom waiting."

Rem asked as he moved ahead. Kraiss ran through what he would say in his head.

Breaking the siege weapons had been unexpected, but after that, why had they chosen to needle the enemy instead of hitting supply lines and grinding them down?

Why else.

'Because we have to end it in one shot.'

If a fight dragged on, the side with fewer numbers was at a disadvantage.

On top of that, the enemy had nearby nobles backing them, while this side had just burned an entire Black Blades branch to the ground.

Who knew what stunt the Black Blades might pull.

And had they not recently beaten the hell out of the Cursed Ground Holy Sect too?

They had basically slapped every group that hated them, one after another, and hard.

So there was nothing to gain by letting this drag out. The longer the battle lasted, the more weaknesses would appear.

Kraiss had envisioned this from the start too.

End everything in one fight.

To do that, the enemy had to focus all their attention here. They had to get irritated. They had to lose their temper and come at them.

Maybe the best name for it was a strategy close to psychological warfare.

"Just because."

Kraiss did not bother explaining to Rem. Enkrid understood from a few words, but explaining to Rem would take too long. A man could hold back words when needed.

'That's me.'

Kraiss muttered to himself inwardly.

Most of all, nothing would change even if Rem knew.

"Damn."

Rem smirked and moved out. He understood why Big Eyes was holding back words, but he was not annoyed. The only thing that mattered was that it was time to swing an axe.

Kraiss trusted his squadmates. He believed their strength would become something overwhelming.

'Right?'

Even so, a trace of unease rose in him. It could not be helped. It was his nature.

Marcus was the same.

He had armed himself and stepped out as part of the infantry. As commander, he stayed to the rear with his guard, but he was still with the infantry.

Marcus surveyed the battlefield with a commander's eyes.

How Enkrid handled the front would decide a great many things in this fight.

He could feel it in both his head and his skin.

'It's dizzying.'

Still, what else could they do? This was the best option.

"I'm trembling."

Marcus was startled for a moment, thinking his lieutenant had read his mind.

He did not show it. He simply asked back, composed as ever.

"Are you?"

"Will this be all right?"

"Of course."

He answered with complete confidence. Commanders were the sort who had to wear confidence first.

Then Marcus saw the enemy's main force advance in formation.

"Forward!"

At the shout from their lead man, the front unit moved in lockstep.

After one step,

"Hah!"

Their battle cry rang out together. The air thundered with it. It felt like dust itself rolled toward them.

Their military spirit fused into one. It stabbed at and shook the soldiers' minds. This was the strength of trained regulars.

That did not mean the Border Guard regulars were pushovers.

They too were hardened veterans who had survived battles in mountains, in rivers, against Demon Creatures, and against Azpen.

Marcus did not even need to step in.

"All troops!"

It was the 3rd Company Commander. Had they picked him for his voice? Probably not, but that booming shout felt like it reached the entire army.

"Forward!"

At that crisp command, their main body stepped forward as well.

Step.

"Hah!"

They answered in the same way, raising morale to match. Separate from that, Enkrid and the Madmen Company kept moving ahead.

They could be seen striding loosely through the space between the two armies now facing each other.

The moment before the charge, when a chaotic melee was inevitable.

A disturbance broke out on the enemy front.

More precisely, something was rushing into the space where the two sides faced off.

The timing was out of nowhere, but tactically it was brilliant.

A strike launched while both sides were still reading each other.

Of course, Enkrid's group had also been using that same standoff to move forward.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The ground began to rumble. The earth trembled with the vibration, and shapes charged from the source of the noise.

Light-armored cavalry, horses with iron plates strapped over their heads and shoulders.

Their lances appeared through the dust first.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The sound of charging horses drove into their ears. Into Marcus's ears too. Naturally Enkrid and his men heard it as well.

If that hit the main force, the damage would be severe. They would start the battle already losing.

At the head rode the commander of the Unmarked Forces.

Marcus had of course kept the cavalry position in mind. He had continuously sent scouts that way to confirm it.

Yet cavalry burst out from the opposite side.

Meaning those were the men shown on the Madmen Company's tactical map.

One of the hidden daggers the enemy had held back.

That dagger was charging toward their main force, and the Madmen Company stood in its path.

"They'll be trampled to death!"

the lieutenant shouted.

Marcus thought this bastard kept saying what he was about to say first. Of course, Marcus had only said it in his head.

A commander must never spread anxiety among his own men.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The cavalry's speed was terrifying. Infantry in front of that charge were no better than rotten branches. On impact, they would break, shatter, and be crushed.

Marcus trusted Enkrid. He trusted that unit's strength.

But even against cavalry? Even against a charge coming all-in?

Could they really handle it?

It was an unexpected opening blow.

Those Martai bastards had pulled out a trump card from the start.

They had been properly hit.

* * *

The commander of Viscount Bantara's Forces said he would lead personally. Greg resisted, but he had no chance.

"Breaking the enemy's morale and crushing momentum from the start is the foundation of warfare."

This was the strategy of a man leading a noble's cavalry, not the strategy of some city officer.

He was on a different level from a rural infantry captain.

Greg had to admit it.

The man's words were more efficient, more effective, and more lethal.

So the commander of Viscount Bantara's Forces brought out his cavalry.

Fifty elite horsemen.

They were not cavalry specialized for pure impact charges, but cavalry was cavalry.

Usually they shaved down enemy flanks. Today the opponent was infantry.

Even a direct charge favored their side. That was the nature of cavalry versus infantry. They would also use long weapons to answer pikes, so the fight should turn one-sided.

"We'll sweep away the front of those arrogant Border Guard yokels. Any objections?"

At the commander's words, fifty riders shouted as one.

"None!"

"Move."

Snort.

They charged after calculating the exact distance for impact. Was this difficult?

No.

As he prepared the horses and surged forward, the commander thought,

'Moron.'

Was it during that reinforcement run to the Pioneer Village?

'Enkrid's wall? My ass.'

He had decided then. If he met that swaggering bastard, he would crush him.

At first he had planned to cut only half the man's tongue.

Now it looked like he would cut off his head instead.

Their cavalry wore light horse armor, the riders avoided heavy gear, and their preferred weapon was the glaive. They were nicknamed the lance cavalry.

They fixed the spear shafts along flank and saddle, then sliced sideways through infantry lines as they passed. Add cavalry speed to a blade edge and the slash became terrifying.

That was their specialty. Run, cut, butcher.

So the fewer than ten infantry standing ahead in the middle were just an appetizer.

The real target was the enemy main force.

They would slash through the very front in one fiery sweep.

The commander was filled with excitement. Exhilaration followed. He was mounted, the enemy was on foot.

The advantage was obvious. He was charging across a battlefield that promised victory. How could he not be excited?

Blood boiling, heart pounding, the commander roared.

"Walls are bullshit!"

It was the voice from deep in his heart.

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