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Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

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◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 32: The Battle of Malešov

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A border village in Bohemia lay shrouded in acrid smoke.

Black smoke cut heavily across the winter sky, while the bitter stench of soot and smoke rising from burning thatched cottages stung the nose.

To Konchak, commander of the Cuman mercenaries, every one of those smells strangely felt like the scent of home.

"Boring."

Konchak muttered as he brushed bloodstains from his saddle. Two or three severed heads already hung from it, knocking against one another.

"Too boring."

He swept his gaze over the ruined village through the narrow slits of his iron mask.

Three days had passed since they crossed the Moravian border.

There had not been a single real attempt at resistance. The road they had traveled had become a literal vision of Hell.

Bohemia's border guards?

The cowards had thrown down their weapons and fled into the forest the moment they saw the Cumans' pointed helmets and grotesque masks.

The village serfs had begged for their lives, offering food and women, but Konchak's men knew no mercy.

They took the food, raped the women, and beheaded the men for amusement.

That was why Emperor Sigismund had paid so dearly to hire Cuman mercenaries.

He did not want an ordinary victory. He wanted to plant bone-deep terror in his enemies.

"Commander! There's nothing left to loot in this village! It's a beggar's den without a single piece of silver!"

His lieutenant approached, grumbling. Behind the lieutenant's horse, village girls bound with ropes were dragged along like animals.

"Ugh...!"

"Please spare us!"

Konchak answered indifferently.

"Why bring that trash along? Do you think that old fool Sigismund paid us to roll around with women here?"

"Hehe, but Bohemian women have such fair, soft skin."

"Shut up and take only what's worth taking. Leave the rest. We're moving out."

Without hesitation, Konchak turned his horse north.

The few coins in some country village could never satisfy him. The true prey lay to the north.

'Sternberg.'

The den where the leader of the rebels, some brat of a noble who called himself King of Bohemia, was cowering.

According to the village chief they had tortured while looting the place, mountains of gold and silver stolen from the Papacy had been piled there. The foolish young king was even carelessly wandering around a construction site without any walls.

"The old Emperor wants that brat's head, but..."

Konchak smacked one of the heads hanging from his saddle and licked his lips.

"I'm more interested in his storehouses."

If he looted the place, he could surely live in comfort for the rest of his life.

And if luck was on his side and he captured that man known as the Heretic King?

The Emperor would give him a large estate at the very least.

A greedy smile spread across Konchak's lips.

"All troops! Pick up the pace! Fall behind, and you're finished! The strongest dog gets the bitch first!"

"Waaaaah!"

Three thousand Cuman cavalrymen began racing north with savage cries.

The Cumans' mobility was unmatched. They did not burden themselves with slow supply wagons. They gathered food through plunder and slept atop their horses.

Black smoke rose everywhere they passed, and eagles circled overhead to feast on the corpses.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!

Hooves shook the earth.

As fast as the wind. No, as fast as a plague.

They crossed the plains of southern Bohemia in no time and arrived at Malešov, the gateway to Sternberg.

Once they passed this place, the road to Sternberg would be open.

"Commander! Look over there!"

A scout at the front shouted urgently and pointed toward the hill.

Konchak narrowed his eyes and raised his head.

A gentle hill at Malešov.

On its ridge, thick with rocks and scrub, a flag fluttered above a group of soldiers.

A golden eight-pointed star on a blue field.

"That's the king's banner?"

Konchak's eyes widened.

He had assumed the coward had locked himself inside a castle or fled to Prague long ago.

Yet he had crawled out on his own and was waiting for them?

"Arrogant bastards."

Konchak snorted, reined in his horse, and surveyed the enemy forces deployed atop the hill.

"One, two, three..."

There were barely more than a thousand of them.

They were not knights in shining plate armor, either. At best, they were poorly armed infantrymen wearing chain mail or breastplates over gambesons.

With their shields raised and spears in hand, they looked like ordinary peasant levies or hastily assembled militia.

"Hahahahaha!"

Konchak clutched his stomach and burst into laughter.

"What is that? Is that the army the so-called King of Bohemia brought with him? Even a line of scarecrows would be more threatening!"

They intended to face three thousand nomadic cavalrymen on open ground with a mere thousand infantry?

What stood before him was not an army. It was simply a thousand people hoping to kill themselves.

"Commander! There! The one in the center!"

Where his subordinate pointed, a young man sat atop a white horse under the protection of soldiers, wearing a splendid cloak.

A handsome youth whose face was clearly visible without a helmet.

Konchak's instincts whispered to him.

That was him. That was the purse of gold.

"Luck is with us. Very much so."

Konchak ran his tongue across his lips.

There was no need to go all the way to Sternberg. He only had to cut off that brat's head here, tie the corpse to a horse's tail, and stroll back to Hungary.

Konchak drew his saber and raised it into the air.

"Brothers! Give those arrogant bastards a Cuman greeting! Let none of them live! Whoever brings me the king's head will receive a thousand silver coins!"

A thousand silver coins.

At those words, the Cuman warriors' eyes turned wild.

They did not care about tactics or formations.

Their opponents were only scraps of infantry. A single cavalry charge would make them collapse like a sandcastle.

This was only a contest to see who reached that head first.

"Kill them!"

"Loot them!"

Three thousand cavalrymen spurred their horses at once.

Neigh!

Dust covered the sky, and barbaric war cries filled the valley. A black wave surged toward the hill at Malešov.

The soldiers atop the hill gripped their spears tightly and murmured among themselves.

Even from this distance, Konchak could almost feel the fear in their eyes.

"Crush them!"

The mobility of nomads racing across the plains was unmatched. The distance closed in an instant.

Konchak seized his horse's mane and leaned forward.

His eyes were fixed only on the young king beneath that gaudy golden banner on the hill.

'Just a little closer!'

The gap narrowed.

They were within bowshot now.

As expected, the Bohemian infantry deployed on the hill drew their bowstrings as one.

"Fire!"

A shout rang out, followed by the sharp crack of something tearing through the air.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

A rain of arrows that seemed to cover the sky.

An ordinary cavalry force would have raised their shields or slowed down.

Konchak only sneered.

"Scatter!"

Even before their commander's order had fully left his mouth, the Cuman warriors were already moving. The cavalry that had ridden in one mass instantly spread out in a wide fan.

As if they had rehearsed it, the Cuman riders hung from the sides of their horses or twisted their bodies to evade the incoming arrows.

Thud! Thud, thud!

Most arrows sliced through empty air or buried themselves in bare earth. At most, they grazed the rumps of a few unlucky horses.

"Is that all you've got?"

Konchak rose in his saddle and pulled out his own bow. It was a small but powerful Cuman composite bow made from animal horn and sinew.

"Boys! Return the favor!"

Twang! Twang, twang!

A rapid volley that was hard to believe came from horseback at full gallop.

Cuman arrows did not arc through the air like those of the Bohemian army. They flew straight as clotheslines, accurately seeking the enemies' throats and eyes.

Thunk! Thunk, thunk!

"Aaargh!"

"Ugh!"

Soldiers on the hill fell with arrows buried in them. Before the near-supernatural archery of the Cumans, who shot through gaps between shields with eerie precision, the enemy infantry was helpless.

Konchak cried out in delight.

"Hahaha! Do you see? This is the bow of the Cumans!"

The enemy was close enough now for him to see their expressions.

Konchak could clearly see fear spreading across the weak Bohemians' faces like an epidemic.

Then, at last.

"R-run!"

"We can't win! We'll all die!"

The soldiers on the hill screamed and turned their backs.

They threw down their spears, tossed aside their shields, and began fleeing in disorder.

"Ha! Cowardly bastards!"

Battle lines? A trap?

There was no time to think of such things.

When prey showed its back and ran, there was no reason for a hunting dog to stop the chase.

"Don't let them get away! Trample them to death!"

"Waaaaah!"

The Cumans spurred their horses like mad.

They closed in right behind the fleeing soldiers. So close they could have grabbed them with an outstretched hand.

"Where do you think you're running?!"

"Aaah!"

Some warriors were already cackling as they swung their sabers, cutting down soldiers who had fallen behind.

Desperate to live, the Bohemian soldiers scrambled toward the top of the hill.

"Stop there, you lumps of meat!"

Konchak loosed an arrow at the standard-bearer holding the king's banner. It flew straight for the standard-bearer's head.

Clang!

"Not so fast!"

At that moment, the standard-bearer sharply turned and swung a sword. The arrow snapped cleanly in midair and plunged into the ground.

"Huh?"

Konchak's expression twisted.

The standard-bearer had knocked aside a flying arrow with a single stroke?

The swordsmanship of the standard-bearer carrying the king's banner was extraordinary.

Still, there was no need to worry too much. Once they crossed that hill, it would all be over.

"Then I'll cut you down myself!"

The other side of the hill was a downward slope.

No pair of legs could outrun a horse.

From that point on, the slaughter would begin.

Konchak was the first to crest the hill.

His horse neighed and reared on its hind legs.

Then his view opened wide.

"...?"

Konchak's shout died in his throat.

The fleeing Bohemian soldiers ran down the hill as if tumbling over one another, then suddenly split to either side and vanished from sight.

And where they had disappeared.

An odd wall stood on the plain below the hill.

No, it was not a wall.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of wagons formed a great circle, linked to one another by chains.

An ordinary Wagenburg would have shown old wooden planks and bundles of straw.

But what stood before Konchak was different.

A massive barrier reflecting the midday sun with a blinding flash.

Every surface of the wagons was completely covered in silver-gray metal.

Its overwhelming presence resembled a gigantic steel serpent coiled upon the plain.

There were no gaps in the wood, no openings where fire could be set.

Only cold, smooth curves of steel stretched on without end.

"What... is that?"

The Cuman soldiers who had followed him over the hill also hesitated and stopped their horses.

Confusion filled their eyes. They had plundered countless battlefields throughout their lives, but they had never seen anything like it.

Not a castle wall, nor a wagon.

It was a fortress of steel, as if it had just been pulled from the forge of Hell.

From every gap in that fortress, hundreds of gun barrels aimed their black maws at them.

A chill ran down Konchak's spine. His keen instincts, honed through years of fighting, screamed at him.

This was not a hunting ground.

It was a slaughterhouse.

A deep voice rang out from beyond the steel wall.

"Fire!"

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!

Thunder crashed down from every direction.

Footnotes:

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