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◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 39: The Battle of the Prague Plain (3)

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Cheers erupted from every direction.

"Waaaaaaaaah!"

"The Emperor is running! Cowardly Sigismund is turning tail!"

"We won! God is with us!"

As the Gunpowder smoke blanketing Letná Plain began to clear, what emerged was no longer the Empire's mighty army.

Golden eagle banners trampled into the mud.

Warhorses that had lost their riders, bleeding as they ran wild.

And one hundred thousand defeated soldiers shoving and trampling one another as they fled without looking back.

The arrogant crusaders who had marched here boasting that they would erase Bohemia from the map were now running for their lives, begging to be spared.

The soldiers who had trembled in terror only moments ago raised their weapons high, embracing one another as they savored the joy of survival.

Some collapsed to the ground and wept bitterly. Others lifted their weapons toward the sky and cried out God's name.

Leaning against the railing of the Panzer, I watched them.

The air filling my lungs still carried the stench of blood and the acrid scent of sulfur, yet it had never tasted sweeter.

Clank, thud.

Jan Žižka approached with heavy footsteps.

Rather than reveling in victory, he radiated the murderous aura of a beast determined not to let its prey escape.

"Your Majesty. They have turned their backs on us. This is our chance. Give the order to pursue."

Žižka's one eye gleamed coldly.

"We must wipe out those arrogant German bastards. We should pave the road to Prague with their corpses so they never dare set foot on Bohemian soil again."

The Taborite commanders lined up behind Žižka felt the same way.

They looked ready to rush out at once and cut down the fleeing crusaders.

To them, this war was not a simple territorial dispute. It was a holy war to cleanse the Whore of Babylon.

There was likely a soldier's judgment mixed in as well. These were enemies who would sharpen their blades and return one day if we let them live, so they should be uprooted here and now.

Still, I shook my head.

"No, General. The battle is over."

"Your Majesty? But if we let them go..."

"Who said we were letting them go?"

I smirked and pointed at the fleeing crusaders.

"Look carefully, General. Do they look like enemies to you?"

"...If they aren't enemies, what are they?"

"Money. A great deal of money."

Žižka's eye widened.

"Walking gold coins. Breathing ransom. And free labor to rebuild Bohemia."

I spoke firmly.

"The dead only make us dig holes to bury them, and when they rot, they spread disease. The living pay."

War was not some romantic game of chivalry.

It was filthy, ruthless business.

I had emptied Bohemia's treasury for this war. The cost of Gunpowder, steel, and food for the soldiers, with mountains of expenses still ahead while the treasury stood empty.

To make up for that enormous deficit, we had to collect every last one of those fleeing soldiers.

"Kill anyone who resists. But capture anyone who throws down their weapon and surrenders. Don't touch a hair on their heads."

I grinned.

"From now on, this isn't a battle. It's harvest time."

Žižka stared at me blankly for a moment, then understood my meaning and burst into booming laughter.

"Your Majesty is right. Rather than separating the enemy's flesh from their bones, sucking them dry to the marrow is far crueler revenge."

He raised his mace high and shouted at the soldiers.

"Did you hear that?! It is His Majesty's command! Gather every gold coin scattered across that field!"

"Waaaaaaaaah!"

The soldiers' eyes changed.

The hatred that had burned in them for the crusaders moments before turned into greedy hunger for gold.

"Catch them! Don't kill them, catch them!"

"The ones in armor are nobles!"

"Don't hurt them! Their ransom will go down!"

To our soldiers, the enemy before them was no longer something to fear. They were simply beautiful bags of money running around on their own, ready to change their fortunes.

Knights in heavy plate armor could not run even if they tried.

Hussite peasant soldiers in light clothing rushed in packs at knights floundering as their feet sank into the mud.

"Well now, my lord! Where are you off to?"

"Come this way! We'll treat you very warmly!"

"L-let go of me! I'm a count's son! How dare lowborn filth like you... Argh!"

One soldier swung a club into the back of the knight's head. As they dragged the unconscious knight away, the soldiers snickered.

"How many groschen is a count's son worth?"

"We earned tonight's drinking money!"

"Hey, look at this helmet. It's decorated with gold. It's mine!"

"Take off his boots too! That leather is first-rate!"

Those noble scions were stripped down to their underwear in an instant, tied together with ropes like strings of fish, and dragged away.

Once the Emperor fled, the chain of command was paralyzed. An army that had lost its center was nothing more than a terrified crowd.

From that point on, it became a scene of plunder and harvest, with everyone scrambling to claim as much as they could.

János Hunyadi approached, clicking his tongue.

"Wow... What a sight. I've never seen so many prisoners taken in my life. If we have to feed them all, our granaries will be emptied."

"Don't worry. We'll buy food with their ransom. It's profitable business."

I looked down at the plain with satisfaction.

A line of prisoners stretching beyond sight.

Helmets, armor, and weapons piled like mountains in one corner of the camp.

If we melted down just those things, we could cast dozens more cannons.

That was not all. There were also the vast supplies the Emperor had abandoned to save his own skin.

If we recovered every bit of the food, tents, and horse feed stockpiled for an army of one hundred thousand, we would not only make up for this battle's losses, but have more than enough left to fill the bellies of Prague's starving citizens.

As I happily ran the numbers in my head, my gaze suddenly fell on the countless corpses scattered across the battlefield.

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

'...I've changed a great deal too.'

It had been a brief slaughter lasting less than half a day. Yet the lives lost numbered in the thousands at the very least.

In the modern age, it would have been a catastrophe large enough to dominate every front page. Yet here I was, looking at thousands of deaths and naturally calculating the profits and losses of war.

Had I already adapted to this barbaric medieval world?

"..."

I shook my head hard, casting away those useless thoughts.

What pointless sentimentality. I should have been grateful that the corpses scattered across that plain belonged to my enemies, not my people.

Besides, I was no saint who could sympathize with invaders who had come to take my head.

I killed them so I could live, so I could protect my people. That was all.

Watching the battlefield gradually settle, I gave a short, sharp order.

"Wrap it up! Withdraw as soon as everything is under control!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

It was time to return to Prague in triumph.

* * *

Ding, ding, ding!

Bells rang out all at once from Prague's hundred spires.

Only yesterday, they had announced that an invading army was approaching. Now, they had become a grand song of triumph that echoed throughout the city.

Rumble.

Three hundred Panzer Wagenburgs, returning from Letná Plain, crossed Prague's main gate with the heavy rumble of their wheels.

As their imposing forms appeared, cheers burst from the citizens gathered along the streets like clouds.

"Waaaaaaaaah!"

"Our King!"

"Protector of Bohemia!"

"Long live the Steel King!"

Flower petals rained down. Women opened their windows and waved handkerchiefs, while children sitting on their fathers' shoulders stretched out their hands, trying to touch the steel carts.

I watched the scene from atop the command Panzer.

Only a few days ago, these were the people who had been packing their belongings and preparing to flee in fear of the crusaders.

There had surely been people among them who watched me suspiciously, afraid that their king would run away.

But now, I seemed to them like the Second Coming of Christ, or at least Saint George.

'Well, naturally.'

That was how crowds worked.

They were drawn to the strong and cheered for the victor.

Even more so when that victor had protected their lives.

János Hunyadi, riding beside me, snickered.

"My lord, do you hear them? They're calling you the Steel King. It was unpleasant when that Emperor bastard kept calling you The Heretic King and a usurper... but Steel King, doesn't that sound quite good?"

"Well, it's not a bad name."

It certainly sounded much better than The Heretic King.

When the procession entered Old Town Square, the excitement reached its peak.

I stopped the Panzer and decided to give the citizens a more convincing performance.

"Citizens of Prague! Look!"

The square fell silent at my voice.

"What you see there is food that Emperor Sigismund brought to kill the people of Bohemia!"

The soldiers pulled the covers from the wagons, revealing mountains of smoked meat, sacks of flour, and barrels of wine.

"I return all of it to you! Today is a day of victory! Eat and drink until your stomachs burst! The Emperor is paying for the liquor, so don't hold back!"

"Waaaaaaaaah!"

In an instant, the square turned into a festival.

Rations meant to feed an army of one hundred thousand.

We had seized them intact, and for Prague's citizens who had suffered through hunger, there could be no greater gift.

The bungs were pulled from the barrels, and red wine poured out like fountains.

When the soldiers threw bread and meat into the crowd, the people cheered and caught them.

As I watched the citizens celebrate, I thought to myself.

Whether the Pope excommunicated me or the Emperor threatened me, these citizens who had eaten their fill today would gladly oil my steel wheels.

Bread and circuses had been the surest and oldest way to rule the masses since the age of Rome.

At that moment, a group of nobles in splendid clothing pushed through the crowd and approached me.

The Moderate Prague nobles, led by Cenek of Vartemberk.

Sweating heavily, they fell to their knees before my horse.

"Oh, Your Majesty! Congratulations on your great victory! The Lord has bestowed His blessing upon Your Majesty's steel!"

The nobles lined up in a row pressed their heads to the ground and began a chorus of flattery.

"I believed in you! I knew Your Majesty would teach those arrogant German bastards a lesson and return in glory!"

"The private troops of our houses also fought bravely beneath Your Majesty's banner!"

János Hunyadi leaned close and whispered in my ear.

"My lord, look at those sly snakes. Now that victory is certain, they're wagging their tails. Should we cut them all down?"

I gave a small shake of my head.

"Leave them. They did send troops, after all."

Politics was not about making enemies. It was about increasing the number of useful tools.

They were opportunists, which made them especially sensitive to the logic of power.

I dismounted, put an arm around Cenek's shoulder, and helped him rise.

"Rise, Sir Cenek."

"Y-Your Majesty...!"

"I know well the loyalty you have shown. This victory belongs to all of us."

Cenek bowed once more with a moved expression, or at least pretended to be moved.

"Your words honor us beyond measure! From this day forward, we Prague nobles shall devote our lives to serving Your Majesty!"

The fear vanished from the nobles' eyes, replaced by the relief of survival and the calculating gleam of nobles eager to attach themselves to a new power.

They had likely been terrified that I would begin a purge the moment I returned.

But now that I had defeated the Emperor's crusaders and displayed overwhelming strength, they were desperate to become my most loyal dogs.

For now, that was enough.

Ironically, if I was going to strip away the old shell of feudalism in this land one day and build the nation I envisioned, I needed those old parts for the time being.

Now that the crusaders had been defeated, the work ahead was not war, but governance.

I accepted the nobles' disgusting praise with a few suitable replies, then turned away.

The heat in the square showed no sign of fading. Prague's night, drunk on victory, was redder and noisier than ever.

But the festival would last only tonight.

A blueprint for the next stage had already unfolded in my mind.

'Steel can tear the crusaders apart, but cannons can't erase the brand of heresy engraved in the minds of Europeans.'

The war of clashing swords and spears was over.

It was time to begin an invisible war, a Spiritual War.

Footnotes:

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