Rising Shadows: The Fight for Freedom I

Chapter 23: The Offensive

Reflecting on decades of experience, Commander Mattheus ultimately made a decision, one grounded in both strategy and experience.

"Gentlemen, we must take action!"

With those words, the commander stunned the officers who had either been silently contemplating or quietly discussing how to respond to the invasion.

"My lord, we have only one legion, barely two thousand men, while our opponents..." A moment of silence enveloped the tent before one officer could no longer contain his skepticism.

"So what! We are cavalry! The only elite cavalry of Ditlan, the only force capable of penetrating the plains and engaging the orcs in continuous combat. To grant Ditlan more time to prepare, to allow more people to reach safety, we must strike!"

"We will not confront the orcs head-on; instead, we will maneuver behind them, attacking their flanks, harassing them, and delaying them! For every day we can stall the orcs, those beasts will weaken, while our assembled forces will grow stronger, and more people will find refuge!"

Mattheus's words rang with conviction and righteousness, and his reasoning was compelling, so after a moment of silence, the officers gradually accepted the commander's decision.

However, just as the officers began to shift their thinking, contemplating how to lead their subordinates into a grand battle against the orcs on the plains, Mattheus's next order left them once again in shock.

Mattheus declared:

"I command that each unit advance in battalions, spaced one hundred miles apart, deep into the Naglan Plains! Each battalion leader may decide how to act, with only one requirement: to continuously harass the orcs, ensuring they remain restless until your supplies run dry!"

A murmur erupted in the tent, as most officers stared at their superior, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief.

We are already at a disadvantage in numbers, and now the lord wants us to split our forces into ten groups!

It is a universally understood truth that striking a foe is painful; this was especially true when facing the robust and formidable orcs. The officers felt even more strongly that their legion should not be dispersed, as they could hardly imagine the chaos that would ensue when a two-thousand-strong cavalry legion scattered like droplets across the vast Naglan Plains, and whether their small forces would be swallowed by the impending tide of orcish might!

"My lord..."

"This is my final decision! This is an order! You must comply!" When one officer stepped forward to voice his dissent, Commander Mattheus preemptively silenced him.

"Remember, the orcs advance in tribes. If we gather together, we will not achieve much. We must harass them as much as possible, which necessitates dividing our forces!"

This was an explanation. Mattheus, a seasoned veteran who had fought for many years, understood that to ensure the success of his plan, he needed the executing officers to comprehend their mission. Thus, after interrupting the questioning, he immediately provided clarification.

If the cavalry legion were to unite, their offensive power would be formidable, yet they would be unable to cover multiple fronts. Given the combat prowess of the orcish tribes... we are not seeking a direct confrontation to annihilate them; thus, gathering together would merely squander our strength! A single cavalry battalion is sufficient to tie down a tribe of over five hundred orcs! With a stroke of luck, we might even ambush those tribes weaker than that number... Were it not for the dwindling numbers, you could easily become the orcs' next meal; I might even consider dispersing the units further...

With a serious explanation and detailed task directives, once Mattheus ensured that all officers understood their mission, he concluded the military meeting.

"Dismissed! Remember your mission! Depart at once!"

Following the commander's orders, the officers exited the tent, and soon after, the temporary encampment of the cavalry legion erupted into a frenzy. Half an hour later, the once bustling camp was left with just over a hundred riders.

This time, I cannot lead everyone into the fray; everything relies on you. I hope you can fully grasp my intentions and execute them. May the Almighty bless you, may Ditlan prosper, and may the Kingdom of Bailins find fortune...

"Long live the King! Long live Bailins!" The resounding voices echoed in the sky, while the earth trembled beneath countless iron hooves. A large group of cavalry suddenly emerged from the withered grasslands, charging fiercely forward. Moments later, a tribe of orcs marching on foot was thrown into disarray.

This was a small tribe of bull-headed orcs, numbering only about three hundred, of which one-tenth were the elderly and young, and another one-tenth were sickly. Only around a hundred appeared to retain their strength, but...

Due to prolonged drought and thirst, coupled with the slow journey across the plains, every member of this bull-headed tribe had become utterly exhausted and lost their vigilance. Thus, when the human cavalry suddenly charged into their ranks, breaking through the long, linear formation of the bull-headed orcs, even the strongest among them had no time to react.

As the human cavalry, wielding bloodied broadswords, vanished like the wind across the vast grasslands, the robust warriors at the front and rear finally returned. However, when the towering bull-headed orcs, brandishing massive wooden clubs hewn from entire tree trunks, arrived at the scene of the attack, all that remained were pools of blood and the lifeless bodies of their kin.

Moo- the sound of fury reverberated across the plains, yet the bull-headed orcs could do nothing but watch helplessly as the figures of the human cavalry grew smaller and more indistinct, ultimately disappearing beyond the distant horizon.

Unfettered, the human cavalry trampled the parched grass, and after running two miles, their speed gradually decreased. Once they had distanced themselves about five miles from the ambushed bull-headed tribe, a low horn sounded, prompting all the cavalry to rein in their mounts.

"Cease advance! Rest in place! Scouts advance five hundred meters to establish a watch!" With the issuance of these commands, the human cavalry sprang into action. Most dismounted, removing their saddlebags and gear, while a few rode their steeds, slowly dispersing in all directions.

Recovering their strength, drinking water, and eating, the cavalrymen who had just executed a surprise attack lazily settled onto the grass. Apart from the occasional splatter of blood on their bodies, one would hardly suspect that these riders had just engaged in a brutal slaughter.

However, as the human cavalry conversed during their respite, the grim topics revealed their fierce nature.

"That was exhilarating! I took down three without losing a single hair!"

"Three!? Lucky you! I only managed to fell one and got hit by a bull-headed orc!"

"What a pity, I didn't have time to take two legs of beef with me!"

The cavalrymen chatted excitedly or dejectedly, their heavy swords still dripping with blood. The crimson droplets fell from the sharp blades, sinking into the dry earth, quickly absorbed by the parched grasslands, leaving only a dark stain as evidence of the nourishment once bestowed upon this ground.

Dahn sat silently among the cavalry, wordless, eyes closed, seizing every opportunity to recover his strength.

It would be better to rest than to boast; who knows when we will set off again? It is always beneficial to regain some energy before launching another assault. If I feel even better, practicing my fighting spirit would also be a worthwhile endeavor!

Dahn no longer shied away from the arduous training of martial skills, for compared to the relentless battles, practicing his fighting spirit had become a most enjoyable pursuit!

With this thought, Dahn, eyes still closed, sought the energy within him, and following a familiar routine, began to channel the powerful fighting spirit coursing through his body.