Chapter 157 - 146: Gaining a Foothold
Chapter 157: Chapter 146: Gaining a Foothold
With such a dense rain of arrows, aiming was completely unnecessary. The enemy’s firing rate was as swift as a stampeding herd, one volley after another. General Dor had only ever seen such a concentrated barrage from a few of the northern foreign tribes, and from the Moon Elves.
At this rate of attrition, the Werewolf Infantry Corps would be completely annihilated.
"How many Goblin Tribes have we reached today?" General Dor inquired. Though reluctant, deep down, he was already leaning toward the second plan.
’A surprise attack is impossible now. Fortunately, my own forces haven’t suffered any major losses yet.’
"Eleven, with roughly ten thousand people. Including the previous ones, that’s over twenty thousand.
There are still sixty-two tribes in the rear," his adjutant reported.
General Dor had his adjutant bring out a map and examined it himself. His original plan had included conquering Sirich City, but now, that had been reduced to a siege.
The main priority right now was to shake off this persistent pest.
SIGH! General Dor sighed deeply, his gaze falling on the red circles on the parchment map. He could no longer get any news from Prince Kase. The prince had no intention of including him.
’Of course, Dor had expected this. He had pushed things too far before. If Prince Kase still treated him with courtesy now, Dor would be deeply suspicious.’
’Prince Kase cultivated a magnanimous persona, but that magnanimity depended on who the recipient was.’
’If Dor were a member of the Beastman Royal Family, Kase could have afforded to be generous. For one, it would be a show for his Beastman subordinates; for another, it would make Dor an ally to be won over in the future.’
’Unfortunately, General Dor was a Gray Dwarf. Magnanimity had its limits. If Prince Kase were to show favor to and go easy on a Gray Dwarf royal, his Beastman subordinates would only think the prince wasn’t acting in the best interests of the Beastman Race.’
"Send the order for them to withdraw. Have the Griffin Caval deliver the message," General Dor said.
General Dor firmly believed that as long as his core forces remained undamaged, there was always a chance to start over. His thousand-plus Gray Dwarf Heavy Cavalry were completely unscathed, as were his large numbers of Mortal Gray Dwarf Heavy Infantry.
"Inform the chieftains of those Goblin Tribes. Starting today, they will attack in shifts. They are only permitted to withdraw on my command. No stopping, day or night!
Also, tell the Mages to recover their Mana quickly. The day after tomorrow, they will go east and build a bridge! I want to see for myself just how many Magic Crystal Cannons they have!" General Dor commanded viciously, pointing to the east. The Beastman Empire lacked a strong foundation in the Magic Industry.
In truth, only two races possessed a complete magical ecosystem: the Human Race and the Moon Elves to the east. As luck would have it, the Beastmen had offended both. If not for the Demon Beast Mountain Range separating them, the Moon Elves would have long since turned the Beastmen to ash.
The Beastman Empire was surrounded by enemies on all sides: the ancient foreign tribes to the north, the Moon Elves to the east, and the Human Race to the south. Of course, only the Human Race posed a true threat to the Beastman Empire.
Because of this, General Dor had no way to help his Mages recover their Magic Power quickly; they could only do so slowly over time.
Since Plan A was no longer viable, he had to resort to Plan B: use a ceaseless stream of cannon fodder to create a war of attrition on the main battlefield, while opening a secondary front to leverage their numerical superiority. This was a common Beastman tactic.
History had shown that aside from the Knight King of old, King Louis, and now Marshal Grantham, very few could withstand a head-on confrontation with the Beastmen.
"As you command."
.....
On the other side, Robson had been keeping up a continuous bombardment. When the cannon barrels needed to cool, he would stop to upgrade his troops—a process that took but a single thought.
Ever since the Beastmen began their attack, Robson had been caught in a cycle of pain and elation.
Extraordinary Infantry were, after all, still Extraordinary. Even when his Tier Six Infantry grouped together to resist with a terrain advantage, the enemy still wiped out twenty to thirty of them in a single charge.
Fortunately, the human nobles at the rear weren’t just watching the show. Shortly after the Beastmen launched their attack, they immediately joined the fray and engaged the enemy.
Although they were mostly motivated by the desire for military honors, once they entered the battlefield, the attrition rate of Robson’s Soldiers dropped rapidly.
The Infantry had undoubtedly suffered heavy losses in this battle. One corps alone had lost over two hundred men, most of them critically wounded. Saving them would require a massive amount of Divine Water, likely exhausting all of Robson’s reserves. He’d just have to ask Valentino for some. ’She’ll be mine sooner or later, anyway.’
Of course, the upside was that once these Soldiers were saved by the Divine Water, they would immediately become true Tier Six Soldiers. Before, a single corps had only a few dozen Tier Six Infantry; after this battle, that number would jump to at least two hundred, or one hundred fifty at the very least.
I have to say, the experience gained from killing Extraordinary Soldiers was incredible. Those few cannon shots from Robson were worth several months of his own cultivation, and his progress bar from Tier Seven to Tier Eight shot up by a quarter.
Putting the Infantry aside, his ranged units had made out like bandits. The shooters took virtually no damage, as the enemy’s own archers were constantly suppressed by Robson’s Tier Five Frank Elite Shooters and Tier Six Frankish Watchers.
The shooters in the other corps had the time of their lives. Several thousand members of the Werewolf Corps were crammed onto a bridge about a hundred meters wide. Since werewolves have much broader shoulders than humans, there was basically no need to aim.
As many as three hundred Soldiers were promoted to Tier Four Frank Skilled Shooters, and one hundred to Tier Five Frank Elite Shooters. Surprisingly, the number of new Tier Six Frankish Watchers was about the same as the new Tier Five Frank Elite Shooters.
Robson had stationed about a hundred Tier Five Frank Elite Shooters on the city walls.
’Come to think of it, it’s probably because the Magic Crossbows wielded by the Tier Five Soldiers managed to damage some of the Extraordinary Soldiers. Plus, those Tier Five Soldiers at the rear hunted down several Griffin Knights, so the experience from that must have been substantial.’
’And Fioro’s talent must have played a part, too.’
’The Magic Crystal Cannon Team had gone from Tier Four to Tier Five, and was approaching Tier Six. Even the man Robson had temporarily conscripted had reached Tier Three, becoming a professional-grade Magic Crystal Gunner. None of this was particularly surprising; after all, those cannon shots were no joke, killing huge swathes of enemies. In the future, I could try letting these gunners use free fire. I wonder if there will be any pleasant surprises.’
Seeing the werewolves retreat, Robson breathed a sigh of relief. The experience from killing them was high, but the losses he was taking were just as high.
In the infantry battle alone, his casualty ratio was as high as two-to-one. And that was a result achieved only by having high-tier units at the front, supplemented by the other nobles. Once those elites were depleted, such a ratio would be impossible. It wouldn’t be three-to-one then, but more like thirteen- or even thirty-to-one. Tier Three Soldiers were simply too powerless against Extraordinary-level units in formation.
Five or six Tier Three Soldiers might be able to take on a single Tier One or Tier Two Bronze-level opponent, but fifteen Tier Three Soldiers wouldn’t necessarily be able to handle three of them.
Of course, that also depended on the soldiers’ coordination.
"Send the order for the Second Infantry Corps to move up, with the Fourth and Fifth taking over. We’re implementing the second protocol now. The First Corps will rest. The Second and Fourth Corps will form one group, the Third and Fifth another. They will stand watch in shifts. The enemy is probably going to start a war of attrition," Robson commanded.
Robson wasn’t afraid of a war of attrition. On the contrary, he was rather looking forward to it.
He had several hundred mules and horses ferrying grain and military supplies back from Sirich City every day, so consumption wasn’t a concern.
As for soldier fatigue... the battlefield was small enough that as long as the troop rotations were handled well, his men could rest while others stood guard.
At worst, he could just spend a little more money to boost the lads’ morale.
Most importantly, there was his system. If the enemy wanted a war of attrition, they would undoubtedly resort to their old goblin dog-headed people routine.
Robson wasn’t just going to be worn down; his army could gain experience from this. This would be Lord Robson’s personal training ground. It was the perfect chance to temper the Fourth and Fifth Corps so they wouldn’t drag him down later.