Chapter 1434 - 770: First Battle Is the Decisive Battle (Part 2)

Chapter 1434: Chapter 770: First Battle Is the Decisive Battle (Part 2)

And now, the two remaining barons joined with other scattered small nobles could actually pull out a force of six thousand, which must have been through extreme exertion.

Although perhaps only a thousand of them have combat power, the rest are just spear-wielding fillers.

But compared to Hamlet’s two thousand, the troop discrepancy is nearly threefold.

"How do you plan to fight?"

"This time they are attacking proactively, so we have the choice of battlefield, relying on towns to defend, but I suggest here instead."

As Barton spoke, he pointed to a spot on the map. Lance followed his gaze and saw it wasn’t some strategic ambush point, just a slightly elevated hill.

Previously mentioned, most of the south of Hamlet is plains, and Barton pointed exactly at an open area extending from the small hill.

"Over the past few days, I’ve surveyed the surrounding terrain with several commanders. If we defend the city, we’re certainly not afraid, but with those nobles pressing at the rear, it’s the commoners who die.

But choosing open battle allows our artillery to unleash its power. Seizing this position allows shells to cover the entire area, and the enemy can’t endure several rounds of bombardment.

And in this open space, without trees for cover, even if they rout, they can’t outrun our cavalry. It will be easier to round up surrenders, not giving them a chance to flee and cause chaos in the domain."

Lance pondered briefly and understood.

Defending the city and deploying artillery on the walls, musketeers relying on the walls to fire, those guys without heavy weapons can’t take it down, no matter how many they send, six thousand is just a number, plus our casualties would surely be less than in open warfare.

But the problem is defending the city is passive, it’s hard to capture prisoners, and the noble main forces definitely won’t come out first; they’ll use commoners to deplete us.

Dragging it out will consume resources, and there’s no time to play with them now.

However, if we smash their main force head-on, then according to the past behavior of those serf soldiers, they might surrender on their own; likewise, the resources those guys have accumulated would become ours.

Barton understood what the Lord was fighting for; reclaiming territory was one thing, capturing people for construction, and seizing resources for the winter was crucial—killing was pointless.

And Lance further understood that Barton wanted to prove himself, demonstrating his ability to win on the front lines, in an authentic battlefield.

"But what if they abandon fighting you head-on, or send their elite forces, led by knights, to raid the town, or cut off logistics?"

By drawing the forces out for open combat, Barton was putting Lance in a very dangerous situation. What if those guys launched a surprise attack on the town aiming for a beheading strike?

Lance mentioned this, and everyone couldn’t help but look at him...

A beheading strike on the Lord? Surely, you’re joking!

But since the Lord asked, Barton certainly had to answer.

"Once those elite forces leave, they’ll only fail faster. I have confidence in returning to encircle them."

"I trust you, handle these matters yourself."

Just as before the operation began, Lance was responsible for logistics and didn’t interfere with their battle plans—leaving professional tasks to professionals.

"Yes!"

The resting troops soon broke camp, advancing toward the designated target, seizing the ground, preparing to deliver a heavy blow to the approaching enemy.

Similarly, the Noble Alliance Army kept advancing, truly racing against time.

For the lower-tier knights, gaining land to become real nobles was only achievable through war, so they were not afraid and even very eager.

But for the regular soldiers, it was a hardship; they had no horses and could only walk on foot.

This time, they were promised enough, including food, or else they wouldn’t risk their lives like this.

The discrepancy could be seen; the advancing troop was chaotic, lacking any formation, moving slowly under the push and drive of those knights.

Thousands of them were moving with noise, chattering and complaining, some even straying while relieving themselves, not knowing where they were.

The capability of a commander is related to the troop’s level, as shown by the Noble Alliance Army’s chaos.

But they continued advancing until...

"Report! Traces of the enemy have been found."

Despite the disorder at the lower levels, those among the noble forces with formal military training didn’t neglect reconnaissance.

Upon hearing this news, the nobles displayed various attitudes.

"Damn it! Those guys are indeed preparing to attack."

"Send someone to find the exact position of their main force."

...

Barton hadn’t expected them to arrive so quickly, not aligning with any pre-conceived speed, and hadn’t even set up artillery positions yet.

With both forces’ numbers, it’s challenging to hide on the plains, and operations quickly confirmed the other’s position.

"Quick! Accelerate forward, we must control the ground before the enemy!"

Barton didn’t spare the horses, whipping them as artillery accelerated over the low slopes.

"Quick! Accelerate forward, don’t let the enemy take over!"

The knights were also whipping soldiers, driving them to charge chaotically up the hill.

They didn’t know Barton’s intentions, only that they must stop the enemy’s plans, thus the battle ignited unexpectedly from this onset.

The nobles’ Allied Army continued to urge, spurring the soldiers with motivational words.

"Do you want to become a knight? Do you want to gain wealth? It’s ahead of you, go kill them and seize your glory!"

"One head, one silver coin! The bounty is mine, hahaha!"

"Holy Light bless you; rid the evil in the name of Holy Light, send them to hell!"

The Holy Light occasionally flashed among the soldiers, and those blessed with Divine Arts charged into the fray excitedly.

"Line up to block the enemy, buy time for the artillery!"

Hamlet’s soldiers weren’t frightened by the incoming mobs of spear-wielders. A thousand infantry carried muskets, advancing in two four-line formations.

Neat formations moved forward like giant hands attempting to squash ants crawling forward.

Continual shouting filled the air, although without bounty awards, women, or noble titles as incentive, only cold rhythmic counting accompanied the steps.

"Three hundred yards... two hundred fifty... one hundred twenty!"

When this rang out, the first line raised their guns and pulled the trigger. A concentrated burst of gunfire erupted, raising a line of white smoke.

Firing then stopping to reload, the second line stepped forward a few steps to continue the firefight. This pattern repeated so that by the time the fourth line fired, the first had reloaded, the smoke from the first shot still not fully dissipated.

When defending positions, freedom of firing allows each individual to maximize their potential.

But in direct enemy confrontation, displaying intimidating strength is needed, as the pressure from volley fire is greatest, not to mention the relentless wave-like shooting.

"Spread out! Spread out! Don’t group together!"

The knights shouted continuously, but the frontrunners were already too close to react, running straight into the barrage, gambling that their fate was strong enough, immediately resulting in wailing.

Even a hundred yards away, the musket balls inflicted significant damage on unarmored targets, tearing through flesh, spreading the smell of blood.

"Don’t be afraid! The musket fires only once, after shooting it’s scrap metal."

"Hurry forward, don’t give them time to reload!"

In truth, only about ten got hit in this volley, trivial against their vast numbers. Spurred on, they didn’t halt but quickened their pace.

They then rammed into the seemingly endless barrage...