"About a hundred of them" The scout reported as he pointed at the Castonians on the other side of the river. The river divided the forest into two. Fortunately, there was a shallow in front of them so they can attack the Castonians.
Prefect Luther did not immediately respond. He was annoyed by the scout's lack of respect. "Samuel, right?" Luther turned his head and glared at him "Have you forgotten how to address your superior Samuel"
Luther expected to see the scout's face to pale, but to his surprise the rascal was indifferent to his words. "I am sorry sir. It won't happen again" the scout apologized halfheartedly.
Luther creased his brows. His hand wanted to slap the spirit out of the disrespectful scout. But he stopped himself. He needs to control his anger because the soldiers are watching and they will hate him for hitting their comrade. He cursed the late Prefect Romel, this was all his fault.
Well, maybe not. The biggest offender of all was the bastard Henry. The traitorous bastard killed Prefect Romel and fled. Romel was fine at first and everyone was hopeful that he would survive, but his stomach wound festered and he died of wound fever a few days later. Now, both the Tulosan Knights and the Whistlers lost their prefects. It's a shame, both Henry and Romel were good leaders. Henry was brave and trusted by his knights, while Romel was…well let's just say that he was oddly charismatic. With just one stab of a sword, one prefect died and the other was declared a traitor. Curse Henry and his outdated views on the Knight's honor.
General Sigurd replaced Henry with a more loyal Knight as prefect. As for the Whistlers, the General gave him the position. Luther doesn't really have experience when it comes to leading armies. He was chosen because he was the General's nephew. The General must be afraid of further betrayals so he gave the position to a family member instead to one of the centurions. Luther was happy to accept the position. Being able to lead a cohort was a privilege. His political career would surely be boosted by this. The only problem were the Whistlers. They don't respect him. But he will force them to respect him. He will lead the Whistlers and harass the Castonians from behind. His first target would be the Castonians waiting at the other side of the river.
"Tell the Centurions of the first and second centuries to cross the river and attack the Castonians" Luther commanded his squire. He actually forgot about the names of the Centurions.
His squire saluted and went to the first and second centuries. After a while, the two centuries moved out. Two hundred men advanced towards the Castonians. It was just a trot at first, but the Whistlers soon sped up a few meters from the riverbank.
But halfway through the river, the horses started to neigh. Some horses fell and some of the riders were pressed underwater. Luther grimaced. Caltrops. The Castonians scattered caltrops on the riverbed. How smart, he praised. His enemy was capable. But the caltrops were not enough to stop the Whistlers. Their charge was slowed, but they were still advancing. There were a few who fell , but the rest still pushed forward. Despite this, Luther couldn't help but feel anxious. His enemy was cunning. It was unlikely that caltrops was his only trap. Soon, his thoughts were confirmed. The Whistlers fully stopped a few meters away from the riverbank. It was like they hit a wall. Whines of horses can be heard. To make matters worse, the Castonians fired their crossbows. The sound of arrows flying filled the air.
Since the Whistlers wore light armor, the bolts buried through their flesh. Both the horses and the soldiers were hit by the bolts. Neighs and human cries mixed in the air, forming an unholy symphony of horror that siphons courage from one's heart. Even at this distance, Luther could feel their pain.
It only took two rounds of arrow fire to break the Whistlers. The two centuries retreated hastily. Some horses stepped on the caltrops again on their way back, increasing the casualties. In the end, dozens of horses and humans died on the river.
"What happened?" Luther asked the centurion angrily
"Spikes Prefect!" the centurion defended "The bastards planted wooden spikes! The spikes were hidden below the water so we failed to see them."
Luther turned his head towards the Castonians and gritted his teeth. Spikes and caltrops. Damn the enemy commander, cunning bastard. He also cursed himself for being so reckless. It seems he needs to think this through.
Since they can't advance towards the Castonians without losing a huge chunk of the cohort, then Luther must find another way to cross the river. The shallows were only a few meters long. That's why the Castonians were able to set up traps. But they can't set traps along the entire river.
"Tell Centurion Mark to take his century south. Tell Centurion Lyn to take his up north. They need to find shallows." He commanded.
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Erik wore a smile. The first phase of his plan worked. The Tulosans actually advanced rapidly towards them, amplifying the effect of his caltrops. But the spikes took the cake. Dozens of horses were impaled by the spikes, taking their riders underwater. The arrows had also been very effective. There were no Knights in the vanguard, only lightly armored men so arrows were able to injure or kill them.
But this was just the beginning. If he was the enemy commander, he would find shallows. As a matter of fact, there was a shallow a few kilometers down south. Another surprise would be waiting for the Tulosans there. Erik gestured to one of his subordinates. It's time for phase two.
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Mark held onto the reins of his horse. His century was riding in haste. They need to find a shallow soon or else the Castonians would get away.
He saw the earlier skirmish. It wasn't really a skirmish, but a one-way massacre. The horrendous screams of horses and humans still rings inside his ear. The Castonians really love to use tricks to win. They have no trust on their strength so they need to resort to tricks. They had always been this way. And the fool Luther, fell for the Castonian tricks. If it was him, he would have never fallen for the Castonian tricks. His blood boils when he thinks of Luther. How dare he issue commands to him? He was just a nobody a week ago.
General Sigurd gave the position of Prefect to his nephew. It should have been him! He had served as a Centurion for decades. He had experience under his belt. Now, the General bypassed him and chose his inexperienced nephew instead! Blasphemy!
After he gets back, he would show Luther that the position of Prefect should have been his. But first he needs to find a shallow. He needs to beat the Castonians alone. He needs to prove that what Luther failed to achieve with a thousand men, he accomplished with a hundred.
"A shallow sir!" the soldier beside him shouted. Mark squinted and scanned the part of the river the soldier was pointing at. It really was a shallow. He then ordered his century to cross the shallow and they did so without any trouble.
But before he could celebrate, several arrows hit his men. He looked at the direction the arrows were fired from and saw about fifty Castonians. He ordered a charge.
"Attack them!" Mark shouted. He whipped his horse, urging it to charge. The entire century also charged at the Castonians.
But the Castonians retreated at full speed. Cowards, Mark thought. When General Kingston invaded 15 years ago, the Castonians ran inside their castles. Now the Castonians in front of him were also running away. But Mark had no plans to let them get away. The Whistlers were famed for being fast.
"Charge!" he screamed "Don't let a single one get away"
The distance between the Castonians and his century grew shorter by the minute. Mark could almost taste victory. They outnumbered them two to one so it was not really a question of who was going to win. But just as his Century was able to catch the Castonians, a group of horsemen emerged from behind and fired their crossbows. A lot of arrows found their mark and the charge was halted. Many of his men were hit. Another group of horsemen emerged from the trees and also fired arrows. It was more devastating than the first group. Meanwhile, the retreating Castonians turned towards them and also fired. They were surrounded. It was a trap. He had fallen into a trap.
Mark's blood turned cold after he made an estimate of their numbers. Nearly five hundred! How was this possible? Normally Castonians would only have a hundred cavalry every five thousand infantry. Now there were five hundred around him and a hundred more in front of the rest of the Whistlers.
A second volley of arrows flew towards them. One of these arrows hit him in the throat. He clasped his throat with two hands, and tried to stop the bleeding. But the blood from his wound slowly drowned him. After a few moments of fighting to survive, his body felt weak. He was drowning, drowning from his own blood. Mark fell from his horse.
"The Centurion has fallen! Retreat!" those were the last words he heard.
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Beside Erik, a soldier raised his crossbow and aimed at the retreating Tulosans. There were barely a dozen Tulosans who were able to get away. The rest were either dead or struggling to live with arrows lodged inside their bodies.
Erik slowly pushed the soldier's crossbow down and prevented him from shooting the arrow.
"Let the go" he commanded "We need to leave survivors.".
The soldier nodded to his command. Ordering the veterans around was very uncomfortable for Erik at first. Most of them were twice his age. But Erik soon got used to it. The discipline and obedience of veterans were very impressive.
The second phase of his plan was a success. The Tulosans never expected them to have so many cavalry. This was all thanks to Tim. He really admires the insight of his friend. Now all they have to do was to wait for the survivors to report to the enemy commander. After that, phase three begins.