"Clang!" Gwynnis drew his sword from its sheath. He slapped a conscript soldier beside him, whose face was drenched in tears.
"Crying! What's the use of crying!" he bellowed.
"Do you think you can cry the Hafdan people away? You weep day and night; can you weep them to death?!"
"Pull yourselves together, everyone! Let's go! Wipe them out!" Gwynnis roared.
Having said that, he ordered the entire army to mobilize for a life-or-death battle with the Hafdan people. However, the previously sobbing citizens, upon hearing about the battle with the Hafdan people, were immediately seized with fear and trepidation.
Without food, they might soon starve to death, but engaging in battle with the Hafdan people meant certain death! Nonetheless, they had no choice but to obey Gwynnis's orders. The guards and archers, armed with shields and longbows and carrying heavy arrows on their backs, led the march. The cavalry, whom Gwynnis had always entrusted with critical tasks, followed, wielding newly forged shorter spears, perfect for use on horseback, as per the recommendation of Jervis from previous battles.
After a crash course of several days, the cavalry had only a basic grasp of using these spears, but they had no choice but to forge ahead. The conscript soldiers, following at the rear, were visibly disheartened. They were torn between the reluctance to fight and the fear of death, and they trudged along with their heads down, forming a long line as they left the castle.
Gwynnis then called for the weeping citizens who had been kneeling on the ground to prepare for battle immediately.
"Are they also going to fight? But most of these people are women and children, practically useless..." Baldwin asked in surprise.
"Everyone bring whatever you've prepared and follow me," Gwynnis commanded.
...
The castle was over a thousand meters away from the Hafdan camp, and the enemy couldn't see their movements clearly. Gwynnis had wooden stag horns, prepared before the battle, brought over and arranged in two rows on either side of the castle entrance, forcing the Hafdan people to attack head-on and reducing the width of their formation, thus weakening their numerical advantage. To prevent the enemy from easily crossing the stag horns, Gwynnis had also planted thorny bushes nearby, now entwined around the horns. Though these thorny stag horns couldn't completely stop the Hafdan people, slowing them down was sufficient.
The horns were spaced about twenty meters apart, extending from the castle's main gate and facing the entrance. Despite deciding to fight, Gwynnis was not reckless; he made all preparations to increase his chances of winning. This battlefield was prepared for the Hafdan people, and it would also become their graveyard.
...
After all preparations were completed, the cavalry were ordered to harass the Hafdan people who were causing destruction in the wheat fields. By this time, the Hafdan people had destroyed a significant portion of the wheat fields. Fortunately, the Targas domain's wheat fields spanned several hundred acres, so it would take the Hafdan people some time to completely ravage them.
At that moment, a cavalry unit suddenly appeared, taking advantage of their mobility to quickly approach and spear a few of the outer Hafdan soldiers on horseback, then swiftly retreated without giving the Hafdan people a chance to intercept them.
Initially, Broc didn't want to pay attention, but whenever he didn't pursue, the cavalry would return and harass the Hafdan people again. After several repeats of this tactic, the hot-tempered and impulsive Hafdan people couldn't stand it anymore and roared as they gave chase.
However, before they had run a few hundred meters, they saw the neatly arranged troops waiting for them below the castle hill.
"Ha ha ha!" Broc laughed uproariously.
These cowardly "farmers," who had always only dared to hide in their stone houses, avoiding a direct confrontation with them, had now been quickly provoked by just a slight destruction of their wheat fields.
"They are panicked, they are panicked!" he thought. It seemed that destroying the wheat fields was indeed an effective strategy. Broc's face showed a bloodthirsty grin. Since they wanted to fight, he would oblige and show them the ferocity of the Hafdan people!
The proud and fearless Hafdan people, of course, didn't mind fighting on the battlefield prepared by Gwynnis. Although it seemed that the locals had set up some wooden structures to restrict their formation and compensate for their numerical disadvantage, it didn't matter. In a head-on confrontation, they would show their might by fighting ten to one!
The careless Hafdan people failed to notice that the cavalry that had lured them in had quickly disappeared into the dense forests on both sides. Thorny bushes, now overgrown with dense, low shrubs, flanked the stag horns.
Broc was too young; if the experienced "White Beard" Erik had been there, he would have suggested first checking the sides and not rashly entering the enemy's prepared position. But perhaps Erik had the wisdom, the typical hot-blooded Hafdan soldier, intent only on slaughter, didn't think too much about such tactics. They were eager to split their enemies' heads with their axes, as splattering brain matter was their greatest reward.
Seeing the loosely formed ranks of thousands of Hafdan people approaching, the soldiers on Gwynnis's side grew more solemn. The conscript soldiers behind them started to tremble with fear. Regardless of the experienced guards and archers, these conscripts who had never truly been on a battlefield, facing the Hafdan people approaching like a tidal wave, radiating intense killing intent, couldn't possibly act nonchalant.
At this moment, Gwynnis, standing at the forefront, slowly drew his long sword. His Ventaling sword had been destroyed in the previous battle, but the blacksmith had repaired it by reheating and reforging. The Hafdan people were getting closer, entering the area encircled by the stag horns, stopping about a hundred meters away from Gwynnis and his men.
Usually, at this point, commanders from both sides would prepare for battle, shouting slogans and then starting the full conflict. Gwynnis looked at the trembling conscripts behind him and sighed. If they remained this way when the battle started, it would be disastrous.
He looked at the elderly and young civilians, now squeezed at the back of the battlefield, watching. Women held their children, tears welling in their eyes; young children, just learning to walk, were held by their mothers, gazing wide-eyed at their fathers hidden among the conscript soldiers; elderly mothers knelt on the ground, praying to the goddess Angenis for mercy, hoping their only remaining sons would return safely...
Seeing these people struggling desperately just to survive, living like ants, Gwynnis suddenly understood why the conscript soldiers were so afraid of death.