Herald of Steel

Chapter 814 Battle of Sissilpond Ridge (End)

Manuk’s plan was indeed this.

To use the threat of making Perseus’s lines disappear to force the king to reconsider.

“Yo… you…” And upon hearing Manuk’s demand, Perseus felt a mixture of emotions he had simply forgotten existed.

As a king, he certainly had never been threatened like this.

So the man simply ignored much of Manuk’s insults and preoccupied more of his mind with what he was being asked to do.

If he did that they would surely lose.

So why?

To Perseus, Manuk’s action made no sense.

But the priest by now was way past explaining anything to Perseus.

Talks had failed long ago, and now it was time for forceful action.

So Manuk ignored the enraged look on the king and proceeded.

“I will count to a hundred. By that time, Zaphir, you,” Manuk turned to address the man who was surreptitiously attempting to sneak attack Manuk from the back, but froze the moment Manuk called his name out, as he then heard the envoy say, “You organize the 1,000 men into a rear guard formation.”

“All the infantry will guard the front.”

“And tell the mahouts to take their 12 elephants and charge the flanking force. That’s all they need to do. Just charge and then they can escape.”

“Go! Do it now!”

Manuk shouted the simple battle plan he had managed to think up, and the black man, after a bit of hesitation as he turned to look at Perseus for his thoughts on the matter but received nothing, ultimately decided to follow the demand.

And as this defense was being hastily prepared, Manuk quickly turned to Perseus to dictate, “And you! Send messengers to the officers informing them we are retreating. This battle cannot be won. We are going to run.”

“And do not think about asking them to ignore the sound of the horn. I know a lot of soldiers will still run the moment they hear the horn.”

“Now quick! Remember, you have only 100 breaths!”

Becoming aware of Manuk’s ask, Perseus had an incredulous feeling in his heart, as he encountered a couple of things he never felt in his life all at once.

Nobody had addressed him as ‘you’ before and he never even thought such a scenario where his entire army would be held like this was even possible, much less predict it.

“Ma… nuk.. You!” Hence he could only wrathfully growl.

But he ultimately did what he was told, fiercely swinging his arm and sending messengers as fast he could, while at the same time also swearing to himself- ‘I will butcher this dog the second I get the chance. Darm Amenheraft! Darm Adhania.’

What Manuk had done was basically tear apart the entirety of the fragile goodwill he himself had so painstakingly nurtured, and by forcing Perseus to lose a battle that he in his mind thought he could win, there really was no way for these two sides, who already had so much bitter acrimony between them to ever truly reconcile.

But then why had Manuk done that?

Could he not see the result?

Did Manuk think that if he helped Perseus win the next battle it would all be forgiven and forgotten?

But did he not realize that Perseus might not want to ally with him till the next battle?

Would it not have been better to instead let Perseus do his thing?

That way, if he succeeded, then good.

But if he failed, well without any army, the man would be even more dependent on Adhania, would he not?

Well if you asked Manuk directly as to the reason, he might have snarkily remarked, “Heh! If His Majesty was to tie his foot with this clown, that Alexander might have laughed his head off.”

By now, Manuk had really given up on Perseus, for upon spending time with him, he judged the man to be too erratic to be a useful pawn.

If he really lost his army and then Amenheraft gave him another one, it was likely he was going to use it the way he wanted, not how the king of Adhania wanted.

So in Manuk’s mind, the far better option was to save this army and as long as Perseus lived and had an army to fight with, he knew the boorish king would keep on fighting.

And that way he could keep on sapping Alexander.

Thus even though Manuk personally strongly disliked the man, even though his act meant putting himself in huge danger danger, just because keeping Perseus in the fight was beneficial to him, the priest committed such a reckless move, trying to save an army which Perseus apparently did not seem to want to.

The 100 breaths Manuk had set flew by in the blink of an eye, but the priests did not yet blow on the horn, for when he set the number it was really more of a figure of speech than a literal time limit.

*Trumpet!*, *Trumpet!*

And then a while later he did, once he felt he had waited long enough, and the enemy flanking force was getting too close for comfort.

And that very moment.

*Trumpet*

*Trumpet*

*Trumpet*

Following his signal, many similar signals blasted across the battlefield as in reality, a single trumpet could never cover the entire battlefield.

So like clockwork, many more such blares resounded one after the other, with each of the signallers hearing the sound and passing it on to the next.

And then….

Well, then all hell broke loose.

The soldiers hearing that distinctive boom all felt like it was the sweet chimes of the heavenly bell relieving them from this hellish task and the moment the blast washed over their ears, all the tightly held formations instantly started to scatter like sand dunes in a storm like these men were ants in a hot pan trying to run away as soon as possible.

The first to run were of course those at the back, throwing away their heavy shields to lighten themselves, with some even abandoning their spears, while others chose to keep the offensive weapon on hand.

And following suit, the others soon followed, as in this way the lines rapidly thinned in the blink of an eye, while the legionaries, seeing the tight formations disperse like magic in front of them, the oppressive pressure in front of them vanishing, rejoiced with jubilant cheers,

“Breaking! The enemy is breaking!”

“We won! We won!”

“Lived. I lived! Hahaha, I lived”

But sounds of relief washed across them.

“Chase them! Kill them!”

“Revenge! Bastards… killed my brother. I want revenge!”

“Do not let a single fucker escape.”

“The king! Find the king! I want to screw my sword into his ass.”

But soon these joyous cheers turned bloodthirsty, as many of them, being under the sharp spear tips for so long, let their anger take over.

And then they left their formation and started to give chase.

“No! Do not chase. Get into formation. The enemy has sent its rear guards. We do not chase a fleeing enemy.”

Something that even the strict and screaming commands from their officers could not halt.

For these legionaries were driven so much past their rational thinking that they disobeyed all of them, including Menes’s personal shouts, and forgetting all they had been taught, started to maddeningly give chase to the fleeing enemy.

Most of these men were still verdant levies and without the temper of being tested in the crucible of battle repeatedly, these men, after their grueling hours long fight had finally snapped.

It had to be known that ancient battles were extremely taxing on the mind, for the close hand to hand nature of combat, the visceral sights and smell, the drowning chaotic noises, and perhaps deadliest of all, the groans of the dead and dying, all played havoc on one psyche, driving one to close to madness.

Even the most trained soldiers suffered from this, but they were able to suppress them.

A resistance that the levies under Menes were yet to develop, hence driven by a natural instinct to live and the subsequent battlelust, most of the legionaries irrationally started to chase the enemy, wanting to kill them before they did.

And as they came out of formation,

“Attack!”

“Kill! Hahahah,”

“There is the Enemy commander! Go!”

The 1,000 rear guards were given a once in a life opportunity to launch a counterattack, as they were able to scythe through the mass of soldiers that outnumbered them literally 20 to 1 like a hot knife through butter.

Up until jsut a few moments ago, these men had basically resigned themselves to death as there was no way a mere 1,000 man rear guard would be able to hold against a force of 20,000 for any appreciable length of time.

A rear guard formation was after all no magical formation that magically protected all fleeing soldiers. .𝒎

You still needed to man those positions.

And to hold a force of 20,000 you at least needed a couple of thousand men, or even just a defensive terrain like a river.

But now, due to the indiscipline of the legionaries, a great hole was punched so effortlessly into the line that had held for so long, and

“Oh no!” Menes’s own position appeared to be in danger of being overrun.

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