Chapter 1444 - 1353: Holy Grail Heights

Chapter 1444: Chapter 1353: Holy Grail Heights

No matter whether Serafe eventually marches south or not, Horn is going north, so for the moment he’s ignoring the Royal Court’s movements.

As for military affairs, the staff group and the Chief Priest are handling them, and a combined-arms war army at this level inherently has the capacity for autonomous action.

To put it bluntly, the Imperial Army fights like Mount & Blade, the Royal Court’s army fights like Total War, while the Holy Alliance fights very much like auto‑chess.

But that doesn’t mean that, as supreme commander, Horn can just sit around doing nothing.

Just as he usually teaches the other war‑army commanders and Battle Commanders: do your own work yourself.

As a commander, if you don’t personally get a prior grasp of geography, roads, local conditions, logistics, and so on, and only rely on others’ eyes and mouths, you’ll always be one layer removed.

These past two days, Horn has been leading the Holy Grail Cavalry and officers like Jeanne to continuously survey the planned battlefields.

Since the Royal Court might advance on three routes, the staff have drafted five possible battlefields, and the area Horn is heading to right now is the second‑to‑last of them.

The horses galloped, cold wind blowing over the badger oil the Wolf Woman had rubbed on Horn’s face, yet he didn’t feel the chill at all.

Passing through a stretch of forest and riding by several small lakes, Jia Li, who had been following, suddenly reined in her warhorse: "We’re here."

This area lies in the outskirts of the small town of Gragu; around it there are only a few scattered little villages, Knight Castles, manors, logging camps, and vineyards.

From Gragu Town to the west lies Low Terrace City, which is the vampires’ forward base.

The sector Horn is focusing on is the mud‑ditch river bend area south of the Gragu Town–Low Terrace City highway, in the outskirts of Gragu.

Hooves chopped into the ground, splashing countless drops of muddy water; once past the wooden bridge, you could get a rough view of the whole area.

A few bouts of cold autumn rain and a few rolls of chill wind had shaken down the remaining maple leaves from the branches, leaving only an icy stream cutting across the narrow ground.

This area barely counts as a river bend; the Mud Ditch River runs diagonally north‑south across the Gragu–Low Terrace City highway, leaving to the south a string of small lakes like a pearl necklace.

The first thing Horn saw was the broad flatland before him and the earthen hills on both sides of the mud ditch.

The left side was slightly lower, only some twenty to thirty meters high by the look of it; the right side was not much higher, mostly also around twenty to thirty meters.

Only two hilltops had been artificially piled up higher; Horn raised a range rod and roughly measured them.

The two hilltops were about two kilometers apart, depressed in the middle and rising at both ends, like a saddle.

He had long since memorized the map of this area; a quick comparison told him exactly where he was.

The slightly lower, seventy‑meter‑high one was a ruined Knight Manor; the other, at a hundred meters, had once been a Knight Castle.

Only, with this kind of Knight Castle—those who know, know—it was built specifically to suppress uprisings and bandits: the walls were high but thin, two cannon shots and they’d come down.

As for the Knight who owned this place, he had earlier taken part in the Immortal Stone Field war; after losing, he fled with his property, and the land and manor were divided up among local peasants by the Holy Father Association.

Only with war imminent, most of the local peasants had either hidden in the mountains or fled into the city.

Looking at the newly sprouted winter wheat seedlings, Horn could only sigh.

Now that this place has become a battlefield, there’s no ban on trampling the wheat with horses; next year the harvest here will likely be poor, if not failed altogether.

Though by then, the Priest‑in‑Charge and the monastery heads will probably seize the chance to do work‑relief by building irrigation works.

"Bro." With a crisp girl’s voice, a rider could be seen charging down from the hillside.

Catching Jia Li in his peripheral vision pouting to one side, Horn didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

A black long braid whipped through the air; though she was nearly forty, Jeanne was still as dazzling as a young maiden.

Of course, Jia Li is pushing fifty, yet still looks like a loli, so there’s nothing to comment on there.

Jeanne had ridden ahead early in the morning and made a rough circuit of the vicinity; now she spurred up and, still in the saddle, leaned over to give Horn a kiss.

"Your Majesty, please look." She turned her head and pointed with her riding whip at those two hilltops. "That over there is the Holy Grail Heights."

"Holy Grail Heights?" Horn was taken aback for a moment, but quickly came to terms with it; there are far too many mountains, rivers, and forests named after the Holy Grail on both the Eastern and Western Continents.

Sharing a name with Holy Grail Mountain by his hometown Red Mill Village isn’t a low‑probability event at all.

"With the Holy Grail we begin, with the Holy Grail we end." Jeanne rubbed her head. "It almost feels like fate and providence at work."

"There is no fate; it’s all the result of struggle and effort." Horn turned his head to the side. "Come on, you lead me up to the high ground for a look."

Jeanne took the lead, and the dozens of escort riders and Witches followed in sequence, rapidly arriving atop the Holy Grail Heights.

Dismounting, Horn walked past the crumbling castle to the little cliff edge at the hilltop and gazed out below.

The rippling water surfaces, several half‑frozen lakes, and the crisscrossing fields of wheat and roads all entered his view.

Anyone who frequently commands large formations in battle knows just how important line of sight is in combat.

Unlike in games, in reality there is no omniscient overhead view, so no matter the battlefield, seizing the highest ground is extremely important.

Even though both the Holy Alliance and the Royal Court have flying troops, the delay inherent in flying units relaying messages is still too great to meet command needs.

Besides that, another crucial function of high ground is as artillery platforms.

The Holy Grail Heights are flat and open, easily able to deploy dozens of guns and form a dense cross‑fire network, far superior to the difficulties artillery faces trying to deploy amid the low‑lying lakes.

As the saying goes: from high to low, hit whatever, heights matter immensely to artillery.

"Your Majesty." Mormon, the artillery officer and overall commander, looked at this high ground like a sexually repressed man spotting a huge butt, all worked up. "If we really fight here, we have got to seize this terrain."

Under the Holy Alliance’s military system, each Battle Regiment has a directly attached independent artillery battery, with four six‑pounder ’Sand‑Sculpture’ cannons.

So each war army has thirty‑two six‑pounder Sand‑Sculpture cannons.

At the war‑army level, there is likewise a directly attached independent artillery battery and a grenadier battalion, including twelve six‑pounder Sand‑Sculpture cannons, eight twelve‑pounder Griffin Cannons, and ten grenade launchers.

As for the regimental three‑pounder ’Eagle’ guns, in the eyes of Holy Alliance officers who believe "big is good, more is strong, steel is fierce," they’re basically oversized shotguns.

And the Battle Regiment’s attached artillery battery likewise falls under war‑army command; it’s just like the Cuirassiers, normally parcelled out at the regiment level.

When necessary, the war army can mass a large number of heavy guns for concentrated bombardment of the enemy.

Listening to Mormon’s exposition, Horn gave no clear comment.

Picking up his spyglass, he walked along the cliff edge, from this side to the other, then back again, before finally putting the spyglass down.

He sighed. "If I were fighting here, I would definitely have to secure this high ground first, otherwise maneuvering the troops would be a huge problem."

The two high hills cut the plain east of the Mud Ditch River into eastern and western halves; the only troop‑movement corridor is that saddle‑shaped depression in the middle.

Once artillery is emplaced on the high ground, they can quickly seal off that low passage.

"If we choose to fight the decisive battle here, what do you think?" Mormon pressed him.

Horn slapped Mormon’s helmet in mock anger. "Ask, ask, ask—what, can you control the vampires? This is only a contingency battlefield."

Mormon rubbed his head and grinned. "Your Majesty, isn’t this us drawing up the pre‑battle plan? This high ground definitely has to be taken."

"Does it? What’s your view?" Horn turned to the staff officers and Military Chaplains who had come along.

They all agreed with Mormon one after another, only a few of them stroking their chins and thinking it over.

"Your Majesty, how do you see it?"

"Seizing the high ground is certainly a good idea, but I’m going to make a slight modification." Horn paused. "I intend to abandon the high ground."