I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 359 The Knight's Charge

Lennart sat behind the breastwork, listening to the continuous rumble of thunder. He couldn't help but feel a little relieved, and the grip on his halberd loosened slightly.

This is the siege artillery firing on the rocky highlands.

Lennart doesn't understand artillery; he's just a common soldier who only knows how to grab weapons and chop people up. Although he's been fighting alongside his master and the Republic for five years and has now become a captain, all he knows is how to chop people up.

"Company commander, company commander!"

Someone shouted, and Lennart turned his head to look to his left. Twenty meters away, a lieutenant wearing a pointed helmet, a breastplate, and a silver star and a diagonal stripe on his shoulder armor was shouting at him.

"The enemy is closing in on us, about a kilometer away. There are many of them, all cavalry!"

Lennart glanced at the young lieutenant, his face immediately showing impatience. The latter was a young man who had graduated from the prince's military academy this year and was assigned to the Highland Regiment.

He had no problem with the young man's presence, but the latter was just too loud and boisterous, coming to him for every little thing, which was really annoying.

"I know!"

Lennart shouted back irritably, raising his halberd and slamming it into the ground.

“I’m not deaf; I can hear the sound of horses’ hooves outside.”

"Should we do something? The soldiers are a little scared."

The lieutenant pointed to the halberdiers behind the breastwork. Among the more than 150 men, the tension of many was visibly palpable, with pale faces and trembling hands.

This breastwork, stretching for a hundred meters, is the defensive line of the 15th Infantry Company, Lennart Company, of the Highland Regiment. Therefore, Lennart was in charge here, the highest-ranking officer.

"Fuck you!"

Lennart shouted back.

"They are the best Bagnia lads, how could they possibly be afraid?"

Lennart's anger was like the best balm; he cursed the lieutenant a few times, which actually calmed down some of the pale-faced halberdiers.

"Are there any orders from above?"

Lennart asked, and the lieutenant being questioned shook his head.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the flag bearer, but he hasn’t given us any instructions.”

"Without instructions, it means the Marquis wants them to continue waiting... Quiet, be patient, young man."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a new cannon shot rang out, this time crisper and louder than the previous muffled thunder.

The experienced Lennart immediately recognized that it was Prince Chris's field artillery battalion firing. Three-pound, six-pound field guns... wow, this salvo involved at least twenty cannons.

At this moment, even Lennart, who was pretending to be calm, couldn't sit still anymore. He quickly changed his posture, stood up, and looked up into the distance while holding onto the breast wall.

Even without the aid of a telescope, Lennart could see a kilometer away, at the edge of his field of vision, a torrent of steel and dust sweeping in with overwhelming force.

The cannonballs fired at them flew towards them and landed among them. Many knights and their horses tumbled around, but compared to their numbers, these unfortunate souls were too few in number. In the blink of an eye, they were gone without a trace.

"Tsk, this is a bit troublesome..."

……

Charging into battle under artillery fire is by no means a joyful experience.

However, the knights of Leteria had no choice, and they coldly ignored the cannonballs that kept falling in front of them and around them.

Even as their own knights were constantly being blown away and smashed by cannonballs, they remained unmoved, heads down, riding their beloved horses, lances raised high, and charging forward relentlessly.

Baron Carlisle Montfort lowered his body, and through the gaps in his cold plate armor, only two eyes burning with fighting spirit and fanaticism were visible.

His warhorse, "Hurricane," a priceless Andalusian thoroughbred, clad in heavy armor, was galloping forward with overwhelming force, each stomp of its heavy hooves seeming to crack the earth.
The wind whistled in their ears, and behind them surged a torrent of steel like a tsunami. Thousands of Reteria's most elite heavy knights, following Prince Seba's orders, were launching a desperate charge toward the abominable camp of the Bagnians.

For glory, for Leteria, and to wash away the shame of those cowards on the Eastern Front who surrendered without a fight.

Carlisle roared.

They were very close. The enemy outside the narrow observation hole was clearly visible. The heavy breathing and trembling muscles of the horse that had sprinted five hundred meters could be felt through the thin clothing on the inside of its thighs.

Baron Carlisle held up the heavy lance, four meters long and wrapped with the triangular banner bearing the family crest, his gaze sharp as a blade, fixed on the increasingly clear barrier ahead, made of logs, earth, and... some kind of gleaming metallic wire.

He wanted to break through this defense line like a knight.

However, the Bagnians' "welcome" came much earlier and more enthusiastically than expected.

"Boom boom boom boom..."

On the south side of the camp, dense orange-red flames suddenly spewed from the low artillery emplacements, like the mouth of hell suddenly opening. Unlike the heavy and slow "thunder" on the rocky highlands, the cannon fire here was sharper and more rapid, like the sinister laughter of death.

These are ultralight cannons unique to the Bagnians, and they are unleashing a deadly storm of metal upon themselves.

Carlisle could even clearly see that the few knights who charged at the front and were the bravest were as if they had crashed into an invisible wall full of iron nails. Their expensive plate armor crackled and sparks flew as it was hit by the close-range shotgun shells.

The fully armed knights on horseback remained unmoved and continued their charge, but their warhorses did not. They stopped charging, reared up, or veered off course and ran to the sides.

"Coward...for the sun god!"

Carlisle's squire roared angrily.

Carlisle gritted his teeth. He was also hit by several shrapnels. He heard the crackling sounds on his helmet and shoulder armor, and felt the impact similar to being hit by crossbow bolts. But with his superb riding skills, he withstood the shock while riding the hurricane and controlled his horse's fear.

During this process, Carlisle felt a pain in his left arm, perhaps because his arm guard had been pierced. He didn't bother to look down to check, keeping his eyes fixed on the distance ahead. The distance was closing, two hundred meters, one hundred and fifty meters.

"Bang bang bang bang..."

Behind the fence made of barricades and barbed wire, another dense plume of white smoke rose.

The flintlock bullets came whistling like a deadly swarm of bees. In an instant, Carlisle could feel knights falling from their horses around him. Some fell without a sound, while others tumbled to the ground with their horses, kicking up clouds of dust.

Carlisle felt a tremendous impact from his left shoulder armor, which made his arm go numb. He had to look down and saw a clear dent in the armor; the lead bullet had been deflected by the tough steel armor.

He felt a wave of fear, but even more so, he was furious. How dare these mere muskets block the iron cavalry of Leteria!
In the last hundred meters, he finally saw the death zone blocking the way in front of the breastwork.

The jagged, sharpened barricades pointed at them like the fangs of a monster, and between the barricades, there were layers upon layers of barbed wire, sharp and menacing, gleaming like giant pythons.

Those slender yet tough metal wires, coiled and intertwined like venomous snakes, formed a chilling steel thorn.

"Knights, follow me! Break through its defenses!"

Carlisle roared and kicked "Hurricane" hard in the belly, forcing it to muster its last bit of strength and regain its peak speed.

During this process, Carlisle leveled his lance and aimed it at the point where the barbed wire and barricades seemed to be slightly weak. He intended to use a thunderous charge and his heavy lance, made of fine steel, to knock away this obstructive obstacle.

"For Montefort!"

Several family knights behind him roared and followed suit, lowering their lances as well.

Closer, even closer, twenty meters.

Carlisle tensed every muscle, channeling all his strength into his arms and lance. "Hah..."

He let out a deafening battle roar, and his lance thrust out like lightning, precisely aiming at the base of the barbed wire, attempting to use the immense kinetic energy of the charging horse to knock it and its anchoring post flying together.

"Clang... Sizzle..."

A piercing metallic scraping and tearing sound rang out! The expected ejection did not occur; the seemingly delicate wire mesh was far more resilient than imagined.

In an instant, Carlisle felt an immense, irresistible resistance coming from the tip of the lance. The steel tip rubbed violently against the tough wire, sending up blinding sparks. The heavy lance groaned under the strain and snapped in two.

"Sorry..."

The hurricane let out a painful and terrified neigh, and the enormous reaction force almost made the magnificent warhorse rear up.

Carlisle struggled with all his might to avoid being thrown off, but a sharp pain shot through his arm; his thumb and forefinger had split open, and blood stained his glove. He stared in despair at the barbed wire that had pierced him.

It was only violently deformed and stretched upwards by the enormous force, and several wires were even torn off, but the overall structure was still stubbornly fixed to the barricades and the ground. It was like a tough spider web, tightly entangled in his half of the lance.

"Do not……"

Carlisle roared, and the family knights beside him fared even worse; some of their lances were also broken, and the immense inertia sent them tumbling forward.

Someone tried to break the barricade, but the heavy barricade didn't budge. Instead, the rider was thrown off his horse by the huge recoil and crashed into the barbed wire... The flying rider actually broke the barricade and bent the barbed wire, creating a small gap.

Unfortunately, the obstacle consisting of barbed wire and chevaux-de-frise was in three rows, but a small gap was smashed in the first row, which was not enough for the knight to pass through.

"Damn it, dismount and cut it down!"

Carlisle acted decisively, discarding the broken and unusable half of his lance. He then drew his two-handed greatsword from the side of his horse's belly, roared, and urged "Hurricane" to approach the barbed wire. With all his might, he slashed fiercely at the tough barbed wire.

"Click..."

When the steel greatsword struck the barbed wire, Carlisle did not experience what he had expected. Instead, he saw that the barbed wire was pressed down very low by his greatsword, yet... it was not cut through!

When Carlisle lifted his greatsword, the barbed wire also sprang up. His prized, sharp sword was utterly powerless before these seemingly insignificant metal wires!
"Your Excellency, this will not do!"

His squire, the seasoned Brent, rushed to his side, his face ashen beneath his helmet.

"This thing is too elastic; we can't cut it with a sword."

Just then, an even more shrill scream came from behind.

It was the Bagnians' flintlock muskets and those "tiger-squatting cannons" mounted on sandbags, like large muskets, that were firing.

Dense hail of lead bullets and smaller shrapnel rained down on the knights and squires who were trying to get close to the obstacle and find a way in. The unarmored squire cavalry and their horses fell like wheat, especially the knights who dismounted and tried to slash with their swords, who became perfect targets.

Carlisle instinctively turned sideways and crouched down, several lead bullets landed on him, and then he shuddered a few times.

Seeing these iron lumps remain motionless amidst the hail of bullets, the musketeers of the Highland Regiment, fifty meters away, began to regret their decision... They shouldn't have thought the siege guns were too heavy and left the two matchlock muskets issued to their troops in the armory.

After weathering this barrage of attacks, the experienced baron immediately found a way to break through the barbed wire and barricades. Brent shouted at the last second to the squire cavalry waiting behind him.

"Hook and rope...yes, hook and rope. Take out your lassos and hooks, aim at the junction of the barbed wire and the chevaux-de-frise, lasso it, and pull back hard!"

Upon hearing the master's order, carrying lassos and hooks to deal with the enemy cavalry or the barricades, the attendant cavalry charged forward fearlessly, braving the falling comrades and the rain of lead bullets.

They rushed to a relatively close position and brandished ropes with iron hooks and lassos, throwing them forcefully at the menacing barbed wire and barricades.

During this process, many were shot and fell from their horses, but more attendant cavalrymen followed one after another, fearlessly carrying out orders.

The iron hooks, carrying ropes, traced arcs in the air; some missed their mark, while others were lucky enough to snag on gaps in the barbed wire or barricades.

"It's hooked... Pull, pull hard!"

Brent, with his sharp eyes, noticed several ropes taut and immediately turned around to yell at his subordinates.

Without hesitation, the cavalry attendants spurred their horses and turned them around, galloping wildly in the opposite direction from the camp.

They would use the immense strength of their warhorses to forcibly drag away the obstacles fixed to the ground!

"Hurricane, go up..."

Seeing this, Carlisle spurred his horse to a taut rope, grabbed it with his iron glove, turned the horse so its rump faced the ditch, and kicked its belly again.

"Hercules..."

The warhorse let out a labored neigh, its muscular hind legs sinking deep into the mud, and Carlisle tightened the rope in his hands even more.

The hooked barbed wire made a teeth-grinding "creak" sound as it was violently deformed by the immense force, causing the wooden stakes securing it to the ground to loosen.

During this process, the other knights also tried their best in their own way, either continuing to hack and slash, or directly reaching out with their gauntlet-clad hands to grab the barbed wire and pull it open with their own strength, creating a small gap that could allow a person to pass through.

The Bagnian musketeers behind the trench breastwork were already firing freely, unleashing a sustained barrage of fire.

"Cover us, crossbowmen! Musketeers, suppress the archers on the wall!"

Carlisle strained as he roared at the chaotic ranks behind him.

The mounted crossbowmen and arquebusiers of Leteria displayed astonishing courage and discipline at this moment.

Knowing that the actions of the squire cavalry were their only hope for victory, they abandoned their search for cover and charged directly to the front lines.

Then these mounted infantrymen reined in their horses in the open ground, dismounted, picked up their heavy crossbows or matchlock muskets with lit fuses, and launched a near-suicidal exchange of fire against the Bagnian musketeers and crouching gunners behind the breastwork, who were constantly spewing smoke and white plumes.

Crossbow bolts and lead bullets whistled towards the top of the wall, and occasionally a Bagnian musketeer fell with a scream, but the Leterian losses were far greater. The flintlock muskets had a much higher rate of fire and greater accuracy than their weapons, and the shrapnel from the tiger-squat cannons caused widespread damage.

The Retalia archers were exposed like targets on the plain, and men and horses alike were riddled with bullets and fell to the ground.

But they gritted their teeth, bled, and endured horrific casualties, still frantically loading and firing, just to buy even a second more for their comrades who were fighting against steel thorns.

After the archers and musketeers of Leteria paid an unimaginable price, the scales of victory finally tipped slightly.

One of the connection points finally couldn't withstand the combined pull of several warhorses. With the crisp sound of wooden stakes breaking and dirt flying everywhere, a large number of barbed wire fences wrapped around the fence were forcibly dragged off the ground, plowing a deep trench in the ground.

A twisted and bloody gap, large enough to accommodate several riders side by side, appeared starkly amidst the steel thorns.

Immediately afterward, under such barbaric and violent demolition methods, the second and third breaches in the three barbed wire fences were successively opened, and a gate to hell was opened at this moment.

"The breach has been opened, knights, charge!"

Carlisle raised his finely crafted greatsword, pointing it towards the suddenly open passage. His voice was hoarse with excitement and exhaustion. He saw the hope of victory. As long as he could break through the barricades and barbed wire, and smash through the breastwork, victory would belong to Reteria!

He and the remaining knights around him roared furiously, urging their wounded warhorses forward with unstoppable momentum, launching a desperate charge towards the newly opened breach. The victory seemed to be within reach; all they had to do was leap over this final chasm...

Then, these charging knights plunged headfirst into the second trench.

The Bagnians had cunningly laid out two trenches, one two meters wide in the open and the other only about one meter wide in a lower area behind.

In the open space between the two trenches, some soil was deliberately piled up to raise the ground, so that when the knights drove their horses across the first trench, they could not stop at all in the open space which was only 1.5 meters wide, and crashed headlong into the trench which was 1 meter wide but had iron spikes stuck at the bottom.

Both the heavily armored knights and their lightly armored squires let out desperate howls during this process.

(End of this chapter)