I built a manor in the Middle Ages

Chapter 210 Showdown!

"What? That incompetent guy Pons has issued another challenge?"

Berg, with his legs propped up on a cashmere-cushioned chair, sipped a glass of wine he had bought from Burgundy from a silver goblet. Hearing his entourage's words, he sneered:
"Since this old guy is so eager to send me the ransom, I'll certainly grant his wish!"

"Sir, do you think he might have received help from Viscount Moore?"

The squire, dressed in padded leather armor, spoke tentatively. They had been in contact with Old Pons for many years and knew that he was a devout and slow-moving man who was neither good at nor fond of war. He had already reached his limit by fighting two wars for the quarry. Why was he so eager to make a comeback after only half a month?
"No, Viscount Moore is currently at war with Count Auvergne and has no energy to govern this place." Berg frowned slightly, thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

Old Pons was able to keep the quarry for so many years not because he was so powerful, but because he had the protection of Viscount Moore.

"He probably borrowed a large sum of money from Jewish merchants and hired more soldiers. Or maybe that foolish old man heard some rumors again and thinks he's been blessed by God once more."

Berg scoffed. He had always looked down on old Pons's behavior. After all, could a normal person kiss the cross instead of collecting bridge tolls?

"No matter what, we can't let our guard down. We must gather all the knights together!"

"The master just dismissed the group, and now they might have some complaints about assembling them again."

"Does anyone have a problem with Finney?"

Berg laughed and downed the wine in one gulp. Since acquiring the quarry, he had doubled the price compared to Pons, and in just three years his pockets had swelled to over four thousand pfennigs. This silver goblet was specially purchased from Paris to showcase his wealth.

I don't know if it's just my imagination, but I always get a headache after using it for a while.

"Tell them that if they win this battle again, I will reward them handsomely!"

“Moreover,” Berg said, pulling his legs back and standing up, “you’ve already prepared the declaration, haven’t you? Then this time, perfect, we’ll just annex his territory!”

……

Luke donned his full armor and his still-shining robe. Byrne glanced at him but remained silent. However, the fat man beside him named Grimbald couldn't help but speak up:

"Hey, these are truly beautiful and elegant clothes, sir! I think we should get one of these too!"

"It would be more worthwhile to use that money to buy a delicious sausage to shut you up."

Byrne's words made the fat man scratch the back of his head.

"Sir Luke, my mission is to stay close to you, isn't it?"

Luc was inspecting the weapons when he heard Byrne's words and agreed, "That's right. Since I hired you instead of Baron Pons, you just need to follow me."

“No problem.” Byrne nodded; he had been speaking very little.

As a mercenary, making money for whomever you work is still making money.

After confirming that everything was alright, Luc took his Andalusian horse, covered his face with a linen cloth, and then led his troops to join Pons.

With only forty-odd peasant soldiers remaining behind Pons, Hans and others mingled among them, pushing the catapults and slowly making their way to the plains.

Before the group even reached their destination, a row of black dots appeared on the horizon.

"Damn it! It's those devils! They're back again!"

Having just suffered a crushing defeat, the peasant soldiers, despite the so-called God's blessing, still trembled with fear upon seeing the arrival of Berg's army, and some couldn't help but want to run away.

Snapped!
A crisp crack of a whip rang out, striking the peasant soldier. Ignoring his screams, Pons raised his longsword and shouted:
"God above! No one is allowed to back down, or I'll send him to meet Satan right now!"

"Sixty pfennigs will be awarded for each enemy killed!"

The attendants beside him responded to Pons's words by tapping their shields with axes, and only the combination of severe punishment and great reward was enough to stop the restless peasant soldiers.

"Sir Luke, quickly bring the catapult over here!"

Pons' droopy eyelids slowly opened. Looking at his equally uncertain opponent, Luke reined in his horse and stared seriously at the Berg army slowly forming their ranks, saying, "It's not the right time yet. We're too far away to reach them."

The catapult was covered by a pile of thatch, obscuring its appearance. If it were equipped with ox tendons, its range would be at least two hundred meters, but unfortunately, it was a hastily made, poorly constructed piece.

Luke's expression was solemn; any seasoned veteran would remain vigilant when facing a new war.

"Okay, whatever you say." Pons rubbed his face.

“Their spearmen are well-trained. If you want to emulate Berg’s flanking maneuver, I think you need to be careful.”

At that moment, Byrne approached Luc on his Saxon pony.

“They have at least five archers and catapults. We can take advantage of the chaos in their ranks to rush in and kill them. Once we lose the ranged threat, we can slowly wear down their infantry. However, the real problem is their four heavy cavalry and four squires.”

Byrne stretched out his arm and pointed up and down, his Latin, tinged with a slight Old Highland accent, was a bit of a mouthful.

"You understand tactics?"

“I know a little, but it’s a pity that Baron Pons doesn’t trust me, otherwise we might not have lost the last battle.” Byrne rarely showed a proud expression, seemingly very confident in his military abilities.

"The cavalry is indeed a problem."

Luc looked around and fixed his gaze on Byrne's squire. "Don't ride this blue mule anymore. Stay and be an infantryman. I'll give you the heavy crossbow. Remember, your task is to protect the catapults."

Luke brought out one light crossbow and one heavy crossbow, giving the remaining one to Ryan for self-defense. The fat squire glanced at Byrne, and seeing him nod, he nimbly dismounted from the mule, took the heavy crossbow, examined it from left to right, and said with shining eyes, "This is much better than the Saxon crossbow."

Once the fat man and Miller were standing together, Berg's army had also formed their battle lines. On Luc's advice, old Pons did not launch an attack. "Interesting, old Pons has actually learned his lesson."

Berg looked at Pons and his men a few hundred paces away. His army was more than twice the size of the enemy's, and he felt very confident.

"I wondered how he dared to start another war; it turns out he had recruited two more riders."

Because the catapult was covered, he didn't notice anything amiss and instead focused his attention on the masked Luke and his men.

It was just two more cavalrymen; Berg was not afraid.

This time he came with the intention of annexing territory, promising his soldiers that they could plunder freely after victory, so the soldiers were very motivated.

He arranged his most elite private spearmen in the front row, followed by well-equipped free peasants and some experienced peasant soldiers, with archers at the very end.

Then the cavalry were gathered together, and as the horns sounded, the crooked but still fairly orderly square formation began to advance steadily.

"Two hundred steps"

One hundred and eighty steps

Luke narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the enemy formation, until they were within firing range, then suddenly turned and roared, "Catapults!"

"Catapult!!"

Pons clenched his fists as well, and upon hearing Luke's words, he vigorously swung his longsword.

Miller, who had been preparing for a long time, ripped off the thatched quilt. Hans grabbed the rope chain and roared as he pulled it backward. The heavy launching arm was bent by Hans, who was like an animal, in a few steps. It was filled with pebbles from the sack. With the fat man's tap, countless black dots exploded in the sky.

"What the hell?! What is that thing?!"

Berg's horrified gaze peeked out from his nasal helmet. Before anyone could respond, he could already see the increasingly clear rubble in the air.

The projectiles rained down on the Belger army. A peasant soldier with a bald head was struck on the forehead by a hard stone, which instantly tore off a piece of flesh still covered in hair. He collapsed to the ground before he could even scream. Another unfortunate private soldier wearing a dented helmet was stabbed in the eye. His blue eyeball burst open and shattered into pieces, which flowed down his face with blood.

"Ah! My eyes! My eyes!!"

The desperate cries of the soldiers filled the battlefield. The others looked at the man who had lost his armor and was rolling around in disarray.

"Release it again!!"

Hu~hu~
The projectile arm cuts through the wind, rising and falling.

Looking at the army ranks that were being smashed and howling like wolves, old Pons couldn't help but burst into hearty laughter:

"Hahaha, taste the punishment from God!"

The catapults weren't very accurate, but with an enemy force of over a hundred men, as long as you aimed correctly, you could hit a few unlucky guys with any of the catapults.

"Damn it! Come with me and destroy that catapult!"

"Archers, provide cover fire!"

Berg's eyes blazed with fury. He never expected that old Pons had managed to acquire a catapult. Seeing that the morale of his own troops had been severely damaged, he immediately urged his cavalry to prepare for a surprise attack.

"coming!"

Luc straightened his back and, seeing Berg and the others move out, shouted to old Pons, "Baron, you block Berg!"

"George, Byrne, come with me!"

Berg launched a surprise attack on the catapults, giving him the perfect opportunity to strike the enemy lines!

Squeezing his flanks, Luke took the lead, with George Byrne close behind.

All three were skilled horsemen. With Luke at the center, they formed a wedge shape, bypassing Berg's advance route and disappearing into the nearby woods, preparing to launch a surprise attack on the enemy formation from the other side.

"Jesus Christ God bless you! Charge with me!"

Understanding the importance of the catapult, old Pons brandished his knight's sword and, with three knights and his private soldiers, charged head-on into Berg's cavalry.

The other peasant soldiers were in a chaotic state, some running forward with pitchforks, sticks, and flails in hand, while others dropped their weapons and turned to flee.

Hans and his men ignored the warning and continued operating the catapults.

"Split into two teams! John, you go and destroy the catapults!"

Berg gritted his teeth and ordered his most capable knight to lead two riders to continue the raid on Hans and his men. He then watched as the old man's aging body drew ever closer and cursed, "Old, incompetent Pons, let's see whose sword is sharper!"

From an aerial view, Luke and the Knight John would appear to be drawing circles from opposite directions, each charging into the other's camp.

Grimbald remained unmoved as he watched the riders rushing towards him. Instead, he silently picked up the heavy crossbow from his feet, loaded the triangular bolt, pressed it against his shoulder, and pulled the trigger sharply.

"Go see God!"

Sunlight pierced through the cold crossbow bolt, piercing the rider's leather armor as if it were made of paper, causing him to fall from his horse and die instantly!

The fat man laughed loudly, "It's definitely better than the Saxon crossbow!"

(End of this chapter)