Restart:Untalented Man



"Is that true?!" asked the Duke, his eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Yes, Your Grace," replied the messenger, trying his best to hold back a sense of excitement in his voice. "The Ryntum army has arrived and is currently engaged in the battle against the Blande forces. It seems they have come to our aid."

The Duke's face lit up with a broad smile. This was an opportunity to turn the tides in their favour. Without further ado, he quickly gathered his advisors and military commanders in the grand hall of his mansion to discuss the next course of action.

"Everyone," The duke addressed the gathered assembly with brimming enthusiasm in his voice. "Perhaps many of you already know about it but let me tell you one more time. The Ryntum army has come to our city and fought with Blande. We must seize this opportunity to strike a decisive blow against the Blande and free ourselves from this stalemate situation."

A murmur of agreement swept through the room as everyone exchanged glances. The significance of this exact moment is well understood.

"I want to hear suggestions from all of you." said the duke, giving the floor to his advisors. "Feel free to speak."

One advisor stepped forward, "Your Grace, I suggest we dispatch a contingent of our soldiers to the northeast gate, where the Ryntum forces are currently engaged. By reinforcing them, we can mount a coordinated assault and break through the enemy lines."

Another advisor offered a counterpoint, "But Your Grace, if we divert our troops and concentrate solely on the northwest gate, the remaining units of the Blande in south and west may exploit the opening and launch an attempt to scale the wall."

The duke nodded thoughtfully, weighing the options presented to him. After a moment of contemplation, Theodore finally speaks. "We should concentrate of troops on the unit in the west." he declared.

"Your Grace! Are we going to let Ryntum handle the northwest?"

"Yes, that's the plan." The duke nodded. "They are only three thousand Blande soldiers in the west. I believe we can defeat them easily and open up that route."

The advisors exchanged approving nods, agreeing with his decision. 

Preparations for the upcoming battle were set in motion. Orders were dispatched swiftly and troops were assembled. Armour was polished and weapons were sharpened.

To increase the success rate, more men were conscripted whether they like it or not. 

....

As the morning progressed, the sun continue to ascend higher in the sky. Its golden rays send heat across the battlefield. The soldiers perspired profusely. Their brows glistened with sweat as they fought with the enemy.

The battle rage on the northeast side of the city. Ryntum, who has been on the attacking side begins to lose their momentum in the battle. The situation took a turn for the worse as Blande forces coming from the south launched a surprise attack. 

The south unit reinforced their comrades by striking the Ryntum army from the side. The unexpected assault threw the Ryntum soldiers into a momentary disarray which Kurt capitalize on.

"Hold the line! Protect our flanks! We cannot let them overrun us!" shouted Wilmot, half panicking. He thought Blande wouldn't dare to combine their forces since it would loosen their siege. Unfortunately, he was wrong. 

The Ryntum soldiers fought with fierce determination but even their more advanced weapons has its limitation. They couldn't keep up with the relentless assault from the front and left side. 

Wilmot looked up to the top of the city wall. The city garrison seems to notice their presence. "Since I accomplish my objective, I guess this is it for now..." he muttered.

"Retreat! Fall back to the campground! We need to reorganize ourselves!" bellowed Wilmot, his voice strained but commanding. The order was quickly relayed, and the Ryntum soldiers began their strategic withdrawal again.

But unlike before, the Blande sensing an opportunity, pressed their advantage.

Kurt issued orders to his troops, urging them to pursue the retreating enemy. "Don't give them time to reload that damn thing! Kill as many enemies as you can and take their weapons!" 

The clash between the two armies intensified as the Blande soldiers closed in on the Ryntum forces. Blades tore Ryntum's uniform from behind, inflicting a fatal wound.

At the same time, the thunderous sounds of fire were heard as a portion of Ryntum soldiers manage to fire the bullet. 

As the Ryntum forces found themselves pushed back, their retreat became more desperate. Wilmot, realizing the precariousness of their situation, strained his voice and issues another order. "Cavalry! Buy us some time!"

His voice carried across the chaos of the battlefield, reaching the ears of the cavalry units positioned at the rear. Without hesitation, the cavalry units, mounted on their sturdy steeds, charged towards the advancing Blande army.

With thundering hooves and the glint of steel, the cavalry riders stormed into the chaotic battlefield. They move with great speed and agility, manoeuvring through the sea of people to intercept the oncoming enemy.

The clashing of weapons and the cries of combat echoed through the air as the cavalry clashed with the Blande soldiers. They fend off any attempt of advancing from Blande, keeping them in check the entire time. 

The cavalry's charge disrupted the Blande advance, causing confusion and disarray. They become a barrier that momentarily halts Blande's momentum.

The swift and relentless strikes of the mounted soldiers pushed the enemy back, buying the retreating Ryntum forces the precious time they needed to regroup.

While the cavalry kept the enemy at bay, Wilmot seized the opportunity to rally his troops and organize an orderly retreat. "Quick! We can't rely on the cavalry for long."

On the other hand, Kurt observed the relentless onslaught of the Blande forces. He realized Blande no longer benefitted in the current situation.

His limited manpower restrain him from engaging in anything recklessly. With a heavy heart, he reluctantly made a decision to halt his soldiers from pursuing the retreating enemy.