A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Observing those stationed at the rear, he precisely pinpointed their location on the military map.

He marked the map clearly and neatly, with the skill of an artist.

In other words, it was both aesthetically pleasing and easy to understand.

Encrid had just summed it up based on that information.

Some cavalry held back, a detachment that looked fierce, numbering around a company, and finally, five cloaked figures.

The fact that only five stood out to Jaxon meant they were not ordinary individuals.

Sixth sense and intuition.

It was purely a hunch, but it was what Jaxon reported. Encrid did not dismiss it.

“What do you think?” n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Encrid, arms crossed, asked Jaxon, who had just returned.

Jaxon was brushing dust off his armor.

The dust scattered in the air and fell to the ground.

It was still hot. The season for coolness was far off, but Jaxon was not sweating profusely.

Was it such an easy task, or was he just acting relaxed? Encrid pondered while waiting for an answer.

“I think they’re wizards.”

Five wizards.

The number Martai prepared was indeed formidable.

What is the best move from here? Encrid berated Krais.

“So, what do you think we should do next?”

He asked confidently despite not knowing. When in doubt, he grilled his subordinates, as he had learned.

“Do you think we’ll lose if we go out and fight?”

Big Eyes asked in return.

Encrid assessed the enemy’s level, what he had learned, and the strength of his own forces.

He didn’t think they would lose.

Moreover, hadn’t they even put on a sort of play to avoid showing their full strength to the enemy?

Audin hadn’t fought properly, and Encrid hadn’t bothered to turn a ‘Tap’ into a ‘Knock’.

“The plan from the start was to think about an all-out battle. If we engage in street fighting inside the walls, the damage will be beyond ridiculous.” �

Krais’s eyes sparkled. Encrid understood and moved. The decision was the Battalion Commander’s to make. The need for an all-out battle was solely their judgment.

Publicly, it would mean having to open the gates and face the enemy with unfavorable forces.

“I’m going to report.”

Encrid immediately walked briskly to the command post and spoke to Marcus.

“This will be fun. Fiancée.”

The Fairy Company Commander, listening beside him, called out whimsically. Oddly enough, no one corrected her.

Everyone seemed accustomed to it, letting it slide.

The same with the First Company Commander, the other commanders, and even the Battalion Commander’s adjutant, who was also a scribe, might jot down the word ‘Fiancée’. It was a fleeting thought.

Everyone ignored it.

More important words were being exchanged than the bizarre title.

“We will control the detached unit kept at the back.”

The Border Guard Unit Commander was the first to step up, quite actively.

Needless to say, Marcus smiled broadly and gave the order.

“Open the gate.”

Watching the Battalion Commander, Encrid couldn’t help but wonder.

From Encrid’s perspective, it was a very natural question.

No matter how much faith one has, isn’t this a bit excessive?

“Generally speaking, this seems like a suicide mission, don’t you think?”

The difference in power was clear. Engaging such an opponent in a chaotic battle was madness. Usually, that’s the case. Considering strategy and tactics, a commander who dared to execute such a strategy would be called an idiot.

Marcus looked directly at Encrid after hearing that.

Then he asked, “Do you think so?”

Encrid shook his head in response to the question instead of answering.

“No, I don’t.”

Why wouldn’t he?

With Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon.

Even if the enemy had more numbers, Encrid wasn’t afraid.

It was more comfortable to have a clear battlefield than to drag the fight into urban combat.

Well, urban combat wouldn’t be uncomfortable either.

Above all,

‘I don’t think we will lose.’

Such thoughts came first and foremost.

Encrid knew how to compare forces and read the course of the battle. It was only natural.

If he couldn’t even do that, he wouldn’t have survived until now.

“They stayed even after we revealed our name and told them to retreat. Now it’s time to show them.”

Marcus said with a gentle smile. It seemed he found it very impressive how Encrid had repeatedly revealed his name.

Encrid nodded.

“I will take the lead.”

A place he had always dreamed of, the front line of the battlefield.

Now he could stand there.

No one could stop Encrid.

Encrid, holding his sword, stepped forward from the very front of the open gate.

The allied forces might have shown signs of anxiety.

“They say the Troublemaker is going out first?”

“Then it’s fine.”

No one showed any anxiety. They charged in without properly seeing.

If the enemies had faced them on the battlefield, they should have adjusted their strategy just by knowing that the Madmen Platoon was present.

But Martai’s forces were calm. Their reaction was absurd, as if to say, “Show us some tricks, if you can.”

What can they say, it was thanks to Marcus’s excellent deception.

At least Krais saw this as a victory of politics.

Or a victory of cunning.

Spreading the feats of their forces, especially the Madmen Platoon’s, in an exaggerated or understated way was effective.

Anyway, victory was important, whether it was political or cunning.

“Why didn’t we start with an all-out battle? I almost died of boredom waiting.”

Rem asked as he moved forward. Krais reflected on what to say.

Breaking the siege engines was unexpected, but messing with the supply lines and fighting later had a reason.

Why?

‘Because it has to end in one go.’

If the fight drags on, the side with fewer numbers is at a disadvantage.

Moreover, the enemy had the support of nearby noble forces, while they had burned down a branch of the Black Blade Bandits.

Who knows what kind of tricks the Black Blade might pull? Plus, recently, they had beaten up members of the Sacred Cult of Demon Realm.

In other words, they had slapped the faces of those who were already not on good terms with them, one after another, and quite hard.

So, there was no benefit in prolonging the fight. The longer the battle, the more weaknesses would be exposed.

Krais had envisioned this from the beginning.

Ending everything with one fight.

For that, the enemy’s nerves had to be entirely focused on them. They had to be irritated. They had to lash out in anger.

It was a strategy close to psychological warfare.

“Just because…”

Krais didn’t bother explaining to Rem. While Encrid would understand with just a few words, explaining to Rem would take too long. Sometimes, it’s best to keep words to a minimum when necessary.

‘That’s me.’

Krais muttered to himself.

Above all, it wouldn’t change anything even if Rem knew.

“Damn.”

Rem chuckled and stepped forward. Even though he realized why Big Eyes was being terse, he wasn’t annoyed. The only thing that mattered was that it was time to swing his axe.

Krais trusted his troops. He believed that their combined strength would become something overwhelming.

‘Right?’

Still, a slight sense of unease crept in. It was inevitable. It was part of his nature.

Marcus felt the same way.

He too, armed and standing with the infantry, was present. As a commander, he had his escort and positioned himself in the rear, but the fact remained that he was with the infantry.

Marcus surveyed the battlefield with the eyes of a commander.

Encrid’s actions at the forefront would decide a great deal in this battle.

It was a fact he felt both mentally and physically.

‘It’s thrilling.’

But what could be done? This was the best option.

“I’m nervous.”

Marcus was startled, thinking his adjutant had read his thoughts.

Still, he didn’t show it outwardly. Instead, he responded with apparent ease.

“Are you?”

“Will it be alright?”

“Of course.”

He replied confidently. A commander must always be self-assured.

Marcus saw the main enemy force aligning and advancing.

“Forward!”

At the call of the one at the front, the vanguard moved in unison. After taking one step forward.

“Ha!”

Their collective shout resonated, causing the air to tremble. It seemed as if the dust was being pushed toward them.

Discipline was evident. The rigor of trained soldiers pricked and stirred the soldiers’ minds. It was the power of well-trained troops.

But the Border Guard Reserve Unit was not to be underestimated.

They were veteran warriors who had survived fighting in mountains, waters, against monsters, and even against the Aspen forces.

Marcus didn’t need to step forward.

“Advance!”

It was the commander of the 3rd Company. Was he chosen for his loud voice? Not really, but his voice seemed to reach the entire army.

“Forward!”

At his crisp command, the main force also took a step forward.

Snap.

“Hah!”

In the same manner, they raised their morale. Separately, Encrid and the Madmen Platoon were advancing.

They could see each other walking through the gap between the two armies.

Now, the moment promised chaos after the charge.

A commotion arose at the front of the enemy lines.

Specifically, something was rushing into the space between the two confronting armies.

It was an unexpected timing, an artful tactical move.

A strike initiated while both armies were watching each other.

Of course, Encrid’s group was also using the standoff to move forward.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The ground began to tremble. The earth quivered with the vibrations, revealing those charging at the epicenter of the sound.

It was a light cavalry unit with reinforced iron plates on the horses’ heads and shoulders.

The enemy’s lances were the first to stir up dust.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The sound of the galloping horses reached the ears of the allied forces. Marcus heard it too. Naturally, Encrid and his followers heard it as well.

If they targeted the main force, the damage would be severe, and they would start off losing.

At the forefront of the cavalry was a commander without an emblem.

Marcus had, of course, kept the position of the cavalry in mind, constantly moving scouts to check on them.

But the cavalry emerged from the opposite direction.

So, these were the ones shown on the strategic map reported by the Madmen Platoon.

They were one of the hidden daggers the enemy had kept.

That dagger was now charging toward the allied main force, with the Madmen Platoon in the middle of its path.

“We’ll get trampled to death!”

The adjutant shouted.

Marcus thought that this guy was always saying what he himself wanted to say first. Although he would only say it internally.

A commander must not create anxiety among his troops.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The speed of the charging cavalry was terrifying. Infantry in front of a galloping cavalry were like rotten branches, they would be shattered, crushed, and broken.

Marcus trusted Encrid. He believed in the strength of that unit.

But against cavalry? Could they handle those coming at full speed?

It was an unexpected strike.

The Martai bastards had used their trump card from the start.

They were completely caught off guard.

* * *

The Commander of the Viscount’s Army of Bentra declared he would lead the charge himself. Although Greg protested, it was of no use.

“Breaking the enemy’s morale and crushing their spirit from the start is fundamental in warfare.”

This was the strategy of one leading a noble’s cavalry, not just a city’s strategy.

There was a difference from a rural Infantry Commander.

Even Greg had to admit.

The commander’s approach was more efficient, effective, and lethal.

Thus, the commander of the Viscount’s Army of Bentra led his cavalry out.

Fifty elite cavalrymen.

Although they were not specialized for charging, they were still cavalry.

Normally, they used strategies to chip away at the enemy’s flanks, but today they faced infantry.

Charging head-on would still give them the advantage. That’s the nature of a cavalry versus infantry battle. To counter their spears, the enemy would have to use long weapons too, leading to a one-sided engagement.

“We’re going to sweep away these arrogant Border Guard hillbillies. Any objections?”

At the commander’s words, the fifty cavalrymen shouted in unison.

“No, sir!”

“Let’s go.”

With a snort, they calculated the distance for the charge and surged forward. Was it a difficult task?

No.

As he prepared the horses and rode out, the commander thought.

‘Foolish bastards.’

Was it when they went to support a pioneer village?

‘Encrid’s wall? Nonsense.’

He had resolved then that if he ever met this boastful guy, he would crush him. Initially, he had only planned to cut out half of his tongue, but now it looked like he would have to cut off his head instead.

Their cavalry had light armor, the riders avoided heavy armor, and their preferred weapon was the glaive. They were known as the cavalry that wielded long spears.

They connected the spear handles to their sides and saddles, slicing through infantry as they passed. The speed of the cavalry added to the cutting power, making it a fearsome strike.

This was their specialty. Running and cutting everything in their path.

Ahead of them, fewer than ten infantrymen stood as appetizers.

Their primary target was the enemy’s main force.

They would cut through the front ranks spectacularly.

The commander was filled with excitement. Euphoria followed. They were on horseback, the enemy on foot.

It was a relative advantage. Charging into a battlefield with victory assured, how could one not be excited?

With boiling blood and a pounding heart, the commander shouted.

“To hell with the wall!”

It was the cry from the depths of his heart.

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