B2 Chapter 36: No Mercy for the Brave

“Fall back!”

Quintus shouted the order reflexively, sending his group sprinting away from the cavalry charge. Yet they barely made it a few steps before he realized that retreat wasn’t going to work.

For one, his hostages had suddenly decided to cease cooperating. The young girl was easy enough to manage, but the baroness? She’d dug in her heels and squirming about, giving the man holding her as much trouble as humanly possible as he tried to carry her away. Their improved stats meant that it still wasn’t difficult for him to toss her over his shoulder like a sack of wiggly potatoes, but still. It did slow them down.

Quintus swore under his breath. As fast as they were, they were still trying to outrun horses. Horses that, by the looks of it, also benefited from some sort of stat or skill effects that made them even faster than the animals he was used to. Even keeping ahead for a short distance would have proven difficult.

A wave of arrows arced high into the air, landing between Quintus’s group and safety. The archers didn’t dare target him directly, not with his prisoners. But they did hinder the reinforcements advancing to support him and his men. The Legionnaires rushing forward from camp were forced to proceed carefully with shields above their heads, maintaining a tight formation to protect themselves.

He made a decision. Retreating outright would see them all run down in moments. But staying here would leave them vulnerable.

“Flavius, Septimus, take the prisoners. Go!” Quintus called, imbuing the order with as much authority as he could muster. The Legionnaires didn’t hesitate, taking their charges and rushing back toward the camp. Meanwhile, Quintus spun to face the incoming threat with his shield raised.

Facing the column of horses, he saw that they ran six abreast and three deep, eighteen in total. Each bearing an armored warrior similar to the suit of armor he had fought a couple days ago. Only somehow he could tell there were people inside these. The horses must have been strong to carry each man encased from head to toe in steel. Only a narrow slit in their helmets allowed them to see at all.

“Charge!” Quinuts roared the order with his sword held high as he swept it down to point at the rapidly approaching horses.

Qintus braced himself, gritting his teeth. He needed to buy time, if they all ran they wouldn’t make it. He also couldn’t ask the others to stay as they were encumbered by the captives. He wasn’t going to ask the men to fight where he would not. He was a centurion, not some wimpy officer. But Quintus held no illusions. He wouldn’t be enough to do it on his own.

He felt the ground rise up to brace against his feet and heard the rapid footfalls of the two retreating men. The horsemen leveled their lances at the Legionnaire as they closed the distance. Their tips began to glow, the light intensifying with every hoofbeat.

The sight further convinced Quintus that this was going to hurt. If he had more men at his side, then perhaps a wall empowered by [Coordinated Bulwark] would withstand the incoming attack. But alone? No chance.

Then again, he wasn't alone.

As he stared down the narrow points of death that sought to punch through him and his shield, a whizzing crack sounded above his head. A muffled thump sounded ahead of him as something struck a horse’s flank and embedded deep into it.

The horse whinnied and reared, breaking its gallop and sending its rider scrambling to hold on. Several horses behind it staggered and struggled to avoid the sudden obstacle, breaking the coordinated charge and causing the glow of the lances to flicker.

Another whizzing sound cut through the din. Then another. Soon the air was filled with sling stones, the small projectiles peppering the charging cavalry and sowing chaos in their ranks.

Quintus didn't look back to see where the archers were. If he had to guess, they likely weren't in position yet, or the cavalry was outside of their effective range. Either way, it didn't matter. He had more confidence in the Legionnaires’ accuracy than that of the fresh conscripts.

The hail of stones continued to shoot forth. Many struck the men themselves, the stones denting or merely bouncing off their thick armor. But the meaty thunks of stone on horseflesh proved far more effective. The mounts reared in pain or sent their riders rolling off. A few were even disabled entirely as a lucky projectile snapped a leg clean in half.

It didn't break the horses' momentum entirely, but it didn't need to.

The remaining horses drew nearer, persevering through the sling assault. He hunkered down, backing up bit by bit to maintain a bit more distance between him and the enemy. That was when the next wave of projectiles began to land.

A spear landed in the middle of the horses and exploded. The blast sent the already injured and panicked horses into disarray. At this point, their formation was a mess. The orderly column had been reduced to a scattering of troops as the riders were forced to spread out and evade even more exploding spears. Previously unseated warriors were flung about by the blasts.

The explosions and falls didn’t seem to kill the men. However, their mounts were another matter. Fallen horses tripped up those behind them, scattering the charge even further.

Despite everything, a handful of horses still continued forward. The two with the fanciest armor were bearing down on Quintus, their two steeds shimmering with a golden glow that seemed to rebuff the sling stones that hurtled toward them.

Only two. Far more manageable than before.

Right before they trampled over him, Quintus stepped aside, using the edge of his shield to redirect the lance to the side. At the same time, he ducked down, using his sword to hack through one of the horse's legs as it passed by.

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The [Heavy Blow]

shattered the golden glow in an instant. The horse screamed and fell, carving a furrow in the ground as skidded to a halt. The rider went down with it. Quintus turned toward the still-advancing horses, his hand going for one of the throwing spears slung across his back, only to be struck by an errant hoof from the still-thrashing beast.

Quintus flew back as the kick sent him sprawling. It took a few precious moments for the air to return to his lungs, then he forced himself to roll to his feet. His ribs ached, but his legs still moved and he could breathe. That meant he had no excuse to rest.

As he surveyed the area, he spotted the other armored figure. The ornately-armored man wheeled about on his still-glowing horse to avoid another volley of spears and stones, his attention still toward the retreating figures of the baroness and her daughter. Quintus took advantage and interposed himself between them, raising his shield once more.

The horseman charged with a roar. His lance stabbed into Quintus's shield, the sharp point piercing through even without the momentum of a full charge. Quintus twisted his arm enough to pull the trapped lance to the side before the man could retract it, ripping the shaft from his hands.

A flurry of stones and spears struck the horse. The fact that it didn't rear at the assault was a testament to its training and quality. However, the beast wasn't invincible.

The sheer volume of attacks caused the strange golden shield to shatter. It stumbled and fell as spears and stones perforated its sides, casting its rider to the ground in a heap.

The warrior wasted no time in getting to his feet, yet his armor slowed him down. Quintus rushed forward and drew his sword to take advantage. He kicked the encumbered man in the shoulder before he could rise from one knee, knocking him over.

[Battlefield Intuition] screamed at him. Whirling in place, Quintus raised his blade just in time to block an overhead chop from the second warrior. Quintus sidestepped as he heard the shrill scream of a woman in the distance.

“Klein!”

It took a second for the shriek to register. But Quintus recognised the name. The baron wouldn’t have been dumb enough to come here himself would he?

“Don't you dare hurt him, you monster!” The baroness threated him, Quinuts wasn’t sure how to take that other than with wry amusement.

The Primus Pilus glanced at the man rising to his feet. He must be the baron. That certainly explained the armor. The other man was likely his second-in-command, then.

Quintus backed up to bring both men into his field of view. He left an intentional opening to his left, goading the baron into making a run for his wife. It would be simple enough to strike the heavily-armored nobleman down from behind, should he choose to try it.

Unfortunately, he didn’t take the bait. The deep scowl on his face indicated that he knew exactly what Quintus was planning.

Suddenly, the baron blurred. He darted forward, a rapier appearing in his hand. The suddenness of the movement caught Quintus off-guard and he barely managed to deflect the blow from taking him in the neck. Instead, the blade penetrated deep into his left shoulder where the splintered remains of his shield no longer covered him.

Quintus was surprised with the skill and speed of the blow, but he still managed to step forward into the blow, using one hand to reach behind the man's helmet.

The man might have done well in a duel. Or maybe from horse back. But down on the battlefield, where the real men fought, he was woefully unprepared. The armor would likely do well when fighting other armored opponents. But in this case, it provided an opportunity for Quintus. If he had been wearing a clumsy gauntlet like the baron was, this trick might not have worked.

With movement like a striking snake, he grabbed the back of helmet, wedging his fingers in the narrow gap between helmet and armor and pulled. The motion forced the baron’s chin into his chest. Quintus took advantage of the opening to overbalance him.

Rather than stumble, however, the baron proved surprisingly nimble. The man rolled forward, nearly pulling Quintus off his feet with the motion. He tried to throw the armored man off-balance with a final wrench of his hand but only succeeded in getting his fingers pinched in between the metal protrusions. He felt at least one break with the motion.

Once again, Quintus was forced to react to avoid a blow from the second man. He dove forward and onto the baron's back. Both men went to the ground in a tangle. In one fluid motion, Quintus dropped his sword and drew the pugio from his waist, stabbing the short blade down at the metal plates. The pugio skidded off and slipped up towards the man's helmet.

Quintus felt the blade halt as it encountered resistance. The baron struggled to regain his feet, but the centurion used his weight and momentum to pin the man's sword arm against his body and keep him from getting leverage.

The baron's gauntleted fist smashed awkwardly into the side of Quintus's face. There was little force behind the blow, but the hardened knuckles left bloody gouges across his cheek. Quintus wrenched his left hand away from wrestling the man and slammed down on the pommel of the dagger before the baron could react.

He felt something give. The pugio pierced through some sort of chainmail below the nobleman’s armor and slid into the soft flesh below. The baron struggles wildly as Quintus hit it one more time for good measure, driving the blade all the way through the base of his skull with a crack.

The body of the baron went limp beneath him.

Quintus drew his dagger back out. Its blade had shattered and folded from the strain of forcing its way through the ringed mail, leaving him with a jagged stump of metal. His hand screamed in agony as his broken finger reasserted its presence.

He pushed himself to his feet, quickly scanning the area for other threats. But he needn't have worried. The contingent of reinforcements had finally managed to pick their way to his position. He looked over just in time to see three of them finish the second armored warrior off.

Quintus took a step, wobbling as the world spun around him. His head still rang and fresh blood dripped from his face and one arm. The fight had left him in worse shape than he'd realized, though it was nothing compared to his wounds from the previous day. Maybe the availability of healing magic was making him get a bit too reckless.

His attention returned to the battlefield beyond. Several of the horses had regained their feet, and a couple of their riders had managed to find their saddles as well. Those that could had begun to flee, racing back towards the open gate. Even a few of the heavily armored figures had followed suit, albeit at a much slower pace.

Quintus watched as the gap between the Legion and their quarry shrank. Now that they were on the offensive, the men could once more take advantage of [Warpath] and its speed boost.

Waves of arrows fired from atop the wall tried to cover the mens’ retreat. But the Legion were ready. Shields sprang up to cover them as sling stones whizzed toward the exposed archers, forcing them to duck down or be brained with the small projectiles. The arrow fire thinned enough to speed up their advance.

Still, the race looked as though it would be closer than expected. While the six or so armored men on foot were already falling behind, the riders mustered up one last burst of speed to carry them through the city gates. Just as they crossed the threshold, the portcullis slammed down with a clanging finality that rang across the battlefield.

The men, seeing that they had been cut off from escape, turned to face the massing Legion. Six spots of lone resistance against the tide of Romans.