Chapter 66: Retreat
Roland’s orders were brief and cold, like a sword drawn from its sheath.
“First and Second Companies, shields up, advance!”
“Third Company, spears, ready!”
“Fourth and Fifth Companies, archers and crossbowmen, free fire! Cover the flanks!”
“For the lord!”
“ROAR!”
The five hundred Black Dragon Guards roared in unison, and that perfectly synchronized wave of sound instantly drowned out the undead’s chaotic shrieking.
Unlike the madness of those wild dogs in Black Dragon’s Wing, this force, personally drilled by Roland himself, moved like a perfectly oiled war machine.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The first two companies—two hundred men—marched forward in perfect step and slammed their tower shields into the ground, forming an impenetrable wall of steel in an instant.
Every step they took seemed to make the earth tremble faintly.
That steady, ruthless, unstoppable momentum stood in stark contrast to the earlier frenzy of Black Dragon’s Wing. The difference was obvious at a glance.
WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH!
The undead arrow rain came again, but this time it did nothing more than strike the steel wall with a chorus of sharp metallic clangs, barely leaving so much as a proper scratch.
“Hold fast! Advance!”
Roland’s voice carried not a trace of emotion. He himself marched behind the shield wall, that massive two-handed greatsword resting on his shoulder, his eyes locked like an eagle’s on the blood-soaked breach.
The survivors of Black Dragon’s Wing came scrambling out of the gap in terror, and the moment they saw that moving steel wall, every one of them froze.
For the first time, they truly understood what a real army looked like.
Compared to this, their own so-called charge had been nothing more than a swarm of headless flies crashing around in a dung pit—laughable and pathetic.
One blood-soaked member of Black Dragon’s Wing was running too slowly. Just as the iron hook of an Abomination was about to sink into the middle of his back—
WHOOSH!
A crossbow bolt shot out through the gap in the shield wall with perfect precision and struck the wrist of the Abomination swinging the hook.
The sheer force of it actually made the monster’s motion falter.
“What are you standing there for? Get back here!”
A Black Dragon Guard soldier roared at the stunned survivor.
The man jolted as though waking from a dream, then scrambled and crawled through a gap in the shield wall, landing on the ground with a thud, gulping for air, his face full of the terror of a man who had barely escaped death.
The steel formation was like an unbreakable dike, holding the tide of undead firmly at bay while opening a path of life for the surviving members of Black Dragon’s Wing.
“Monsters… those things are monsters…”
One member of Black Dragon’s Wing with a severed arm sprawled on the ground, shrieking incoherently. His mind had clearly snapped completely.
More of the survivors simply sat there with numb expressions, their faces filled with lingering fear.
One hundred and fifty had set out.
Now, fewer than one in ten had managed to crawl back out through that breach.
At some point, Barrett had also made it back into the Black Dragon Guard formation.
“Withdraw!”
Roland seized the moment and issued another order.
“Front ranks to the rear! Alternate cover and fall back!”
The moment the command was given, the steel formation moved without the slightest confusion.
The archers and crossbowmen in the rear ranks kept firing, pinning down the Abominations, while the front shield wall contracted in orderly fashion.
The entire withdrawal flowed like water, without the slightest drag or disorder. It was the kind of maneuver one could have copied straight into a military textbook.
The Abominations were powerful, but slow. Faced with such steady tactics, all they could do was roar in impotent rage as they watched the meat already at their mouths slip away.
…
Before the crystal mirror, Augustus’s brows drew together ever so slightly.
The scene he had expected—Caesar’s army becoming entangled with the undead horde and then collapsing along the entire line—never happened.
The commander of that heavy infantry force had displayed a level of calm and professionalism far beyond his expectations.
A battle that should have been a slaughter had been turned, through sheer command, into a textbook rescue-and-withdrawal operation.
“My lord, they… withdrew?”
Kellan asked, sounding almost unable to believe it.
“Yes.”
Augustus’s expression was not particularly pleasant.
Caesar’s vanguard had indeed suffered grievous losses, nearly wiped out to the last man, but his main force had withdrawn almost untouched.
That was nothing like the ending Augustus had written in his own mind, where Caesar, desperate to salvage his dignity, threw in his main force recklessly and sank into the mire.
“Hmph. He only escaped because he ran fast.”
Augustus gave a cold snort and found the perfect explanation for Caesar’s “cowardice.”
“It seems he has finally recognized the gap between himself and the undead.”
“After taking losses this severe on the first attack, that young man has probably been scared out of his wits.”
“Next, he will either hide in his city and never dare come out again, or shamelessly crawl over to beg me for aid.”
Kellan nodded at once, fully convinced.
“My lord is wise! That Caesar is nothing but a paper tiger—one poke and he tears apart.”
“And that so-called Black Dragon’s Wing of his now looks like the greatest joke in the world!”
The confident smile returned to Augustus’s lips.
There had been some slight deviation in the process, but the ending was still the same.
Caesar had already lost.
He had lost his most “elite” force, and he had lost the first battle of his career as a lord.
From here on, the initiative would return to Augustus’s hands.
“Pass down the order. Have the scouts keep close watch on Caesar’s movements.”
“I want to see exactly how this young master of House Valerius plans to clean up this mess.”