Herald of Steel



Faruq could do nothing but stand like a wooden block as he witnessed with muted shock his army dissolve right in front of him.

"Greed! The gods are punishing me for my greed!" He lamented in a low, silenced breath.

He said this because he realized that if he had committed his reserves to strengthening the sector where he was being attacked, instead of trying to win, then though he might not have won, he would not have lost either.

For by the time Alexander would have finished chewing through the large contingent of men there, dusk would have already descended and the battle would have had to stop.

In fact, if Faruq had been able to hold on just for another hour, Alexander's men would have been simply too tired to fight even if a huge opportunity presented to themselves.

But there were no 'buts and if' in life.

Faruq was certainly enticed by Sunash, but ultimately it was him that made his own choice.

So, he had no option but to accept the result, no matter how mortifying it might be.

While one side drowned itself in sadness and regret, the other side was dousing itself with happiness, elation, relief, and all other kinds of emotion that produced dopamine.

"Over! Finally it's over, ahhhhhh," Grahtos simply slumped over his horse in exhaustion after releasing a cry of exhaustion, feeling like he would not be able to feel a thing even if someone hacked at his body.

His muscles ached like never before and his eyes felt like they were being pulled downwards by elephants.

It simply took the man all his energy just to stay awake.

And such similar events replayed across the battle.

All the infantry sat on their butts before taking off their helmets to try and cool down, as they huffed and puffed with lethargy.

Many even laid straight down on the mud and closed their eyes, wanting to take a nap then there.

The infantry would scarcely believe that they had survived the battle from almost dawn to dusk.

It was a brutal fight no matter how one saw it.

And the 2nd legion was especially tired, as evidenced by how most of the men already drifting to sleep.

The situation on the flanks was also no different.

The ten thousand (10,000) crossbowmen had finally managed to survive the onslaught that lasted for 10 hours, a feat that even they themselves were having a hard time believing they had somehow managed to accomplish.

And as they rested their brushed plam, some even bleeding from them as they had overworked their hands when reloading the crossbow, they reminisced how there were many points along the battle that looked really dicey for them.

But the solid pavises and the range and accuracy of the huge crossbows proved to be the decisive factor, able to outrange and outperform their enemies while soaking all the damage thrown at them.

And the enemy did throw everything they had at them, as evidenced by how the two flanks were littered with broken bits of arrow shafts, iron heads, and lead and stone stones, while the pavises in the front line had to be challenged about every hour because they would become like tattered paper by then.

The crossbowmen deserved all rest they wanted because as green peasants, it was very impressive for them to withstand the withering arrow fire.

And it would not be controversial to say that though it was the infantry who ultimately routed the enemy, it was the crossbowmen who were the real MVP of the battle, as it was them who kept the Jahal mercenaries at bay, and enabled the infantry to do their job.

And lastly, there were the officers and higher-ups, all of whom had not fought in the frontlines with shields and swords per se, but almost all of whom had very broken and sore throats by this point.

Shouting commands, singing encouraging songs, and bolstering the men to fight on was no child's play.

Among them, the highest one, Alexander even had stinging pain in his thighs, as a spear thrust had accidentally managed to go throw all three layers of his armor to produce a wound.

It was a mild wound, nothing serious, but that did not mean it did not hurt, especially when he rode his horse as it caused his thighs to move about.

But for now that little bit of pain was drowned out the relief he was feeling.

The battle was closer than he would have liked, but nevertheless, he did it.

At last he did it.

He won.

And thus he managed to save all those he loved and cared about.

And to reinforce this fact Alexander stared almost blankly at the field in front of him, where the enemy soldiers were running away like headless chickens, while the biggest threat on the battlefield, the Jahal mercenaries stood in the middle of the field, begrudgingly staring at the army with hate-filled malice.

To think one day they would be defeated by an outnumbered foe in a straight-up open battle.

And they even lost their leader in the process.

It was a humiliating fiasco for them.

"Master, the enemy is weak and has his guard down. Give us the order to attack!" Sunash suddenly urged Faruq in a boisterous voice, the zeal and desire to battle in his tone palpable.

To an outsider, it might seem the Jahal mercenaries were fresh as daisies, ready to fight for another 10 hours if need be.

Whereas the reality was the exact opposite.

They were just as exhausted as all the other men, with most being barely able to hold onto their camel's harness.

They had no energy to shoot arrows.

Not that they had much left anyway, as only they had shot around 3 million of the wooden thing with a metal pointy thing at the enemy.

While Lord Liakit's archers had shot another 1 million, totaling the gross arrow count to around 4 million, which was double Alexander's estimated used crossbow bolts numbering 2 million, or almost double the entirety of the latter's stock.

And then there was the consideration of the camels, who desperately needed food and water, and most importantly rest.

They might be called the ships of the deserts, but they were not literally so and thus were not able to move day and night like a ship.

Sunash certainly knew this as he himself was in a similar state, so why did make the promise?

Because under that facade of confidence and zeal, there was a bubbling mass of fear and uncertainty.

He knew Faruq likely blamed him for the loss, if not fully then at least partially for diverting the reserves elsewhere.

And though it was totally Faruq who fully sanctioned this, well Faruq was the lord and he was just a mercenary.

So whose words held more weight?

"Heh, what are you doing acting so high and mighty? If you had listened to Master Faruq, we would not have lost!" And this sentiment was precisely expressed by Jabad, as he shot down Sunash.

And the reason for so was obvious, to pull down Sunash and elevate his position in the mercenary group.

Thus it appeared that even before his father's body had gotten cold, power struggles within the group had already taken birth, and Sunash would have to from now contend with these vultures determined to strike him down.

And what was worse was that their lord, Faruq, and by extension, Djose was likely against him, as evidenced by Faruq saying, "Jabad, I will leave the rescue of the wounded and the retrieval of the important bodies to you, Pay special care when handling your father."

It sounded as if Faruq regarded Jabad as Azab's real son, rather than a son-in-law.

"Yes, my lord, rest assured," This detail was certainly missed by no one, especially not Sinash and Jabad, who produced completely different reactions, Jabad a huge grin, and Sunash a stoic, hurt face.

The latter had not gotten to even start mourning his father and his position in the mercenary was already looking precarious.

'The bastard likely wishes to sacrifice me to save his own hide,' Sunash guessed what Faruq was thinking.

And he hit the bullseye on this one as Faruq certainly wanted to sell the story of being misled by Sunahs to his father to come out of this situation alive.

And sure even that would get him a good licking, but it was better than being held fully responsible for today's fiasco.

Thus, correctly guessing this, Sunash was now in flight mode, as he thought about how to escape this trap before the mouth fully closed.

Alexander did not know all these inside stories, instead, he only saw the bulk of the Jahal mercenaries finally retreat to their camp, leaving only a few to collect the important dead bodies.

And Alexander let them do that as they wished, both because it was the custom, and because he had no way to stop them.

Instead, seeing this he breathed a sigh of relief, as he was previously afraid maybe the mercenaries might try one last time.

And though that would not have likely worked, as his 40,000 soldiers would take some time to chew through even if they just stood still, and the dusk would make their visibility and thus aim almost zero, still it was a possible threat.

A possible threat that was now gone, finally indicating the end of the battle.

"Get the men up, collect the dead and wounded, and escort the prisoners," Hence Alexander commanded.

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