"What are our casualties?" Leroy asked the medics, who took the task of counting them.
"Commander, I regret to tell you that we have lost 6 men due to the arrow volley fired, with about 36 injured," they said in a sad tone. Externally, Leroy had a stoic face when receiving the news.
"I understand. You can go," he replied, nodding. Hiding his mouth, he let out a smile upon hearing the casualty count. He simply couldn't believe how few men he lost to the battle. A battle where he expected to lose a lot more.
He turns to his soldiers and gives them more orders to follow. There were to take some wooden planks, assemble a sort of makeshift bridge to cross over, and start counting the bodies of the enemy.
This job was handed to the former woodworkers, who had the most experience in the field. In a matter of a few minutes after receiving the materials, they managed to build a stable bridge that could hold up to 5 people at a time.
The wooden bridge was then laid down over the shallow moat. Carson, holding his matchlock rifle, crosses over and walks among the dead bodies. With his fingers, he starts counting the dead bodies, along with the rest of the soldiers.
Carson, after his shock and adrenaline goes down, finally started breaking into tears. An immense burden of guilt hung over him, as he realizes the full weight he needs to carry in killing a human, let alone an army. Herrold and his comrades also felt the same, whose guilt started to consume them. The colonel, seeing their emotions start taking over them, called out for them to form a line.
"Today, a great battle took place. A battle that cost the lives of many. Though it might seem like a strategy for such a loss of life, remember, your duty here protected the innocent civilians of Bakersvill!
Your actions today had managed to prevent a greater tragedy. These people..." he pointed at them with his hand.
"...these heretics would have their men killed, their women raped, and their food was stolen. It is only because of YOU..." he points at the soldiers.
"... they managed to see another day! All because of your extreme discipline, and the great actions you have taken today, you managed to save thousands of innocent lives! Be proud my men! Don't shed your precious tears over "
His speech lifted the burden on the soldiers, at least a little bit. With that, they continued to count the bodies left on the battlefield.
...
Danial leads his army back to safety and quickly set up tents to heal the wounded. The medics, without washing their hands, try and fail to heal the many people that got wounded during the battle. After they finished setting up the camp, Danial selected someone to count how many men they have lost.
The sun was near to set. He waited in his tent till the knight finished counting for two hours now, sitting on a wooden chair that was assembled for him. His hands held his head up, nervous at the losses congregated.
A few knights enter the tent and bow down to greet the king. Danial stood up and approached the knights.
"What are our casualties?" asked Danial from his knights. The knights, who were all sweating inside their suits of armor, took a deep breath before answering.
"Your majesty, we regret to inform you that about 38 knights are missing, suspected dead, as well as 1,872 peasant infantrymen. A further 3,745 casualties are present, with 125 of them being the knights, and the rest belonging to the infantry unit, which is 3,620."
"How many of them are dead?"
"According to the medics, they say that around 52 knights will die, while 2,172 peasant infantry might not survive. They don't have enough potions or mana to heal them all."
Danial stood still as he listened to those numbers. The battle, which he thought would give a huge advantage to the north's war effort, was stopped in its tracks thanks to whatever weapons the enemy had taken hold of.
He then went walked out of his tent and over to where the people themselves resided to be healed. He asked every one of them to describe what it was like, and what had happened on the battlefield.
One by one, they started to describe their experiences. They described the horrors they faced on the battlefield, where small projectiles killed off their comrades in an instant, with a sound of thunder following.
The large metal weapons were the ones that struck the most fear. Though it was very inaccurate and didn't manage to hit a collum of soldiers more than thrice, the fear it struck the soldiers remained, preventing them from walking further.
For the knights, their mana reserves were drained by those small projectiles coming in at high speeds. The combination of their fire, with the strength of the pikemen, thought of to be assisted by potions, managed to kill some of them.
With that information gathered, Danial walked back to his tent to think things over. He felt his pride hurt greatly because of his defeat in battle, yet felt guilt for sending men to their deaths. Yet he managed to control with a level head and weighed his options.
He could launch a counter-attack, and try to take the enemy position, but that would result in a lot of casualties, men he might need later. He could also do a retreat, back into Browntown to get more supplies, heal, and fortify.
The third and final option could be to retreat back to the north while sending messengers to inform his friends and the commanders about the situation.
"My friends..." a sudden question popped into his head. What if they all encountered those soldiers? What if they weren't the only ones there? What if she had sent enough to cover the entire west?
This would be a huge problem for them. Now, Danial had to make a choice. Should he count on Corel and Salvatore to retreat if they encounter the same problem? He thought about it for a second, and determine the chances, considering how he reacted, put the odds at around 10%.
ραпdα nᴏνa| сom In retrospect, they should have discussed this beforehand as it would take days at the fastest to be able to communicate with them. Danial may have a good guess of where everyone is, but it is not certain.
Danial stood up and looked at the sun. It was just a mere hour away from setting and beginning the night. A knight walked up behind him and asked what his decision is. Danial thinks for a minute, turns around, and speaks.
"We will retreat back to Browntown. In the meantime, give me some paper, a bottle of ink, and a quill. I want to send a messenger pigeon to the cities of Calvier and Kellon, for Corel and Salvatore to read."
...
*Bang!*
With rubber bongs plugged into his ears, Kant shoots through the rifled musket that he wielded. He had practiced with it for about the entire day now, wanting to reduce his recoil and to practice with the weapon.
As soon as he received the rifled metal barrel, he took it upon himself to disassemble and reassemble the gun. It helped him to memorize how the weapon worked, allowing him to improve the weapon further in the future.
The metal projectile hits the target at about 109 yards (100m). Although not at the center, it was a hit. Kant puts down the rifle and smiles. He then writes the results of his experiment down, and then walks away from the field, carrying the gun and clipboard.
He makes his way to his room where he grabs a book. In it, there was a list that he had made. One of them, which read "make a gun", had their boxes already ticked off with black ink. He grabs a quill and ticks off the second box, which reads 'make a rifled barrel'. With that, he moved down to the third box.
"Make a percussion cap lock." it read. He hides the list back in his drawer and takes out a black piece of paper. With a pencil and eraser in hand, he starts drawing up something. Soon, Cora enters the room, bringing him the coffee he wanted.
"Cora, tell Arjun to come to my office. I need him to arrange a meeting with an alchemist."
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