Swiss Arms

Chapter 162

Swiss ArmsChapter 162

-VB-

Leopold of Austria

1310

He stared at the enemy camp.

"When did they get there?"

"They appeared this morning, milord," the Marshall of Styria, Johann Ennumagberg, replied without looking at him. His eyes swept across the enemy's camp. "And they are busy and getting ready."

"Then why aren't our men getting ready?"

"They are, sir," he replied. "However, most of our men are sieging Hasegg. It will take time for us to move enough of them."

"And how many can we move?"

"Of the thousand men we have besieging the castle, we will have to move at least half of them. Of the other thousand men who are patrolling the valley and skirmishing with the other castles and forts, we are gathering all of them."

"... Now, tell me the real numbers, Johann," Leopold demanded with a sigh.

Johann grimaced.

"The outbreak of sickness and poisons left with only a thousand men who could fight. The rest are … indisposed of."

"Which leaves us with?"

"If we leave the minimum number of soldiers to keep the siege up, then we… we will have eight hundred troops available to us."

"Eight hundred against… how many of theirs?"

"... We suspect one thousand five hundred at the least."

"Double our available number. Is that what I'm hearing?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then get those sick up."

"Sir?"

"Either we lose and gain nothing from this or we win," Leopold snapped as he glared at his marshal. "So get them up! I don't care if the only thing they do is hold up a shield, spear, or a bow. They will stand."

The marshal grimaced. "Yes, sir," he replied before turning to the other soldiers and levies surrounding them. "You heard our lord! Go! Get the sick to hold a shoot arrows if that's all they can do!"

Leopold didn't deign to look at the scrambling men as they went out to bring the soldiers to the fore.

If he lost here, then all of the work he and his brothers put into the war would be in vain. He won't let it end so fruitlessly. Even if he had to lose every single one of his levies here, he'll fight until he can't.

---

Hans

"They're getting their sick to fight?" I hummed. "That's not so smart of them, is it?"

Sick soldiers could not move well. Could not aim well. Could not shoot well. Could not fight well. In fact, sick soldiers were liabilities on the battlefield that might trip and fall, causing others around them to trip and fall as their bodies became obstacles. Sick soldiers on the battlefield also spread their disease, causing other healthier soldiers to become sick as well.

"They know they are outnumbered," Captain Reynolds hummed from my left. "And they know it."

"There is always the option to retreat."

The one who answered was not Reynolds but one of the two knights I had.

Knight Somers from Rheintal stepped up to Reynold's side. "Even if they know who you are, milord," he replied. "Retreating from you would see them lose face. It would be dishonorable to run from a foe who doesn't possess overwhelming advantage."

"... So not because I was peasant born?"

"That, too, I imagine."

I huffed. "Would it matter? As long as you win the war, you can say whatever you want. Victory washes away most sins."

"... Lords cannot help what they have been taught for decades just as you cannot help yourself, milord."

I sniffed. "Fair." Then I grinned as I turned to face them and my army. "Let's show them what we can do then, yeah?"

Halberds, spears, swords, and shields all banged in reply.

---

Leopold

As the sun approached noon, they were arrayed against each other west of Burg Hasegg and east of Innsbruck's main area. This place was

Everyone who could walk was forced to fight, but even then, he only managed to barely field a thousand and five hundred soldiers.

The enemy, flying the black tri-pointed mountain of the County of Fluelaberg, also had a thousand and five hundred soldiers, but barely any cavalry.

Now, from what his brother managed to find out about Fluelaberg and his soldiers, then it was the fact that their archers - the "rangers" - had absurd range. They also liked to target nobles and commanders. This meant that he could not afford to join the three hundred cavalrymen he had lest he turned the cavalry into a target. He also could not afford to be in the backline as rangers were known to sneak around to the rear to shoot at the nobles. Which meant he had to be in the thick of it all, if only to protect himself.

The other option was for him to take off his noble armor and join the cavalry and conduct his war from there while leaving the marshal in charge of the footmen. It would make him less of a target but he would not be in charge of the largest force in his army.

… No, he would rather be with the footmen and be in charge of it all.

"Marhsal!" he shouted.

"Yes, milord."

"You are in charge of our cavalry. I want you to flay their flanks."

"Understood."

"Now. Advance!"

---

Hans

I raised an eyebrow at the way their cavalrymen were slowly moving to our right while the bulk of their army marched forward.

To my surprise, Leopold was nowhere to be seen, and most of their noblemen and knights had either integrated with the main army or with the cavalry, which meant that my rangers would not be able to take them down with concentrated fire.

'So he's half-decent enough to implement changes necessary for survival, hmm?' I thought. 'And the Habsburgs learned at least that much from hiring my rangers.'

I gestured with my hands for the rangers to take the left flank while positioning our halberd infantry to the right. The less trained soldiers from other parts of the Compact were slower to respond and move while those from Schiers, Davos, and Fluelaberg moved with practiced certainty.

Then I made the second gesture.

Archers, hold.

Of the fifteen hundred I've brought with me, five hundred were archers or had other long range options.

Of the one thousand others, two hundred were halberd wielders.

Of the eight hundred left, fifty were cavalry.

Of the seven-hundred fifty after, one hundred were rangers.

Infantry made up the rest of the six hundred. Every single one of them possessed a thick wooden shield my workshops have been making for years on end. Leather helmets with plates to protect their skulls. Greaves, shoulder pads, padded leather tunics, padded leather leggings, and even boots.

Light infantry made up two hundred of the six hundred, and all they lacked was the heavy wooden shield.

This was what my wealth bought me.

On the other hand, I could see the enemy infantry being mostly levies. They wore no armor but what they brought with them and carried spears given to them by the Habsburgs.

This was not going to be fun for them.

As the Habsburg frontline approached, their cavalry broke into a full gallop and moved to strike at our right.

Unfortunately for them, my halberdiers already got into position on our right flank.

I watched as the cavalry crashed into them… and my halberdiers brought them down with hooks, axe blades, and spears.

The first tumble led to the next. And then a cascade. The smart ones steered out of the way immediately, but even that was a problem because the Habsburg cavalry just lost their cohesion.

And that's when the commander of my right flank, Reynolds, responded.

My halberdiers pulled back, dragging their wounded with them, and a hail of arrows descended upon the men-at-arms and knights of the Habsburgs. Those who were downed died. Those who got their horses galloping the moment the arrows flew barely managed to dodge. But those stuck and helping each other?

Dead.

The survivors, just a bit more than two-thirds of their numbers, came around for round 2.

This time, I didn't let them get close.

Archers made their shots this time not with standard arrows but bodkin arrowheads.

They struck at the armored cavalrymen like hammer blows, penetrating armors that regular arrowheads could not. But to those unarmored or lightly armored? They got hit with forces that felt like sledgehammer blows.

Armors cracked and dented. Skulls fractured and cracked. Men fell off of their horses.

Their infantry line hesitated upon seeing their cavalry getting slaughtered.

But they were too late. They were in range of my archers.

"SHOOT!"

And just like that, four hundred archers behind my heavy infantry made their shots and their arrows flew.

Then I made my move.

I grabbed a rock.

And threw it.

The air hissed as my attack nearly broke the sound barrier. It arched slightly up before falling back down and smashed into a poor bastard's head.

The head didn't cave in.

It exploded.

Then the one hundred slingshotters who I've trained made their shots.

One hundred stones all broke the sound barriers.

And slaughtered whoever got hit on the other side.

---

Leopold

He watched with wide eyes and open ears as his men went down every time something cracked and snapped in the air in droves.

And his frontline began to break down like bubbles.

His cavalry got stopped and slaughtered.

And then their army began to move.

Gritting his teeth, he made his own move. He stepped up.

"Follow me, men!" he roared.

Then he and his elite guards charged forward.

The soldiers hesitated for just a moment but they too charged with him with their spears pointed forward.

But then he noticed it immediately. How not enough soldiers were strong enough to charge forward. How those who were strong enough didn't seem to have that much strength in them. How there were too many simply staring down at the dead bodies with leg-locking fear.

Then it happened again.

His soldiers, elites and levies alike, broke as they were struck by rocks, and only after they were struck did the sound follow.

Leopold barely managed to bring his shield up before something slammed into him.

The shield dented in the middle and he was thrown backward. He tumbled into the mud and rolled before coming to a stop. His soldiers quickly helped him up, but they died when arrows and rocks came flying at them.

And … that was it.

He heard his people running away, leaving him to gasp and groan in the mud.

But the arrows didn't stop, not until his levies and soldiers were too far away.

He pushed himself up… and found himself looking at a big man walking toward him.

He didn't know who it was but the way he carried a giant cleaver around…? That had to be Count Hans von Fluelaberg, the peasant. The Count Killer.

… Ah.

A shiver ran up his spine.

The Count Killer.

Leopold watched as the man drew his sword out… It was as wide as the man was. It was as long as he was.

And Leopold wasn't.

Count von Fluelaberg came to a stop fifty paces away from him.

"... Duke Leopold," he spoke. "What a pathetic army you brought to harm my friends."

He gritted his teeth as he held his position. "You… You were the ones who made my people sick."

"Of course! What commanders simply blunders forward into the enemy? Oh, wait. You did. How does it feel to spend the lives of God's children in such a blatantly simple tactic?" he laughed at the start but sneered toward the end. "Those men didn't even get to fight properly! All because you were too … passive. You thought this would be like any other fight, did you?"

"You… talk too much," he hissed out.

The count hummed. "Fair."

And said nothing else.

Nothing about surrender.

A deeper and stronger shiver ran up his spine.

"... Not going to acknowledge the rules of war?"

The count merely raised an eyebrow. "Then you should have declared war before you crossed my friend's territory," he drawled. "But you didn't."

Then he began to walk up toward him.

Gritting his teeth, he raised his sword and shield up… only to realize that his shield wasn't flat anymore but had caved in. He tossed it aside and faced the Count Killer.

"You will regret this…!"

"Regret?" the Count Killer asked as he drew his shoulder up while walking.

The sword held so steadily that Leopold wasn't sure if he was seeing things. How can someone hold up a sword that heavy that steadily?

"War always bring regret, but I never have regrets about killing the perpetrators."

Then just outside Leopold's reach, he brought it down. Slowly. Mockingly. Like a blow meant to teach a lesson and not kill an enemy.

Leopold roared as he brought his sword up to parry the blow-.

And the sword snapped under the seemingly slow blow.

Then the cleaver carved into his shoulder and deeper down.

Pain erupted.

He tried to scream but couldn't.

He fell to his knees and stared up. Because that's all he could do.

The Count Killer stared down at him. Cold. Dispassionate.

Supreme.

Ah.

Leopold realized as everything darkened and grew cold.

He was lifting that slab of metal with just one hand.

He didn't feel the Count Killer put a foot to his chest and kick him off of his sword. He was dead by then.

-VB-

Battle of Innsbruck (1310)

The Compact vs House Habsburg: Overwhelming Victory for the Compact

Losses:

The Compact: ~50 soldiers

House Habsburg: ~750 soldiers + CO Duke Leopold Habsburg