Born a Monster

Chapter 54

Battle at Seacrest

Valor is the statistic that most governs melee combat, both offensive and defensive. I really wanted that up to level 3 before the battle, but nobody was going to delay for five days on my account.

The Guild troops were in line with our militia compatriots; one shield line, one line of spearmen behind them, and the archers in a group behind that.

If the enemy had rebuilt a substantial cavalry force, they’d cut us to ribbons.

The plan was that we’d make certain the mines were secure, and then advance on the village. If the enemy formed ranks, we would have a battle, but the plan proposed in town was that the enemy would just flee.

.....

Again, Skelios and I were at the far left of the guild shield line, which in turn was to the left of the militia’s.

“You seem oddly chipper this morning.”

“What is there to be sour about? We’re earning warrior wages to make some inferior force run away.”

What is the saying? No plan survives encounter with the enemy?

We arrived northeast of Seacrest a little before noon, and had to form up some good distance away from the mine; the enemy had camped atop that mound, and was drawn up in three ranks just outside.

“Advance, Forward, Normal March.” Called the officer.

That is an advantage of small battles, you don’t need a horn or runners, you just need one officer with a good volume.

Before we were in arrow range, they parted their ranks, and two footmen came forward, one of them bearing a white flag on a pole.

We were told to halt, and told to take a knee. Sergeant Oechalio and his aide similarly went forward with a similarly ridiculous flag.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“What? You’ve never heard of a flag of truce? The leaders are going to talk to each other, and see if they can find a peaceful solution.”

I looked at their formation. More than the Guild alone could handle, possibly enough for the militia alone, but the raw numbers clearly favored us.

It was a short talk, and we were ordered to stand. We waited for the other side’s leaders to rejoin their ranks, but advanced immediately afterward.

“Shields high! Continue advance.”

But the enemy hadn’t even... no, there was the first volley of arrows.

Then a second, and a third. They seemed to be concentrating on the center of our line, but the fourth volley, one of those arrows struck Skelios’ shield, hard enough to become wedged with the point just barely protruding below his arm.

“Heh, heh. That one almost hurt.”

“Halt, halt, shield line halt. Archers, pick targets.”

Another volley rained down upon us even as the commands cycled through for the archers to unleash their own arrows at the enemy.

It seemed to me that we had more archers, and more shields, and they had more spearmen.

They took two volleys before forming the infantry into a wedge and beginning their charge.

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Wait, their charge? That was near suicidal. I mean, yes, it was downhill, but still...

They reached the bottom of the mound, and were still going strong. Our archers and their archers pelted each other with withering fire.

The side effect of this was that their infantry was advancing without taking any meaningful damage.

“Shield wall brace! Brace!”

“What, no, it’s too early.” Said Skelios, remaining in high guard.

“I see no arrows falling on us.” I said.

“Fool! Raise your shield!

“Skelios, over half their archers are down.”

“No, watch the sky. Watch the skies.”

I looked up. An arrow landed a good three feet ahead of us. “Okay, the skies tell me they’re aiming at the center of our line, where their infantry will meet our line.”

Our job when that happened was to fold inward. From practice, I hated that move; the people at the ends had to sprint to keep up, and we were there for a good many seconds before our spearmen caught up with us.

The crash of spears striking shields was louder than I would have believed.

Skelios, his shield raised, fell behind as we wheeled in.

“Fall back. Form Wedge.” Their officer called. “Orderly back!”

“Line forward!” called our officer.

It wasn’t something we’d practiced; our line went forward while still trying to fold in.

There were breaks, and we moved to close them. I saw Skelios rejoin the line between two burlies of the city watch.

The crash of contact came again. I sprinted to keep up with my neighbor, again.

“Wheel faster! Wheel faster! We have the numbers, surround them!” our officer screamed.

“All back! All back to the line!”

Oh, that didn’t sound good. One of the fleeing troops ran into the shield wall. The others-

[You have been struck for twelve points of Piercing damage. After armor, you have taken four points of damage. 26/30 health points remain.]

A spear-tip struck me in the right side, but did not become stuck there. I struck one of the passing soldiers with my blade, and saw it cut into the boiled leather, but there was hardly any blood on my blade.

“Form wall. Reform shield wall!” Well, THAT maneuver we had practiced. “Line forward! Normal forward pace.”

The enemy began raising twelve foot wooden stakes from the ground, and hammering stakes into the ground to support them. It formed a crude picket line, but hardly anything that would stop us.

Had we been charging, we would have impaled ourselves. At a walking pace, we just split shields enough to walk around them. They did impede, but not stop the wheeling maneuver.

Again, they fell back, though this time, their numbers were decidedly fewer.

“Charge! Charge!” screamed our officer.

“Shield line to the rear! Shield line to the rear!” Called out Gemina. “Odd numbered spears forward! Even to the rear line!”

The watch officer took umbrage at that. “Line forward! Crush them! Forward! No, wait! Cancel, cancel, cancel! Shield line to the rear!”

Gemina repeated her order, even as we turned to obey.

Behind us, about fifty Uruk warriors were forming into lines and columns.

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They came from the concealed entrances, of course. The same escape tunnels that the goblins had used. A cold, spidery thing ran down my spine when I realized that the Uruk had a broader line than ours.

And who was out there exposed on the end? Oh, dear. That was me.

Their archers unleashed whenever they felt like, rather than firing in a volley.

Our archers scrambled to take up a position between the line and the battle going on uphill from us.

The Uruk charge looked like a sloppy thing, but it was ferocious to behold in person. Their archers had other weapons, and joined the screaming horde.

Crap. Crap. Crap. I was so glad that I’d raised my Resolve. This level of fear might have done more than just two points of serenity damage otherwise. Serenity was down to 22/30, so not quite yellow yet.

I risked a quick glance over my shoulder. I caught the man to the left staring at me.

“Neck’s not broken. I’m very flexible.” I shouted at him.

“Calm down. How are we doing up there?”

“More men than they have.”

“Good, good. Want to swap places?”

Someone behind us was yelling at the archers, directing volleys uphill.

The Uruk were still charging. Still? I took a closer look, shielding my eyes with, well, with my shield.

“I think we have this.” I said, lowering my shield to overlap his again. “They’re already breathing hard.”

“If we both survive this, remember I offered.” He said, and then they were upon us.

Our line was bent slightly backward, along the line of the picket. We did nothing but defend, while the spears came over our shoulders to strike at the enemies. There was a time when they were absent, shortly after the flanks of their formation wrapped around to fight them directly.

My health was in the orange when arrows began pelting their back lines.

.....

The Uruk cursed and cussed and then, realizing we weren’t going to break, fell back under cover of their shields.

I took a knee, draping myself over the remains of my almost-ruined shield. It had 3/16 of its condition left, split down the center and at the one third point, held together only by the iron rim, and that barely.

“On your feet! On your feet, they can still come back.” An axe had dented his helmet, such that it pinched into his forehead, and blood was drying on that side of his face.

If you cannot stand, you cannot fight. I stood, linked what remained of my shield back into the wall.

“Archers, cease fire! Conserve ammo! Cease fire!”

At the bottom of the mound, the Uruk lowered their shields, and spat at us, and looted our supply cart before heading east.

“Groups of four! Groups of four! Police the battlefield! I want prisoners, every one we can get. Gather medical cases to this tent here.”

And thus ended the battle of Seacrest as historians understand it.

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The System does many things for people, but it cannot bring people back from the dead. By default, it will apply skills to reduce poison, bleeding, and other conditions.

But dead is dead, and our side had eight casualties, two of which were Guild. The Crimson Hand had suffered nineteen, and the Uruk had suffered seven.

I need to take back a comment made earlier in this book; courage and discipline will turn the tide of battles.

A detail was set to butcher the corpses of our oxen. I was on the detail assigned to the others.

Our men, we wrapped in canvas cloths for transport back to their families. Those of the Crimson Hand who had their names on their shields got a headstone and a private grave. The others went into the common grave. Per their custom, the Uruk were burned, though not with their possessions, which went into the town watch’s loot bins.

Others can go into the horrible smell of death, and how horrid it is to handle corpses. I just know that even with tools and labor from the mines, it took the rest of that day and most of the next to properly inter them.

I will just say that Uruk are goblinoids, and unlock many of the same evolutions. Humans I had already sampled, during my time with the goblins.

Some idiots fell asleep on their watch, and plains-cats got to the bodies. They must have either been many or ravenous, but we wrapped what remained in canvas and buried them.

There had been a short coup in the mines, and four bodies were added to the edge of the graveyard.

Among others, Seacrest had lost their priestess during the occupation, so we were not able to properly consecrate the graves. I flagged that as a ritual I needed to learn, not that anyone had asked. I am told that the commander and Gemina said words over the corpses.

At the end of each day’s work, we bathed in the ocean shallows to help wash off the stench.

There was a celebration in Seacrest, such as they could celebrate. There was fish chowder, and nut breads, and some manner of ale that I passed on due to my age and my desire not to poison myself. There were various pies and cakes and sugarless cookies.

And most of it was gone by the time I finished my plate. After all, we had more soldiers than the village had townsfolk. What we did have plenty of was charred oxen meat. I had been looking forward to eating a few raw scraps; oxen looked like they had a few interesting evolutions.

Our scouts returned, assuring us that there were no troops waiting to re-take Seacrest. We looted what we could from the enemy camp, and set about pulling our cart by hand. This went so slow that Petros made it to us with a pair of oxen.

We were home the next day, just before the first Uruk scouting parties were sighted.

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