"Fuck me, how many are there?" Tiberius tossed the spyglass to Vito. "They look like they want to swallow us whole in one bite!"
"And they're all fucking elites!" Vito scanned the banners and muttered under his breath. "Fifth Legion shock riders—the Summer Storm—Third Legion Crownless Princes, and the super-heavy Death Conclave cavalry…"
He was still ticking off units when he suddenly froze, face draining of color. His eyes locked on the treeline where flocks of birds exploded into the sky. His legs started shaking.
"What is it, Vito?" Tiberius asked, curious.
"Elephants!"
Yes. Elephants.
Six massive war elephants in leather armor, wooden fighting towers strapped to their backs, lumbered out of the woods. The entire forest seemed to part for the huge beasts.
"Shit, the Volantenes really respect us—six war elephants for little old us!" Old Tom planted his spear in the ground and jammed his helmet on. "But we still have to fight."
---
When the White Company's best scouts finished reporting the full enemy strength to Jules, the tent fell deathly silent.
This was a brutally powerful force. One wrong move and they could all die here.
First came the enemy hammer: one hundred and fifty super-heavy cavalry from the Death Conclave, their squires buckling on the final plates. They were sharpening blades and grinning, utterly confident they could punch straight through any infantry line.
Then the main body: thirty-five hundred armed slaves and household troops from one grand company of the Crownless Princes, plus five hundred Summer Storm shock riders—two full companies in total. They would form the center and the eyes on both flanks.
Next, the six war elephants and their crews—the "tanks" of this age. When they charged, morale and formations shattered like glass.
Finally, nearly two thousand auxiliaries, conscripts, and hired levies. Numbers were high, but their fighting value was low.
Now this army was deploying east of the fort, a black tide of steel and flesh stretching across the open ground. Armor and blades flashed coldly in the sunlight, and the elephants' deep trumpeting sounded like the horns of death.
The sheer weight of numbers and equipment had the newly captured Cliff Fort—and the White Company and Lightning Company inside it—facing the worst crisis yet.
Cliff Fort felt like a lone boat in a hurricane, ready to be crushed at any moment. Every defender on the walls could feel the killing pressure closing in like a physical weight.
"We are NOT fighting inside Cliff Fort!" Jules stabbed the map, face grim.
"Chief, what the hell are you saying?!" Vito jumped to his feet. "If we don't hold the walls, you want us to meet them in the open?"
"Look, Vito—we came north for a reason." Tiberius moved the Lightning Company marker from the Flank Corridor to the upper river on the map.
"To…" Vito trailed off.
"To open a second front up here, act as a raiding force, threaten the northern flank of the Volantenes in Rhaesh, and force them to split their attention from the corridor. That's what we told the governors. But in reality—"
Tiberius swept almost every Three Daughters marker onto the Flank Corridor.
"We have no reinforcements and no supply line! We have maximum freedom of action… and that also means we can't expect a single sack of grain or a single extra man from the rear!"
"That's true, but Captain Tiberius, Captain Jules, I still think marching out to fight in the open is unwise," Demetrius objected.
"Exactly because we have no reinforcements we should use every possible advantage. Cliff Fort is the perfect defensive position!" He jabbed the map. "Easily defended, hard to assault. One hundred men can hold it like a thousand! I admit the enemy outnumbers us heavily, but breaking in here will still cost them dearly. They don't have five times our strength!"
According to Myr military textbooks, you needed at least five-to-one to make a siege work. Anything less and the attacker suffered horribly.
"Demetrius, you're right—Cliff Fort is strong. If the Volantenes want to storm it, their super-heavy cavalry, shock riders, arrogant noble boys, and those war elephants will have to climb ladders and push siege towers like the lowest infantry, bleeding themselves dry to take it."
"But—there's always a 'but'—our second problem turns 'holding the fort' into slow death!" Jules said quietly.
"And the second problem is… honestly, it's almost funny." Tiberius gave a dark little smile and pointed at the bread on the table. "Lysapo, how much food did we bring north? How much have we eaten? How long can this many men last?"
"Captain, if you and Captain Jules don't need the cavalry horses for combat, we have five days. If the horses stay active, only two." Lysapo reported. "Shock riders' mounts need oats, alfalfa, and eggs. Even the light cavalry horses need alfalfa or they can't carry armored men at speed."
Tiberius nodded, then snorted. "We're out of food. As for Cliff Fort's supplies? Hah! Vito, you saw the ledgers yourself—their granary couldn't even feed the two hundred men they had here, let alone resupply us."
"That means if the enemy controls the battlefield, we'll be trapped and starved inside this little fort! They don't even have to attack—just surround us and grind us down slowly. We have no reinforcements and almost no food!"
Yes, the blackest of ironies: the original garrison had marched out because they were starving. Now the same problem forced Tiberius and Jules to do exactly the same thing.
"All right… looks like we're fighting them in the open after all," Vito said, equally wry.
Fuck. They're basically forcing us out to battle.
---
"I heard the Three Daughters' filthy sellswords actually won?" A soldier from the Crownless Princes frowned, tossed his purple robe to his servant, and strode into the command tent.
"Captain, I told you those Cliff Fort garrison troops were worthless! Most of them are profit-chasing townsfolk or dirt-poor peasants—how could they understand honor or Volantis's glory?"
"The noble knights and officers we stationed there fought to the last against overwhelming odds! They are the true warriors, full of honor!"
Of course he elegantly skipped over the part where those same knights and officers had sold off the grain, starved their own men, and marched out to fight because they had nothing left to eat.
"Cough—sit." The Crownless Princes captain in the center cleared his throat and motioned for silence.
"Let the men make camp first," he ordered. "The enemy is already a turtle in a jar! All we have to do is keep them from running. We rest, we surround them, and we wait for them to crawl out and fight us on our terms!"
"Brilliant insight!"
"Far-sighted!"
"A true commander!"
A chorus of ass-kissing rose from the junior officers, as if Jules and Tiberius were already scattered like autumn leaves.
But the reality was…
"Gentlemen, we must find a way to lure them out for a field battle!" After the main meeting ended, the captain pulled aside several Crownless Princes centurions, high-born soldiers, and officers from the other legions for a tense private talk.
"Cough—you all know the upper river isn't an important theater. Our brothers have no chance to win glory for Volantis here. It's a waste of our martial skill and the men's enthusiasm…"
"The food situation… ah, I never expected the Three Daughters to suddenly push north!" The captain slammed his fist on the table.
"Entirely the fault of the Three Daughters!"
Yes—the reason they hadn't stormed the fort immediately, aside from just arriving and needing to prepare, was simple:
Their own grain… had been "temporarily" diverted.
Of course, in their version, this was perfectly reasonable.
Volantis's empire was built by their ancestors—selling a little grain was only fair compensation, right?
Besides, since they hadn't been allowed to go loot and feast in Rhaesh, they had to make a little extra money somehow. It was only fair!
"So, Captain, when is the next food shipment?" one Crownless Princes soldier coughed, cutting straight to the point.
"I'll be honest." The logistics officer swallowed hard. "Our troops—especially the auxiliaries and conscripts—have been eating berries and nuts for a day already. Today's figures… with the war elephants and the huge amount the cavalry horses consume… it's possible… it's possible…"
"Spit it out!" the captain rapped the table. "I want the truth!"
"Our food might only last five days—counting what we'll need for the march back to the Broken Spear Ford."
"If it runs out, the auxiliaries, mercenaries, and levies will probably mutiny."
The news hit every officer in the room like a hammer.
Selling off grain could be explained away as "shortfall," "elephants and horses ate more than expected," or "granary fire/flood." Losing the fort could be spun as "strategic repositioning," "enemy held favorable ground," or "the garrison's reckless sally caused us to lose our greatest advantage."
But a mutiny? That would ruin every career in the tent—and possibly cost heads.
Volantis could tolerate corrupt generals. It could not tolerate incompetence.
"Let's wait until tomorrow…" an officer from the Summer Storm stroked his composite bow.
"Tomorrow we'll see what these Three Daughters mercenaries do next, then decide."
---
"We fight them in the swamp north of Cliff Fort!" Tiberius planted the Lightning Company marker on the swampy area marked on the map and said firmly.
"The enemy will be overjoyed when they see us march out to fight in the open. After all, both siege and encirclement are slow and ugly, but a field battle can end in one afternoon—let the gods decide who wins."
"Besides the Lightning Company, Uncle, I'll need Old Tom's spear company and Vito's crossbow company." Tiberius looked up, eyes bright.
"Uncle, as long as we beat back their first wave, your shock cavalry can smash into their formation while they're still reeling. They'll break."
"Tiberius… Captain!" Habro couldn't stay quiet. "But they have way more knights than we do!"
"First, the Volantene hammer: the Death Conclave super-heavy cavalry—walking iron cans. Once they charge, they'll shatter any infantry line!"
"Then the Crownless Princes—those rich boys dress like peacocks and look down their noses at everyone, but they never skimp on equipment for their troops. In Volantis, armed slaves and farmland are what make a 'proper' noble. They can probably field three hundred armored shock riders and the same number of mounted retainers."
"Plus, while the Summer Storm riders aren't true shock cavalry, they can still lower lances and charge if they want!"
"That's nearly twelve hundred knights! And everyone knows one knight can beat three—or even five—infantrymen!"
"Not to mention they have far more foot soldiers than we do! And those damned elephants—when those war beasts appear, our boys' morale will drop like a stone!"
"If their elephants charge and our spear blocks and crossbowmen can't stop them, all our fancy tactics are useless!"
Jules started to explain something, but Tiberius cleared his throat. Jules closed his mouth and let his nephew handle it.
"Habro, your question is fair. This battle is indeed heavily stacked against us."
"The enemy has more cavalry, more infantry, plus elephants and super-heavy cavalry—the ultimate killers—while we have only a few shock riders and whatever spears and crossbows our infantry carry."
"But we also have advantages!" Tiberius said sharply.
"Look here!" He pointed at the swamp north of Cliff Fort on the map.
"This swamp is our battlefield! See—the river is behind it, Cliff Fort is on one flank, and inside the swamp there are two streams feeding into the Disputed River plus countless ponds and mud pits. The whole area is basically an island!"
"In terrain like this, Volantene cavalry lose most of their power!"
"Second, if I'm not mistaken…" Tiberius narrowed his eyes and looked out the fortress window at the Volantene banners snapping in the wind.
"They're even more desperate to fight than we are!"
"But before that…" Tiberius took a deep breath and turned to Lysapo.
"Did you gather everything I asked for?"