At that moment, in the distant Jackal Wolfman army.
"Chieftain, just as you predicted, the moment we arrived, these humans charged out," a Jackal Wolfman leader said with a fawning expression.
The Jackal Wolfman Chief smirked smugly.
"These Franks never learn. They've been fighting the same way for hundreds of years," the Jackal Wolfman Chief said with contempt.
The Jackal Wolfman Chief was over sixty years old. As a Bloodthirsty Jackal Wolfman, he had already distinguished himself on the battlefield in his youth. 'These humans never learn.'
It wasn't just humans; he had always looked down on fools who only knew how to charge headfirst into battle.
'War is a game of wits. Those who charge blindly are nothing but a bunch of brutes.'
The Jackal Wolfman Chief had originally planned to use this southern campaign as an opportunity to expand his tribe.
Unfortunately, he had set out a little too late and missed the plunder of Vanguard Fortress. In order to claim the greatest glory this time, he had specifically requested to act independently from the Beastman Prince, leading his own tribesmen to teach these arrogant humans a lesson.
"Is everything ready?" the Jackal Wolfman Chief asked.
Since he dared to meet them in battle alone, he had naturally made ample preparations.
"Rest assured, my lord, the Magic Array is ready," a Jackal Wolfman Elder said respectfully.
"Then let's give these humans a taste of what we can do," the Jackal Wolfman Chief sneered.
...
Count Offman and his retinue also reached the banks of the Lai River.
Within the human army's formation, a messenger on a swift horse galloped up to Robson and Ed.
"Sir, the Count summons you to a council," the messenger reported, dismounting.
"Oh?" Robson was a little surprised.
Robson had discovered long ago that even though he had come to another world, many of the rules were the same as in his previous life.
Take the Frank Kingdom's military councils, for example. Important matters are discussed in small meetings, while minor matters are for large assemblies. This principle was just as applicable in this world.
There were countless examples of this, but small meetings always had one thing in common, no matter where you were: you had to have a certain status to participate. Otherwise, you weren't even worthy of a seat in the gallery.
Like the King of France's cabinet ministers, or the pre-war discussions and mission briefings for generals.
It seemed like you were being invited to a discussion, but in reality, you were just there to accept your assignment.
It couldn't be helped. This was the way of the world, a universal truth driven by strength.
Robson had enough self-awareness to know he definitely wasn't going there to discuss matters. After all, he didn't even have a title.
Count Offman had probably recognized his strength and wanted him to take on some of the more difficult tasks.
Although Robson wasn't overly confident in his own abilities, his comrades were so inept that it made him the tallest midget in the room.
Regardless, Robson had no reason to refuse. He might be cautious by nature, but on the surface, he, Lord Robson, was still a martial Frankish Noble.
Robson mounted a swift horse and galloped over to Count Offman.
At that moment, Count Offman was pointing at the Lai River up ahead, conferring with a Viscount and several Barons. They occasionally frowned, their expressions worried.
"Robson, is it? You're here," Count Offman said, beckoning him over.
"Officer Robson of the 12th Regiment, Fifth Legion, reporting in, sir," Robson said clearly and formally as he approached Count Offman.
"Mm, let's continue. The current situation is somewhat unexpected. These Jackal Wolfmen seem to be from a Bloodthirsty Jackal-Wolf Tribe on the Beastmen's side," said Count Offman.
Hearing this, Robson understood why Count Offman had summoned him. It was just as he'd thought—an assignment.
Bloodthirsty Jackal Wolfmen were an elite subspecies of Jackal Wolfmen. They possessed a bloodlusting talent that made them fearless in the face of death, and they had always been a headache for the Franks on the battlefield.
'Count Offman is probably worried the other units can't handle them and wants me to step up.'
"Rest assured, the Knight Order will be deployed to the battlefield shortly, and Noah Viscount's Infantry Corps will accompany you. Did Ed promise you something? Whatever he offered, I'll give you double if you complete the mission," said Count Offman.
Noah Viscount was the one who had glared at Robson earlier.
With the offer laid out so plainly, it would be ungrateful for Robson to refuse. After all, Count Offman was his direct superior.
"As you command, sir," Robson pledged.
...
When Robson returned to his men, Ed had already scurried to the very back of the formation.
Robson had no time to mock his good brother's cowardice. He immediately had his Soldiers form up and quickly moved to the front of the line, positioning them before Count Offman.
The entire unit's formation was neat and orderly, their discipline palpable. An aura of grim lethality emanated from them.
"Sir, the troops of the 12th Regiment are all here," Robson reported.
Count Offman nodded in satisfaction. This was exactly why he had chosen Robson's unit.
This unit was truly special; they were nothing like an army of this tier.
Robson's troops weren't the only ones on the move within the legion, but in contrast, the other formations were a mess. Forget being orderly; it was a success if they didn't break apart completely.
"Get ready. Those Jackal Wolfmen are about to charge. It's all on you now," said Count Offman.
"Yes, sir," Robson replied.
Robson ordered his troops into a standard shield formation.
The Soldiers were well-trained. Shouting commands, they found their exact positions in just a few steps.
Shield-bearers in small groups protected one or two Archers each, sheltering the Archers behind them. The Archers were divided into two groups, front and back, with 100 men in each group to fire in volleys.
In no time, the entire phalanx was perfectly arranged, forming a shield wall that seemed to materialize out of nowhere on the plain.
The formation stretched across the front of the line, exuding a deadly aura, like a ferocious tiger ready to pounce and tear a chunk of flesh from its enemy at Robson's command.
Robson frowned, looking ahead. In the distance, the figures of Jackal Wolfmen had begun to appear one after another.
...
Ode was a leader in this Bloodthirsty Jackal-Wolf Tribe. He possessed the strength of a Tier Five Silver. The Chieftain had tasked him with leading 200 Bloodthirsty Jackal Wolfmen and 1,000 ordinary Jackal Wolfmen to draw out the human Knight Order.
He had naturally accepted this mission with pleasure. Jackal Wolfmen were synonymous with cunning; they never fought foolish battles.
"Bloodthirsty Jackal Wolfmen, assemble around me!" Ode bellowed.
Soon, several hundred tall and formidable Jackal Wolfmen gathered by his side. Most of them had blood-red eyes and radiated an aura of gore.
Ode only needed to command this batch of Jackal Wolfmen. As for the others, he wouldn't feel a thing if they died.
Ode looked into the distance and saw two banners waving. One was an ordinary military banner, while the other bore a sigil—clearly the family standard of a noble.
'Have these humans lost their minds? They're letting someone without even a title stand at the forefront of the battle line?'
Ode was familiar with human military banners. Normally, a noble with a title would definitely fly their family standard. Those without a family standard were usually of little consequence...
It was obvious who to attack in this situation. Since he was only conducting a feint, he would naturally choose the side with a lower chance of death.
"Everyone! Charge the left flank!" Ode roared.
At Ode's command, the black-skinned Jackal Wolfmen surged forward like a black tide, raising their wooden clubs or simply brandishing their claws as they charged toward Robson's phalanx.
Robson frowned. 'Why are these Jackal Wolfmen singling me out?'
However, this didn't affect Robson's strategy. He stared intently at the advancing horde. The smaller Jackal Wolfmen at the front were basically cannon fodder.
Robson didn't rush to have his Archers fire. According to the Frank Kingdom's standards, the effective range of an Elite Archer was about 150 paces, or 200 meters.
Through his own experiments, Robson had discovered that although his Mount & Blade panel's Frankish Archers were described as standard-issue Soldiers, they were, in fact, on par with the Frank Kingdom's elite.
After all, the Frank Kingdom's true standard-issue troops were its vast population of Peasants...
He estimated the distance between himself and the Jackal Wolfmen, ready to give the order at any moment.
Robson saw his moment.
"Ready! Loose!" Robson commanded.
The words had barely left his mouth when the Archers released their taut bowstrings.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
A hundred arrows flew out as one.
Seeing this from a distance, Ode almost laughed his canine teeth out. It was the first time he'd seen an Officer lose his composure in fear and order a premature volley.
'As for whether these humans actually had that kind of range?'
Ode, for one, didn't believe it. If this human unit truly possessed such skill, their commander wouldn't be some nobody without even a title.
But soon, he wasn't laughing anymore. He gradually realized something was wrong. 'These arrows... how do they feel so close? Are they actually going to reach me?'
'Not good!'
An arrow shot straight for Ode's face. He reacted instantly, swatting it away with a hand.
'That was close. I almost died...'
Although Ode was a Tier Five Silver Jackal Wolfman Warrior, anyone who had not surpassed Tier Six to reach Gold was still mortal. Below Tier Six, one relied on things like battle aura for defense. He hadn't activated his aura just now, so he naturally couldn't defend against it.
Ode didn't get to enjoy the relief of his narrow escape for long. His expression quickly darkened.
"AHH!"
"Help me, I'm hit!"
Over a dozen of the Soldiers right next to Ode were wiped out!
'This is 150 paces! In the age of cold weapons, bows are only truly effective at around 70 paces. If this is what they can do at 150 paces, then at 100 paces...'
Ode didn't dare to imagine. He could only feel that he had probably made a very poor decision.