As the Lehlian Black Army launched its assault, Perturabo's Streltsi shifted back into a defensive posture.
However, as a modern force that had also undergone full professional training, the Black Army possessed a tactical awareness far superior to that of the aristocratic Winged Hussars. They were not like those knights who were obsessed with "honor" and "noble gallantry," knowing only how to charge headlong into the fray.
Instead, they leveraged the primary advantage of cavalry: mobility. So long as the Black Army knights employed hit-and-run harassment against the predominantly infantry Streltsi, their losses would not be as catastrophic as those of the Hussars who had crashed directly into the enemy front lines.
True to form, upon entering the battlefield, the Black Army utilized its superior maneuverability. They circled at a distance, taking turns firing flintlock pistols and crossbows at the Streltsi, who remained locked in their defensive squares.
The Streltsi grew increasingly frustrated. Slow movement was an inherent weakness of infantry, an unalterable reality of their role. They could only maintain their existing formations and return fire as best they could.
"Interesting, interesting. Wadisvav's Black Army certainly knows how to fight better than those Winged Hussars. They are no longer foolishly charging my positions for the sake of so-called 'honor.'"
"They have timely adopted the harassment tactics you usually employ. A truly... interesting enemy," Perturabo remarked. Standing atop his personal war machine, he squinted through his finely crafted telescope, observing the Black Army knights as they pecked at his Streltsi squares.
"My Lord, is it time for us to deploy? Shall we send our Kossar cavalry to meet them head-on?" an officer beside Perturabo asked cautiously, awaiting his master's next directive.
"Deploy them. Let them play with the enemy for a while until we have fully measured their strength. When that time comes, I shall unleash my secret weapons."
"Furthermore, it is time for the Kislevite princes who have sworn fealty to me to send their troops into the fray. They must now prove their loyalty to their master with their own blood and lives."
The Lord of Iron did not answer his subordinate directly at first. He watched the field in silence for a moment longer before slowly issuing the order. He appeared to be genuinely savoring the progression of the campaign.
"As you command, My Lord. I will notify the Kossar tribes and the Kislevite princes immediately!" The officer knelt on one knee, understanding his master's intent. He hurried away to relay the orders to the Kossars.
Thus, under Perturabo's command, his "reserves"—the Kossar tribes and the armies of the Kislevite vassal princes—entered the fray, joining the unfolding chaos.
When the first wave of Kossar cavalry crashed into the battlefield, the Lehlian Black Army was taken aback. They had not expected Perturabo to be able to organize these traditionally undisciplined nomadic tribes into a cohesive force.
In the previous estimations of the Lehlians, the Kossars were merely mercenaries hired by Perturabo for harassment; the idea that he could command them with such precision seemed impossible. But now, as the Kossar tribes were deployed like regular units, they provided living proof of Perturabo's military genius.
Even the most recalcitrant Kossars could now be directed by the Lord of Iron as easily as his own Streltsi, without complaint or hesitation.
Following the Kossar cavalry were the armies of the Kislevite princes. These heavy infantrymen, clad in traditional Kislevite armor, emerged in formation from behind the Streltsi lines to support their allies.
Leading these princely forces was Nevsky of Novgorod. He sought to demonstrate his loyalty to Perturabo through the blood and sacrifice of his men, hoping to secure a place for his city-state in the new order that would follow this war.
Perturabo had effectively "solved" the Black Army's harassment tactics. The newly arrived Kossar cavalry drew the Black Army away from the Streltsi, pulling them into a swirling melee of horse against horse.
Meanwhile, the Black Army infantry, which had been forming up behind their cavalry to launch an assault, was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the Kislevite princes' troops. Instead of attacking the Streltsi as planned, they were forced into a desperate struggle with these unexpected reinforcements.
"Damn it! Where did these people come from? My entire plan is in shambles!"
Observing the battlefield from a nearby height, King Wadisvav cursed in a fit of humiliated rage. He had not expected Perturabo to successfully drive these theoretically half-hearted secondary forces onto the battlefield to fight to the death for him.
"Your Majesty... should we also commit the Kislevite princes who followed us? Their loyalty is highly questionable, but we have no other choice," the knight guarding Wadisvav asked.
"I hate to admit it, but the situation leaves me no alternative," King Wadisvav admitted, gritting his teeth. After a brief silence, he issued a new command. "Notify the princes. Promise them that if they are victorious, I will grant them more land and wealth. I need their armies in the field now to support my Black Army!"
"By your command, Majesty! I shall deliver the orders at once!" The knight nodded and galloped off.
As the saying goes, "under a heavy reward, there must be brave men." Enticed by Wadisvav's promises—and fueled by their fear of Perturabo—the princes who had been content to watch from the sidelines finally moved.
More importantly, from their perspective, the Lehlian nobility, Wadisvav's Black Army, and Perturabo's Streltsi had already suffered heavy losses fighting one another. The groups that posed the greatest threat to their own power were being whittled away.
If the Lehlian side emerged victorious, it would herald an era where a weakened Lehlia would be forced to cooperate with them rather than command them. The Kislevite princes saw a chance for a new age belonging to them.
Buoyed by this realization, their morale surged. Tens of thousands of soldiers in the multicolored liveries of the various princes marched into the battlefield, serving as Lehlia's final reserve.
"Heh. They have finally entered. All the actors are finally on stage. It is time for this play to reach its conclusion."
Watching the Kislevite princes' armies flood the field through his telescope, Perturabo gave a cold snort.
"My Lord, what is the next step?" the officer beside him asked.
"Heh. You ask me what is next?"
"I am going to give these people a shock. It is time to unleash the war machines." Perturabo spoke with an air of casual ease.