บท 6: Chapter 5: Across the Yaruga
The roads had been relatively clear, with no storms or extreme weather conditions hindering their progress. Now, the two armies had converged on the northern side of the Yaruga, preparing to press forward towards their common foe.
Inside a well-protected tent, three of the most powerful men in the northern realms stood in conference. King Foltest of Temeria and King Vizimir II of Redania were both present, along with Vilgefortz of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. Although the army was composed of troops from all the northern realms, including Aedirn and Kaedwen, only Foltest and Vizimir had attended in person. The other kingdoms were represented by their respective royal advisors, who were all members of Vilgefortz's organisation.
It was clear that the mage held great sway in the politics of this part of the world, and many believed that the kings themselves were merely puppets at the Brotherhood's behest. Officially, Vizimir was the leader of this coalition, but behind the scenes, it was rumoured that Vilgefortz wielded far greater influence. The power dynamic between the three men was a delicate one, and it remained to be seen what the future of this coalition would be.
"The scouts and sorcerers have seen the Nilfgaardians marching," said Vilgefortz, pointing to a flat region of Lower Sodden. "In a few days, our armies will certainly clash here. A flat terrain, with grass as far as the eye can see. But we will have the advantage."
"What advantage?" questioned Vizimir. "We have to cross the Yaruga first. It will take at least three days to do that with the number of men we have."
"Here," Vilgefortz said, placing his finger on a specific point on the map - a hill just near the river. "We can station my brothers and sisters on this hill and rain down destruction on their army."
The sorcerer then drew a straight line across the field, placing pieces on the war board to symbolise a certain division of the army. He put a horse piece with the Kaedwen coat of arms on the knight's shield. "On the right wing, we'll have Kaedwen's very own Dun Banner at the front line, along with Redanian and Temerian Cavalry. They will try to flank Nilfgaard's forces and incapacitate their mages and artillery."
"All of them?" Foltest frowned.
"Patience, your majesties," Vilgefortz spoke. He then put a soldier piece that bore the coat of arms of Aedirn next to the cavalry. "Aedirnian Infantry and Special Forces will be next to them. The special forces will use their bows to loosen up the left flank of the Nilfgaardian to ease the pressure on the cavalry. And next to them, at the center, will be the infantry of Temeria and Redania, as well as the Dwarven volunteer forces. They'll definitely hold the line, especially the dwarves."
"Are you mocking us, sorcerer?" Foltest warned.
"Of course not, your majesty. But it is a fact on the field," Vilgefortz backed down, looking at the two kings. "May I continue?"
Vizimir grunted, and Vilgefortz put a piece of a man wearing a feathery head. "On the left side of the center will be the Landsknechts of Temeria. Their cavalry wouldn't dare puncture this line if they're afraid of impaling themselves. Their crossbows will stop idiotic charges from the left flank as well."
"And finally, the left flank," said Vilgefortz, putting a simple piece - a man wearing shabby clothing, with sword and shield in hand. "Mercenaries, numbering almost two thousand from three different bands, will protect the hill that my brothers and sisters will occupy."
"Is this a joke? Mercenaries defending the greatest asset of the army?" Foltest asked.
"I assure you, your majesties, this is the best setup," the sorcerer continued. "I am confident that the brotherhood would hold off the would-be flank attackers of the Nilfgaardian. And in doing so, we could focus our more capable troops elsewhere. We would attack their left flanks relentlessly until they break. From then on, their army is easy pickings. Not to mention, this is just for the first day. As soon as we can set up the artillery, we will deploy it, and we have Skellige reinforcements as well coming in the next few days. This battle would be tough, but if we can hold on, it's an easy victory for us."
Vizimir tapped his fingers lightly on the table and glanced at Foltest to gauge his reaction. Seeing no objection from his fellow king, Vizimir nodded and said, "Very well, let's proceed with the plan."
======
Triss Merigold, a sorceress of great renown, was among the select twenty-two mages who had answered the clarion call of war, including her fellow royal advisor, the young and gifted Fercart. Despite her loyalties lying with the brotherhood and not to any particular realm or kingdom, she had nonetheless chosen to take up arms in defence of the land of her birth, alongside her fellow mages.
Now she stood, poised atop a hill that she was tasked with defending, gazing out over the vast expanse of grassy fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. Lines of soldiers were beginning to form in the distance, their numbers swelling as more and more men crossed the mighty Yaruga river. But for what reason had they been tasked with defending this hill? Vilgevortz had given them no explanation, no contingency plan, only the order to hold the position at all costs.
The mages on this hill were a curious bunch - pampered and privileged, accustomed to the machinations of politics and the experimentation upon the poor. Rather than donning sturdy armour for battle, they wore revealing dresses and skirts, preening and applying makeup in front of mirrors as if they were headed to a ball rather than a battlefield. Triss found the entire affair disconcerting, wondering why they had not prepared themselves better for the coming conflict.
"Are you well, Merigold?" a man's voice suddenly entered Triss' ears, and she turned to see that it was Fercart who spoke.
"I am fine," Triss murmured, turning her gaze to the scene in front of her. "I just have a bad feeling about this."
"Are you not confident in your abilities?" Fercart asked.
Triss sighed and shook her head. "It's strange. Our flank is only protected by mercenaries. Either Vilgefortz is too confident in our abilities, or Foltest and Vizimir are idiots. We are mages, not well-trained knights. Look around you, Fercart, do you see a single brother or sister wearing battle armour? No, they wear makeup to battle, for goodness' sake."
Fercart chuckled, gazing at Triss, who herself wore a revealing brown and green dress that hugged her well-sculpted figure beautifully.
"Yes, I know, I am guilty too," Triss rolled her eyes, still troubled by the impending battle, but resolved to see it through to its conclusion.
The outcome remained to be seen, but for better or for worse, Triss and her fellow mages were now committed to defending this hill, no matter the cost.
======
Blaidd's armour was wet from crossing the Yaruga. He stood among his fellow coin brothers while Tomas of Worden arranged the lines they would be fighting on. The tall and bulky man was to fight on the front line alongside his neighbours in the tents: Arturio, Brouvar, Ademar and Marek. The system of the lines was similar to that of a Roman legion from Blaidd's past lives. He would fight for around ten to fifteen minutes, and upon hearing a whistle from Tomas, the one fighting would fall back to the back lines, replaced by the next line. It was an effective tactic that prevented overexhaustion and an even spread of experience.
Blaidd looked around and saw more soldiers successfully crossing the Yaruga. Men with thick armour equipped the right sides of his group. Even he could see the discrepancies in equipment, and the mercenaries were the ones supposed to defend the sorcerers.
"You're wearing fur, Blaidd?" he inquired, his nose twitching as he took in the strong, musky scent. "It's almost as if you've been rolling around with a pack of hounds."
"What?" Blaidd raised his brow.
"Yer smell like a wet dog's arse." Brouver commented, scrunching his face.
"Oh, well, yeah, fur to warm myself." Blaidd lied.
Before any others could react, a sudden blare of trumpets resounded throughout the expansive grass sea on which Blaidd was standing. He raised his gaze to the fore and witnessed a lengthy procession of men donning ebony armour, with banners bearing the emblem of a white sun on a black field fluttering proudly atop poles. The vibrations of the steps of both men and horses reverberated throughout the surrounding area, an intimidating sight to any ordinary peasant. The number of soldiers present appeared to be equal to that of the northern army, which was quite alarming, considering that they were certainly not as well-equipped as their opponents.
Blaidd shifted his gaze towards the back of their army and saw the officers frantically bellowing orders at the remaining soldiers still crossing the river to hasten to their assigned positions. A look of palpable panic could be seen etched onto every soldier's face.
Finally, his gaze settled on Sodden Hill, where a group of mages stood poised and dressed in their finest garments and dresses. Blaidd could only heave a sigh as he tightly clutched his sword and shield, mentally preparing himself for the arduous battle to come.
Suddenly, Blaidd heard Marek muttering in a low voice, "Oh, bother. We're done for."
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