Chapter 4: Iron and Fire (Part 1)
“It seems the enemy has come out just as we hoped.”
Bonaparte peered through her telescope.
On the second day of their march toward the City of Swordsmiths, the French army and Krumil’s forces encountered the advancing army of the Axe-Striking Country.
The appearance and movement of the French army had already been discovered by reconnaissance units sent out by the Axe-Striking Country to search for Krumil.
In fact, they had needed to be discovered.
On a gently sloping plain suitable for battle, the two armies faced each other and began preparing for combat.
The French army was divided into large units called demi-brigades, which were further divided into battalions.
Each battalion consisted of roughly six hundred men and was divided into nine companies, eight of which formed a three-rank line formation.
The sight of them standing in rows with muskets at the ready was why they were called line infantry.
One company in each battalion was composed of particularly brave and skilled marksmen.
They did not form part of the line but advanced ahead in scattered formation.
They were called skirmishers, and their role was to harass the enemy with gunfire, disrupt their formations, and blunt their attacks.
Their uniforms, primarily blue and white with red epaulettes, made it easy to distinguish friend from foe even through the smoke of black powder.
The bright uniforms also served to inspire themselves and intimidate the enemy.
Nearly all of them wore standardized uniforms and moved in unison according to their officers’ commands, like a massive machine.
Though composed of individuals, they moved with a single will, each soldier a replaceable part.
The French army was a great machine of war.
From above, their layered formations would appear as intricate geometric patterns.
In contrast, the army of the Axe-Striking Country was roughly divided into three groups of infantry forming the right, center, and left wings.
Behind them stood mounted knights.
Some wore full metal armor covering their entire bodies, while others wore only simple leather armor.
The infantry’s equipment was even more varied, ranging from patched rags to wooden helmets and chest plates.
To Bonaparte, they looked like a mob of rebellious peasants.
Spotting several catapults among the distant enemy forces, Bonaparte approached a deployed twelve-pounder cannon.
She pushed aside the artillerymen and personally aimed it.
“Give me the linstock.”
She took the firing rod and ignited it.
A thunderous roar echoed as the cannon recoiled violently.
The sharp smell of gunpowder filled the air, assaulting the soldiers’ noses.
It was a familiar scent—the smell of war.
“What a wonderful smell.”
Bonaparte loved this scent.
Her entire body surged with excitement, her mind ignited.
She had been born, raised, and lived within this smell.
The battlefield was as natural to her as a living room or a bed.
Moments later, the cannonball struck true, smashing a catapult.
Wood splintered into fragments, and the blood of an unfortunate soldier caught in the blast sprayed across the ground.
Shouts of shock and fear spread through the enemy ranks.
General Zodaf, commanding the Axe-Striking Country’s army, widened his eyes.
The object tearing through the ground was an iron ball.
It had come from beyond their range.
Krumil, who had claimed the throne of the Country of Kusanaga, had returned with strange soldiers from nowhere.
He had suspected she had some advantage, but he had not expected such long-range weapons.
More iron balls followed, crashing into the tightly packed infantry in the center, knocking down seven or eight men at once.
Soldiers screamed as limbs were torn away, sending shockwaves through the ranks.
“What is that!? Lightning!?”
“The soldiers are being torn apart!”
Unease rippled through the knights.
“Do not panic! Whatever it is, it must be some kind of catapult. Do not falter!”
Zodaf calmed the knights.
If the commander panicked, the battle would be lost.
Most of the infantry were conscripted farmers and townspeople, barely trained to march and thrust spears.
If they continued to take one-sided ranged attacks, fear would soon cause them to break and flee.
“Signal the advance! Knights, forward!”
Zodaf gave the order.
“For the great King Dahad!”
The knights shouted their loyalty, and cheers rose among the infantry.
Normally, a cavalry charge should be launched after weakening the enemy.
But if they waited, they would be destroyed by ranged attacks.
Thus, though he felt it was too early, Zodaf ordered the charge.
A thousand knights galloped across the plain toward the French army.
“They’re coming. Cavalry charge. Form squares.”
At Bonaparte’s command, the French troops shifted from line formation to square formation.
Battalions of five to six hundred men formed tight squares, presenting bayonets on all sides.
From above, they would resemble massive hedgehogs.
Abidod was left speechless.
The cannons had already astonished him, but even more shocking was the speed of the formation change.
These soldiers were highly trained and obeyed orders without hesitation.
Did such infantry exist anywhere in this world?
Just who were these soldiers Bonaparte had brought?
The knights thundered forward.
“Fire!”
Commands rang out across the battlefield as muskets erupted with fire and smoke.
A rain of bullets struck the charging knights.
Some were thrown from their horses, others struck in the head, others knocked down by the impact against their armor.
Yet only a few dozen were felled, and the rest surged toward the squares.
Arrows flew into the tightly packed French ranks, and javelins were hurled.
Cries of pain rose from the French soldiers, answered by more gunfire.
The knights circled the squares, searching for a weak point, but the formations held firm.
Horses instinctively refused to charge into dense rows of sharp blades.
Humans could suppress fear and rush toward death, but horses could not.
To break the enemy, cavalry needed to attack from the flanks or rear—or wait for the enemy to panic and break formation.
Zodaf led a group of knights across the battlefield but found no opening.
The enemy wielded explosive weapons unlike anything he had seen.
Though similar to crossbows, they were incomparably more powerful.
But more than anything, their formations did not break.
Holding formation against a cavalry charge was far easier said than done.
Who would willingly stand against a charging mass of iron and flesh many times their size?
In the end, Zodaf had no choice but to call off the charge.
The knights, wounded and reduced in number, retreated back to the infantry.
“They’ve pulled back.”
Bonaparte spoke with slight dissatisfaction.
The enemy showed no sign of fear toward cannons or guns.
She had expected them to panic and flee under bombardment.
Yet they still held their ground.
“It won’t be an easy victory, it seems.”
Bonaparte ordered the troops to advance while maintaining their square formations.