Herald of Steel

The legionaries grasped their rope of chance quickly and with everything they had, thus obeying Alexander's instructions instantly.

So the two attacking forces faced an enormous counterattack out of nowhere that momentarily stunned them.

To them it appeared as if the blue armored men had all of a sudden gone insane, disregarding all concerns of personal safety and only wishing to attack and kill them, dragging them down to hell with them.

Hence the large momentary burst of power had both the Margraves and Heeat soldiers recoiling in horror, unable to contain them any longer and conceding a large amount of ground to them, thus giving the legionaries a slight respite from the absolute crushing.

It was a respite that they greatly needed.

"You maggots! Why are you retreating? Attack! These are the death throes of a mad dog. The last whoosh before the candle goes out. What are you afraid of?"

But it was also only 'a slight respite' as the commanders of the two opposing forces soon began to whip their soldiers into shape by as barking as such.

The quick and precise response really went to prove that both the Margraves and Heeat forces were led by excellent commanders, who instantly recognized this mad rush as the enemy using the last of his reserves in a single desperate move, induced by the sudden appearance of a fleeting hope.

A hope that they were ready to crush with all their might, ordering a counterattack and blunting the legionaries's charge head on by using sheer numbers.

"Get back there and attack you cowards! There is nothing but a wounded dog before you. Snap its spine like a twig. The lord will have all your skin if you let these maggots escape."

The officers barked and whipped their men like this, refusing to let the quarry fly the coup after coming so close.

While at the same time, they began to take precautions against the appearance of those new ships, becoming alert, but producing little panic,

"Do not bother about those new ships! These don't matter. They won't ever get the chance to board them! We will not let them."

They claimed, for the commanders were confident that they outnumbered Alexander so much and had so much momentum behind them that any attempt at evacuation would be met with an unrelenting attack from both sides, instantly snapping the weakened lines and closing that door to release forever.

They wished to make it so that the legionaries would be killed the moment they tried to disengage their defensive formation, giving them no time to turn around and run, to escape.

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As for those enemy ships landing their own forces to reinforce the besieged units or even placing behind the Margraves units, thus outflanking them, well that was impossible too.

Because of one simple reason- the Margraves ships that were already present in the area.

With those present, what were these reinforcing ships going to do exactly, fight the enemy ships or try and rescue their forces?

Because they could not do both.

To fight they needed to keep moving, ramming, and boarding the other ships, while to rescue their men, well they needed to be stationary to set up their ladders and get the men on or off the bridge one by one.

An endeavor during which these vessels would be sitting ducks for Ser Robert, able to be picked off even with a blindfold on.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

The very tactic Alexander wanted to threaten the enemy with was now being used to hold against his neck.

It was like this that both Ser Robert and General Achillas managed to easily see through Alexander's plan and instantly recognize the accompanying giant flaw in it, thus finding the appearance of the new forces of little concern.

It was also the same thing that the former commander had spent the last ten minutes explaining to his superior, Lord Bernard, who had initially nearly lost his mind upon seeing the new ships heading towards them, shouting in a crazed, almost insane voice, "Robert! Call the men back! Call the men back quickly! We are about to be rammed! We are about to be rammed! There is no one to defend me!

There is no one to defend me!"

The craven man had come out of his hiding hole some time ago after learning the enemy had been trapped on the bridge and was not shooting arrows anymore.

And upon verifying the truth for himself, he acted like it was he who had done all the work, patting Ser Robert on the shoulder and giving a nasal, almost crass laugh,

"Haha, good, good, Robert! Well done, I knew I could count on you to obey my orders! Hahaha!

I will be sure to introduce you to Lord Parker when I meet him for the victory celebrations."

It took a lot for the muscular man to not wrinkle his nose in disgust at such a nauseating display of incompetence, but what could he do?

The man behind him was a lord, while he was just a commoner.

This was just the reality of things, and the man had by now gotten used them, accepting things to be simply as they were.

So instead, to hide the disdain he felt towards the man, Ser Robert quickly shifted his eyes to the ongoing battle at the top, hoping the pleasing sight of his men slaughtering his enemies would be enough to help quell some of the bitterness in his heart.

It did.

Back at the top of the bridge, it was not that Alexander was unaware of the difficulties of the rescue his men would face.

But there was little other way, as he found this method despite all the obstacles far better than jumping.

A lot of more men might be saved in this way.

So he began to hope that some of his ships would be able to hold the attacking enemy back long enough for one or two of the others to moor, extend the ladder, and rescue as many soldiers as they could.

Among which hopefully there would be he and Hemicus, thus saving the two most important men in the group. The third most important man, Quinnolin had already made his escape, being the lucky man chosen to deliver Alexander's instructions to the ships.

And to try and stop that from happening was a ready Ser Robert, with the man quickly gathering the remaining of his forces, and readying all five of his ships by retracting the siege ladder back to their decks and lining up in a defensive position.

His forces on the top could reach land using the bridge after all.

So soon the air began to coagulate with the thick scent of another fight that was about to start, as the six ships approached the enemy fleet from either side with deadly intent.

However, although appearing very menacing, Alexander's ships were in reality really just paper tigers, having more bark than actual bite.

They were basically empty ships crewed by a skeleton crew of servants and rowers, with no legionaries or armed soldiers aboard, for everyone that was available had been already deployed.

Hence, these ships possessed the impressive fighting power of nil!

The best they could was just ram into the other ships and hope it sank right there, and absolutely nothing else, no boarding or fighting on the decks, thus making them like a Jenga tower, appearing very tall and impressive from the outside, but tumbling into a million pieces with the slightest touch.

Knowing this, the initial plan thought of by Quinnolin, who had decided to appoint himself as the 'fleet commander' of these ships, was never to them these ships get hit in the first place.

He instead hoped that their sudden and grand appearance would be enough to scare the enemy away, sparing the need to spill blood.

However that clearly had not happened.

The situation at the battlefield had changed and so the enemy was no longer in their stationary anchored position but was taking battle maneuvers, ready to contest the seas with the approaching enemy.

This put Quinnolin in a great dilemma.

What the hell was he going to do?

Should he keep going regardless or call his own bluff and retreat?

Choosing the former would mean a rout the moment the two sides made contact, as the crews stirring these ships were no soldiers, but simple slaves and servants- civilians who were the supporting elements of the army with no formal training.

They did not even have any weapons or armor equipped with them, save perhaps a shovel, a simple dagger, or a small hatchet that they haphazardly modified for combat, acting more of a consoling tool than an effective offensive one.

Something the men would look at and say he was not defenseless.

It was kind of like facing a tank with a handgun- the tiny 9mm would not perhaps even chip the paint off of the things, but you would rather have the damn thing than not.

But these men were fighters and would run the moment the tire hit the road.

So what about the latter choice- running?

Well that was not an option either given the circumstances. Thus the man found himself stuck.

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