Chapter 114 – Eisenwald's Counterattack
The clamor of steel still thundered across the battlefield as the evening dragged on. The sky, burning crimson with the last light of the day, seemed to bleed together with the soil drenched in gore. The ground was slick, mud mixing with blood, making it treacherous even to stand. Eisenwald's infantry, though battered and bruised, stood firm under the steady hand of their veteran commander, Darius Holt.
From atop a small rise that served as a makeshift command post, Fenrir Eisenwald surveyed the battlefield. His crimson eyes scanned every corner of the chaotic front lines. His breathing was steady, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the weight of the moment. Now was the time to strike back.
"Kael," Fenrir said, his voice calm yet edged with steel. "Take the Crimson Knights. The enemy's left flank is weakening. Break them."
Kael Morgenstern bowed his head once. The massive black blade on his back seemed to hum in anticipation. "Your will, my lord."
He turned to the 150 Crimson Knights arrayed behind him, their armored horses stamping the earth impatiently. "Crimson Knights! Now is the time! Let the enemy remember tonight—the night they met our blades!"
A roar tore from their throats as one. The thunder of hooves followed. Kael swung onto his steed, his black greatsword gleaming with the last light of dusk. Though most of the knights wielded only faint aura, the collective pressure they exuded as they charged was enough to freeze hearts.
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On the enemy's side, the allied barons' infantry still pressed heavily against Eisenwald's line. But in their haste to crush Fenrir's smaller force, their formation had grown brittle at the edges. They hadn't realized the wolf had been waiting, teeth bared.
"Now," Fenrir whispered, raising his hand high. "Tear into them."
Kael led the charge like a spearhead. The Crimson Knights struck the enemy's left flank with the force of an avalanche. Horses thundered into scattered footmen, black steel cut through desperate spear points, and screams erupted as the flank collapsed. Kael's blade sheared through three pikes in a single sweep, scattering men like straw. The Crimson Knights poured in behind him, slashing and trampling. Blood sprayed. The flank crumbled.
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Fenrir wasted no time. He raised his sword and signaled. "Garrik! Drive into the center. Seal the gap!"
Garrik Stormhoof, commander of Eisenwald's regular cavalry, barked a fierce laugh as he lowered his long spear. "With pleasure, my lord!"
Four hundred and fifty riders surged forward, filling the breach opened by Kael. Their charge cut into the enemy like a hot blade through butter. Spears impaled men by the twos, horses bowled over stumbling infantry. Garrik himself skewered two men in a single thrust, then wheeled his mount aside, his momentum unbroken.
With the Crimson Knights ripping apart the flank and the cavalry cleaving into the center, the enemy's front line buckled violently.
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From a hill on the rear, Selene Aestra stood with her archers. The sun's last rays glinted on arrowheads raised high.
"Target their reserves in the rear!" she commanded, her voice sharp and sure.
Bowstrings groaned as hundreds of archers pulled back in unison. "Loose!"
A black rain of arrows soared and fell upon the enemy's reserves, ripping through men who hadn't even joined the front. Screams rang out as bodies toppled, panic spreading through their ranks before they could even move forward.
Fenrir's lips curved in a grim smile. "Good, Selene. Without reserves, their line will bleed dry."
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The roar of Eisenwald's men rose as their counterattack struck home. Infantry that had been slowly pushed back now surged forward, shields slamming and spears thrusting.
"Advance!" Darius Holt's voice thundered over the din. "Push them back! Let them feel Eisenwald's steel!"
The line advanced step by bloody step, forcing the enemy into retreat. For a moment, it seemed victory was within reach.
But numbers were a cruel reality. Even as the enemy reeled, fresh troops were rotated from the rear. Their formation, though battered, began to stabilize.
Fenrir narrowed his eyes. "They're shaken… but not broken. Not yet."
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The sky dimmed. The fiery red horizon faded into the black of night. Torches flickered on both sides, painting the battlefield with an eerie glow.
At last, the enemy began to fall back several dozen paces, reforming their ranks under cover of darkness. Eisenwald's horns sounded in response, calling for an ordered withdrawal to the current defensive line.
"Fall back! Hold the ground we've taken!" Fenrir shouted.
Step by step, Eisenwald's soldiers retreated without breaking formation. Even in exhaustion, their discipline held, and the enemy dared not pursue.
When silence finally fell, only the groans of the dying and the flicker of flames remained. The day's slaughter ended without resolution. Tomorrow would bring more blood.
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Kael rode back with his knights, armor stained red. Garrik dragged a broken spear, his horse snorting steam. Selene checked the quivers, counting the arrows left.
All eyes turned to Fenrir.
The young baron raised his sword high, his voice ringing out: "We did not win outright, but we did not lose. Remember this: the wolf does not yield to numbers. Tomorrow, we strike harder!"
A roar erupted from Eisenwald's ranks, shaking the night.
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Real-Time Report – End of Chapter 114
Eisenwald's Forces
Starting: 10,200
Additional losses (late afternoon/evening): ~500
Current strength: 9,700
Morale: High (counterattack success)
Enemy Coalition (Three Barons)
Starting: 13,500
Additional losses: ~2,000
Current strength: 11,500
Morale: Shaken, but intact
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