Chapter III

The Minister of War quietly walked in the Halls of Perdica’s citadel. He looked at the list of important people in Parmeonia as he decided to call a Council about the dangerous situation in which the Kingdom was.

“Important People to be invited:

King Polyön II
A generous and noble King issued of the Agnorian lineage. Now, at the year of 4701, he is about 45 years old.

Prince Marfirius Agnorium: leader of the Militias (8th, 9th, and 10th Armies)
Prince Apollodrus: Young prince, leader of the veteran army (6th Army) near Welzassil.
Prince Relus Iassa (Prince of the port-city Iassa)
Prince Hermius: Younger brother of Prince Apollodrus. Great military leader, leader of the Praetoria of Nel Parmeo.

General Nadir Berenus: General of the Royal Army
General Kor Lindus: Leader of the 2nd Army
Halus the Iron Fist: Leader of the Paladins of the Iron Hand
General Narub Trenus: Leader of the 3rd Army
General Satcha Beg: Leader of the 4th Army
General Herkul Hepidros: Leader of the 5th Army
General Iupsus Kalidor: Leader of the 7th Army (Vandera)”

Unfortunately for him, General Nadir, Halus, and Prince Apollodrus were at war, unable to join the meeting. The Minister sighed and decided to find his secretary to write and send the invitations.

***

While, on the Central Battlefront, the situation had got worse for the Grand Melken. Some scouts told Hoemir that the supply convoy was heading to him instead of the besiegers’ army… Hoemir had gotten more and more nervous by each painful hour passing by. His eyes were usually of a dark brown, but now his eyes were slowly turning to grey… His 12 000 experienced men and his 30 000 volunteers were his only way to achieve his complicated plan. Hoemir knew that he could count on the experienced men and Halus’ Order, but he didn’t trust the volunteers… He saw fear in their eyes… the fear that everyone has before his first combat. This so hated but reassuring fear that you see in the eyes of the soldier to your right and left… the fear that can be so easily turned into courage!

Hoemir’s army had marched for miles South of Trondforge, and only small bands of warriors were met… And then, a scout came to tell him that the enemy army, counting more than 40 000 soldiers, was heading to him. Hoemir’s army had been spotted… and it was only a matter of time whether he got swarmed by thousands and thousands of warriors! In a few hours, there would be the first major contact with the enemy!

-3 hours later-
Hoemir had done all that was in his power to encourage his men not to leave him. Walking among the regiments of the regrouped army, he saluted some of the men he had fought with in distant campaigns in every corner of the Kingdom. Some men slammed their swords on their large rectangular wooden shield, others were sharpening their arrows, others were checking their arbalests’ bolt magazines (check at the end of the chapter to learn more about this weapon)… Hoemir decided to place his men on a hill in an offensive formation. If his men placed themselves in a defensive position, he would be in disadvantage as his men couldn’t use all the space in a defensive terrain. He had about 2 500 more men than the rebels, and it would be an unexpected advantage. Despite the low quality of the Volunteer Corp, these soldiers had received a good training and were able to manoeuvre with a minimum of precision. Hoemir knew that war was more a matter of psychology than of “numbers”. He went on foot to meet his men, on the top of a hill to be sure that everyone was able to see him. He said:

“Parmeonian soldiers! Don’t let the grey clouds and the crows take your heart away from battle! Remember… that you are here because you fight for a cause you believe to be right, no? I am here, because I believe in one thing… I believe that a man has a fate, and that whether he wants it or not, the fate will decide what will happen to him! I know that lots of you will die! Yes, some of you will die! But don’t let this frighten you! THIS, is war. Do you think doing war is pleasant? Do you think it is pleasant to kill people and to watch your comrades being slaughtered? NO! Hell, no! Just keep in mind that if we fail here, the consequences will be terrible! By our victory or death, the fate of our nation will be determined! I want you to come back to Nel Parmeo, and to tell everything you have seen doing war! I want you to tell people how war really is! I want you to come back and to make these kind of unprepared war never happen again! I bet some of you still think of a pleasant walk under a blazing sun, watching your blade flying through the ranks of your enemies! Well, an armour is hard! And a weapon is hard too! Once you have killed your first man, you will kill another, and another… until you get killed or that you are too old to fight! Don’t think that I will sit on my horse watching everything going on! I will fight with you! On the battlefield, there are no ranks! Between losing a good leader and a fabulously skilled warrior, I prefer to lose the general rather than losing the skilled warrior! An army is not made of generals! It is made of soldiers! If a general dies, another will take his place! Anyone of you here could lead us to battle! But, like in war, not everyone knows how to lighten this flame of patriotism! This flame that will make you roar! This flame that will awaken the instinct of our ancestors! Tell me, men, do you believe in what you will risk your lives for? If anyone does not believe in what he does, he will never succeed! I want you to believe in yourself! Any of you here can take a crossbow or a bow and take down any of these damn Rebels!”

The men stood silent… and surprisingly no man quitted his place. The men held their ground, knowing that they had a duty, a fate, to accomplish.

“We will attack! I trust in the strength of our people! Hold firm the large wooden shields, and let the drunkenness of combat take your soul! Let this almighty fever possess you!”

The whole army cheered with rage as the enemy was about a mile from them. Thousands of enemy soldiers were slowly walking, followed by a gigantic cloud of dust. Several Rebels were mounted on horses, and they had more archers than Hoemir had expected.

The Parmeonian soldiers slowly walked with a heavy and regular pace. The experienced soldiers were in the 4th and 5th lines, while the rest of the lines were occupied by the volunteers. Hoemir had no choice, he had to attack. He would be disadvantaged if he tried to take a defensive position as his men were only experienced in attacking instead of manoeuvring to make a solid defensive formation.

The soldiers advanced. Tybalt, a young volunteer, was in the second line. He was abundantly sweating under his armour and didn’t know whether he would stand firm or turn back. He saw the great mass of enemies and said: “Uh, oh… We’re just dead…”
Halus, on his side, was riding with his men (as all his knights were fighting on horse) to the right of the enemy, in a rocky territory that headed to the mountains. Hoemir had asked him to harass the enemy with their crossbows and to drive a part of the enemy army out of the main battleline. Halus rode forward, and several bolts fell on the enemy formation. Some gaps were made in the ranks, but other soldiers took the place of their dead predecessor. About 5 000 soldiers ran after the knights, which were already riding to the rocky mountain, desperately trying to reload their arbalests, which were awfully hard to reload on a horse. While, on the Centre, the Rebels were already charging. The Parmeonians kept slowly advancing, while shooting with their arbalests with a particular way. Hoemir had decided to make a particular strategy that his men had developed a few days ago. The large wooden shields were perfect for inserting a small gap in it that could be rapidly closed, some kind of trap just big enough for a crossbow to shoot bolts. The first 2 lines formed up a shield wall and began shooting with a great precision. Several Rebels died, being surprised with such an aggressive strategy. After having shot their 5 bolts, they immediately prepared themselves to charge. The archers released large volleys of arrows over the crossbowmen into the Rebel ranks that transformed the Rebel formation into a loose one. Though, as the crossbowmen were using one hand to hold their shield and another hand to hold their crossbow, they couldn’t reload. So, they simply took up their swords. The rebel warcries reached the Parmeonian Melken (army) and the melee began.

Tybalt had already fired 3 shots with his crossbow and prudently put it back at its usual place, right near his sword. He took his sword and threw himself in the melee with thousands of his courageous comrades.

***
Far away from the first great battle of the divided Grand Melken, a Council was created… some kind of reunion. Princes and nobles from all over the Kingdom came to know why they were called so hastily and what King Polyön II wanted them to do.

The King had to explain some things… like why the people were starving by the lack of food, and the lack of news from the Front, and the great weakness of the Outer Kingdom armies, not being supplied, being abandoned to their own fate…

Yes, the King had to explain things, and to act in consequence.

The Minister of War slowly walked into the hall, and reached the Throne Room. He sat on his chair and looked at his King with a scornful glare.

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[Informations about the Parmeonians]
Arbalest (crossbow): Weapon used by the Parmeonians. Their arbalest, with an ingenuous mechanism, can fire up to 5 shots (as a magazine contains 5 bolts) in less than 3 seconds, but the most skilled arbalesters can reload it in barely 20 seconds. The bolts are not as long as an arrow, but they are much faster and much precisely. These weapons are used by a soldier out of 5 in the Regular army. These weapons are expensive but worth their cost. These weapons are used by every Paladin of the Iron Hand’s Order. Also, some soldiers have the Assault Arbalest. The arbalest is made of iron and has an iron pick perpendicularly oriented, so that the arbalest can be used like a melee weapon (in the style of a flax).

Heavy Arbalest: The ancestor of the modern machine-gun (in our time), the heavy arbalest is placed on a tripod and has a magazine of 60 bolts. It has a slower rate of shooting than the arbalest, but the number of bolts in each magazine is worth its cost. A heavy arbalest is generally reloaded in 35 seconds, but it is easier than the little and more reliable mechanism of the small arbalest.