《Free Lances》Side Story 42 - The Two Marshals
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“Sometimes like attracts like. Sometimes opposites attract. If you ask me, I think whoever said that love is blind has it right.” - Saying attributed to the Silver Maiden.
“You’re a tough one!” said Marshal Anni-Al-Bagh Barca in praise after she was forced to take a step back in order to properly dissipate the force from one of Reinhardt’s blows. Even though the tall, burly woman took his blow directly on her shield, the force still nearly dislocated her arm, which tinged the manic grin on her face with a touch of caution.
“I could say the same to you, Marshal,” offered Reinhardt with a nod of respect from where he stood before her. He easily twirled the quarterstaff used to simulate his polemace easily, despite the fact that the ‘staff’ was more a small log easily as thick around as an adult man’s wrist. Even then, it was still a good bit lighter than his actual weapon, which was made entirely out of metal.
“Wish I could’ve run into you a couple decades ago,” said the Marshal with a grunt as she delivered a powerful blow from her heavy mace, one large enough that most would have used it with both hands, though the woman wielded it single-handedly with ease. Reinhardt blocked her strike relaxedly with the shaft of his staff, before he pushed the Marshal back forcefully and followed up with a swipe towards her leg.
“I’m afraid I was already spoken for by then, Marshal, and my wife is a rather jealous one,” he jested even as the Marshal leapt over his swing and tried to bash him with her shield. Reinhardt didn’t dodge the shield bash attempt and instead leaned into it, shoulder first, as he tackled the incoming shield with his whole body weight behind it and nearly sent the Marshal to the ground in surprise.
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“What? No no no! I meant fighting you on the battlefield when I was in my prime!” corrected the Marshal with a slight blush as she realized just how easily her earlier words could have been misunderstood. A few of the fighting soldiers and mercenaries close enough to hear them actually snickered or downright laughed out loud at her words, both Caromans and Free Lances alike.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, then!” replied Reinhardt with a toothy smirk as he pushed harder against the female Marshal. The woman was skilled, strong, and experienced, but Reinhardt didn’t lack against her in any measure either, and was even stronger and faster than she was. As such, it wasn’t difficult for him to hold her at bay, as he knew all he needed to do was to buy time for Friede to do her part of the fighting.
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In the back of the Caroman formation, Marshal Publius Cornelius of Caroma was having a headache.
While he was considered the top general in the Caeropan army before the merge, and also the top general in the Caroman army afterwards, his specialty was in larger scale warfare. While some of that skill translated fine to small-unit matchups like the mock battle he was dragged by his wife and children into, there were many options he found himself lacking and wishing to have
Like another few thousands of reserve troops that were prepared to be sent wherever they were needed, for example.
His problem was that in combat with such a small scale, with only five hundred men on each side, personal prowess trumped unit discipline and cohesion more often than not. His opponents seemed to have a very clear understanding of that principle, given how they simply abused the physical superiority of their therian members to force their way into the Caroman formation.
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No matter how disciplined Publius’ veterans were, they wouldn’t stand a chance when faced with a well-coordinated charge by a troop where many of their members were half again to twice as tall as themselves, while outmassing them by threefold or worse. When he saw his veterans manhandled like children fighting against adults, he knew that the mock battle was pretty much a lost cause unless his boisterous wife could fight her way to and take down the mercenary captain first.
As such, he focused his efforts in directing a defense around his position. The enemy’s charge ground down as they ran low on momentum, but he was caught by surprise when a second force – one that specialized in brute force breakthroughs as that – charged out from within the enemy’s shield wall formation.
Publius had just breathed out a sigh in relief when that second force ground to a halt against his personal bodyguard unit when they too spread to the sides to allow a third unit that had remained fresh and unengaged up to that moment to strike out, directly towards him. Publius thought that he recognized the wife of the mercenary captain amongst them, but didn’t have the chance to make certain as his bodyguards were immediately put on the backfoot by these new attackers.
While every Caroman general was required to pass through a yearly fitness examination to ensure that they could still march and fight alongside their men when needed, Publius had to admit that he had never been that good in terms of actual fighting capability. Even when he was in his prime, he was never that good a fighter, and was fortunate to have been given a command position early on where he could put his talent to work.
As he unsheathed the wooden training sword at his waist, he looked stoically at the mercenary force that broke through his bodyguard unit’s defense rapidly, headed directly towards his direction. Directly leading those mercenaries was indeed the mercenary captain’s wife he recalled meeting on the first day. The woman showed magnificent grace and agility in her movements despite at most being a decade younger than him.
It was a sight that made him feel no small amount of envy, especially the way she nimbly and effectively dispatched one bodyguard after another with her pair of oddly-shaped wooden practice weapons.
When the woman stepped before him, with the rest of the mercenaries behind her keeping the rest of his bodyguards away, Publius knew the mock battle was lost, but was determined to at least give it his best shot against her.
To his disappointment, he didn’t even “survive” the first clash.
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