“Learning the right time to make an attack, that’s something many generals know how to do. Learning when to withdraw for one reason or another, that’s something far fewer could achieve. All too often ambition, greed, pride, and many other reasons muddled one’s mind and caused people to miss the right time to retreat.” - Liang Shi-zu, famed tactician from the Huan Confederation.

Lars smiled with some satisfaction as he directed his platoon’s soldiers to support Mischka’s in holding back the enemy reinforcements that were headed towards their location. Part of his platoon were occupied with corralling the enemy soldiers caught between his troops and the killing field behind them, but as they were mostly dealing with broken, fleeing foes, they had it easier.

He had to admit that there were definitely advantages to having groups of ruthless killers go do what they do best on the enemies. Elfriede’s and Fatimah’s platoon who led the massacre in the killing field not only did their job with great efficiency, but they also practically shattered the morale of the enemy soldiers who survived. That made the survivors not even think of putting up a fight as fleeing was the only thing in their minds.

As rare as it was in an actual battle, it was still a very pleasing sensation to have a plan go off flawlessly. The fire set by Avila’s platoon served as both distraction and obstacle to keep the enemy occupied and prevented them from reinforcing their vanguard rapidly, while the head-on assault had so far gone without a hitch as well.

They caught the enemy when most of their troops were fast asleep, which meant that by the time those same troops could muster a worthwhile response to the attack, it was far too late. Many of the enemy soldiers never even had the chance to wake up from their sleep as none of the mercenaries or volunteers were shy about stabbing a sleeping enemy.

While the fighting – nay, slaughter – continued unabated, the mercenaries rained arrows without end from the cover of the jungle to the enemy troops trying to reinforce their suffering vanguard. The small group of orcish archers who joined the company and were now part of the second archer platoon under Branka’s leadership made their presence known as well.

Orcs generally favored massive greatbows which were often far too heavy for a human to draw even halfway since they often hunted megafauna like the thunder lizard in the plains of their homeland, and Branka’s group was no exception. Each of them wielded bows that had draw weights that doubled or tripled those of war bows wielded by most human archers and fired arrows as thick around as a finger.

Even knights in plate armor were not safe from such bows, as the human armies discovered during the multiple failed northern crusades. Their effects against soldiers who only had gambesons for protection, maybe a suit of chainmail if they’re wealthier, was devastating. A single arrow often pierced through two to three people in one go before it lost its momentum, and that was despite the archers using broad-headed barbed arrowheads instead of bodkins.

What few enemy soldiers managed to brave the rain of arrows to come to their compatriots’ aid found themselves faced with a well-organized line of mercenary troops waiting for them. Many of those soldiers met their ends at the tips of the mercenaries’ spears, or for the really unlucky ones, died with incomplete bodies when they ran into the business end of the weapons wielded by Mischka’s people.

It was not until around twenty minutes had passed that Lars noticed how the screams and sounds of butchery coming from behind him was dying down, and he realized right away that Elfriede and Fatimah must be nearly finished. He decisively brought out and activated an alchemical flare to signal a withdrawal at that moment, the bright light from the flare unmistakable in the darkness of the night.

His own platoon reacted in a practiced manner as they shifted from a line formation to an echelon, with Mischka’s people following them closely. As they did so, they also swept through the killing fields behind them and made sure to finish off some lucky survivors that were left behind. The archers from the jungle intensified their barrage to cover their withdrawal.

Within a few short minutes, the echelon shifted back to a line formation, albeit one that was parallel to the road rather than perpendicular to it. The Anduillean soldiers could only watch from afar as the mercenaries and their volunteers slowly vanished into the jungle behind them. The groups led by Lars and Mischka were the last ones out, as Erycea and Elfriede already led theirs into the jungle ahead of them.

Meanwhile, their handiwork was made visible to the Anduillean soldiers after they retreated. Over a thousand corpses were strewn everywhere on the ground where the Anduillean vanguard had camped just a short while ago. Many of the dead had not only perished tragically, but were barely recognizable as the mercenaries had not given a damn about avoiding them and just directly trampled the corpses in their way instead.

A few lucky – or perhaps unlucky – survivors could be found here and there, but they were usually in tragic conditions. Most wouldn’t even survive the hour unless they received immediate medical attention from a skilled healer. Even so, the Anduillean soldiers were obligated to at least try to save their compatriots when hope still remains.

As for the mercenaries, no signs of them could be found. If some of them had fallen during the fighting, they had likely taken the corpses with them during the withdrawal. The night attack lasted less than thirty minutes, but the impact it had on the morale of the Anduillean soldiers belied its short duration. Once again, due to the distance between the column’s vanguard and where the commanders were, they didn’t even receive news of the attack until it was too late.

The mercenaries were already long gone by the time they organized a response to the attack.