The strong wind flapped Moliat's silk cloak as she extended her brass telescope to gaze into the distance.
After the previous battles, the army on the Shattered Stone Plain had learned its lesson.
They no longer dispersed but instead contracted their defensive line near Salt Beach to prevent being eroded little by little by André's "drip-feed tactics."
This ti, at the Riverfront Plain, just 68 kiloters from Salt Beach, they concentrated most of their forces, ready to decide the battle in one go.
It had just rained on the Shattered Stone Plain, and the morning mist lted like snow under the sun. The horse hooves couldn't stir up any dust, and visibility was quite high.
With the help of the telescope, Moliat could easily see the scene a kiloter away.
The guards and soldiers in long lines and large arrays were advancing slowly, mostly clad in chainmail and overcoats.
Their military formation, although not as good as Thousand River Valley, was already quite orderly.
The squire knights flying the unified Golden Sheephead Banner scouted around the periter.
They had already begun to skirmish with the rangers released by Moliat, chasing and being chased, quite rrily.
"The estimate of soldiers and knights is between eighteen thousand and twenty-four thousand." Lannes reported the information from the rangers beside her.
"They responded quite quickly," Moliat snorted coldly.
Previously, the Shattered Stone Plain army liked to play tricks by having a squad of knights lead dozens of guards and soldiers along with hundreds of peasant soldiers to form composite battalions for attacks.
They thought they could rely on the peasant soldiers and guards to hold the line, soldiers to form the main force, and knights to flank and achieve victory.
In the end, they were beaten to a pulp by André and Moliat's homogeneous soldiers, consistently losing more with fewer troops, which forced them to resort to reform.
Under the pressure of Moliat's offensive, all the nobles abandoned their sectarian views.
They learned from the Thousand River Valley Noble Alliance Army system, handing over their guards, soldiers, and knights for unified command under the alliance commanders.
As for the previous peasant soldiers, they were to follow the Thousand River Valley example, responsible for escorting supplies and logistics.
Red Horse Knight Moro furrowed his brow beside them, "What are the rangers doing? Why were they able to form ranks beyond our line of sight?"
"Maybe it's because they're fighting on ho turf. After all, we don't know the terrain as well as they do," Lannes naturally defended his subordinates.
Moro kicked him in the butt, "Always defending your own. Hand over the ranger list later."
Lannes chuckled, removing his hat to salute before leaving.
"Your Highness, how do we fight?" Moro stood beside Moliat, still holding up the telescope, "Who will be in charge of the main attack?"
"What main attack and support? There's no support; everyone is the main attacker," Moliat put down the telescope, "Do we need complex tactics to deal with them? Just encircle them directly."
"Dong dong dong—"
The small drum of sheepskin was beaten urgently, with long halberds and ax guns clashing and scabbards of short swords slapping against each other at the waist.
The Deng Jia'er Array, composed of eight formations of 2000 to 3000 guards and soldiers each, advanced across the verdant field.
In the gaps between the formations, small groups of rangers conveyed the commanders' orders.
In front of and on the sides of the formation were thirty cavalry columns composed of extraordinary knights, each with 150 riders.
Behind the formation, under the high-flying Golden Sheephead Banner, was the commander of the Shattered Stone Plain forces—Count Latis, the brother of the Duke of Wing Nest.
Count Latis looked grim at the mont, "Is that so?"
"Yes," the ranger swore, "I saw with my own eyes that three paths of troops simultaneously chose to pivot on the Deng Jia'er Array..."
"They underestimate ! That witch! Sorceress! Witch! She-witch!" The Knight Commander Tarkhan couldn't help but curse, "I vow to kill you!"
Under normal circumstances, armies divide between primary attack and support, with the forr responsible for dealing damage and the latter for distraction.
Just like a swordsman's duel, one hand holds a shield and the other a sword.
Moliat's three-pronged main attack was like wielding a sword in each hand and holding another in her mouth, barreling forward with brute force.
"It's simply reckless," Count Latis, one of Wing Nest Duke's subordinates, apart from the Duke of Redwood, was the most knowledgeable about military affairs.
He had served in the Knight Order, and his fief was on the border, frequently dealing with Norn nobility bandits.
The education Count Latis received from a young age told him that a three-pronged attack was possible but required an absolute advantage to be effective.
He admitted the forces of the Thousand River Valley were indeed stronger, but not to that extent.
Moliat had over ten thousand troops plus so auxiliary forces, but his side, combining knights and soldiers, had 25,000.
"Perhaps she is relying on the power of the clockwork gun," Tarkhan's tone softened when talking about the clockwork gun.
He had experienced its power firsthand.
Count Latis tugged the reins, "Does she think we'll fall into the sa trap twice? Have the peasant soldiers push out the shield wagons; she might know how to use a mobile fortress, but so do I."
With the orders from the ssenger cavalry, shield wagons were pushed by guards to the front of the army.
The so-called shield wagons were essentially handcarts linked together and reinforced with hides, iron sheets, and riveted hardwood panels.
Engineers had designed them to angle the shields of the wagons.
In the mountain infantryn's view, they saw massive brown leather shields like a long wall in front of them.
Although they couldn't block all the bullets, making the guards believe they were protected was more than enough.
The knights from the Thousand River Valley had provided them with plenty of experiences of arrays being shattered before getting close due to the clockwork guns.
"Send the cuirassiers to fire a volley and see what happens." Moliat turned serious upon seeing the shield wagons through the telescope.
Soon, a cuirassier returned, his armor in disarray, "The light clockwork gun can pierce shields at 50 ters; the heavy one at 80 ters."
Moliat imdiately issued an order, "Sand Eagle cannons fire a round, aim well; there's no second chance. Then have the cuirassiers and rangers disperse those pushing the wagons."
As the crossbow chanism was still being installed, the spare spring warehouses were limited.
The wheels rubbed against the axles as the Kush Coarse-Hoofed Horses snorted with displeasure.
Four heavy six-pound Sand Eagle cannons were pushed to the front, and the young gunner licked his dry lips, muttering artillery manuals under his breath.
He looked up, took a deep breath, and spoke in a deep voice, "Astrologer, distance."
"The direct line distance between the enemy's central line and the cannon muzzle is approximately 450 ters."
"Wind direction."
"Southwest by west, angle 12, wind speed 5."
The gunner's eyes quickly scanned the interpolation table, calculated, and within a blink, he looked up, "Right deviation 3, elevation angle 6, Astrologer, verify."
The astrologer's crystal pendulum swung on the star chart; it was about 10 seconds before he opened his eyes, "Reliable."
The service soldier pushed a cast-iron cannonball into the barrel, while the gunner seeing the scale was in place, inserted the iron rod into the slot.
"Praise Holy Thunder!"
Four loud explosions followed as the cannons recoiled, stepping back half a step.
Another shout of "Praise Holy Thunder," and twelve three-pounders successively roared thunder.
Black iron balls bounced over rocks and green fields, so flying over the shield wagons and others crashing into them.
The massive airflow scattered wood chips; the shield wagons, which had seed as sturdy as diamonds, were instantly breached.
Torn rivets and scraps of leather flew about, and the shield wagons that had been advancing slowly stopped imdiately.
The screams and terrified cries, masked by the cannon roar, only reached everyone's ears then.
"Now's the ti!" Lannes pulled down the beak-shaped helt, "All troops, charge!"
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