ACT 3
“So it would appear that the Flame Clan has rejected our overtures.”
Completing his inspection, Yuuto had quickly returned to Glaðsheimr to find Oda Nobunaga’s message waiting for him. Nobunaga had declared war upon him in all but name.
The Flame Clan had continued with their invasion of the Spear Clan.
Yuuto had already received reports that the Flame Clan had surrounded and laid siege to the Spear Clan’s Hliðskjálf in their capital of Mímir. It was only a matter of time before the city fell to the Flame Clan.
As Nobunaga made clear in his message, he had no intention of following the orders Yuuto had issued as þjóðann.
“Yes, and evidently he went so far as to call you a usurper, Big Brother.”
“Well, that was to be expected.”
Yuuto nodded as he let out a dry laugh.
He had been under no illusions that the infamous Oda Nobunaga would listen to his orders and fall into line.
Yuuto had issued the directive as part of the process to justify his own actions moving forward.
“How have the other clans responded?”
The edict forbidding combat between clans wasn’t restricted solely to the conflict between the Flame and Spear Clans. He had issued the decree to all of the clans in Yggdrasil.
The Steel Clan already stood head and shoulders above the other clans in terms of power, and its leader had been bestowed the title of þjóðann by its previous holder, Rífa.
Yuuto had wagered that other clans would follow in the footsteps of the Fang Clan and fall in line.
“The Armor, Shield, and Helm Clans have indicated their intention to obey the decree you issued. Their patriarchs intend to come to the capital in the coming days and have requested an audience to pay their respects.”
“I see.”
Yuuto smiled in amusement. Things were proceeding as he hoped.
“It appears the title of þjóðann still holds a lot of weight.”
It was likely things would not have happened this easily had he merely remained the Steel Clan’s reginarch.
The clans named after weapons and armor such as Fagrahvél’s Sword Clan and Hárbarth’s Spear Clan dated their founding back to the beginning of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire, and they had maintained close ties to the empire ever since. Those ties to the empire had made it easier for them to maintain their authority.
This was similar to the clans descended from high-level Muromachi Bakufu retainers such as the Hosokawa, Yamana, and Hatakeyama Clans of the Warring States Period who had maintained their territories near the former capital and had sheltered various Ashikaga Shoguns to strengthen their authority.
But because of that historical background, they remained retainers of the empire. This meant that they couldn’t afford to go against the wishes of Yuuto—the man who had officially been granted the title of þjóðann by Rífa herself.
“Of course, I don’t know how far we can actually trust their show of loyalty,” Yuuto said bluntly, perhaps stating the obvious.
Because patriarchs in Yggdrasil acquired their positions on the basis of their ability, all of them were quite formidable in their own ways.
They were bending the knee to Yuuto because they sensed it was the best way to survive in this age of conflict.
There was also an element of fear in their obedience, as they’d watched the Flame Clan defeat and absorb the clans surrounding it to fuel its rapid expansion.
Put another way, if Yuuto’s strength began to wane or if it appeared he was on the losing side of the conflict, it was probably safe to assume they’d hurriedly switch sides.
“Still, it means we’re ready to set up a cordon. Okay, Felicia, issue the Flame Clan subjugation order!” Yuuto declared.
“Very well. I shall prepare the tablets immediately.”
Just as Felicia opened the urn containing the clay—
“Father, I bring urgent news!” Kristina yelled as she dashed into the room.
Her expression and voice were tense.
There had been many times in the past where Kristina, as head of intelligence, had hurriedly brought in a report.
However, almost all of those reports had been providing information that turned out to be events that ultimately unfolded within the range of expected outcomes that either she or Yuuto had foreseen.
Historically, even the most urgent of reports had been delivered calmly.
This time, however, she was clearly anxious as she delivered her news. It was a rare occurrence.
“The Flame Clan has conquered the Spear Clan capital of Mímir...”
That part came as no surprise. It was a bit earlier than Yuuto’s initial estimate, but it wasn’t completely unexpected.
It was at that moment that Yuuto felt an uneasiness creep into his mind as a problematic possibility quietly presented itself to him.
“And after doing so, they continued their advance and are making their way toward the Holy Capital of Glaðsheimr!”
“Seriously?!”
For a moment Yuuto couldn’t believe his ears.
Ordinarily, there were a number of issues to settle after conquering a clan.
Rewarding those who had accomplished the most, allowing the troops to rest, securing supplies—there was a long list of things that needed to be done.
Then there was the issue of the remnants of the defeated army.
Some would inevitably end up as bandits of some sort, or even go to ground in the hopes of rebelling in the future, making the political situation in the conquered territories tenuous at best.
Such an unstable situation would make it difficult to secure enough fodder and supplies to re-equip the conquering army.
By all accounts, it was typical to focus upon securing the conquered territory, and Yuuto had expected Nobunaga to do just that with the Spear Clan’s territories.
The Steel Clan was clearly on a different level in terms of scale compared to the clans that the Flame Clan had absorbed up until that point.
They were also known for their continual string of victories, which was why Yuuto assumed the Flame Clan would need at least some time to prepare before staging their advance upon the Holy Capital. He certainly hadn’t imagined that Nobunaga would move this quickly.
“Stupid haste is preferable to wise deliberation. I suppose. Damn.”
As the phrase indicated, it was the observation that it was better to be fast and less tactically refined than to be slow with refined tactics.
It was a maxim that had its roots in Sun Tzu’s The Art of War where he observed that “Thus, though we have heard of stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been seen associated with long delays.”
This was certainly a good situation to put that very principle into practice.
Time favored the Steel Clan, so for the Flame Clan it was better to move early than to wait.
“That’s absurdly fast, isn’t it? I’ve heard the Flame Clan’s forces number over fifty thousand. Surely they’ll overstretch themselves and end up failing as a result.”
Felicia’s observation seemed perfectly logical.
It was certainly possible to move quickly with a small force, but a rapid advance with a large army would mean insufficient supplies and a large number of deserters.
“No, I doubt that’ll happen,” Yuuto said flatly and shook his head from side to side.
While he might have been overshadowed by Hideyoshi’s Great Chugoku Return March, rapid advances were Oda Nobunaga’s specialty.
There were countless anecdotes about his ability to move his armies with speed, so it was best to assume Nobunaga had taken this course because he was confident in his own success.
“I knew this could have happened and he still managed to catch me by surprise... Dammit.”
Yuuto sourly bit down on his lower lip.
Oda Nobunaga was a man who would almost always put himself in a position where he could assure victory before engaging in battle.
Conversely, he was also capable of taking great risks and throwing himself into the fray if the situation called for it.
During the Honkoku-ji Incident of 1569, he had personally led his reinforcements through the snow in a forced march to cover three days of marching in just two days to rescue the besieged Shogun, Ashikaga Yoshiaki.
There was also the Battle of Tenno-ji, where he had determined that allowing his allies to perish in front of him would cost him prestige in the eyes of the world and led a charge with a mere three thousand men against the Hongan-ji Army, which numbered around fifteen thousand, and secured victory in spite of the odds.
Ordinarily though, both of those accomplishments should have been impossible.
Oda Nobunaga was a man who made the impossible seem routine.
“Well, I guess this is going to be a hard one.”
Yuuto let out a bitter, dry laugh.
Yuuto had yet to experience the true danger presented by Oda Nobunaga, however...
“F-Fifty thousand?!”
“I had heard rumors, but...”
“Impossible... Even the Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army made up of five clans could only muster thirty thousand.”
The news of the Flame Clan’s impending advance upon the Holy Capital of Glaðsheimr was a shock to the generals of the Steel Clan assembled in the throne room.
Unlike Yuuto, their surprise stemmed not from the speed of the advance, but by the sheer numbers being reported.
It was an understandable reaction.
In Yggdrasil, battles were generally fought between armies with thousands of soldiers, and even the Ten Great Clans could muster, at most, ten thousand or so per army. Fifty thousand was an unbelievable number by those standards.
“Is there any possibility that this is misinformation...?”
The question came from the Sword Clan patriarch, Fagrahvél.
It was a common tactic throughout the ages to inflate the numbers of one’s army in official reports.
Making the numbers larger made one’s own troops feel more confident in victory, and also affected the morale of enemy troops too.
“The number fifty thousand comes from the reports my agents have provided me. The official number they’re claiming is a hundred thousand,” Kristina replied matter-of-factly.
“Thooose are the saaaame numbers that I’ve beeeen given.”
The Sword Clan strategist, Bára, indicated her agreement, giving Kristina’s figure more weight.
Fagrahvél sighed deeply and shook her head from side to side.
“If the two of you say as much then I have no intention of doubting you, but it’s still a number that’s difficult to comprehend. How did a single southern clan gather a force that large? Just how are they keeping them fed?”
“We’ve received reports that their food production is extremely high. That the grain yields are many times the number of what they used to be. Further, they’ve tripled their farmlands over the last ten years.”
“Whaaa?! How the hell did they do that?! Does the Flame Clan have access to the same divine knowledge from the land beyond the heavens as Father does?!”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Pardon?!”
At Yuuto’s words, Fagrahvél let out a cry of surprise.
Fagrahvél’s statement was meant rhetorically. She couldn’t possibly have imagined that it would actually be the answer.
“The Flame Clan’s patriarch is from the same country as I am.”
“O-Oh my...”
“The reason the yields are huge is probably because of fertilizer. As for expansion of the farmland, that’s probably from irrigation and iron farming tools. He might very well have done things that I don’t know about. When it comes to this particular area of knowledge, that man’s repertoire far exceeds mine.”
“Wait, he knows even more than you do, Big Brother?”
Felicia tensed as she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.
She had watched Yuuto’s knowledge bring about revolutionary advances up close, so it was hard for her to imagine someone having more knowledge than him.
“Yeah, without a doubt.”
This was Yuuto’s frank assessment. He had no intention of frightening his audience.
It was true that Yuuto had been born over four hundred years after Nobunaga.
That said, the age Yuuto was born in was one where many things had been automated through mechanization. There were quite a few things that were simply too different from the pre-industrial age Nobunaga came from.
Yuuto also had absolutely no practical experience with agriculture.
By contrast, Nobunaga had lived in an era where manpower was the primary source of labor. On top of that, it was an era in which agriculture was a critical pillar of a country’s economy and the primary concern of the ruling class.
Nobunaga had become the ruler of the Oda Clan at the age of eighteen and had governed his territories until his ‘death’ at the age of forty-nine. He had some thirty years of experience as a ruler and all the first-hand knowledge he had acquired in the process.
Certainly, while growing grain here in Yggdrasil was a different beast to rice back in his homeland, Nobunaga’s knowledge of agriculture was still vastly superior in many ways to Yuuto’s.
“Mm, so you mean the current situation is that much more slanted against us.”
The one who casually made that observation was the strange man clad in a black mask—Hveðrungr.
He had previously been the patriarch of the Panther Clan, but was now a member of the Steel Clan and the current leader of the Independent Cavalry Regiment which consisted of cavalry forces recruited from the Panther Clan.
“The Steel Clan forces in Glaðsheimr number roughly twenty thousand. While up to this point, Big Brother Yuuto has overcome differences in forces using his knowledge from the land beyond the heavens, this is an enemy who possesses the same knowledge. I suppose we cannot rely on such things this time?” Hveðrungr said and turned his gaze toward Yuuto.
While several generals of the Steel Clan frowned in displeasure at Hveðrungr’s dry, rhetorical statement, Yuuto felt it was perfectly in character.
That was, after all, the reason why Hveðrungr, as Loptr, the Second of the Wolf Clan, had not accepted Yuuto’s ascension to patriarch of the Wolf Clan.
Hveðrungr was essentially telling Yuuto to show his actual substance, not just the flashy exterior.
“Yeah. It’s as my brother Rungr says. It’s pretty much a given that the enemy’s going to have steel weapons and use phalanxes equipped with long spears. They’re the original, after all. Not only that, it’s almost certain that they also have stirrups and gunpowder.”
As Yuuto concluded his statement of agreement, a ripple of uneasy murmurs spread through the generals.
The items Yuuto had named were the weapons that had enabled the Steel Clan’s explosive growth.
If the equipment between the armies was equal, then it would be numbers that would settle the matter.
As it currently stood, the Flame Clan outnumbered them by nearly two and a half times.
It was also worth mentioning that the Steel Clan’s forces had recently been reinforced, meaning that while the forces were properly equipped, nearly half the army had less than three months of training in wielding long spears in phalanx formations.
It was therefore understandable that there would be an undercurrent of anxiety among them.
“And for that reason...!”
Yuuto raised his voice as though he had already foreseen this reaction.
War was looming on the horizon.
It was important to make his subordinates understand the current situation, but it would be the height of folly to adjourn with them demoralized by the harsh realities of what was occurring. He had always intended to start with the bad news then bolster their morale with the good news.
As the generals looked upon him expectantly, Yuuto quirked his lips in a confident grin.
“I know precisely what that man doesn’t know. I also possess things that he doesn’t.”
“The Second Division was attacked by the enemy.”
“Oh?”
At his Second Ran’s report, Nobunaga gazed around from atop his horse.
It had been two days since they’d conquered the Spear Clan.
It was a bit too early for the remnants of the clan to break out in rebellion, and it was hard to imagine bandits going out of their way to attack an army as large as his, so Nobunaga wanted to know what foolhardy soul had made such a decision.
“The enemy was a force that consisted entirely of cavalry. They arrived like the wind, rained down a torrent of arrows, then immediately retreated before our forces could regroup.”
“Mm, cavalry alone, was it?”
Nobunaga furrowed his brow in thought.
There had been mounted warriors in his era, but he had never seen forces that consisted entirely of cavalry.
To him, cavalry consisted of mixed units formed around a single mounted warrior and several retainers on foot.
At the very least, there had been no units that consisted entirely of mounted warriors in the Land of the Rising Sun.
“Yes. The enemy forces numbered roughly two thousand. Further, they were highly trained elites, all of them capable of skillfully manipulating their mounts while firing their bows.”
“Ah ha.”
It further piqued Nobunaga’s curiosity.
In the Land of the Rising Sun, mounted warriors generally were armed with spears and employed as a charging unit. There were only a handful of people who were capable of doing something as advanced as firing bows from horseback.
It was bordering upon sheer fantasy in Nobunaga’s mind for a unit of two thousand such cavalrymen to exist.
That very unit was one of the things that Yuuto had referred to—a tactical formation that Nobunaga had no knowledge of.
Nobunaga may have read about such forces in histories, but Yuuto had been relatively certain that Nobunaga had never fought such units despite his long history in war.
There were no nomadic horse tribes in Japan. No groups that spent all day, every day, every season upon horseback, wielding their bows from atop their horses.
“If I recall correctly, the Panther Clan that the lad was fighting used those sorts of tactics, no?” Nobunaga said as he rubbed the bristles of his bearded chin.
Yes, the reason he wasn’t surprised upon hearing about the Steel Clan’s use of a unit consisting entirely of mounted troops was because he was already aware that there were such units in Yggdrasil.
A man as great as Nobunaga knew the value of information, and he had already sent out agents to the far reaches of Yggdrasil to gather intel about the fighting on the continent.
Nobunaga also knew that the Panther Clan patriarch, Hveðrungr, had joined the Steel Clan.
“Merely having them described to me makes them sound like a difficult opponent to deal with.”
Nobunaga was aware from his studies that Genghis Khan had used similar forces to conquer the Asian continent.
He had also read that three hundred years prior to his own era, the Mongol forces of the Yuan utilizing such tactics had caused no end of trouble for Japan’s samurai.
Indeed, those same histories had suggested that without the Kamikaze—the Divine Wind—the Yuan might very well have conquered the Land of the Rising Sun.
“Heheh.”
A chuckle spilled from Nobunaga’s lips.
This was an opponent he would be facing for the first time, who used a tactic he had never encountered before—there was no way he could hold back the excitement from such a challenge.
“How entertaining. I suppose I’ll see just how much of a fight they put up.”
Nobunaga grinned, a predatory gleam in his eye as he roused himself to battle.
“That man’s asking us to do far too much,” Hveðrungr muttered to himself as he rode astride his favorite horse.
For the Battle of Vígríðr, he and his men had also been employed as skirmishers, sent ahead of the main body to buy time for the Steel Clan army to arrive. Once again, they were being employed in much the same way.
With there being no difference in equipment, there was nothing to be done in the face of such a massive disparity in troop numbers.
That disparity was exactly why Yuuto had resorted to issuing the Flame Clan subjugation order. This was another of the things that the Steel Clan possessed but the Flame Clan did not.
Essentially, Yuuto intended to use the authority of the þjóðann to have the surrounding clans encircle the Flame Clan and defeat it. The role of Hveðrungr and his forces was to buy enough time for the reinforcements to arrive.
“Well, we’re the fastest force in the Steel Clan, after all.”
“Yep, nothing to do about that.”
“I mean, they’ve given us plenty of silver. We may as well do our jobs.”
Hveðrungr’s subordinates, riding alongside him, quipped with the occasional chuckle.
Their attitude was playful without a shred of tension in their voices. It may have seemed irreverent, but it was also a sign of their confidence. To joke in the face of battle was something that took a certain amount of nerve.
Hveðrungr decided he needed to rein in his men with a warning.
“Don’t be too cocky. The Flame Clan evidently has gunpowder as well.”
“Oh, that...”
“Yeah, that was a hell of a thing to deal with.”
All of Hveðrungr’s men had tense smiles on their faces upon hearing those words. They all had vivid images of the nightmarish battle they had experienced.
The battle where the tetsuhau unleashed by the Steel Clan had caused the horses to panic, completely destroying their ability to fight back. They had then watched helplessly as their allies were slaughtered.
“Well, the secret is to just avoid getting too close,” Hveðrungr said with a teasing quirk of his lips.
“Yep, we have these, after all.”
One of his troopers pointed his thumb to the bow that was slung across his mount’s back.
It was the Steel Clan’s new composite bow.
These composite bows had an immense advantage in terms of range compared to the self bows and rudimentary composite bows found around Yggdrasil.
Tetsuhau were relatively heavy and were difficult to throw a long distance. These bows made it possible for them to engage at distances beyond the effective range of tetsuhau.
“Our role is just to distress the enemy and slow their advance. Focus on your own survival more than killing the enemy. Don’t even think of overextending your positions.”
“Heh, we know, we know. We’ve learned our lesson on that part,” one of his troopers responded.
“Yep.”
“Never wanna go through that again.”
The others around him nodded their agreement.
They were talking about when they had charged into a trap laid by the Sword Clan strategist Bára at the Battle of Vígríðr, where they had suffered as a result of being too aggressive.
Suffering was one of the best teachers, which was why they had all learned that lesson—that it was dangerous to recklessly charge in.
Hveðrungr was reassured by the presence of the troopers around him. The fact that they had suffered several defeats had made them a tighter, more skilled elite unit.
One of the troopers pointed forward and yelled.
“Boss! There’s Flame Clan banners up ahead!”
Hveðrungr couldn’t see the banners yet himself, but he trusted his trooper’s eyesight.
The troopers had grown up on the plains of Miðgarðr and had far keener eyesight than the city-born Hveðrungr.
Put another way, the enemy had yet to notice their approach. It was a perfect opportunity for an ambush.
“Everyone! Prepare for battle! On me! Charge!”
“So they got away again, did they?”
As he listened to his messenger’s report, Nobunaga closed his eyes and rubbed his bearded chin.
This had been the seventh attack upon his forces, including the initial ambush at night, but his forces had been unable to mount an effective counterattack. In fact, they hadn’t been able to do much to catch their opponent at all.
While there had only been forty to fifty men killed, there were at least ten times that number who had been wounded.
Another problem was the damage to morale. It was demoralizing to spend time chasing after an enemy only to have them escape without a single casualty. There was nothing that was more exhausting than wasted effort.
“Quite impressive. While the Takeda were strong, they were never a problem. An elite unit of that skill is something I’ve never seen, not even in the Land of the Rising Sun.”
Nobunaga couldn’t help but utter those words of praise.
While the generals of the Flame Clan had called the enemy’s refusal to stand and fight cowardice, Nobunaga hadn’t shared that opinion. Nobunaga was interested only in results.
To defeat the enemy without suffering a single loss in turn... It was similar in concept to the use of pike squares equipped with long spears three-and-a-half ken—or 5 to 6 meters—in length that he had come up with, and Nobunaga found a certain beauty in the sheer effectiveness of the tactics.
“My Great Lord, this is hardly the time to be impressed by their tactics. If we leave them be, no doubt our losses will continue to mount,” Ran, Nobunaga’s Second, said to his lord, his brow furrowed in frustration.
Of course, Ran had a point.
They had taken this much damage in a single day, and it would take another eight days yet to reach the Holy Capital of Glaðsheimr.
If these attacks continued at the current rate, then that would mean that, at the very least, several hundred would be killed, and there would likely be several thousand wounded. Even the soldiers who hadn’t sustained injury would still be completely worn out from chasing the enemy.
If they continued to let the enemy escape, fatigue would build and morale would plummet.
It took a heavy mental toll on the soldiers to be attacked regardless of whether it was night or day. Within several days there would be those who deserted out of sheer terror. For every one soldier who deserted there would be another two or three that would decide to do the same.
Nobunaga could easily imagine that his army would be in no state to fight by the time it arrived in Glaðsheimr. He needed to take action to prevent that outcome.
“Hmm... What approach would be best to handle this?”
Even to Oda Nobunaga, the conqueror of the Warring States Period, this was a difficult problem to solve.
He could now understand why the emperors on the continent had built structures such as the Great Wall of China. Fighting this sort of enemy on their own terms was a recipe for disaster.
While the Flame Clan army housed a fair number of cavalry, there was an enormous gap in terms of riding ability. Nobunaga had no confidence that his cavalry could catch the enemy.
As for bows, the Japanese bows that Nobunaga had known had been made of bamboo, and with no bamboo available on Yggdrasil, he couldn’t recreate that specific weapon.
In spite of that, Nobunaga had done his best to innovate, creating a bow that was much more powerful and was much longer ranged than the standard bows found on Yggdrasil, but the bows the enemy cavalry raiders had were clearly superior in performance.
And while he had roughly three hundred Tanegashima at his disposal, with how mobile and unpredictable the enemy was, there was no way to deploy the arquebusiers in the right location.
There was no way to hit the enemy with attacks when they had both greater mobility and longer range.
“If the bird won’t sing, then I shall make it sing... Was it?”
After a few moments in thought, Nobunaga grinned impishly, as though he were a child that had just come up with a prank.
It was a haiku poem that he had heard from Yuuto, a poem that had been used to describe the personality of his subordinate, Hideyoshi.
Nobunaga himself didn’t much like that set of haiku.
It was because the one ascribed to him was “If the bird won’t sing, then kill it and be done with it.”
While Yuuto had speculated that haiku had been ascribed to Nobunaga because of his ruthlessness—perhaps best displayed in acts such as the Burning of Enryaku-ji—had left a powerful impression, Nobunaga felt that those that had come after him fundamentally misunderstood his personality.
Killing the bird indicated an acceptance of failure.
Nobunaga considered himself to be the man who made things that others considered impossible or unrealistic into reality.
He would do so once again, against this enemy.
“If our attacks won’t land, then we’ll force them to land.”
“Mm?! What is that?!”
It was right as Hveðrungr was about to issue the call to retreat after completing their tenth assault.
Hveðrungr felt a remarkable presence and turned to face it.
Standing there was an older man with long, unkempt hair. His hair was the exact same black as Yuuto’s. He rode upon horseback and with his retainers at his side was charging toward Hveðrungr and his troopers.
“...So that’s Oda Nobunaga.”
Hveðrungr swallowed.
He knew who it was at a glance.
Nobunaga had a terrifyingly large presence even from afar.
His rare black hair had nothing to do with it. The overwhelming pressure, the sheer presence he exuded, felt heavy enough to crush Hveðrungr even from this distance.
“But for the commander-in-chief himself to come charging in... Seems he’s just as Yuuto described.”
It was the sort of action that seemed more reckless than brave, but Hveðrungr had no intention of underestimating his opponent.
According to Yuuto, Nobunaga had risen from a mere regional lord to almost conquering the land beyond the heavens, while here in Yggdrasil, Nobunaga had created a great clan in a mere decade.
With that in mind, there was no way this was simply a reckless charge.
Most important was the fact that Nobunaga had survived to nearly the age of sixty despite repeatedly taking similar reckless actions.
“It would seem discretion’s the better part of valor here.”
While it was regrettable that he’d have to retreat with the enemy’s commander in front of him, now that Hveðrungr had a good look at him, Nobunaga didn’t seem the sort who would be easy to kill.
There was also the possibility this was a trap. He couldn’t bring himself to just charge in headfirst.
“All of you! Time to go!”
At Hveðrungr’s order, the Independent Cavalry Regiment began its retreat.
Of course, they weren’t fleeing at full speed.
They maintained a speed that made the enemy believe they could catch them, drawing the enemy along.
It was the same logic as gambling.
When people feel they could have won, that they could reverse their losses with just one more win... That was when they were most in danger. That sort of psychological belief that they could still salvage their losses was what dragged people into an endless cycle of losing.
It was the tactic that made nomadic horse riders so infamous: The Parthian Shot.
“...They’re still following? Surely they know they can’t catch us at that pace.”
Hveðrungr furrowed his brow in suspicion under his mask.
They had already retreated quite a distance, but the group led by Nobunaga continued to relentlessly chase after Hveðrungr.
That was in spite of the fact that Hveðrungr and his troopers had fired several salvos of arrows in their direction.
Further, over the previous nine attacks, surely they had learned at least part of the logic behind Hveðrungr’s tactics.
And yet they continued to charge blindly ahead, as though playing completely by Hveðrungr’s playbook. There was something creepy, something disconcerting about the whole thing.
“I’m almost certain this is a trap of some sort... At least, it seems like it. Just what are they after...?”
Even Hveðrungr couldn’t tell.
Despite the fact that it couldn’t possibly be so, Nobunaga’s charge just seemed like a reckless pursuit.
“Well, fine. All there is to do is perform to the best of our abilities.”
With that, Hveðrungr divided the Independent Cavalry Regiment into two groups and had them turn around.
The group led by Nobunaga had already broken ahead of the main body and was somewhat isolated from the Flame Clan’s main force.
Hveðrungr had no idea what Nobunaga was planning, but whatever it was, Nobunaga would have to face an encirclement and a barrage of arrows to accomplish it.
The two groups of the Independent Cavalry Regiment began to arc their way toward Nobunaga’s flank, and they faced no resistance as they took up their flanking position.
This can’t be right. This is going far too well. There’s no way he’d be this easily cornered.
Alarm bells began to ring out in Hveðrungr’s head, but at the same time, it was too late for him to just flee without engaging them.
The enemy’s commander was right in front of him, and he had managed to encircle him.
Further, they had done so at a distance where their bows were in range, but the enemy’s bows would not be.
To retreat from a situation when he had this great of an advantage was something that he, as a general, couldn’t do.
Even if they escaped and got away with no losses, he would lose the trust of his subordinates as he would appear to be a coward who let a perfect opportunity slip away.
“No point in worrying. Open fir...”
Just as Hveðrungr was about to give the order to fire—
A large collective shout suddenly rose from his left.
When Hveðrungr hurriedly turned to look, he found a group of cavalry with spear-armed retainers charging into his forces.
Then came additional cries from the front and from the rear.
“Wh-What?! An ambush?!” Hveðrungr said with a cry of shock.
It was impossible.
To read where the random attacks of the Independent Cavalry Regiment would come was a feat only someone like the late Imperial High Priest Hárbarth was capable of performing.
Hveðrungr couldn’t possibly believe there would be two men with similar abilities.
No... If they knew where the enemy would appear there would be no reason for the commander to put himself at risk.
As Hveðrungr considered the decisions Nobunaga had made up until this point, he came to a shocking realization.
“Surely not...?! Did they draw us into the trap?!”
If that was the case, then all of Nobunaga’s strange actions suddenly made sense.
If the enemy’s commander-in-chief was on the field, then it was only natural to want to attack that part of the army.
As a rule, the Independent Cavalry Regiment retreated by matching their retreat speed to the enemy’s marching speed in order to maintain a set distance. This meant their speed was reliant upon how quickly their opponents were moving.
So, by deliberately slowing their chase, they could slow down Hveðrungr’s forces as enemy troops that were more mobile advanced ahead and completed their encirclement.
Nobunaga had thought as far ahead as to know that Hveðrungr would move to encircle him if he was ahead of the main body.
Hveðrungr had thought he had drawn Nobunaga in a trap, only to have ended up in the trap instead.
“So this is Oda Nobunaga!” Hveðrungr said with a cry of shock.
He had intuitively felt there was something wrong. The extra sense that he’d developed over his years of battle had warned him.
Yes, he had been aware there was something off.
If it hadn’t been Nobunaga that had charged in, Hveðrungr would have been wary of the approaching main force and ended the chase at an appropriate time, switching to a full retreat.
Further, his subordinates would have accepted such a decision.
However, he had been forced into a situation where he had no choice but to remain committed.
By making himself the bait, Nobunaga had forced Hveðrungr into making a different decision.
Now that the trap had been sprung, the logic was simple, but it was still a remarkable trap.
It shouldn’t have been possible. The leader of a great clan putting himself into that much danger.
While Nobunaga’s personal guard had done a good job of protecting him, it was still entirely possible that an arrow or two from Hveðrungr’s forces could very well have hit him.
Frankly, it was impossible to understand.
According to Yuuto, this sort of risk was something Nobunaga had taken many times. Hveðrungr couldn’t help but wonder just how Nobunaga had survived to that age.
“So he’s a man that the fates love that much...”
Hveðrungr couldn’t help but let out a dry, bitter laugh.
Nobunaga was a terrifying enemy. No matter how well tactics and strategy were employed, in the end, luck and fate were what mattered.
Along with everything else, Nobunaga was blessed by fate. He was beloved by the gods or by something similar to them.
There was no other conclusion that Hveðrungr could draw.
“Damn...! We’re charging through!” Hveðrungr shouted as he drew his katana.
The battle had already been decided. The Independent Cavalry Regiment had lost.
Hveðrungr now had no choice but to look for a glimmer of hope by charging into the enemy’s midst.
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