B3 Chapter 19: Send in the Cavalry

Despite being designated as the ostensible leader of the Redcliffe cavalry, Quintus quickly realized there was a problem. He didn’t actually have a horse. Nor did any of the Legionnaires, for that matter.

Luckily, he apparently didn’t need one.

The thunder of hoofbeats cantered next to Quintus as marched alongside them, his feet blurring with supernatural speed. The century he’d brought as backup followed close behind. Most of the Legionnaires with him were support staff of scouts, communications specialists, and more utility-based Legionnaires. However, they were all still Legionnaires. Marching in formation with Quintus, they showed no hesitation as they bore down upon the horde of orcs.

More problematic than his lack of a horse was the matter of actually winning his new subordinates over. They’d developed a bit of grudging respect in the wake of the spars Quintus had insisted on, which certainly helped. But a lifetime’s worth of looking down upon infantrymen—literally and figuratively—was not so easily overcome. Although being able to keep pace with their mounts also seemed to silence some of their more obvious grumblings.

But as much as Quintus hated to admit it, they did have a bit of a point. He was an expert centurion, able to make the best use of his infantry, archers, and even their skills in combat. Even his understanding of the shield wall, positioning, and the proper timing with which to rotate troops out was up there with the best of them. Yet commanding a cavalry unit, much less one of this size? That was something he had never learned.

Of course, he knew the general basics of how to use cavalry in tactics. But that was mostly borne from fighting against them. Forming heavy square phalanxes to defend against charges, how to harry cavalry once they had lost their momentum, how to avoid light cavalry harrying them, and how to mob horses and bring them down as a group. But using the land to screen their approach and hide three hundred horses amongst the hills and forests, all while not alerting the enemy? It was one thing to do that with men, another with animals of this size.

As they made for the battlefield, Quintus got a better view of the orcs’ progress. There were still thousands of the barbarians pressed up against the walls or trying to fight for a spot on the now dozen or so ladders. Those nearest to the wall beat at it with crude clubs and hammers, growing the honestly impressive spiderweb of cracks along its surface even further.

Quintus’s forces made their way to the top of the nearest hill and readied themselves. He turned to Devin and gave a single sharp nod. The man returned it, then shouted.

“Lances ready!”

The cavalry set their lances, shifting in their saddles as they focused on the task before them. Devin looked to Quintus and waited for the order. The man was incredibly competent and knew not just cavalry tactics, but how to command his men. And they loved him for it. It was clear that they saw Devin as more than a man they were obligated to listen to. This was their beloved leader, who had seen them through countless victories and rallied them after the rare defeat. In a way, the man reminded him of a younger, more brash Tiberius.

Though Quintus was officially in command, he saw no reason to waste the abilities of a skilled leader like that. Yet he was well aware of the risks in keeping the man in a position of authority. He would be careful not to let discontent or rebellion grow on his watch. And proving to them his own worth as a commander was part of that.

Quintus maneuvered his century aside as they split off from the cavalry. They would not be charging in, but would act as a screening force. They’d herd the orcs as they retreated—or, more likely, charged toward the Legionnaires with unrestrained hostility—and allow the cavalry to make a clean break to wheel around the orcs again from a different direction. After all, they’d all seen what the orcs were capable of. Some of them could move far more quickly than they had any right to, especially over short distances. They would need to be careful about disengaging properly.

The Legionnaires organized into a double-layered L shape, ready to move into position as the cavalry charged. Then, they heard the signal. The firing of the siege weapons.

A storm of wooden and metal spears screamed through the air, carving a swath in their wake. Their force was enough to pierce through multiple lines of orcs and carry them along like pieces of meat on a skewer. An entire section of the orcs’ line was pushed back from the impacts. And that was before the comparatively slower-moving boulders and trap balls landed amongst their number, exploding into pointed and barbed pieces of shrapnel.

Quintus blinked at the display. He’d seen the tests of these weapons before. In fact, it was his encouragement that spurred much of the innovation on display. But seeing them used against targets was one thing. In battle, against actual enemies, and in dense volleys like this? It was something else.

He also noted the not insignificant amount of specialty and enchanted ammunition being used. It seemed that Tiberius was taking no chances with the orcs’ resilience.

Despite the damage inflicted, the orcs hardly seemed to notice the first round of artillery fire, nor the second that came right on its heel. By the third, however, they’d managed to shift their focus away from the city and toward their new aggressors. A mass of green broke off to charge toward the siege weapons that continued to hammer their brethren.

“On your mark,” Quintus ordered Devin. The man smiled grimly. With a rallying shout that rippled across his men, a living tide of horses rushed down the hill and toward the running orcs. A burst of speed sent them hurtling forward like shooting stars at a speed that even Quintus couldn’t hope to match.

The centurion couldn’t help but appreciate the sight. For a moment, just before impact, the horsemen seemed to float above their saddles, their lances couched and their knees bent to absorb the shock. Some of the orcs had turned to face the cavalry, drawn out of their bloodlust enough to recognize the threat and shout warnings to their comrades. But even as they raised their weapons, the sounds of hoofbeats seemed to fade into silence as first of the lances struck.

They made impact just after the fourth volley. A thunderous crash like that of a catapult bringing down a wall sounded across the battlefield, audible in the pause between artillery volleys. Lightning arced through the green mass and the horses continued through the first rank of stunned orcs as if they were naught but paper. In fact, rather than slowing down, the horses accelerated, spurred forward through the mass by skills.

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But the cavalry didn’t stop there. They were already wheeling off in two directions as the second wave of cavalry followed close behind, slamming into the orcs and preventing them from getting any hits on the first wave. The result was a continuous motion like a snake uncurling.

The heavy cavalry was a breathtaking sight. In their old world, the Legion primarily used horsemen such as these in an auxiliary role. But now? Quintus could understand why one might choose to make the units their focus.

As the cavalry began to peel away and toward Quintus, the final line of horses left a trail of flames in their wake—along with hundreds of orc bodies. But Quintus was not naive enough to think that they were done.

Many of the bodies that he’d assumed were dead began to stumble to their feet, wounds closing before their eyes. The orcs surged forward suddenly as one, howling in rage. Their eyes were bloodshot and unfocused from the battle lust that Devin had warned him of. They leapt after the wheeling cavalry, heedless of the flames as they grabbed for Devin’s men. Ephemeral barriers briefly sprang into place, though a few were still pulled from their horses and disappeared into the braying mob.

Quintus yelled, and his men repositioned slightly. The horses hurtled straight toward the wall of shields, showing no intention of stopping. At the very last moment, they leaped high into the air, landing behind the Legionnaires and leaving them to welcome the orcs. Blades sprouted between the black and gold rectangles of their [Coordinated Bulwark] as the men stabbed at their foes, leaving stripes of red along green skin that weren’t nearly as deep as Quintus would have expected. They felt the vibrations of the orcs’ blows as the lead cavalry wheeled around for another charge.

The ground shook as the heavy cavalry slammed into the orcs only a couple of paces away from the shield wall, shearing off a mass like a glacier falling into the ocean. Only those intimately engaged with the Legionnaires remained behind. The charge gave Quintus and his Legionnaires an opening to disengage and pull back.

But this was only half of the cavalry. The other half had split into their smaller groups of ten and were doing light raids at the edge of the horde, distracting them and keeping their attention while the others maneuvered. Given the tendency of orcs to string themselves out across the battlefield, these smaller groups were able to take advantage of that vulnerability and punch through, thinning out the numbers further.

Throughout it all, the siege weapons had continued to fire on the orcs massed near the wall. A few of the more accurate crews aimed volleys at the approaching orcs as well, surgical strikes that weaved between allies with incredible precision. Quintus saw a group of orcs crumple to the ground as their heads exploded into gory mush. Yet short of that, a disheartening number of their attacks either had little effect or healed within minutes.

Nevertheless, they continued fighting. The cavalry continuously punched through the enemy over and over, like a needle pushing through fabric, leaving a pattern of churned earth and wounded in their wake.

“Reposition!” Quintus shouted. The Legionnaires disengaged and moved into a new formation, a square three men deep. He was quickly beginning to realize that the orcs may as well be treated like cavalry in their own right, considering their size and how they hurled themselves at their opponents. Disorganized cavalry, but cavalry nonetheless. He could feel the sheer force whenever they hit the shield wall and decided to shore up their defenses before it was too late.

Another scattering of orcs bashed themselves against the Legionnaires like boulders hurled against a wall. Fewer of them this time. Quintus could hear Devin shouting orders over the din, orchestrating the small units of cavalry as they continued to lead the orcs around by the nose. They worked to ensure that the Legionnaires were never surrounded or overwhelmed.

“Hey! Nice teeth there, friend. They’ll look great on my belt!” One of Quintus’s men called out a [Taunt] to redirect a group of orcs that were on a collision course with a cavalry unit. Yet the green barbarians remained entirely unphased. They continued forward as though he hadn’t even spoken.

Quintus frowned, then hurled a spear at them. It struck true, taking one orc in the side. That did the trick. He and his nearby brethren snapped their heads toward their newest aggressor and began to charge the shield wall. Evidently, actions spoke louder than words in this case. Before they reached the wall they were scattered by the same group of horses, making their impact more than manageable.

The constant back and forth slowly began to whittle down the enemy and spread them out across the battlefield. Alone and in small groups, the orcs proved far easier to manage. It was like defending against thrown stones rather than an avalanche.

As the orcs drew closer to where the siege weapons were stationed, they scattered even further to seek out targets. And after a few more rounds of fire, the Legionnaires manning the weapons fell back. The wooden siege engines burst into flames as the men retreated.

The precaution was perhaps a bit overkill. No one expected the orcs to actually use the weapons against Rome. Still, it was better to be paranoid than have a veritable hailstorm of ballista bolts aimed at their own backs.

Besides, it wasn’t much of a loss. Quintus knew that these engines were designed such that building them in the field was simple. Replicating them would be easy enough. Especially given that this area actually had trees.

He sank his gladius into a weak spot on an orc’s neck, twisting the blade and smoothly beheading it with a quick activation of [Tear], then glanced briefly toward Devin. The younger Redcliffe darted about and remained just as involved in the battle as Quintus himself did.

He and his men were no strangers to fighting the orcs—although to his understanding, much of their fighting had been atop walls rather than up close like this. Still, the Novarans’ understanding of their longtime enemies clearly showed through. The small units were perfect for assisting each other, oftentimes luring a large band of orcs to give chase while another unit came from the side, smashing in and grinding the pursuing orcs into paste.

Quintus directed his men, moving about the field in tandem with the cavalry to mop up the orcs as they scrambled like angry ants. They made good progress, too. As the battle dragged on, Quintus began to see the first signs of exhaustion finally set in for the orcs. Their eyes lost some of their red haze as the effects of their frenzy wore off. Cuts that would have barely registered before now bled freely, healing more slowly as well. With clever placement of his attacks, Quintus found that he could actually disable the enemies more easily than before.

But then something changed.

Groups of orcs began splitting off from the forces attacking the wall. Yet these weren’t just aimless groups looking for another fight. They made a beeline towards the Legion’s position.

If they were anyone else, Quintus would have assumed the commander was aiming to isolate the infantry. Footsoldiers generally had more difficulty retreating, after all, and removing them as a safe haven for the cavalry to regroup behind meant they were the perfect target. It was a surprisingly competent decision.

Devin’s cavalry harried their edges to dissuade them. Yet the orcs refused to turn aside, as though they actually had a mission in mind—one that they wouldn’t give up on so easily.

Soon after, Quintus noticed more of these groups splitting off as well. Each one followed a similar pattern, yet a different trajectory. And when put together… Those trajectories resembled an honest-to-gods flanking maneuver.

It was enough to make Quintus’s hair stand on end.

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