Chapter 5: The Tragedy of Lemont

“Seriously, what’s so great about war? Can’t we just live our lives in peace? If you’ve got too much energy, go home and make babies with your wife! It’s better to vent your excess energy on your own wife than on other men!”

Alicia cursed the enemy commander’s ancestors for eighteen generations in her mind, engaging in all sorts of improper intimate relations with their maternal relatives.

As a newcomer, she hadn’t even memorized all the distinguished lords present.

They now waited within her own unit for Lane’s orders.

The only cavalry had been deployed to the flanks, while Lane’s attendants were ordered to dismount—their horses would serve as spare mounts for the cavalry.

Essentially, attendants were just infantry who moved on horseback.

Their core mission was to protect the lord and the great banner that symbolized the lord’s family and military spirit.

But this time, they had been incorporated into the Imperial Guard Infantry, commanded by an old general with a white beard.

Lane really didn’t know how to respect the elderly, did he?

Dragging an old man onto the battlefield—who knew if a general of that age could still fight?

At that moment, Alicia completely forgot about the glorious deeds of Zhao Yun, who at nearly seventy years old, single-handedly killed Han De and his four sons during the Battle of Fengming Mountain, wiping out their entire family.

Not to mention Ma Chao, who at seventeen followed his father Ma Teng into battle, spearing enemy general Wang Fang and capturing Li Meng alive.

Thus, heroes are not judged by youth, and ambition fears no gray hair.

But right now, Alicia had no leisure to think about grand ambitions.

She sincerely hoped she would survive.

She tried to comfort herself: after all, Lane himself had dismounted and stood on the high ground behind, calmly directing.

As long as this lord didn’t get a hotheaded idea to charge personally, the Imperial Guard would probably just need to stand and watch the show.

Thinking this, the girl relaxed a little.

Her back stopped aching, her legs stopped trembling, her gaze stopped wavering, and her forehead and back stopped sweating coldly.

She even heard the soldiers around her whispering prayers.

Praying to kill many while not being killed, right?

Which deity would bother with that?

“Enough!”

Suddenly, Lane’s eyes turned sharp.

He raised his hand and waved.

“Messenger! Tell Lord Hess to advance!”

Hess…

That name had come up once before.

He seemed to be a die-hard warmonger with a flamboyant personality.

But now everyone was wearing armor and helmets, so Alicia couldn’t match the name to a face.

Soon, though, she saw a general wearing a red-and-yellow striped surcoat, raising his sword high and roaring encouragement to his soldiers as they advanced.

That must be Hess.

Dressed so conspicuously—wasn’t he a living target?

And charging in first, clearly cannon fodder.

Why so enthusiastic?

Glancing at the nearby Imperial Guards, who were practically trembling with eagerness and envy, Alicia shook her head internally.

‘Heroism really is the death of people!’

With Hess’s attack as the starting point, the battle quickly began.

Lemeng’s forces immediately organized a counterattack—come on, they were the ones being attacked, yet they had to start with counterattacks and defense.

What an upside-down world.

As Lane issued clear, calm orders one after another, the left wing, right wing, and even the reserves in the rear were thrown into battle.

Instantly, deafening war cries, the sharp clang of weapons, the miserable wails of the dying, and the dull roar of soldier’s battle cries mingled into a brutal symphony.

Maybe Lane was a genius?

Was there truly an invisible god whispering in his ear?

This young lord could keenly sense the battlefield’s movements every time, placing the right troops in the right positions.

Despite being at an absolute numerical disadvantage, he was overwhelming a force nearly twice his size.

Poor Lemeng’s army was disoriented.

The low-quality militia units even began to waver.

“War is an area of uncertainty; three-quarters of the factors on which action in war is based are wrapped in a fog of greater or lesser uncertainty. Therefore, keen intelligence is required to discern the truth through accurate and rapid judgment.” — Carl von Clausewitz, On War

After an hour of combat, Lemeng’s vanguard militia finally began to collapse.

Deserters appeared here and there.

The Supervisory Unit, exhausted, could only brutally cut them down to maintain discipline.

Standing on the high ground, Alicia, despite having only experience from games and a few books, clearly realized: this battle was nearing its end.

The only thing left was the final push.

As long as the enemy’s morale collapsed, victory would be assured!

“Just one last push!”

Lane seemed intent on delivering the final blow.

With some resolve, he firmly put on his helmet.

“Bring my horse!”

“Your Highness? Isn’t this too soon?”

The old general gave a steady suggestion.

“For Your Highness’s safety, wait a little longer. General Blachard on the left wing will break through soon.”

Left wing?

Alicia stood on tiptoe to look.

The left wing was indeed dominant.

The enemy militia was too scared to advance, but their well-equipped elites were still holding on stubbornly.

That so-called General Blachard, with only a small number of elites leading a large militia, was struggling to break through.

It would take a bit more time to defeat the enemy.

“No! I must go now. We can’t afford to drag this out. You lead the Imperial Guard Infantry as the final reserve and act according to your judgment of the situation!”

Lane mounted his horse gracefully.

Behind him, the impatient cavalry raised their swords.

“Cavalry Troop! Charge with me!”

“Ooh—!”

The cavalry, held back until now, erupted into a thunderous roar and surged into the battlefield like a bursting dam.

…

Lemeng was frantically directing his troops.

Though his numbers were clearly greater than Lane’s, these hastily conscripted militia were poor fighters.

The few lords who had responded to his call were minor nobles from surrounding villages, bringing rabble.

Those sly ones from Lide’an City each maintained an ambiguous attitude, clearly not intending to participate in this brotherly conflict.

Whoever wins, follow them, huh?

What a bunch of realists!

Damn fence-sitters!

“Prince Lemeng, the right wing is in critical condition! Requesting reinforcements!”

“Prince Lemeng! Lord Caneto has… fallen!”

“Your Highness…”

Bad news came one after another.

For the first time, Lemeng found himself at a loss on the chaotic battlefield.

All the training he’d received and the military texts he’d memorized were useless.

This wasn’t Lemeng’s first battle.

He had previously followed his father in defense wars against other warlords and had independently commanded a unit to a local victory.

But this was his first time as the overall commander.

No!

I cannot fail!

The opponent is Lane—that disrespectful, uneducated, and immoral son who doesn’t honor his mother!

How does he deserve to inherit the Grand Duke Maximilian?

Just because he’s the eldest son?

No!

Lane will only bring the family to ruin.

Only I—I am the hope to lead House Maximilian to prosperity!

This strong belief dispelled the momentary panic.

He couldn’t lose!

Absolutely not!

Lemeng knew that sending out more militia was useless.

All elite soldiers were already on the front lines.

The only force he could deploy now was his fifty cavalry.

“The right wing… I must stabilize the right wing. I’ll go myself! Bring my horse!”

Lemeng’s arm trembled slightly.

He pursed his lips and put on his helmet.

“Cavalry Troop! Charge with me!”

Perhaps this was fate.

The two cavalry units quickly clashed in the center of the battlefield.

Lane led from the front, riding at the head of thirty cavalry.

In the first clash, he speared a cavalryman off his horse.

The cavalry behind him roared as they followed, smashing straight through Lemeng’s fifty cavalry!

Lemeng hadn’t been at the front, so he was lucky not to be knocked off his horse.

But then the two cavalry units fell into close-quarters melee.

Neither side had reserves.

Everyone fought with extraordinary valor.

However, Lane’s side had superior equipment and morale.

Dropping their lances, the cavalry drew maces and struck left and right.

After suffering some casualties, they scattered Lemeng’s cavalry.

Even Lemeng himself was thrown from his horse.

But Lane didn’t notice.

He led the remaining cavalry to charge at the left wing, which was still putting up stubborn resistance.

Alicia, watching from the high ground, was dumbfounded.

She hadn’t expected her boss to be this fierce.

Any doubts about his military strategy and combat ability had been completely dispelled by this battle and charge.

It was worth following him!

She had to stick with him!

Alicia silently resolved that when she returned, she would rack her brains and use every piece of modern knowledge she could remember to help her boss grow and prosper.

As for why she wouldn’t start her own faction—Alicia knew she wasn’t cut out for commanding troops.

Professional matters required professional people.

Meddling would only bring bad results, like Jiang Jieshi interfering in the Huaihai Campaign or the Führer meddling in the Battle of Dunkirk.

Pulling her thoughts back, the battlefield before her was now completely dominated by Lane’s army.

His final personally led charge had shattered Lemeng’s army’s morale.

The Supervisory Unit could no longer stop the militia’s rout.

Lane’s cavalry only worsened the situation.

Wherever they went, the enemy fled like panicked sheep.

The fleeing frontline militia even disrupted the reserves behind.

Fear quickly spread, leading to the complete rout of the entire militia force.

Driven by military merit and glory, Lane’s soldiers chased like hungry wolves!

Everywhere, one could see a knight, a few attendants, and some militia who hadn’t fled, desperately defending a banner symbolizing their family’s honor, like a lonely boat in a storm, about to be engulfed at any moment.

At this point, the victor was clear.

But Lemeng still refused to give up.

After being thrown from his horse, his attendants rescued him.

He barely managed to organize the troops that hadn’t fled, scraping together just over a thousand men while fighting a retreat.

“Hmm… troublesome. Prince Lemeng is quite tenacious.”

The old general in front of Alicia drew his two-handed longsword from the ground with a clang, resting it on his shoulder.

“Imperial Guard Infantry, advance!”

Hearing this order, Alicia nearly fell flat on her face.

‘Oh heavens, old man, can’t you just watch the show quietly? It’s basically over!’