Herald of Steel

Remus's eyes went red with heat when he heard his men call out for him to escape on his own.

As their general, and even more their friend, how could he?

Remus had been with them for years and even slept with many.

So how could he leave them to die just like that while he made a break for it for himself?

His legs refused to follow that command.

Not to mention, as the commander and chief strategist of the defense, Remus blamed himself for much of the predicament he was in.

Especially his blunder to adopt an attacking formation, which worked to deplete his already smaller force much faster.

By all accounts, Remus should have followed the other ship's suit.

But the usually bright general had not.

As for the exact reason why, well, perhaps it could never be definitely known.

It could be simply that this option never crossed his mind.

Or that he did not have enough time on his hands.

But perhaps it was much more likely that it was simply a personal preference.

For the usually aggressive Remus, such a turtling, defensive formation might have seemed as being too cowardly, even somewhat dishonorable.

And to men of this time, honor was many times more valuable than life.

Thus the hot blooded young man much preferred for his men to be on the offensive, wholeheartedly believing in the mantra, 'a good offense is the best defense'.

And basing his strategy on this invention, the young general had wanted to use his heavy, bulky men to bulldoze through the lightly armored opposition, using their armor to soak the hits, while dishing back two folds along with a side dish of vengeance.

And in this way, he even hoped to quickly claim Lord Kite's head as the prize, thus demoralizing the other side and netting him the victory.

However, that had not clearly happened.

Instead of the charging legionaries constantly suppressing the numerically superior foe, the Heeat family soldiers had managed to turn the tables around and danced around the men unaccustomed to fighting in such an environment and killed them slowly by a thousand cuts.

Remus's decision hence made for a painful fight, and by the time, Remus had realized his mistake, it was already too late.

The enemy was too deep inside their formation, thus any attempt to change battle formation now would be just another name for suicide,

The Heeat family soldiers would rip them to shreds the moment they disengaged from their current formation to try and take a new one.

Hence Remus could only work to delay the inevitable, as more and more of his men inevitably fell one by one, be it to injury, exhaustion, and worst of all, death, all swallowed by the even encroaching black shadow.

A shadow that encompassed them from all sides and one that oozed with malice and menace in every swing of its slivery sword, letting out various taunts and jibes that swore to their inevitable and brutal doom.

And seeing all those lives lost or captured, all due to his own misjudgment, Remus's eyes turned teary, he found himself biting his lips so hard that they began to bleed, and his throat began to hurt with a throbbing pain.

The man seemed to be on the verge of breaking out into tears.

He was of course not crying in fear of his own life.

But much more over the seeming death of so many others, deaths he thought he was responsible for.

Thus, instead of taking the risky dive to the sea and rolling his luck die, Remus decided to stay put, intending to go down with his ship.

Hence towards the last of his men's urging, he firmly declared with a matry like glint in his eyes, "No! We fight to the last man, And if it is written so, we will die to the last man. Let this ship be our castle and coffin."

The brave speech inevitably worked to inspire the surrounding men, for whatever small good that might have done, as they bunched together even tighter and waited for the inevitable scything swipe of the approaching grim reaper.

As Remus's men prepared their hearts with a determined but melancholic heart, on the other side of the shore, the emotions being experienced were naturally the exact opposite.

It was one of joy, ecstasy, expectation, and even somewhat of a relief.

Because despite their imminent victory, every man there felt that the battle had been a hard fought one, with their numbers taking significant casualties.

Among the almost two hundred and fifty soldiers on that ship, the death toll had reached twenty four, while the wounded, of various types and varying degrees, accounted for a staggering sixty more, getting the total casualties ratio to almost a third of the total force!

A truly astounding feat!

Made all the more impressive by the fact that Remus had managed to do it with only a hundred of his men.

All courtesy of those dastardly bows.

And evidence of their deadly effectiveness was present all over the deck, as many of Lord Kite's men lay there, groaning in pain or simply dead, having been shot multiple times, all over the place- be it chest, arms, thighs, torso, and even a few lucky or unlucky depending on your preference shots to the face.

The bolts had even gone through even the thickest part of the armor the men had, thus embedding themselves into the flesh and sticking out like grotesque porcupine spikes.

It was such that even if the men managed to survive the battle, the scars these bolts would leave behind would surely leave a determined impression of the power of those dreadful weapons in the men's minds, continuing to stay as a source of trauma.

At least that was sure to be the case for Lord Kite, who was sure the lethality of these crossbows and instant bows would be of great concern to him in all proceeding battles.

Thus the keen-eyed man muttered to himself with concern,

"If all of Alexander's men are equipped and determined like…. I need to tell the lord. Things might not be as favorable to us as it seems."

The man felt that if only a hundred or so men were so hard to deal with, then how hard would it be to face a much larger force?

It would be an enormous slog, at least in terms of sheer casualties.

And who knows?

Maybe they might even fail to break through.

After all, not all formations in Lord Parker's army were as elite as the one Lord Kite had under his command, one that was capable of taking thirty percent casualty and still keep on going strong, turning even more eager to draw blood.

Most of the men in the army were much tamer, such as the case with the other two ships, where, despite facing an enemy that was nearly a quarter of their size, they still failed to break through.

Why?

Of course, a better, more sound strategy by the legionaries was certainly one of the factors.

But another factor was also the lack of sheer zeal on the attacker's part.

Thus Lord Kite thought he needed to work on that.

While his second in command, possessing a much more scholarly mind, instead wondered about a different topic, mumbling under his breath,

"I wonder how naval fights will change if these weapons are to become widespread? We need to adopt them as soon as possible! Especially that magical bow."

As he said that, the man's eyes glowed with the utmost desire to take apart and study this novel equipment- the instant bow.

While at the same time, he also made a mental note to suggest, "Also I should ask the lord about increasing the number of archers we keep with us. They can be really useful."

And it was only natural that the man would think like this.

The effectiveness of archers supported by heavy, static infantry in a naval battle, especially a defensive one was laid bare to him in crystal clear terms.

He very easily figured that without the crossbow and instant bowmen, Remus's ship could have been taken and then probably have Remus beheaded a long, long time ago.

And conversely, if the Heeat family had remembered to pack adequate archers of their own, then those opposing archers could not have ruled the battlefield with such impunity.

The returning fire would have surely worked to force them to keep their head down, to suppress them.

Of course, it would not be as easy as the man wanting it and it happening, as, aside from all the political shenanigans, even if they wanted to, it took quite a bit of time to train a competent archer.

But at least the thought was here, and with the crossbows and instant bows, training them did not sound too difficult.

So the only real obstacle was the will to do it, and the will to fund it.

Because naturally, these weapons were a fair bit pricier than your regular piece of carved wood with a string attached to it.

But if money could emulate the kind of success the man had seen here, then he was one hundred percent sure it would be worth every dime of it.

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