Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest -
Chapter 202 - 7: Archers Suppress, Spear Thrust
Chapter 202: Chapter 7: Archers Suppress, Spear Thrust
Wheel tactics were simple and effective.
The Simon family was the first to advance to the front lines, followed by the other families in rotation.
The midsummer sun was somewhat fierce.
Sir Simon marched along the valley floor and soon came across Roman’s Heavy Equipment troops arrayed in battle formation.
He furrowed his brows as he looked at the defensive line.
Roman had long proven his tenacity to them.
These soldiers before him could certainly be considered a substantial army from any perspective.
They simply couldn’t understand how the opponent could afford to maintain so many excellent soldiers.
Very difficult to fight.
But they had to fight regardless.
Last year, Roman had just started mining at the Salt Mine and dared to transport hundreds of thousands of pounds of salt to the whole land. How much he planned to transport this and next year, Simon didn’t even dare to think.
There are laws for countries and rules for industries. How dare you do this without even a greeting? So rude!
It’s always good to pay your respects first; it won’t hurt you nor add a salt mine, just mutual understanding is enough.
But everyone knew the result.
The envoys they sent were not only driven out by Roman, but he also boasted about swelling their faces.
This was no ordinary arrogance!
Faced with such lawbreakers disrupting market order, they had to strike hard!
...
Simon’s army marched forward, and so did Roman’s army.
When they were a little more than a hundred meters apart, both armies began to shoot arrows simultaneously.
It wasn’t only Roman who had long-range units; the Simon family had them too.
But there was some inconsistency—some had Short Bows, some had Longbows, and some had Crossbows, giving a sense of being makeshift.
Whereas Roman well knew the importance of standardized equipment for an army.
Ancient trees naturally possess slight extraordinary powers; the older the tree, the stronger its power.
The legendary elves are said to guard an Ancestor Tree from mythology.
Ordinary wood can make a bow that shoots up to one hundred eighty meters, while millennium-old wood can shoot up to two hundred meters—overall, only a bit stronger.
Roman’s land was not lacking in millennium-old trees. Searching and felling them, he crafted standardized weapons of exceptional performance.
The bows were nearly two meters long.
The arrows were long and thick.
The Simon family had more Archers than Roman, with about four or five hundred, judging by the density of arrows alone.
But Short Bows could not shoot far, and the Longbows were not as refined as Roman’s, and Crossbows were somewhat acceptable—but Crossbows demanded too much from logistics, so Roman didn’t equip them, and Simon equipped very few, not even in double figures.
Each army raised shields, protecting against the Crossbow Arrows raining from the sky.
Bang, bang, bang!
Sir Simon’s shield was penetrated by arrows from the sky, a conical arrowhead piercing three to five centimeters, exposed before Sir Simon’s eyes.
You should know, he was far at the rear, yet he almost got hit.
For a moment, his face was full of embarrassment.
He was adept at analyzing pros and cons, and now he knew, even without thinking, that the enemy’s bows’ range and power completely outclassed his long-range units.
"We’re launching an attack soon!"
Screams of agony echoed through his army.
Some were hit by arrows, the power of which was considerable. Shields were useful, but that didn’t mean one wouldn’t get injured.
Some poorer quality shields were pierced through, better quality shields were penetrated for several centimeters, and even iron shields might not withstand such force.
They just needed to wait until their arrows were depleted.
Arrows were expensive and difficult to make these days; shooting in such a manner was akin to burning money.
He silently counted.
The opponent’s volleys were very neat, about two hundred arrows each time, and they had already shot five rounds.
Damn!
During their attack on Sige Town two months ago, those archers didn’t have this kind of discipline!
If they had been of this caliber back then, they would’ve had to leave behind at least a thousand dead bodies to retreat!
...
Ten rounds.
Sir Simon was getting anxious.
His long-range troops were completely suppressed.
Poor output environment, countered, could only take hits.
...
Fifteen rounds.
Morale began to sag, not knowing when the enemy would stop.
The enemy had no intention of stopping their shooting because its purpose was to suppress.
Advancing would expose many flaws, making full defense impossible and resulting in more casualties; waiting for the opponent to cease firing was the best choice.
...
Twenty rounds.
The terrain here was problematic, much like a narrow bridge.
Either you retreat, or I retreat, otherwise, we can only confront each other head-on.
An army of 1100 gathered together, occupying a twenty-meter long segment of land, the terrain was narrow and congested, forming a huge target.
...
Twenty-five rounds.
Still shooting! Still shooting!
...
Thirty rounds.
Five minutes had passed.
The shooting finally stopped.
...
Simon suspected that the young Lord had perhaps used up all his arrow reserves.
A full six thousand arrows!
That was no small number.
Even Earl Kant, a lower-tier Earl, would struggle to produce such a number because infrequently used military supplies didn’t need regular stocking due to their high production and maintenance costs.
Knight Simon counted the casualties and then his vision blurred.
About a hundred people were dead or wounded.
He immediately wanted to turn back.
This battle was untenable!
Having set out without achieving victory, and now to utterly fail midway!
"Charge!!"
Knight Simon’s cunning and tactful nature flared with anger at this moment.
The rest of the conscripted soldiers also felt a fire in their bellies.
They had never fought such a frustrating battle.
The Simon family’s army advanced on foot, aiming to conserve energy for the ensuing slaughter.
They moved forward a hundred meters, and Roman’s army also moved forward fifty or sixty meters.
From above, it looked as if two dense swarms of ants converged into an even larger swarm.
The phase of close-quarter combat began.
Roman’s heavy equipment troops were not in the front line; they were primarily to counter the cavalry.
The first row was equipped with light shield soldiers, who wore makeshift half-body plate armor assembled from iron plates, arm guards, gloves, soft armor hats, locking armor head covers, and lightweight shields.
The second row was Roman’s long spear soldiers, each wielding a four-meter-long spear.
In the age of cold weapons, the longer the reach of the attack, the greater the advantage.
Both sides were about four to five meters apart.
The conscript army cautiously neared with their shields, essentially moving forward one step and retreating half a step.
Roman’s long spear soldiers probed with stabs. But the opponents were out of range, and their stabs didn’t connect.
Both sides felt an unparalleled tension.
Many new soldiers’ hands trembled with their long spears, their Adam’s apples uncontrollably rolling, their breathing and heart rates accelerated!
"Ah!"
One conscripted soldier got too close and was caught by a particular captain, who swiftly thrust his spear and pierced the soldier’s eye.
A scream went up, blood spurted in an instant.
Both armies, as if hearing the call of a death knell, were driven by uneasy emotions, adrenaline surged, and they all went into a frenzy!
Weapon in hand.
When fear and tension reach their peak, that is when you fight!
...
The brutal slaughter lasted for about four or five minutes.
The conscript army retreated in disarray, leaving about two hundred corpses on the battlefield.
Roman did not order a chase.
His side also suffered, with sixty to seventy casualties.
Some were killed by close-range shooting from short bows, others by enemies rolling forward, attacking the long spear soldiers’ lower bodies, inevitably causing casualties.
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