Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 203 - 8: Tug of War

Chapter 203: Chapter 8: Tug of War

Sir Simon retreated to the rear. Carter, impatient, asked, "How did it go?"

Sir Simon offered a bitter smile. What else could it be?

A crushing defeat, that’s what.

"Their long spears had too much of an advantage," he said concisely.

The nobles watching from the rear could see that the Simon family really did give their all.

Initially suppressed by archers, later by long spears.

In this era, the average long spear was just over two meters, but the enemy’s were four to five, and they moved with discipline.

Their only thought was one of puzzlement.

How could it feel like facing an epoch-making army, completely suppressed on all fronts, with combat proving exceedingly difficult?

Such tactics were rare in these times.

"You fought too cautiously; you should have charged in all at once!" Carter criticized.

"Lord Carter, you overestimate me," Sir Simon said helplessly.

That would have led to untold deaths.

They really couldn’t afford such losses.

He wasn’t even sure if the conscripted soldiers would be willing to mount a second attack.

He had been sent to lead the assault, not with the expectation of victory in a single battle, but rather to scout the enemy and facilitate subsequent planning.

With interests at stake, Sir Simon felt compelled to speak further.

"Earl Kant, it’s highly unlikely that we can break the enemy’s line head-on. This isn’t something we can achieve alone. I propose either dispatching a force to flank and encircle them, or preparing for a long-term siege. Alternatively, we could send elite troops to attack Sige Town—its interior defenses must surely be weak right now."

He offered three strategies.

A stealth attack was the best plan, maintaining a stalemate was the middle, and a pincer movement was the low strategy.

A frontal assault was too difficult.

The enemy employed a strategy of attrition, which would result in heavy casualties.

"What does Lord Flant think?" Earl Kant turned to the senior knight clad in blood-colored plate armor.

After thinking for a moment, Flant shook his head, "To put it in Lord Carter’s words, even if the male tiger leaves the lair, there still might be a tigress inside."

We must maintain a healthy respect for the unknown.

Seven thousand against two thousand and they still consider a sneak attack...

It’s not about noble pride—dividing forces to send the best and swiftest to that valley carries its own risks.

Conquest Knights would be the best choice for such a mission.

It’s not enough to just send Conquest Knights; there must also be accompanying knights to block arrows when necessary.

And with that, three to five hundred of the elite main force would be sent away.

Given the enemy’s demonstrated military acumen, to say they are entirely unprepared would be to say they lack intelligence altogether.

Would we really commit our finest to that unfamiliar land?

There’s no margin for error in war.

Moreover, Roman has been informed of the Conquest Knights banding together to attack Sige Town.

Without their main force, the two sides would have to engage in direct combat.

To this day, everyone acknowledges him as a formidable lord, not someone they can simply choose to fight—they dread the number of lives that would be lost.

His army was like a hedgehog with a shell—impenetrable.

The major families also had internal concerns about the war, feeling that it was unnecessary to devote so much manpower to a battle bound to incur heavy losses.

Under normal circumstances, conscripted soldiers weren’t a concern, just requiring reduced taxes and exemptions.

However, in times of war, they had to be paid, with a daily wage of a quarter copper coin.

This too, was an expense.

They’ve been besieging for two months, with a thousand conscripted soldiers stationed here, resulting in military expenses of 150 gold coins.

The wages of a warrior from the Carter Family were one copper coin per day.

And the daily wage for a Conquest Knight reached a silver coin!

Such expenses were substantial.

Earl Kant’s conscripted soldiers weren’t assembled, only sporadically trained to sharpen skills right before battle, all to avoid paying wages.

After all, conscripted soldiers still needed to farm—if they didn’t farm, who would feed them?

But he had to pay the wages of the one thousand conscripted soldiers he had borrowed.

Roman didn’t want to prolong things, and they couldn’t afford to drag it out.

Both sides preferred a quick resolution.

The centrally devised strategy was never going to work.

"Don’t give them a chance to catch their breath, Sir Steve," Earl Kant looked towards the people of the Gailande Family.

Steve nodded, now he could only pinch his nose and step into the fray.

The Earl then turned to Bald Carter and said, "Lord Carter, please lead the warriors of your family to circle around the back. Wait for my order before attacking together."

Bald Carter tugged at a bloodthirsty smile.

...

The Gailande Family was at a disadvantage from the start of their attack.

As they advanced mid-way, just like the Simon family earlier, they were bombarded by a barrage of arrows.

Steve’s face went green.

The nobles watching from behind were also somewhat dumbfounded.

Where did all these arrows come from?

The fewer the men, generally, the stronger the defense.

Don’t think that being down by three hundred men is trivial. To Roman’s Archers, a missed shot was a missed shot; having three out of ten arrows hit the ranks of the opposition was good enough. Most of the arrows, even if they did hit, were blocked.

Therefore, the casualties and injuries of the Gailande Family were fewer than those of the Simon family.

Roman replaced the initial infantry with another squadron, waiting for the Gailande Family’s arrival.

Each squadron, each squad, the officers shouted loudly, leading by example, ordering the Soldiers to maintain formation and keep the battle line intact.

The Super Long Spears in their hands gave the Soldiers tremendous courage.

The Gailande Family retreated.

Soon, the troops of the Vilechka Family arrived.

Roman realized this was turning into a war of attrition.

But that didn’t matter.

The enemy would have to launch a full attack sooner or later.

Both sides combined had less than ten thousand men—in such terrain, what tactics could they employ? They were bound for a head-on clash!

In this war of attrition, whoever couldn’t stand the pressure would lose.

Squadron Leaders commanded the squads, replacing wounded and exhausted soldiers, pulling them back according to squad size for rest and medical treatment, ensuring that the front line always maintained a high combat capability.

The forces of the Vilechka Family first endured a shower of arrows, then the two sides engaged in melee combat.

Sir Foucault’s face was gloomy.

The battle line swayed back and forth, like a wave, appearing somewhat fragile.

But it did not break!

After three attacks, it was said that hundreds had taken part in the front-line battle.

Yet, it remained firm. Two shifts of personnel came and went, each as resilient as the last.

The elite troops of the Vilechka Family could also be considered fierce.

Initially, no one believed that there could be an army in this forsaken place that could contend with Vilechka’s.

After all, they came from a prosperous land, where such prosperity could sustain elite warriors and free citizens could afford better equipment. Arriving here, at this ’fish pond,’ should have been a massacre.

Now, they were brutally slapped in the face twice.

"Attack!" he shouted from the rear.

They were nominally mobilized by Earl Kant to seek justice.

But essentially, this was a power struggle for the voice of the Salt Merchants, much as the Court would spare no effort to crack down on private salt traffickers.

A minor noble transporting half a million catties of salt per year, the net profit was a thousand Gold Coins annually, ten thousand over a decade.

Even if the Salt Mine of Sige Town ended up in the hands of Carter or Simon, it was better than in the hands of an unruly noble; at the very least, the former two knew their manners.

Foucault Vilechka’s heart was ablaze with rage.

He couldn’t tolerate his own failure.

Seeing the frontline combatants hesitating, he kicked a Conscripted Soldier in the rear.

An enemy spearman immediately killed the staggering Conscripted Soldier with a thrust of his spear.

"All of you, attack!" shouted Sir Foucault.

The army of the Vilechka Family, withstanding their fear, launched a powerful charge.

In an instant, more Conscripted Soldiers became dead souls under the spears.

But this charge also had a great impact on Roman’s battle line, which was momentarily distorted, interlocked, a close combat melee ensued.

Countless were injured or killed.

The Vilechka Family also began to retreat.