Blacksmith vs. the System-Chapter 211

Once I appeared, I wasn’t surprised to see Rosie, Harold, Terry, and Liam gathered together, each representing one critical role. While they talked, the rest of the army was moving around them rapidly, showing hints of panic already as they were darting toward the underground shelters.

I didn’t blame them. I would have loved to panic alongside them, but it was not a luxury I could afford at the moment.

“Sir Arthur is here. We will win,” shouted several voices the moment I arrived. I opened my mouth, ready to correct them, but decided against it as I noticed those shouts helping the ones that were panicking.

It looked like my fake name was more impressive than my true one. Maybe it had something to do with the way I introduced myself to them as Arthur, the invincible soldier who was strong enough to defend them.

One that I had ruined by revealing my true identity as a Blacksmith … only to give them a whiplash by chopping down the endless number of boss monsters that attacked us. No wonder they were choosing to refer to me as my warrior identity even knowing it was fake.

It was an interesting social phenomenon between identity and leadership that I would have loved to spend time exploring. Instead, I was once again playing the medieval general.

“What’s the status,” I asked once I arrived at my ad hoc war council, and raised a mana barrier to block the sound — one advantage of my constant practice: I was more capable of reflecting various concepts, like silence, through my mana directly.

“The last report indicates that they are fifty miles away, but they are getting close, faster than we had expected. The mounts they are riding are quite fast. We must have angered someone important.”

“Mounts?” I asked. “Horses?”

“Essentially,” she replied. “It’s good news that we’re not dealing with a flying ship,” she said. At my questioning stare, she gave more details. “Exactly what you’re imagining. A medieval frigate that flies thanks to a pile of enchantments. I have no idea why they do, though.”

“It probably has something to do with adapting Quintessence to air rather than starting from scratch —” I guessed, but this time, it was me that fell silent under her glare. “Yes, not the time,” I agreed. “So, a mounted legion… good news or bad news?” I asked.

“As good as it could be,” she said, her tone disagreeing. “We have only detected one ascended warrior, and since he’s been assigned to this task, we can hope that his original class wasn’t too strong. Probably a basic fighter variant, and we are yet to see signs of mana use, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.”

“He will still be stronger than the pseudo-ascended,” I guessed.

“Several times,” she said. “I certainly wouldn’t open a betting pool with you as the favorite in a fair duel,” she warned.

That made the other three bristle, thinking she was insulting me. “I’ll make sure to keep the duel unfair, then,” I said with a smirk.

“That would be best,” she said. “The rest of his forces consist of four hundred horsemen, which is both good and bad.”

“How so,” Terry asked.

“They could have sent a full legion, which would be around ten thousand people. Dealing with four hundred is certainly preferable, but their mounted legions are usually more elite forces. If the skirmish boils down to a pitched battle, it would be a massacre.”

“Then, let’s make sure that doesn’t end up being the case,” I said, then turned to Harold, gesturing for him to speak.

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“The evacuation of non-combatants is already complete, and the shelters in the mountain have already been sealed, with scouts at each entrance, ready to warn us in the case of an upcoming battle. The outer towns are manned by a skeleton crew of volunteers, just enough to look crowded.

I gulped. The functions of the volunteer forces were too close to bait for my liking, but without those threats, they would be free to target the shelters. I turned to Rosie. “What’s the state of our elite team? Ready for an ambush?”

“Yes, but against Drakkan forces…” she started, only to fall silent when I opened the seal of the first cart, showing her the arrows I prepared. Another crate, this time filled with spearheads. She said nothing as she took one of the spearheads, using it against the metal floor … leaving a deep gash. “Is it as effective against mana barriers?” she asked.

I nodded. “Perfect for some nasty urban warfare when they target the towns,” I said. “The numbers are not as much as I want, but we’re lucky that they sent a small elite team against us rather than a full legion.”

“They probably assume an easy victory,” she said. “Every single soldier they send toward us is above level fifty, led by an ascended. While we only have two above fifty, and one of them is a blacksmith. On paper, it probably looks like an over-commitment to them.”

“Even with my performance?” I asked. “Even if they didn’t get their prisoners back, I refuse to believe that they don’t have any spies in Asterion. They must know.”

Rosie just smirked. “There’s a difference between receiving a report from a spy, and actually treating it as actionable intelligence. They probably assumed it was a lie from Leona so as not to give them a cause for war.”

“That’s good news,” Liam intervened, then added hesitantly. “Right?”

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“Yes,” Rosie said. “Once the initial offensive is repelled, we should get a grace period of around seven days. Longer, if we can push them to retreat rather than killing them all.”

“Why?” Harrison asked. “Isn’t it better to kill them all?”

“It’s about Drakka’s political situation. Their legions operate semi-independently, with their own spheres of influence.”

“And, we don’t want to scare them enough that they start asking for help,” I completed.

“Yes, though I’m almost certain that they will ask help from Vessalia before any other legion,” she said. “I have managed to get in contact with a few informants. I wasn’t able to learn much, but they report the relationship between different legions to be frosty at best.”

“That’s better,” I said. The idea of facing the full might of a legion was bad, but if the relationship between them was as bad as her information suggested, they wouldn’t be able to commit their full might.

“Is this why they only have one ascended leading their forces?” Harold asked. “Or, are the ascended that rare in the cities?”

“Unfortunately, the first,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if every legion could comfortably send a hundred ascended warriors if necessary. It’s not as rare for them.”

“No need to waste our time in what ifs,” I cut in, not wanting to spend our time discussing what the enemy might do.

“Yes, we need to find a way to force the attackers into the towns if we want to fight them using our defensive encampments,” he said. “There’s nothing that prevents them from bypassing the towns and attacking the shelter.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I responded before I turned to Liam. “What’s the status of the steam cannons?” I asked.

“The next generation ones with enhanced range are in place like you requested, sir, but they can only use the smaller shells you have sent us as samples.”

“Good,” I said as I opened the last closed case, by far the largest one, carrying almost a thousand shells, lined perfectly, marked with two different signs, shrapnel shells with Radiant Flame, and fragmentary shells based on decay. “These are how we’ll be forcing them to react. They will either retreat, or they will over-commit to their attack.”

“You managed to forge that many,” Rosie asked in shock, aware of my plan.

“Yes, what Liam and Terry achieved helped me forge them faster,” I said, then looked at Liam. “Good work with the centrifuge-steamer idea particularly,” I said. “It worked like a charm.”

“See, I told you —” Liam started, while Terry looked surprised.

“Don’t be too hasty. The results were explosive enough to kill me if it wasn’t for my armor,” I explained to him. Liam nodded sheepishly. “Still, excellent work, both of you. Without the results of that experiment, we would have been scrambling badly.”

“It’s our duty, sir,” Terry said. I opened my mouth to correct him, then let it slide. Under the circumstances, it was more fitting than calling me a professor.

“Anything else before we move down to greet them at the town,” I asked.

Everyone else shook their heads while Rosie looked at me. “The arrows and spears need their handles.”

“We can handle it while we take a wagon down,” I said. “It’ll be good for the soldiers to see us move down openly.”

“Good call, sir,” Harold declared. We stepped on the cart, working on the spears as the wind hit us.

Ready for another battle.