Chapter 64: The Chaos of War (Part 1)

Dusk fell over the skies of the Wild Highlands, where more than twenty strange figures soared in a formation. These figures bore necks thicker than those of ordinary eagles, with lion-like bodies and wings spanning four to five meters. Mounted on their backs were riders—none other than the renowned Griffin Knights of Alrasia.

The captain of Griffin Knight yawned as he looked at the distant setting sun, pondering if he could sneak off somewhere for a good night's sleep. Riding a griffin through the frigid winds of the highlands under a pitch-black sky wasn't exactly comfortable. Though no one dared to accuse the Alrasian Griffin Corps of lacking discipline, the current circumstances made it difficult to stay motivated for patrol duty.

The Church's coalition forces had been advancing through the Wild Highlands for half a month. Aside from minor skirmishes with reconnaissance units, the anticipated bloody battle with the orc forces had yet to materialize. The combined forces of various nations pressed forward, seemingly inevitable in their march toward Orford City. While the generals in the command center grew increasingly cautious, the soldiers and junior officers below them began to relax—or, rather, grow complacent.

They did seem to have reasons to relax. Strategically speaking, the combined forces of the allied nations numbered a total of 100 thousand, while the number of orcs in Orford was estimated to be no more than six or seven thousand at best. Such overwhelming odds filled the soldiers with optimism. The officers were even more assured, knowing Orford relied on trade with neighboring countries for food supplies. Under the Pope's orders, these nations had already ceased trade with Orford. The Highlands' barrenness was well-known, and many who had visited Orford could attest to the lack of farmland and pastures capable of sustaining the voracious appetites of werewolves and ogres. Without sufficient food supplies, even the most elite troops on the continent would be powerless. No matter how renowned the orc city's lord was for his cunning and strategy across the continent, it would be impossible for a large group of orc soldiers, starving and dizzy from hunger, to maintain their formidable combat effectiveness.

Orford' apparent chaos only bolstered this belief. The wyverns—previously feared as masters of ambush and reconnaissance—proved ineffective against the Griffin Knights. While individual wyverns far outmatched griffins in combat, the knights' superior numbers and refined tactics overwhelmed them. In their first clash, ten Griffin Knights had expertly coordinated to tear apart a wyvern. Afterward, the wyverns avoided direct engagements with their airborne foes, ceding control of the skies to Alrasia.

Alrasia had long been reluctant to reveal the full might of its Griffin Corps to other nations. However, to honor the Pope, they had deployed nearly their entire force: over 200 griffins and their knights. Their impact on the battlefield was undeniable. Both Alrasian and allied commanders took solace in their aerial dominance, understanding that control of the skies meant an absolute advantage in reconnaissance and tactical maneuvering.

As expected, the orc forces failed to launch a surprise attack. Instead, small groups of orc scouts were repeatedly discovered and routed by the Griffin Knights, though their tenacity and vigilance made capturing them alive impossible. Amid such favorable conditions, the coalition army's morale soared, convinced of an inevitable victory.

Yet, the coalition's greatest challenges thus far had stemmed not from the orcs but from within.

Unlike the high morale and combat willingness displayed by the soldiers and lower-ranking officers, the senior commanders - temple knights and several generals - showed an unusually cautious approach. Instead of capitalizing on the overwhelming advantage and elevated morale to push forward decisively, they opted for the safest and most meticulous strategy. Progress was made slowly, with formations, camp setups, and supply routes all arranged with the utmost care. Units were required to remain in positions where they could support and respond to each other, while large contingents were assigned to guard the supply lines. It was as though they were following the steps of the most conservative elder, advancing only after each step was firmly secured, leaving no trace of risk.

While caution is certainly a virtue, excessive caution seemed to dampen the troops' morale. This overly meticulous and rigid approach became more pronounced as the campaign progressed, to the point where it started to frustrate the soldiers. Since yesterday, the high command had even issued an order for the army to rest during the day and march at night, claiming that this was the most effective way to guard against potential nocturnal raids by the orc forces.

The command from the temple knights triggered a burst of pent-up dissatisfaction, which had been simmering beneath the surface. This discontent wasn't limited to the soldiers alone; it was particularly difficult to handle when it came from the officers, who had a deeper understanding of strategy and tactics. Despite the temple knights' efforts to boost morale and quell dissent, their impact was limited. After all, this was a massive coalition army formed from multiple countries, and the temple knights were not the commanders who had been leading them from the start.

Most importantly, the clear advantage they held on the battlefield was evident to any strategist or seasoned officers. The sheer disparity in strength should have made victory all but certain, but the cautious and overly conservative approach undermined that confidence. The officers, who understood the tactical implications, saw that the army could push forward decisively and capitalize on their numerical superiority, but the temple knights' overly careful methods were preventing them from doing so.

This disconnection between the senior commanders' strategy and the officers' practical understanding of the situation was growing increasingly problematic, as the troops began to lose faith in their leadership.

This air of lethargy extended to the rank and file. Apart from the Griffin Knights, whose duties kept them busy, many soldiers saw the campaign as a monotonous march punctuated by forced vigilance.

Suddenly, two shadows appeared in the twilight sky. The captain of Griffin Knights snapped to attention, shouting, "Alert! Battle formation! Wyverns ahead!"

Though the knights noticed the approaching wyverns, they remained calm. Only two wyverns? They were confident in their ability to handle such a threat. As expected, the wyverns stopped at a considerable distance, refusing to engage.

The vice-captain, a battle mage, was part of the most formidable group among the griffin riders. A mage capable of fighting in the air was truly a nightmare for soldiers and the best weapon against any flying enemies. He glanced at the two small figures, no bigger than bats, and turned to the captain, saying, "What are these beasts up to? Should we take the initiative and deal with them ourselves?"

The captain hesitated, then shook his head with a sigh. "No. Didn't Lord Ederic specifically warn us? We're not allowed to chase after orc provocations without orders. Even if we caught and killed them unscathed, we'd likely face reprimand rather than praise. They're probably just observing us."

The battle mage spat on the ground, cursing, "Damn it. It's like we're the ones being surrounded and hunted down. So cowardly, always cautious, no guts at all. Are they impotent?"

"Don't say that, haven't you seen what they did last time in front of everyone? They really earned respect," another soldier replied.

"Guts and combat ability are two different things. True military spirit isn't something those guys locked away in the prayer rooms have," the vice-captain suddenly seemed to have an epiphany. He leaned in, furrowing his brow, and whispered as if sharing an incredible secret, "Hey, think about it... Celeste... must not have brothels, right? Do you think they—"

The captain paused, his eyes narrowing as he shot a sharp glare at the battle mage. He was a devout believer and would never allow such blasphemous talk. Just as he was about to loudly reprimand the mage, his eyes caught a flash. An arrow, nearly a meter long, pierced through the chest of the griffin, impaling both the rider and the beast together. The battle mage's scream mixed with the griffin's cry of agony as they both plummeted to the ground.

The captain froze for a moment, but just as he was about to speak, a massive arrow struck his face. The arrowhead, as large as half a palm, severed half of his head. His decapitated body swayed briefly, still emitting a sound that was impossible to tell if it was a command or a cry of surprise. Blood sprayed, and his limp form slumped over the griffin's back. The deep red blood mixed with floating white matter, instantly staining the griffin's beautiful yellow fur.

The griffin seemed to sense its rider's death, letting out a mournful cry as it lunged toward the distant Wyverns. The other riders in the squad let out a collective gasp that quickly turned into enraged roars. All of the griffin riders, as if on instinct, charged toward the two Wyverns. Even though the commander was lost, their anger and fighting spirit drove them far more powerfully than any command could.

They knew full well that these two Wyverns were no match for over twenty griffin riders. It was impossible.

As expected, when the two Wyverns saw the griffin riders coming, they immediately turned to flee. However, they didn't get far before two more massive arrows flew out from the Wyverns, shooting down another two griffin riders.

The griffin riders' anger only deepened, and their pursuit became even more frantic. But the speed of the Wyverns was not much slower than the griffins. No matter how hard they chased, the distance between them remained roughly the same, and every so often, another arrow would be launched from the Wyverns' backs. When the third massive arrow struck, it pierced through a griffin rider and their mount, severing one of the griffin's wings, the riders finally realized something was wrong.

Under the command of several seasoned warriors, the griffin riders began to retreat.

But at that moment, the two Wyverns, who had been fleeing, turned around, no longer escaping but now pursuing. The griffin riders began to feel the panic set in as they realized that for every distance they had flown in pursuit, they were now flying the same distance in retreat, with the Wyverns' archers continuing to fire their arrows.

Night fell, but the coalition's forces did not advance.

In the Alrasian command tent, grim-faced Temple Knights and generals examined the griffin corpse lying before them. A massive arrow, freshly removed from the body, glinted ominously.

"This isn't the work of ordinary bows," remarked one knight, Welleskay. "Such arrows require ballistae, enchanted with mithril-threaded magic arrays to enhance penetration and stability. Crafting a single arrow like this costs as much as fifty fine steel swords. Its two-mile range is terrifying."

One of the generals from Alrasia immediately said, "The cost of raising and training a griffin and a griffin rider is enough to craft a thousand fine steel longswords. And in just one hour, we've lost forty-eight griffins and riders. Furthermore, all the squad leaders sent out have perished. These were the most experienced warriors. Without them, the combat effectiveness of the griffin squad will drop by at least half."

"All the griffin squads on patrol were attacked at the same time. The orcs used the same tactic every time—first, they shot and killed the squad leaders. Without leadership, movement becomes chaotic. If it weren't for the fact that these were sharp, elite warriors, who recognized the situation and knew to retreat, the losses would have been even greater."

Welleskay frowned and said, "Did the griffin squad leaders have to wear different clothes from the rest of the team, making them easier for the enemy to target?"

"There's no choice. Aerial combat is different from ground combat. Often, formation and orders can't be communicated by voice. It relies on mutual understanding and coordination. Sometimes, it's impossible to see the faces of team members from the distance, so the squad leader's uniform must be distinct to ensure the proper execution of tactics and formations."

"I still doubt that any crossbow, even at a distance of two miles, could have that kind of precision. Even if such accuracy exists, how could they aim? If you were the one shooting, I'd believe it, but those barbaric orcs..." Another Alrasian general hesitated and turned to Welleskay. He had seen the divine knight's archery skills and couldn't believe that such primitive beasts could achieve similar feats.

Welleskay shook his head and said indifferently, "What's happened has happened. There's no need to question it. I believe the dwarven-crafted crossbows are accurate enough. The winches, combined with orc strength, ensure that the arrows have enough destructive power. As for vision... even I wouldn't dare to compete with the lizardmen. After all, their eyes are naturally protruding and can adjust automatically, thanks to years of specialized training. So it's not surprising that they can accomplish these feats."

"At two miles, neither the griffin riders' crossbows nor the battle mages' spells can reach them. They maintain this distance, using the wyverns to carry the crossbows, with lizardmen operating them to seize air superiority. This tactic makes full use of the wyverns' power and size, allowing them to advance and retreat with precision. They never get too close to our army, giving our crossbows and mages no opportunity. Are we really going to let those ten or so wyverns completely suppress our griffin riders?"

A staff officer thought for a moment and said, "How about we have the mages and crossbow teams set up in the front, lying in ambush, and then use the griffins to lure the dragons into the air for a sudden counterattack? What do you think of this plan?"

"That's not possible. How are you going to set up an ambush?" A general immediately responded. He had been stationed on the eastern highlands and knew the orcs' capabilities well. "Their vision isn't limited by the night. No matter how you deploy your forces, they can see everything from above."

Ederic turned to Welleskay and said, "Tomorrow, the two of us will strike. These crossbows won't have any effect on us. As long as we figure out how to take down those ten or so wyverns, we'll have the initiative in this battle."

The discussion turned heated as strategies were debated. Finally, a young holy warrior spoke, breaking his silence. "Gentlemen, perhaps this is precisely what Orford intended…"

Ederic frowned at him and asked, "What do you mean, Warrior Jarvis?"

Jarvis nodded and replied in a calm tone, "I believe that since Orford is capable of devising such precise and effective tactics, how we respond to these strategies must already be within their calculations. For long-range aerial ballista sniping like this, only powerful single-soldier assault tactics can counter it. If we can figure this out, so can Orford's people. I think, in their eyes, Lord Welleskay's and your life, Lord Ederic, may hold more value than the entire griffin force."

"You mean… Orford's real aim is to lure and kill the two Temple Knights?" One of the generals from Alrasia couldn't help but laugh. "Hahaha! You think those orcs are capable of killing two Temple Knights, whose martial skills are almost godlike, right in front of an army of ten thousand? I'd welcome them to try. It would give us the chance to wipe them out in one swoop."

But neither the Temple Knights nor the Holy Warrior laughed. Their expressions only grew graver because they knew this wasn't just possible—it was highly probable. In terms of single-soldier assaults, Orford's forces were even stronger than theirs. Lancelote would not appear on this desolate highland battlefield, as almost all the Temple Knights had been deployed here. Lancelote had to remain in Celeste to protect His Holiness the Pope. If a target appeared and was exposed beyond the protection of the ten-thousand-strong army, they had no doubt that man would be capable of killing anyone.

The generals and strategists from Alrasia, however, didn't see it that way. To them, this level of caution bordered on cowardice. The once-unshakable prestige of the Temple Knights had already begun to falter over the past few days, and their current reaction only seemed to pour cold water on what remained of their authority.

A strategist glanced at the heavy atmosphere, sighed, and said, "Lords, I'll say this again: aren't we being overly cautious? Many of our troubles are caused by our own excessive worry. With an army of ten thousand, we could march straight to Orford and crush them with overwhelming strength. These small tricks with wyverns and the like are useless in the face of such a disparity in power."

The two Temple Knights and the young Holy Warrior remained silent, their expressions unchanged. After a long pause, Welleskay said in a deep voice, "Both His Holiness and Lord Lancelote have told us that we must be cautious and never underestimate Orford. We also believe they are not opponents to be taken lightly. In fact, our current steady approach is precisely to turn the battle into a direct clash of forces. As long as we slowly and methodically advance without revealing any flaws, we can bring our army to the gates of Orford, leaving them no room for tricks."

A general snorted. "Perhaps His Holiness and Lord Lancelote are right, but how can they, commanding from Celeste thousands of miles away, adapt to the ever-changing situations on the battlefield? I have immense respect for the two of you in terms of martial skill, but true battles on the field are far more complex. There's an old saying: 'A general in the field is not bound by orders from afar.' Excessive caution in command is a grave error in warfare. I personally think… we shouldn't put so much weight on His Holiness's previous instructions."

The other officers couldn't help but glance at this general. Though his words were somewhat restrained, he had ultimately voiced what everyone was thinking. The biggest problem at present wasn't just the wyverns' sniping tactics against the griffin force. That was only a prelude, highlighting the deeper issue of discord in the coalition's command structure.

The Temple Knights didn't respond, listening quietly as the general continued.

"Recently, to prevent ambushes by the orcs, the army's march was changed to nocturnal movements, which has already dealt a heavy blow to morale. After today's attack, you immediately ordered us to halt and guard against a follow-up ambush. While we understand that the orcs might indeed launch such an attack, if we keep reacting to every little sound as if it's a major threat, what will the soldiers think? If this continues, even if we manage to reach the gates of Orford, the army's morale will have been worn down by such prolonged suppression and mistrust. Soldiers without morale…"

Ederic suddenly interrupted the general. "No need to say more. At first light tomorrow, the two of us will set out with the griffin riders."