Chapter 22: The Battle of Marxen Village

A day had passed since Roland's capture of the soldiers from the Holy Roman Empire, yet the atmosphere remained calm with no signs of disturbance. This lulled the student militia within the village into a false sense of security. They began to believe that the soldiers they had apprehended earlier were merely deserters, lacking the organization and discipline of proper reconnaissance troops.

However, Roland held a different conviction. He was steadfast in his belief that this was merely the enemy's initial reconnaissance, and an attack would soon follow. Thus, Roland diligently stood guard at the village entrance every day, rifle in hand, ready to detect any intruders at the first sign of their approach.

Another day passed without incident. As night fell, the village grew quieter, with most of its inhabitants already asleep, leaving only a handful of individuals to maintain their vigilance.

Under the veil of darkness, a group of horsemen slowly approached the village, illuminated by the moonlight. These were soldiers from the Holy Roman Empire dispatched by Charlemagne.

"We're nearing the French village ahead. Stay alert; there may be sentries," the leader of the group cautioned his men as they advanced to within 500 meters of Marxen Village.

"Torr, Gauss, you two go ahead and eliminate the French sentries," the leader ordered, motioning to two burly soldiers behind him.

"Yes, sir!" The soldiers nodded in acknowledgment before stealthily infiltrating towards the entrance of Marxen Village.

Meanwhile, the students remained oblivious to the impending danger, engrossed in their conversations.

"Has the night shift arrived yet? I'm so tired," one student yawned, addressing his companion.

"Not for a while. Don't hold your breath," his companion replied after checking the time.

"How much longer? I'm about to pass out. I don't understand why the instructors have us on guard duty," the first student grumbled.

"Didn't they say they spotted enemy scouts? That's why we're on high alert."

"Where are these enemies? It's been two days, and I haven't seen a soul. I bet Roland and Marin are just making things up. They probably grabbed some random guy and claimed he was the enemy, hoping for rewards and promotions."

The disgruntled student vented his jealousy towards Roland and Marin, both of whom were promoted to junior officers despite being younger. His resentment colored his perception of them.

"That can't be true. I've heard of Roland before. He's always at the top of his class," another student chimed in, defending Roland.

In the midst of their conversation, the impending threat drew nearer, unbeknownst to them, shrouded in the darkness of the night.

"Hmph! What good are grades? Do you think you'll report your exam scores to the enemy on the battlefield? Let me tell you, what truly matters on the battlefield is strength and vigor, like mine," he proclaimed, extending his arm and flexing his muscles vigorously to demonstrate.

"See that? These muscles all over my body. That's what a good soldier should look like," he continued, brimming with pride. But soon, confusion clouded his expression as his companion remained silent.

"What's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything? You didn't fall asleep, did you? I'm not even sleepy yet, and you're nodding off already," he nudged his companion, assuming he had accidentally dozed off due to fatigue, and attempted to rouse him.

As he reached out, his companion slumped forward and collapsed with a thud.

"What... what's happening?" Witnessing his companion fall, he realized something was terribly wrong and panicked.

In his panic, he attempted to return to their post to alert the instructors, but suddenly, a figure blocked his path. It was a soldier from the Holy Roman Empire, the same one who had just killed his companion.

"Enemy... ambush!" the student exclaimed in panic upon seeing the soldier.

But before he could even raise an alarm, the soldier swiftly swung his blade, severing the student's throat.

"Wuwuwu~" Gasping for breath as his windpipe was cut, the student fell to his knees in agony, clutching his neck, attempting to speak but unable to produce any sound. Eventually, he succumbed to his pain, dying on the spot.

"Too green. Youngsters like you, probably never set foot on a battlefield. It's a pity. Even if you did, you'd be nothing more than cannon fodder," the soldier remarked, shaking his head as he looked down at the fallen student.

"The sentries have been dealt with. You go inform the general to send reinforcements immediately," he ordered calmly, showing no remorse. It was evident this was not his first time committing such acts.

"Understood, I'll go right away," another soldier nodded briskly before darting off.

Not far from Marxen Village, on a small hill, the gathering place of the Holy Roman Empire's army led by Duke Charles, consisting of a thousand men, remained silent, awaiting their next move.

"Report! Your Grace, the sentries of the French inside the village have been dealt with," soon after, the reconnaissance sent by Charles returned, meticulously briefing him on the situation inside Marxen Village.

"How many French soldiers are in the village? What is their combat strength?" Charles anxiously inquired upon the return of the scout.

"Your Grace, I've just assessed the situation. There are approximately five to six hundred French soldiers in the village, mostly students with weak combat abilities. They seem to be hastily conscripted by the French authorities," the scout reported to Charles.

"Good, very good. It seems fortune favors me," Charles exclaimed joyously upon hearing the scout's report.

It appeared his decision to attack the village while Balthasar attacked the city was indeed the right one. It was just a small village; there couldn't be too many soldiers. He could easily defeat them and earn military merit.

With this thought in mind, Charles couldn't wait a moment longer. He urgently ordered, "All troops, march towards Marxen Village!"

"Attack!" With Charles's command, the Holy Roman Empire soldiers, who had been lying in wait for some time, swiftly rose to their feet. Gripping their rifles tightly, they advanced rapidly towards the nearby village.