Chapter 37: Archers

The primary difference between new and seasoned soldiers lies not just in combat experience, but also in mindset. For these 100 archers, who were once humble tenant farmers working diligently on the estate, their lives had always been dictated by others. Without land of their own, they worked for their lord, obediently following orders wherever and for whatever they were needed. They would bow deeply at the sight of stewards or other dignitaries, and if they ever encountered the lord himself, they dared not even breathe too loudly, fearing punishment for any potential misstep.

Moreover, even encountering castle guards on patrol necessitated careful respect to avoid provoking their anger and risking a beating. These farmers, accustomed to being cautious and deferential, would instinctively fear any sign of anger from others, immediately wondering if they had done something wrong that could bring trouble upon them. If someone was angry, they would quickly apologize; if someone decided to strike them, they could only cower and hope for leniency.

But what if that person decided to kill them? That was an entirely different level of fear.

As deputy commander Sedis gave the command to "prepare," the archers were shaken out of their terror. Confronted with the sight of the raging northerners charging towards them, their first instinct was to tremble uncontrollably and think of fleeing. But fleeing would likely lead to a fate more horrific than they could imagine. They remembered the lord's method of execution – people tied to a wheel and beaten to death – the screams still vivid in their memories.

They knew they couldn't run. No matter how scared, they had to stiffen their resolve and follow orders.

"Fire!" Sedis's command to release the arrows snapped the archers out of their stupor. They released their bowstrings fiercely, watching in horror as the arrows flew the 200-yard distance, striking the barbarians who were using their shields for protection.

Gwynnis looked up, observing the 100 heavy arrows flying over his head. The northerners, evidently experienced in combat, immediately raised their shields to fend off the long-range assault. However, the peculiar long heavy arrows still delivered a brutal blow.

These flat and broad arrowheads did not stop upon hitting the light wooden shields but continued several inches further, embedding the shaft into the shields. And it was these few inches that penetrated the shields that allowed the northerners to feel the sensation of cold iron entering their skulls.

Yes, several of the northerners, who customarily used their forearms to support their shields above their heads against incoming arrows, were now experiencing something drastically different. The long heavy arrows, unlike the short light arrows they had encountered before, had much greater force.

Some had arrows piercing through their shields and embedding in their faces, with the arrowheads lodged between skin and cheekbone, accompanied by the sound of cracking bones. Others, whether considered lucky or not, had their forearms skewered by the arrows that went through their shields, the arrowheads stopping only after piercing their limbs, effectively nailing their shields to their arms.

And then there were the unluckier ones. They raised their shields, only to be cunningly hit by arrows in their knees. The arrowheads pierced through their knees and continued until they exited from behind the knee joint, pinning their entire legs to the ground, immobilizing them.

Faced with an unimaginable onslaught of arrows, the northerners' formation quickly descended into chaos.

About five fell immediately, while several others were hit in the head and shoulders. A few more suffered injuries to their legs or feet. In total, at least fifteen were rendered combat ineffective on the spot.

And this was just the aftermath of the first volley of arrows. The archers on the hilltop were already drawing their second arrows.

The northerners, facing such heavy casualties in their first encounter, were thrown into disarray. Their leader, a burly northerner, let out a furious war cry. He too was hit by an arrow, which penetrated his shield and lodged in his cheekbone. In a fit of rage, he grabbed the arrow and yanked it out forcefully, pulling with it fragments of bone, a chunk of his cheek, and flesh – the arrowhead had barbs.

His eyes bulged in fury.

The sudden and severe blow triggered a massive adrenaline rush, temporarily numbing him to pain and making him fearless. He tossed aside his shield, brandishing his battle-axe and bellowing words that Gwynnis couldn't understand but seemed like a fierce challenge to fight. Then, he began his fearless charge up the hill.

The battlefield, where life and death are decided in an instant, can indeed trigger emotional outbursts in people, unleashing their strength, courage, and faith.

Gwynnis chuckled coldly, drawing the Wintarling Sword. His eyes were fixed solely on the enemy commander charging at the forefront.

This was a man-to-man combat, determining both supremacy and survival.

But then, the next moment.

"Fire!" came the command.

The second volley of arrows arrived instantly. The leading northerner commander, having discarded his shield, was struck directly in the forehead by an arrow. It entered his forehead and exited the back of his skull, the heavy arrow remaining lodged in his head.

The commander fell instantly, without a sound.

Gwynnis was speechless for a moment... This was not a matter of dishonoring the martial spirit. Subordinates are a part of one's strength, and if subordinates kill you, it's as good as being killed by me. I won.

He nodded in acknowledgment.

The second round of arrows was even more effective than the first, for various reasons such as the reduced distance between the two sides, many losing their shields, and increased chaos on the battlefield.

Another ten or more northerners fell.

This was just a single charge by the northerners, and Gwynnis's guards had not yet engaged in close combat. Yet, nearly a third of the enemy had already fallen.

Gwynnis looked up at the hilltop, pride evident in his eyes.

Under Sedis's command, the archers were preparing to release their third volley of arrows.

The northerners were now within 100 yards of the hilltop.

As the third wave of arrows descended, another fifteen enemies fell. By this time, more than half of them had been incapacitated or killed.

"All men, get down!" Gwynnis suddenly roared.

Though his guards didn't understand why, they immediately complied.

Simultaneously, Gwynnis led his cavalry in a swift flanking maneuver to the left, clearing the line of fire for the archers behind them.

Then, at a distance of thirty yards, the fourth volley of arrows descended like a curtain of death.

The impact was devastating.