Golden Gate: New World Front

Chapter 3 - Non magic world

0 km, at the borders of the kingdom of Gallimard.

August 11th, 678 AD.

"Aim and fire!"

The officer's command rang out, and immediately the archers drew their bows, taking careful aim at the distant enemy. Within moments, they released a deadly volley, filling the air with the eerie whistle of more than 300 arrows. The enemy forces, caught off guard and distracted by the advancing knights clad in armour, were helpless against the onslaught.

As the archers lowered their bows, they watched with satisfaction as the knights of the 1st and 2nd battalions charged into the fray, taking the brunt of the combat. Smiles spread across the archers' faces as they observed the enemy's collapse under the relentless assault. Without adequate armour, the opposing forces suffered heavy casualties from the arrow storm, leaving them defenceless and exposed.

From a vantage point on a nearby hill, a commanding figure observed the scene below. The general's view allowed him to witness the full scope of the battle, where thousands of men in the rear ranks watched as the front lines clashed with the forces of Gallimard. The general's men, protected by their heavy armour, easily overpowered the poorly trained enemy soldiers. As he watched the battle unfold, a smirk spread across his face, and he chuckled, knowing victory was within his grasp.

Beside him, his officers also watched the battle with satisfaction. They saw the Gallimard forces begin to retreat in disarray. Soon, a messenger from the frontlines climbed the hill, breathless and eager to deliver the news of their victory.

"General Lazarus! I bring news—the Gallimard forces are retreating to the deep woods. Request for—"

Before the messenger could finish, General Lazarus interrupted with a decisive wave of his hand.

"There's no need to chase down fleeing peasants. Our men need rest, and quickly. We march on their capital tomorrow. Inform the 1st and 2nd battalions to return at once. The battle is won."

Without another word, the messenger hurried off to relay the order to the battalion commanders. Confident in their victory, Lazarus rose from his seat, stretching after the long hours spent observing the battle. Turning back toward the rear of the hill, he began the walk back to camp, joined by his officers. Some of the lower-ranked officers stayed behind, lingering to watch as their forces began to regroup and withdraw from the battlefield.

With the battle won, General Lazarus knew that by dawn, his forces would march toward the kingdom of Gallimard. The earlier clash had been a decisive victory, but he was acutely aware that reinforcements wouldn't be coming. He faced a daunting challenge: Gallimard's royal guards were renowned as the toughest in the southern continent. With only 30,000 soldiers at his command, Lazarus understood that a misstep could lead to a massacre. Defeat would bring severe consequences for him and his officers. The general debated whether to meticulously plan the next battle or to strike quickly, hoping to catch the enemy off guard. "Victory or death," he muttered, recalling the motto that had guided him since his days at the Officer Academy. He had risen through the ranks, earning fame for his triumph over the kingdom of Leilo.

As he made his way back to the rear, the stench of decaying bodies hung heavy in the air, remnants of the earlier battle. The soldiers hadn't bothered to clear the dead, leaving them to rot under the cries of circling crows.

As they neared the camp, the sound of marching feet echoed behind them. Lazarus turned to see the 1st and 2nd battalions returning, exhausted from the fight. A young runner approached, breathless but eager to deliver his news.

"General! The 1st and 2nd have returned. Reports indicate we lost over a hundred men, while Gallimard suffered over a thousand casualties."

Lazarus allowed himself a small smile at the favourable report. "Good, that's one less worry. You may go now."