Patrick was right behind the vanguard, watching what the three brave idiots up ahead were doing. And among those three, he approached the only one who seemed reasonable enough to talk to.
"Viscount Freis. Would you listen to me for a moment?"
"Hm, and you are?"
"I am Patrick Schneider, son of Baron Schneider."
"I know. You're that young man from back then."
Patrick had made an impression on the Eastern nobles at the previous banquet. He had originally tried not to stand out, but as a result of having to act in the face of the Count’s daughter's crisis—not for the reward...—the perception that 'the son of House Schneider is quite skilled with a sword' had spread among the Eastern nobles.
Among them, Viscount Freis in particular had looked at Patrick with a deep impression. To him, who had personally led troops and fought several fief battles in his youth, Patrick's level was definitely not something that could be described as merely 'quite skilled'.
After all, he himself was at the three-star level, yet he hadn't even been able to see what this young man had done. 'He must be at least five-star.' Thinking that this made him a genius among geniuses, Viscount Freis spoke to Patrick with a somewhat gentle expression.
"Hahaha. I think I know why you've come."
"Ah, you know?"
"Yes. Your body must be itching for a fight, isn't it?"
"At your age, that's only natural. If you wish, you may stand at the forefront of our army as well."
'No, that's not it, old man.' Patrick sighed and then spoke.
"First, please slow the pace of the advance. The damage from traps is steadily increasing."
"But if we do that..."
Won't the other two houses take the vanguard position? He couldn't bring himself to say those words. Even if that was his true intention, it was shameful to openly admit to sacrificing his soldiers for the sake of achievements.
Patrick said to Viscount Freis.
"The role of the vanguard is not to advance quickly. It is to secure a safe path for the rear guard."
"Ummm...."
"For now, fall back and reform your ranks. If my prediction is correct, a bandit ambush will appear soon."
"An ambush?"
"The path is getting narrower as we go. If I were the bandits, I would place archers to target our forces."
"Such a cowardly act...."
"What do you expect from bandits?"
And he held back from saying, 'What's so cowardly about an ambush?' Viscount Freis calmly looked around. Indeed, as the competition for the lead intensified, the soldiers' formation had become greatly disordered.
If an enemy ambush were to fire arrows in this situation...
"Hm, Sir Terrius!"
"Yes. Did you call, my lord?"
"We will halt for a moment to organize the ranks and then advance again. Take care of the soldiers."
"Yes, my lord."
After giving the order to his knight, Viscount Freis spoke.
"Is this good enough?"
"Yes. Thank you for listening to my opinion."
"No, it's fine. It's been a while since I've been in a real battle, so I got too excited myself. To think I didn't even realize the formation had fallen into such disarray."
Watching Viscount Freis, who now recognized what the problem was, Patrick thought.
'So he has some real battle experience from his youth, huh? This old man is definitely the better of the lot.' Then, Patrick looked at the other two houses.
They were charging forward with such brave ignorance that it reminded him of the Orcs he had left back in the fief.
"Advance! Advance!"
"Ignore the traps! Prove that their cowardly tricks cannot stop us!" Those guys are a lost cause.
Blinded by the desire for glory, they didn't even look at the expressions on their own soldiers' faces, simply forcing them onward from behind. Watching them, Patrick shook his head. He never thought he would see such a pathetic sight again, even after dying and being reborn.
When House Freis briefly pulled back, House Haspir and House Bison pushed their soldiers forward with even greater fervor. It seemed they thought that with one competitor out, they only needed to beat one more to monopolize the vanguard. They had to reach the bandits' camp first, no matter what.
Only then could they claim to have fulfilled the role of the vanguard and be recognized for their achievements and receive rewards later. If they backed down now, they would be nothing more than idiots who recklessly sacrificed their soldiers.
Therefore...
'We're almost there. We're almost there.'
'We can't turn back now.' Charging forward with the typical mindset of a losing gambler, the heads of the two houses failed to grasp the situation at all. The fact that the traps were increasing, and that the path was getting narrower.
And then...
"There it is! That's the bandits' main base!"
"Chaaarge!"
At last, the target appeared before their eyes. A wooden palisade, which seemed to have been hastily built by the bandits, came into view. The commanders, having confirmed the target, immediately ordered their soldiers to charge, and the soldiers, thinking they had finally reached their destination, charged recklessly without looking back.
However... "Fiiire!"
The sound of a command came from somewhere. And the clear sound of bowstrings snapping was heard from all directions. What followed was...
"Aargh!" "Keuk!" "...
Ugh..." ...the soldiers of the two houses, falling as they were struck by a rain of arrows pouring from all directions.
"Shields up!"
"Block the arrows! I said block them!" "Form a tight formation and raise your shields...
Keuk...."
The bows used by the bandits were not particularly high-performance weapons. They could be easily blocked not only by the knights' plate mail but also by the soldiers' wooden shields.
If they had maintained their formation at a normal pace, they would have been able to block an arrow attack of this magnitude.
But...
"Kraaagh!"
"Aaaargh...."
"No! Uwaaaagh!"
"Run awayyyy!"
An army that doesn't follow commands is nothing but a large group of targets. A few soldiers tried to follow their commander's orders to raise their shields and block the arrows, but without a proper tight formation, they couldn't stop the rain of arrows. And so, the soldiers of the two houses fell helplessly.
And the heads of the two houses, watching this scene, turned pale.
"Damn it, Sir Karlson!"
"Yes, my lord."
"Leave the soldiers. Have the knights alone break through the enemy's palisade."
"Yes, I understand."
Viscount Bison sent his prized knight order ahead. The bandits' crude arrows could not pierce a knight's plate mail. And the bandits' flimsy palisade could not stop Karlson Mayer, his prized four-star knight.
If they could just break down that palisade, they could at least claim to have fulfilled the minimum role of the vanguard, so he bet everything on it.
"I am Karlson of Bison!"
As if to prove his four-star level was no lie, a knight charged at the head of the charge, holding a bastard sword overflowing with aura. His horse, too, was clad in dense armored horse plating, and it galloped toward the palisade, unfazed by the bandits' arrows. And the moment he reached the palisade...
Kwa-aaang!
Aura exploded against the bandits' palisade. The palisade, struck by the aura of a four-star knight, shattered into pieces.
"Karlson, knight of the Bison Fief! I have reached the front!"
The knight, understanding his lord's intention, announced his name in a loud voice. With this, the role of the vanguard was sufficiently....
"Hup!"
Karlson, who had broken through the palisade and entered the camp, momentarily covered his mouth. The smell of rot. The place that appeared to be the bandits' main base was filled with nothing but the terribly putrid stench of corpses.
There wasn't a single living person, only corpses. From the bodies of what looked like common civilians to those presumed to be from the subjugation force and bandits, all the half-rotting corpses had been gathered in this place. The moment he saw the pile of rotten corpses filling the base, a chill ran down his spine.
Bandits, a black mage.
And corpses.
What could this combination of three things mean?
"Re... Retreaaat!"
Along with his loud shout, the rotten corpses lying on the ground began to squirm and rise.
"Guuuhhhh..."
"Grrrrr...."
Zombies rose up in large numbers. Zombies are a peculiar type of monster. Among undead-type monsters, they are the lowest rank, and a well-armed common soldier can defeat one if they just keep their wits about them.
However, when the number of such zombies increases, the story changes. They are slow and dull, but they feel no pain and won't fall from ordinary wounds. On top of that, they have an endless obsession and madness for the blood and flesh of the living.
When tens, or hundreds of such zombies gathered and charged, it was nothing short of a disaster. Against a wall of flesh that kept charging without retreating no matter how many times it was cut, neither armed soldiers nor trained knights were of much use. Such zombies poured out of the bandits' base and fell upon the subjugation force.
"Uwaaaaaa..."
A vague obsession and hatred for the living. Whether good or evil, once they receive the demonic power and are reborn as moving corpses, they are all the same.
Even with their hearts pierced by swords or their limbs torn off, the zombies that moved forward only to tear at the flesh of the living began to bite into the soldiers of the subjugation force.
"Uwaaaagh!"
"No! Don't come neeeear!"
"Aargh! Aaaargh! Aaaaaah!"
Some swung their weapons randomly in terror, while others collapsed on the spot, surrounded by zombies and eaten alive. A scene that seemed to have been brought directly from a landscape of hell unfolded in this place. And the one who had created this tragedy was watching the scene from not far away.
He watched the scene with a foul smile on his lips and spoke.
"Kekeke, yes, bleed. Scream. Your blood and sorrowful cries will become my nourishment."
This man, wrapped in a black robe and holding a skull that emanated a sinister energy, was the black mage who was lending his power to this bandit group. No, strictly speaking, it was wrong to say he was lending his power. One could tell by listening to what another bandit standing next to him said.
"What should we do now?"
That's right.
This black mage was the leader of this bandit group. Strictly speaking, there had been another leader originally. But the black mage had appeared one day out of nowhere, killed the leader, and brainwashed the bandit group, taking it over completely.
He needed forces that would move like his own limbs, which was why he had taken over this entire bandit group. It was to efficiently carry out the orders given to him by the cult. The attacks on the roads around Mount Phils and the raids on the surrounding fiefs were all carried out under the black mage's orders.
And now, he watched the subjugation force being unilaterally ravaged by the zombies and spoke.
"The rate at which corpses are increasing is slow. To deal with the ones coming from behind, I'll have to use a more decisive method. Fire arrows at them."
"Yes, I understand."
The bandit with a dazed expression relayed the black mage's order to his subordinates. Then, the bandits' arrows flew fiercely toward the enemy, who were in chaos because of the zombies.
"Fire! Show no mercy!"
"Yes, sir!"
Firing arrows into a melee where friend and foe are mixed is not normally the right thing to do. But if those allies are zombies, the story changes. The zombies feel neither pain nor an itch even if they are hit by arrows.
However, for the soldiers who had to deal with zombies while arrows rained down from above, it was a living hell. On top of that, their fallen comrades also began to rise again as zombies. In the process of their allies decreasing, the number of enemies was only increasing.
"Hyaaaap!"
Amidst this, the knight named Karlson of the Bison Fief was doing his best to deal with the zombies. The sight of him dealing with the zombies while brandishing a clear aura proved he was not a four-star knight for nothing.
"Don't be afraid. If you face them calmly, zombies are not a great threat."
As he dealt with the zombies and encouraged the soldiers, the soldiers around him gradually began to regain their morale.
"There was a rather useful one, I see."
The black mage watching from afar muttered. He had expected someone like that to appear, since the subjugation force included many knights. So, naturally, he had a countermeasure.
"I will show you the true terror of black magic."
A chant began from the black mage's lips, and a sinister energy gathered on the skull staff he was holding.
"Curse of Confusion."
And the dark energy that had gathered on his staff began to slowly spread across the battlefield.