Chapter CLIV – I will put enmity between thee and the line.

55th of Spring 5860
Hill on the outskirts of Karabush, State of Karabush

On top of the hill, Brown and his men had stationed themselves behind hastily-constructed earthworks. It was nothing fancy due to the emergency of the situation. Just some raised earth, that’d stagger attackers, and take a few arrow shots in lieu of the men if they were lucky. They were built a bit below the hill, on lower ground, with the pikemen situated behind them. The musketeers, which had broken formation to hastily retreat back in through the safety of the forest, had regathered and reformed way behind the pikemen, their ground higher up enough for them to safely fire at the enemies below them without hitting the pikemen.

Since they were outnumbered, the lines of the republic curved inwards, to form a convex line facing the enemy. The enemy which outnumbered them greatly and could easily outflank them if they so wish. Up from above, near the line of musketeers, Ayomide found the scene down below quite discouraging to say the least. An ocean of men, as colorful as the rainbow with their multitude of banners informing who commanded who, slowly inching closer and closer with killing intent. She was sure they didn’t intend to honorably treat the fugitives as war prisoners if they were captured. It was either execution to take revenge for their insubordination, or they’d be sent back to those horrible camps that the Imperials had newly established. Either way, their end was not good if that ocean swept over them and washed them away into the depths of hell-on-earth.

Thus, when faced with such a scene, could she sincerely shout a desperate “Death or freedom!” The sentiment was shared by all the soldiers around her, who joined in the chant by thumping their musket’s butts at the earth. It spread from the lines of the musketeers, to those of the pikemen, who all shouted and thumped like so. For a moment, the earth shook in unison under the boots of free men, the air rang out with their chants, and the seas were way too far away to be affected but one must assume even they were moved by such a display.

Then, a call of the bugle that overpowered all and silenced all. A call, to action. To “ready arms!” The flintlock mechanisms of the muskets clinked and clanked ever so silently, audible only due to the silence. Ayomide didn’t really have an easy way to gauge distance, but her eyes had a good feel for distance. Distance that they had to be careful for, as the musketeers carried limited ammunition. Wasting it on shots that would likely not land would not be a good idea. So, Ayomide held her hand up, and up, and up… until she could see the whites in their eyes.

“In ranks, fire!” A downward swing of the hand, followed by a deadly volley of fire down at the densely packed men down below. No armor, no shield, no prayer could protect from a giant lead ball flying at several hundred miles per hour. Truly a force of nature, packed tightly into a barrel of man’s creation. Unpleasant to be on either side, though, one has to admit being at the receiving end of it is ever so slightly less pleasant. The musketeers got off two volleys before their attackers close in for a melee. Normally the crossbowmen would try and stay around to exchange volleys before the rest of the army entered melee, but they were far outranged by gunpowder weaponry.

Eleven thousand men remain, versus five thousand.

However, before they were able to close off, the pikemen showed off a neat little trick: The atlatl. Most of them were not trained well in it, but, it was a one-handed ranged weapon that they could fire while they held on to their pike with their other hand. No harm in letting off a volley or two. Their copper-tipped javelins flew forth, mostly getting lodged in and deflected by shields and armor, but the act itself was enough to give a slight scare to the enemy at least.

The three thousand pikemen then raised their pikes, ready to meet the onslaught of enemy soldiers. Their weapons were like a porcupine, except much, much angrier, lined up in sharp rows, keeping the enemy from getting too close.

Most of the enemy army was equipped with weapons of different types and lengths; weapon standardization being a concept that was far away to them. Most of them being mercenaries of various stripes and levies of various quality, they lacked the discipline and equipment to properly break into a line of pikes… not that mattered when they were enough to begin surrounding the pikes with sheer numbers. Ayomide’s regiment was in danger as well, with the pike wall now unable to protect them.

The walls were closing in, in both senses of the word. Ayomide’s regiment was continuing to fire, on the edges of the enemy formation which was surrounding the pike wall. The enemy and its allies were too close together for her to comfortably fire her canon, without potentially causing unacceptable friendly fire.

Seven thousand men remain, versus four thousand.

A few of the enemy units had broken off, their officers calling for retreat as the pike wall refused to budge. Brown and Shinasi were in the middle of the pikes, shouting orders and doing their best to just. Hold on. Hold on to dear life, hold on the dear liberty, hold on to the only things that they truly could call their own.

Ammunition ran dry. The muskets fired no more, with Ayomide having had to retreat a bit away to protect herself against any stragglers-by trying to attack her formation. She could retreat, further and further, live to fight another day. Or live to retreat more and more, to gain some semblance of freedom that may be lost if this whole rebellion is to be fizzled out there and then. Live, at least, at least live somehow… for a moment, she does hesitate.

Only for the briefest, most minute of moments.

“Alright, you all know what to do.”

Ayomide took out her sword, and her comrades-in-arms took out their bayonets. They attached it to the ends of their muskets, to make themselves count amongst the pikemen. Without having prepared anything, she was far less an eloquent a speaker compared to Brown. However, her brief words still ringed true:

“We’re far away. From here, we can charge. One last charge, gentleman and ladies. Make it count.”

They begun walking, at a quick pace, before they begun truly running. A war cry. A shout, of desperation, “liberty or death!”, and to death they intended to run lest liberty not show itself. The veterans, the best of the best from the League, now of the Republic. The most ferocious, the elite, who have seen a few battles before then, to whom charging to the death is now a norm.

The musketeers made contact with the enemy troops who have all turned around to focus on their enemy.

To liberty, or to their deaths.