Warhammer Fantasy:Steel and gunpowder

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Sigmarzeit-6,2489 IC

I was just a few steps away, close enough to hear the screams and the crunch of metal as the ogre lifted the knight by one leg and slammed him against another. The second knight's armor crumpled like wet paper, and both fell to the ground motionless.

The ogre didn't stop. He lifted the first knight again, and used him as a bloody club against a third knight trying to escape on foot. He knocked him down with a single blow. The Bretonnian's helmet rolled down the hill.

I watched in silence as the Grail seeker was turned into a bag of broken bones in the hands of a beast.

"Humans... soft... so many bones... fun to break," said the ogre, laughing while showing his disgusting teeth.

"Yeah, yeah... very nice," I replied, clapping my gauntlets while still leaning against a leaning tree.

"Can we eat the horses?" murmured the Maneater leader close to my ear.

"Two," I answered, raising two fingers. "The dead one and that other one, the thinner one." I didn't move a muscle.

"And the third?" insisted the ogre. "It's ours."

"I'll pay you in gold for it," I replied without taking my eyes off the field. "That horse has good pedigree. With what I give you, you'll be able to buy enough meat for two days."

The ogre grunted, scratching his belly. "I don't know... I'm starting to feel hungry... for human flesh."

"You want to die, ogre? Or would you rather keep earning well, filling your pockets with gold and your belly with food? I didn't object when you ate those dead horses I left you the other days," I said seriously, though not reacting to his provocation.

"Yeah... that soup was good. My belly was really full those days," said the Maneater in a more relaxed voice.

"Besides, I got you the fish you wanted. Or have you forgotten?" I added, turning my head to look him straight in the eyes.

"Yeah... river fish... well with horse... in a stew... no... better roasted... I can already smell it," he said, licking his lips.

"Speaking of smelling something... do you smell that?" I asked the ogre as I felt a metallic movement in the area, clearly knights.

The ogre sniffed audibly and began licking his lips exaggeratedly.

"Meat..." murmured the Maneater leader, as the rest of the ogres began sniffing the air. They were already grabbing their heavy weapons, ready to go hunt more food.

In the few days we had been in Monfort, we had already secured most of the former duchy. Only a few castles in the mountains were still resisting. They were well-built fortresses, with garrisons that still held firm, and I couldn't afford to waste men on prolonged sieges. Those places would be the first to fall once the situation tilted in our favor.

So, we adopted a more aggressive approach while waiting for the Bretonnian response. This was one of our first direct incursions into Parravon's territory. Since their failed attempt to intervene in the battle, the presence of knights in the area had drastically decreased. But the most interesting thing was what we found: a Bretonnian camp where they were starting to gather men-at-arms and knights.

I thought about being a thorn in their side, hidden in the shadows, to turn swords into lead or convert armor into a mass of giant steel, depending on how intense the winds of Chamon were

And for that kind of work, there was no better tool than the ogres. Their immense strength and keen sense of smell allowed them to detect horses — and therefore knights — from great distances. I didn't even have to guide them like my own men. All I had to do was let them loose, and they would sniff the wind, grunt, and run straight at the enemy. They didn't care about glory or orders. They wanted meat. And above all, they wanted horses.

Of course, they didn't like having me around while they ate. They knew that, if I was present, they couldn't devour humans. They respected me enough not to argue about it.

Taking advantage of the fact that the ogres had left and I had no one watching me, I decided to move solo toward the Bretonnian camp, which was a few kilometers to the east.

I spurred my horse hard and galloped, dodging trees and rocks as the cool morning breeze hit my face. Along the way, I crossed paths with three knights who were guarding the road, but they barely had time to understand what was coming at them. Their helmets snapped shut with a dry thud as they crashed to the ground, crushing their skulls as if they had fallen into bear traps. I didn't reduce my pace. I kept going while the ground trembled under the horseshoes, climbing the hills to get a better view.

And there it was. A Bretonnian camp rising among the trees. At first glance, it seemed like they were preparing the place to receive all the levies they would be gathering for the campaign to retake Monfort. They were still few... and I hoped they would immediately travel to meet their king.

"Come on, how stupid can they be? This is too easy," I muttered with a smile before turning the horse around and riding back to Monfort.

On the way, I passed by the ogres, who were finishing tearing apart five young knights. The scene was grotesque: one of them had a horse impaled and spinning on a fire while laughing with his mouth full of grease.

"Let's go. Leave the bodies. We'll come back for them later," I ordered the Maneater leader.

The ogre looked at me while spinning the skewer. "I'm hungry, human..."

"I don't care. There's a battle coming. You'll be able to eat to your heart's content after this," I replied, stepping closer without fear.

"And why should I fight, when I've got horses to eat now?" the ogre retorted, pointing to his improvised feast.

"Because I think I saw a couple of cows… and maybe a Pegasus. Maybe the taste will motivate you," I said, looking directly at him.

The ogre licked his lips ahead of time. "Mhhh… it's been a while since I've had beef. Only horse… Well, let's go." He left the horse aside, though reluctantly.

I began to ride, and the ogres followed me. I had to slow down a bit so as not to leave them behind. Despite their strength, they weren't fast. Still, one of them was devouring a piece of the horse they had just left behind, tearing at the meat with brutal force as he moved forward.

Within an hour, we were back at Monfort. I immediately began to regroup almost all of my available troops, leaving only a few personal units to guard the castle. I had no intention of returning from a battle only to find some Imperial noble had looted Monfort's coffers and left us stranded. As long as that gold was in place, all those parasites would continue to pander to me in order to get their share of the loot.

So, gathering eight thousand men, we began marching east to face the forces of Parravon. We tried to move as quickly as possible, not leaving the entire army far from Monfort in case of a rapid counterattack. Still, the garrison I had left behind — around two thousand well-armed men — should be able to resist without too much trouble.

I had the ogres carry the cannons. It was much more efficient than using the damn wagons, which only slowed our progress. One of the reasons we took so long crossing the pass into Bretonia was precisely the weight of the artillery. And the idiot of the previous general never thought of using the ogres' brute strength to transport it.

With that problem solved, we moved at a good pace. I went ahead a bit of the army to scout the terrain and sense if there were any more sentries besides the ones we had already dealt with using the ogres. Fortunately, everything was quiet. During the three hours I was there and back, no one seemed to notice that their scouts had disappeared.

This allowed us to move through Parravon's territory without being detected.

We took a detour from the main road, climbing the hills to gain a tactical advantage. From there, we could force the Bretonnian cavalry to charge uphill, robbing them of the strength of their impact. Nothing like denying them their glorious charge in the open field and making them bleed while they fought uphill like any of their peasants.

I organized our forces as best I could before we positioned ourselves on the hill. The first thing I did was use the ogres to set up the cannons. As soon as we had them in position, we loaded them and began firing immediately at the Bretonnian camp, which was still immersed in its routine.

While the gunners, with the help of the ogres, continued firing relentlessly, the rest of our troops began to deploy at the top. I placed the pikemen at the front, forming a wall of spears, and behind them I set up several lines of musketeers and arquebusiers ready to fire over their heads.

The left flank I protected with a large portion of the Imperial noble forces. The right, however, was naturally covered by the steep slope of the hill. Any attempt by the Bretonnian knights to flank us would have to be done by making a long maneuver around the entire hill... by then, we'd already be waiting for them with loaded weapons.

As expected, the enemy camp turned into a complete mess. Men running in all directions, wild horses fleeing between tents, and cannonballs smashing everything in their path. Military tents were flying through the air along with whoever had been sleeping inside… if they had very bad luck.

The sound of cannonfire continued to reverberate throughout the valley as the Bretonnians tried to organize themselves amid the chaos. It didn't take long for them to improvise something that could barely be called a battle formation: a handful of knights advancing on foot at the front, followed by scattered lines of men-at-arms. Few still had their mounts.

From above, our gunners, with the help of the ogres, repositioned the cannons without rest, realigning them toward the enemy mass that began its slow uphill march.

"Let's go, gentlemen! The Bretonnians are eager for suicide, and by Sigmar, we're going to grant them their wish!" I shouted, raising my sword. My voice was followed by cheers from the soldiers who already knew what was coming.

As soon as the few mounted knights began to advance, I ordered all firing lines to step forward and open fire without mercy.

The muskets and arquebuses fired one after another. The smoke from the black powder began to obscure my view like a thick, oily fog. I had to move several times along the line to keep a clear view of what was happening downhill.

The Bretonnians continued advancing… but each volley tore through dozens of them. They fell like cut wheat, unable to even raise shields. It was a massacre, and it had barely begun.

We spent nearly half an hour without moving from the hill, firing nonstop, emptying our large reserves of black powder while the men of the Duchy of Parravon fell one by one. They died unable to do anything. Knights, squires, infantry... anyone who tried to resist was swept away. Finally, they began to retreat like rats, seeing that almost all their nobles were dead and that the men-at-arms were starting to surrender, begging for their lives after the massacre they had just witnessed.

When it seemed safe, and the dense smoke of powder began to dissipate, we gave the order to descend. As we were descending, I saw several figures galloping out of one of the large tents in the camp. They were fleeing in a hurry, protected by escorts.

"Damn it… that has to be someone important if they needed knights to clear a path for them," I muttered, watching as they disappeared into the distance.

The Imperial noble troops didn't take long to rush in and loot. I saw them tearing pieces of armor off the corpses, cutting straps, and rummaging through the bodies. I didn't object. I even gave permission to my own men and the line regiments to do the same. There was no threat present, and victory was ours.

I also kept my word to the ogres. When we reached the central large tent, we found ample food reserves, probably stored to feed the high-ranking nobles. The ogres lunged happily, sacrificing one of the cows with a single blow, splitting it in half with one of their huge weapons. In less than a minute, they had it spinning on an improvised fire, drooling from pure hunger.

"This was too easy… I almost regret burning the bridges that connected us to Bastonne. I could have launched another raid tomorrow," I murmured, watching the disaster from a nearby hill. Then I lifted my gaze westward.

"Divide and conquer… although it seems the enemy already got me one step ahead," I said through gritted teeth, grimacing as I saw, in the distance, the silhouette of Parravon's fortress rising above the hills.

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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.

Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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