Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 924 (08.923): 'Battle Determination'

The dim orange sun of Minerva hung in the cloud-covered sky, its light weakly falling on the earth, bringing almost no warmth, but mercilessly illuminating the thin layer of ochre dust on the surface of everything.

A weathered monastery stood atop the sand dunes, serving as the command center for this makeshift defensive line.

"There is a well-known saying in Calicus: 'Only the most outstanding Sintiras are fit to serve in the Imperial Navy.'"

Colonel Yadwiga's voice was clear and steady. Her right hand, gloved in white, rested with a practiced ease on the gilded hilt of her power saber at her waist, the ruby ​​inlaid in the hilt gleaming deeply in the dim light.

His tone was full of heartfelt admiration: "Your Excellency, I never expected that someone so young would already be so adept at the iron-fisted way of military command. No wonder the Imperial Navy and the Ministry of Military Affairs have granted you full authority to form and command this landing force."

“Hmm…” Poniatovsky, standing to the side, hummed thoughtfully, his rough fingers unconsciously rubbing his stubble-covered chin. Dust from the battlefield, thick with the smell of gunpowder, had accumulated on his thick eyebrows.

He muttered to himself, as if talking to himself, "Now I finally understand why the Imperial Navy's discipline is so strict as to be almost cruel, yet those elite nobles of Sintira still try their best to get in."

“Colonel.” Horatio’s gaze remained fixed on the defensive line that was gradually taking shape in the sandstorm below, his eyes deep and unfathomable. “When I first entered the Imperial Naval Academy, my mentor, Rear Admiral Edward Perug of the Gothic Fleet, once said something to me.”

A dry, hot wind swept across the highlands, making his dark blue cloak flutter loudly, and swirling sand around his feet. He remained motionless, like a statue, letting the wind and sand rage around him.

"The end of freedom is chaos, and the end of order is despotism. Only by weighing this balance can you become a qualified leader."

“I’ve learned something.” Colonel Yadwiga’s body straightened instantly, her boots snapping shut with a “click.” She gave Horatio a solemn nod, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of contemplation and understanding. “I will seriously consider the meaning of those words.”

“Commander, citizen.” Horatio nodded slightly to her in return, then his sharp gaze turned to Poniatovsky, his voice returning to its emotionless commander's tone as he asked in a deep voice, “Are your dragoons ready?”

"Dragons are ready at any time, Commander!" Poniatovsky immediately abandoned his nonchalant attitude, straightened his back, and spoke in a loud and firm voice, demonstrating his professional qualities as a soldier.

“Very good.” Horatio’s gaze fell upon the distant sand dunes, the direction from which the green-skinned orc wave was about to sweep in. The air seemed to thicken, thick with the tension and oppression of an impending battle.

"Colonel Yadwig, to ensure the absolute safety of the energy hub, I need the full range of your rapid mobility forces to cooperate in the operation."

He began issuing commands, his voice clear and decisive, each word ringing out with force, piercing the howling wind:

"Battalion Commander Poniatovsky's squadron will lead the attack immediately. Their mission is to assist the defenders of the energy center at all costs, delaying the advance of the enemy's main force as much as possible, and buying precious time for subsequent infiltration and pincer attack."

"Colonel, I need your main force to defend the western flank of the monastery. I anticipate that the enemy will detach a rapid-fire unit to attempt a flank attack on our command post and landing zone."

"At the same time, my landing craft will return to the orbital mothership under the fire cover of the 'Valkyrie' gunships to deploy the Krieg Death Legion's heavy artillery positions on the rear front."

However, once naval sailors leave their aircraft, they lose maneuverability. Therefore, our flanks must not be lost.

Horatio raised his arm, and a holographic terrain map was projected onto his wrist via a tactical terminal, its eerie green light illuminating his and Yadviga's serious faces. The monastery's three-dimensional structure was clearly displayed. "I've divided the monastery's defensive perimeter into five strategic points: A, B, C, D, and E." He traced his finger across the hologram, and the five points lit up red.

"The first three are the outer wall of the monastery, the courtyard, and the main gate. These are tactical blocking points that can be abandoned."

Once points A, B, and C are lost, the troops must immediately organize an orderly retreat. Points D and E, namely the main hall of the monastery and the pulpit, are the core that we must defend with our lives; the troops will have nowhere to retreat.

If all the key points are lost, our most important strategic stronghold on this front will be completely lost.

At that point, the entire battle on Minerva might shift from strategic defense to a catastrophic rout. Then, you, me, him…” He glanced at Yadviga and Poniatovsky in turn, “and everyone here will be dead.”

Colonel Yadwiga's expression was as solemn as iron, her lips pressed into a resolute line. She nodded solemnly, her eyes devoid of any doubt, only filled with the determination to complete the mission even at the cost of her life.

"Once your forces have completely crushed the invading flanking enemy and eliminated any worries about your rear, please immediately lead your main force to reinforce the energy center at full speed."

I need you to appear silently behind the enemy like a ghostly blade, forming a deadly pincer movement with Battalion Commander Poniatovsky's troops, and annihilating them in one fell swoop using the anvil-hammer tactic!

"Yes, Commander!"

Colonel Yadwig stood at attention and gave a flawless salute. Her voice was firm as she declared, "I guarantee I will complete the mission!"
-
In the monastery courtyard, the low growl of engines mingled with the neighing of warhorses.

"This is all the wheeled armored vehicles in our battalion." Poniatovsky pointed to a row of neatly parked Pegasus-type four-wheeled armored vehicles, their bodies covered with scratches and old weld marks, his tone carrying an undisguised sense of helplessness.

Horatio was no stranger to this type of vehicle. He had seen similar equipment used by the British Legion during the expedition to Fal, but that was the model issued to reconnaissance units, and it was a larger, longer eight-wheeled version.

Eight-wheeled armored vehicles are vastly different from four-wheeled armored vehicles in terms of carrying capacity, off-road performance, and versatility of firepower platforms.

Compared to those well-funded and well-equipped legions, the New Earth Dragon Cavalry Regiment's possessions seemed rather meager, even rudimentary.

The regiment was a full-strength unit of 5,000 men, consisting of two battalions. The first battalion was personally led by Colonel Yadvig, while the second battalion was commanded by Poniatovsky.

However, at this moment, the entire regiment actually had less than four thousand personnel available for combat, and there was a serious shortage of personnel.

Even more fatally, the regiment was severely lacking in heavy armored units, relying solely on these light four-wheeled vehicles as its primary means of transportation.

Dragoons, as mobile infantry mounted on warhorses, accompanied four-wheeled chariots in rapid raids. This configuration proved extremely weak when facing heavily armored enemies.

(End of this chapter)