The Fall And Rise Of Reggio Perino

Reggio Perino had his mouth set grimly. The opening moves of the battle had an appreciable advantage to the rebels, though the Lion Throne’s troops were still generally of higher quality and were still ready to put up a good fight. The Lion Throne’s generals had decided that a strong counterattack was best, and so Reggio directed his officers, who dressed the lines once again and prepared to meet the renewed onslaught. The pursuing Laurians had advanced the front lines into a lightly forested area, and formed their line on a hillside.

Several enemy nobles decided to encourage their troops by leading almost suicidally brave lone charges against the Laurian pikemen. They were quickly dragged from their horses and beaten senseless by the incredulous Laurians, but this seemed only to give the enemy infantry more heart.

Their standard bearers and officers led the slow advance, while the Laurian arquebusiers poured fire onto them. At this range, little of the fire was telling, except for Reggio’s cannon shots. The closely-packed enemy formation climbed the hill and attempted to flank the pikemen. Reggio led his light troops around to the side and unleashed deadly musketry into the sides of the Lion Throne formation, doing great execution.

As the attack faltered, the Lion Throne fell back to reform while their officers harangued them. Reggio had never seen the point of promising Heaven to soldiers; they were far more likely to enjoy hell. He gave the Filaharn-botherers a parting shot from his cannon as they retreated, leaving a bloody clump of twisted corpses for the reinforcements to step over.

The enemy attacked again, to no great effect, and Reggio was exultant. They were slaughtering them.

He was so exultant he didn’t see the armoured horsemen with the Radiant Cross emblazoned on their chests until it was too late. Reggio was barged to the ground with a great thump and was out cold immediately as a tonne of steel-plated horseflesh charged into him.

When he awoke, the sky was dark. There were still sounds of battle, though the screeching and clanging of steel on steel was more distant. Marnid assured Reggio that they were winning, and that Lord Pelayo had taken command of the army while he was indisposed.

The soldiers on both sides were exhausted from the day’s battle, but still they fought. Reggio was content to sit back and let them do so while he nursed his headache with a bottle of Imperial Brandy and a wet towel, although he judged by morning that he could no longer maintain the facade of being too injured to fight, and he joined the fray once more. Such as it was.

The Lion Throne army had disintegrated overnight, and scattered groups were being rounded up by the pursuing Laurians. One last band refused to surrender. 17 men led by Yelu Dashi of Kara-Khitan defied all demands and offers, and brandished their blunted weapons proudly. The Laurians tolerated them at first, but as the band started making their way towards Lion Throne territory, Juan Batista gave Reggio a peremptory order. Kill them all.

Reggio shrugged, and ordered the advance. If some fools wanted to die out of pride, it was no skin off his recently-broken nose.

The Laurian cavalry charged the group, to little effect, as the ragged survivors stood firm and cut down the lightly armoured cavalry. Juan Batista was outraged at this, but Reggio took it in his stride. He recalled the cavalry and ordered the arquebusiers forward.

So much for pride.

Yelu Dashi was found still breathing, draped in a flag bearing the Radiant Cross. He came around fairly soon, and seemed entirely unconcerned that he had survived while his loyal followers had not. Reggio rather admired his style, and the man would be a useful prisoner, but he had more to worry about at present.

Only 238 rebels had survived the battle, and almost half of them were wounded. In one battle, it had ceased to be a force to be reckoned with – Reggio knew that Queen Imelda’s personal army alone numbered almost as many. Certainly there was no question of pressing the siege of Etrosq Castle.

And Lord Francis was nowhere to be seen…

Butcher’s Bill: 44 men dead, 31 men captured.

Reggio Perino listened to his liege-lord’s demands with restrained patience and a beatific smile. Juan Batista was insisting that the fledgling rebellion needed to show its strength and that instead of picking off caravans and the occasional company, it should storm one of the Laurian castles to send fear into the heart of the loyalists and send a rallying cry to all those who wished to join his cause. The poor sod was not to know, of course, that most of the lords pledged to his banner were in it for their own riches and glory rather than a belief in the righteousness of his claim.

Reggio convinced the prince that attacking one of the strongly-held Laurian castles with their scant forces would be a bad idea, but he relented when Juan Batista pointed out the two castles near Lion Throne territory. They had both been captured from the fanatics, largely with Reggio’s aid, and defended against three overwhelming assaults with Reggio’s company forming the backbone of the meagre defence each time. Their garrisons were ever ragged and undermanned, and the arrogant princeling was right that they would make an easy target. And so, Reggio called the banners to war.

The rebel army set out, 425 men under arms all told. They travelled south over a day and a night until they reached the vicinity of Etrosq Castle, but the Lion Throne had thrown a spear into the spokes.

They had 416 men besieging Etrosq. Evenly matched, although their troops were of higher quality, but doable. Certainly doable. Their sentries spotted Reggio’s men making a wary circle of the siege camp, and as the Papal disciples formed up, Reggio ordered an attack. Neither army was entirely prepared for battle, but the Lion Throne’s readiness was lower, and the rebels were able to bring more men to bear.

Chucking more men at a problem generally helped to solve it, so Reggio was confident. He ordered the pikemen into formation, as was now customary, and kept strict command of the arquebusiers and gunners himself. The Lion Throne, seeing the danger, moved a large infantry formation to meet the Laurians.

The brigadiers and their auxiliaries kept formation well, circling around to attempt to flank the Laurians and hit the arquebusiers. Reggio ordered the gunners back as the pike tercio wheeled to face the enemy infantry. The arquebusiers fired and fell back in an orderly fashion, with the musketry and Reggio’s favoured hand cannon doing great execution.

Goaded by the hail of shot, the enemy abandoned their flanking attempt and charged pell-mell into the Laurian formation, pike against broadsword and spear. A terrible melee ensued.

The Laurians came out on top, although all semblance of order disappeared as the standard bearers were cut down in the press. The surviving soldiers of the Lion Throne fell back in a disciplined line, to reform around new standard bearers, and Reggio arrayed the rebel infantry in a ragged single line to receive the next charge.

Archers and gunners of the Lion Throne moved up to pepper the ragged Laurians at range, and a bloody duel ensued while the main enemy infantry reformed for a second charge. When the charge came, Reggio smiled, for they were mostly Ellisian auxiliaries, not the heavily-armoured Brigadiers. But among them came two Hands of the Pope, the heaviest and most dangerous of all Lion Throne troops.

These servants of the Lion Throne were rarely seen in field armies, and each was worth ten enemy soldiers.

Their halberds did fearful execution on the rebel pikemen, but luckily Reggio could easily spare twenty poor saps to bog them down. They were cut down by sheer weight of numbers, and the remaining Lion Throne troops routed from the field. The Laurian rebels cheered and shook their fists in defiance at the fleeing fanatics; over a hundred of them lay dead in the long grass, with perhaps thirty dead Laurians and as many wounded alongside them. They had won a costly victory.

And three-quarters of the Lion Throne troops remained, readying for the next attack.

Oh damn.

Butcher’s Bill: 42 men dead, 31 men captured.

Reggio Perino now had an army to go with his appointment to Marshal of the rebellion. He meant to use it.

He ordered Lord Pelayo’s 140 men to accompany him north to Tihr, as Reggio always felt safest when there were large numbers of expendable bullet fodder in front of him. When they arrived at Tihr, though, things got interesting.

Lord Augusto, loyal to Queen Imelda, had been staying in Tihr when the city declared itself for Juan Batista, and he and his men had been forcibly ejected by the inhabitants. Unsure of what to do, he had been foraging in the countryside around the city when Reggio and Lord Pelayo arrived on the scene. Without waiting for his lawful marshal’s command, Pelayo gave a ‘tally-ho!’ and rushed into battle. This was perfectly acceptable to Reggio, as it meant that Pelayo would bear the brunt of any fighting. However, his own troops were as green behind the ears as a cabbage. With ears. They could use the experience, or at least the sight of some blood being spilled. With a grin, Reggio ordered his men into the fight as well.

It was a dawn that promised to be bloody. Outriders and scouts had reported that the enemy numbered only 84 men against the 173 that the rebels fielded – a comfortable advantage. Although the gunsmoke obscured the battlefield, Reggio could see the enemy advancing in close formation.

Lord Augusto’s men were showing more discipline than Reggio had expected, but it was entirely the wrong approach to take when Reggio carried a hand cannon. He took careful aim at the centre of the tercio, and fired.

With the formation gutted, a general charge was ordered, with a tercio of Lord Pelayo’s pikemen moving forward and tearing the enemy formation to pieces.

Lord Pelayo was agitating to let his cavalry go, so Reggio graciously gave his permission and his lordship led the charge against the remaining loyalist arquebusiers who lined a ridge overlooking the carnage. They were easily cut down, and with that the battle was done.

Every last loyalist had been killed, save Lord Augusto, who had scrambled off the field with his skin intact, if not his honour. 11 rebels had been killed, and 25 wounded – a small price to pay for the utter annihilation of one of Queen Imelda’s companies. Nearby, Lord Francis engaged a Laurian merchant caravan, adding its spoils to the rebellion’s warchests. The caravan master led a heroic charge against Francis’ troops, but he and his men were cut down mercilessly.

With Francis and Pelayo in tow, Reggio moved south. He was intercepted by 110 men under the command of Lord Cortez.

He was quickly convinced to join Juan Batista’s cause, possibly because he shared Lord Theobald’s philosophy on headgear, and added significantly more strength to the rebellion. It was soon put to use, as another loyalist noble, Lord Luois – lacking in spelling ability as well as good sense, it would seem – gave battle in the hills east of Curin Castle.

Unlike the unlucky Augusto, Luois did not form his men up in close formation, perhaps fearing the effect cannon shots would have on them. This did not save his men, however. The rebels were disciplined and determined (expect for the levied footmen, too thick to stand shoulder to shoulder with the pikemen), and they carved up the loyalists.

Casualties for the rebels were moderate, but one thing made it entirely worthwhile.

Reggio always did like having an extra prisoner-ace up his stylishly ripped sleeves.

Butcher’s Bill: 32 men dead, 31 men captured.