Your orders given, the officers ride off to their jobs, bellowing out your directives as the units begin to move into position. Your camp followers, seeing the upcoming battle, begin to return to the camp to hide out. The braver ones remain, seeking to watch the unfolding fight or even drag away their wounded fellows. Your regiment doctors begin to prepare their tools and tonics, knowing of the job that shall come ahead. Throughout the camp, not a one man flees in terror. Deep into foreign territory and hundreds of kilometers away from their homes, they know their livelihoods depend on your success
With your pikemen and the mercenaries of the Gray Band watching your rear, you turn to see your lone Culverin begin rolled out to the northern edges of the hill, the heavy wheels leaving long flat marks in the grass as they go. You have, these past few months, learned quite a little about artillery. This <span class="mu-i">Culverin</span>, the type of cannon you have rented - is amidst one of the heaviest form of 'Field Gun', short only of the <span class="mu-i">seven thousand pound heavy</span> Culverin Royal. It is the first time you shall see a cannon being fired; throughout your entire stay, not once had your peculiar Artillery Master <span class="mu-i">Vettorio</span> carried out a live drill.
"Sire! Here they come!" exclaims Bartolomé, the head of your retinue.
At last close enough that even you can see them well, the enemy army stands before you, rushing downwards. Hundreds of horsemen, several troops worth of them, gallop through the lakeside grass, company banners flying in the wind. Yet weirdest of all is their weaponry, reported to you by Joan, who has quickly taken the role of 'scout' for your group. Although their lancers seem to be of little difference than your Jinetes, double their numbers come with <span class="mu-i">crossbows!</span>
"I had thought crossbows had gone out of use." you exclaim
"Not everywhere, sire." replies Hugues. "The Straccian Condottieri, among all others, still favor the light mounted crossbowman over the Pistolier, and they are no less deadly. <span class="mu-i">With such numbers, I would not send our knights after them, lest you wish to see them torn apart.</span>"
You do not like the look of this; <span class="mu-i">these mercenaries hold far more horse than you do, especially with your cavalry and skirmishers gone.</span> You've no report of their arrival on the horizon either...
"When will that damnable artillery fire already?" you said, clutching your hand as tension begins to creep on you.
Your question is answered when a quick flash and thundering clap echoes from the front of the hill, announcing to all the one and true start of the battle. You waste no time in turning to the galloping forces, eager to see the effects of the fire. Far in the distance, a plume of smoke erupts from the ground where the cannonball found its mark, a gray column of dirt and ash erupts before the enemy horse.
"No hit." reports Joan unfeelingly.
"Damnation." you curse.
