Reincarnated with the Country System

The sun rose over the Surma River, its golden light reflecting off the calm waters. The river was wide and deep, with strong currents that made crossing difficult. On the north bank, Strom's army had gathered. Tents stretched as far as the eye could see, and the air was filled with the sounds of clanging metal, shouting commanders, and the occasional roar of wyverns. Soldiers sharpened their swords, checked their armour, and prepared for the battle ahead.

Strom stood on a hill overlooking the river, his sharp eyes scanning the opposite bank. The Royal Army had arrived during the night, their camp now visible in the distance. Their banners fluttered in the morning breeze, displaying the Octopus symbol. Strom's lips curled into a faint smile. He had expected them to be slower, but they had surprised him. No matter. He was ready.

"Today, we show them what it means to challenge me," Strom said, his voice calm but carrying an edge of menace. His commanders nodded, their faces grim but determined.

On the south bank of the Surma River, the Royal Army was also preparing for battle. General Voss stood at the centre of the camp. He was surrounded by his officers, including Viscount Alden, who had defected to their side. The mood was tense but focused.

"They have the numbers, but we have the high ground," General Voss said, pointing to the map spread out on a wooden table. "If we can hold the riverbank and prevent them from crossing, we can wear them down."

Viscount Alden nodded. "Their wyverns and griffins will be a problem, though. We need to be ready for an aerial attack."

General Voss's eyes narrowed. "We have archers and ballistae. If they come too close, we'll shoot them down." Experience tales at My Virtual Library Empire

The officers exchanged glances, their faces reflecting a mix of determination and unease.

....

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the first sounds of battle echoed across the river. Strom's army began their advance, their ranks moving in perfect formation. At the front were the mercenaries. Behind them came the bandits and criminals, their faces twisted with greed and bloodlust. The nobles' forces brought up the rear, their banners flying high.

On the opposite bank, the Royal Army stood ready. Archers lined the riverbank, their bows drawn and arrows pointed skyward. Ballistae were positioned at key points, their massive bolts ready to pierce through armour and flesh. Infantry units stood in tight formations, their shields locked together to form an impenetrable wall.

Strom raised his hand, and a horn blared, signalling the start of the attack. The mercenaries charged forward, their war cries filling the air. They waded into the river, the cold water splashing around their legs. The Royal Army's archers let loose a volley of arrows, the projectiles whistling through the air before finding their targets. Men screamed as they fell, their bodies carried away by the current.

But the mercenaries kept coming, their numbers overwhelming the archers' initial barrage. As they reached the middle of the bridge, the Royal Army's infantry moved forward, their shields raised and spears pointed outward. The two forces clashed with a deafening crash, the sound of metal against metal echoing across the battlefield.

Strom watched from the hill, his expression calm but focused. He turned to his commanders, who stood nearby. "Send in the wyverns."

The commander nodded and signalled to the wyvern riders. Moments later, the massive creatures took to the sky, their wings beating the air with powerful strokes. The wyverns soared over the river, their riders armed with javelins and firepots. They descended upon the Royal Army's ranks, dropping their deadly payloads and causing chaos.

Fire erupted among the Royal Army's lines, the flames spreading quickly through the dry grass. Soldiers screamed as they were engulfed, their formations breaking under the relentless assault. The Royal Army's archers turned their attention to the wyverns, their arrows flying upward in a desperate attempt to bring them down.

But the wyverns were fast and agile, their riders skilled at evading the arrows. One wyvern was hit, its rider tumbling from the saddle as the creature crashed to the ground. But the others continued their attack, their roars adding to the chaos.

General Voss gritted his teeth as he watched the wyverns wreak havoc. "Bring up the ballistae!" he shouted.

The massive siege weapons were wheeled into position, their operators cranking the mechanisms to load the bolts. With a loud twang, the ballistae fired, their bolts streaking through the air. One bolt struck a wyvern in the chest, the force of the impact sending the creature spiralling to the ground. Another bolt narrowly missed a rider, who pulled his wyvern into a steep climb to avoid the next shot.

The Royal Army's Hippogriff raiders, smaller in number but highly skilled, took to the sky to engage the wyverns. The Hippogriff

were faster and more manoeuvrable, their riders armed with crossbows and short swords. They darted between the wyverns, their crossbows firing bolts that found their marks. One wyvern rider was struck in the shoulder, his grip on the reins faltering as his mount veered off course.

The aerial battle raged on, the sky filled with the sounds of screeching wyverns and gryphons. Both sides suffered losses, but neither could gain a decisive advantage.

On the ground, the battle was equally fierce. Strom's forces had managed to push the Royal Army back from the riverbank, but the Royal Army's disciplined formations held firm. The mercenaries and bandits, driven by greed and bloodlust, threw themselves at the enemy with reckless abandon. But the Royal Army's infantry, though outnumbered, fought with the determination of men defending their homeland.

Viscount Alden led a charge of cavalry, their horses thundering across the battlefield. They crashed into Strom's forces, their lances piercing through armour and flesh. The momentum of the charge broke through the enemy lines, creating a gap that the Royal Army's infantry quickly exploited.

But Strom was ready. He signalled to his reserves, a group of heavily armoured knights who had been waiting for this moment. They moved forward. The two forces clashed with a deafening roar, the ground shaking under the impact.

As the sun began to set, both sides were exhausted. The riverbank was littered with bodies, the water stained red with blood. The wyverns and gryphons had withdrawn, their riders too weary to continue the fight. The ground battle had reached a stalemate, with neither side able to gain the upper hand.

Strom stood on the hill, his expression unreadable. He had expected a quick victory, but the Royal Army had proven more resilient than he had anticipated. Still, he was not discouraged. This was only the first day of the battle, and he had plenty of resources left to draw upon.