kingdom of nations

Chapter 186: War (3)

The battlefield they identified was a wasteland near Siberia.

Both monarchs erected high platforms from which they would overlook the entire battlefield and make timely decisions.

There are three large square formations here in Baldwin. The square formation on the left belongs to the noble legion led by Raymond. They are either vassals of the Kingdom of Arazarus or local lords.

Baldwin himself commanded the central square, which was mainly composed of knights of the Knights of the Holy Grail, while the right square belonged to the Knights Templar. The Knights of the Good Hall and the recruited mercenaries were used as reserves and roving archer teams.

Within the central phalanx he commanded, there were three different teams. Two of these teams were commanded by the chief priest and the eldest knight of the Holy Grail Knights, respectively, and were positioned on the left and right flanks of the phalanx, fighting alongside the archers.

He entrusted the most elite team to Cesar. Although Cesar was known as the Shield of the Holy Land and the King on Arrassa Road, he now needed to establish his own merits. He could not remain a mere foil for others forever, especially after he became the Count of Edessa.

“I’m handing them over to you,” Baldwin said.

In this team, besides the experienced and trustworthy knights, there were also young knights who had previously served as envoys to Apollo with Cesar. Compared to the former, they might lack experience, but they were familiar enough with Cesar and had fought together several times, so there was no need for much adjustment.

“I’m watching you,” Baldwin said. “Go and show those Turks that even a shield can make them crawl on the ground.”

Cesar smiled, gave Baldwin a tight hug, mounted his horse, and galloped to the front of the position—Baldwin had been watching him the whole time, and only after he reached his position did he turn his gaze to the distant high platform.

There, a magnificent golden tent was also erected, with the banner of Sultan Arslan II flying in front of it—a deep blue background with a white double-headed eagle.

He was certain that the Turkic Sultan was also watching him. He raised his hand, and the Sultan seemed to do the same. Even though he couldn't see Arslan II's movements, he could see the Turkic army advancing.

Two or three groups of light cavalry on fast horses charged out from the Turkic army. They made sharp whistling noises, and with bows and arrows in hand, they galloped left and right in front of the position, repeatedly charging and shooting arrows at the knights, seemingly trying to disrupt their formation.

But those present were all experienced knights. They remained unmoved, simply following the drumbeats and advancing toward the enemy in unison. Moreover, Cesar, as the sharpest part of this arrow, had already begun to charge forward, his pure white Arabie horse like the sharpest and brightest point of light at the tip of the spear.

At this moment, the sound of prayers rippled through both armies. A cavalry force approached Cesare; they were all Turkic nobles wearing brimmed leather hats, each tall, strong, and fierce. Their gods had also bestowed their power upon them. One of them, wielding a battle axe, was a ruthless figure like a giant bear, his radiance far surpassing the others. He roared, calling out Cesare's name precisely, challenging him to a duel.

The knights around Cesar immediately made way for him. It wasn't that they intended to leave Cesar to face such a fierce enemy alone, but rather that if a knight were on the battlefield and retreated from the challenge of the enemy, even if he didn't die under the enemy's axe or hammer, his future would be bleak. No one would respect him, and people would spit on him, thinking that he had disgraced the knights.

Cesar showed no sign of backing down. If a few years ago he was a normal person with a psychological burden regarding killing, now he had been through hundreds of battles, and unless he was willing to die, and die dishonorably, he had to win in this most naked competition, he had to win and win forever.

He let out a loud shout and charged straight at the Turk. Their impact was like two giant rocks colliding. Those around them felt the violent wind from the collision, and the ground beneath their feet trembled. Everyone involuntarily scrambled to get out of the way. Several Turkic soldiers, because they were too close, did not have time to turn and fell to the ground along with their horses, and were immediately killed by the Christian knights.

Before the knights could find their next opponent, they saw someone leap off their horse. The person was not white, but gray-black, and their hearts immediately eased.

Ordinary knights might engage in a prolonged struggle. But for knights who have all been blessed, the battle is often decided in a mere instant—this is why the chosen ones are so highly regarded. Before the grace of God and saints, experience, strength, and reflexes are all insignificant.

The soldiers following the Turkic nobleman panicked when they saw their commander fall. Some rushed forward to retrieve his body, while others fled back to their own ranks without hesitation, until the supervising officers forced them back to the battlefield with whips and swords.

Before this, the enemy's formation had already been broken into several parts by the knights led by Cesar. The protection that Cesar had prayed for enveloped each knight, allowing them to fight the enemy without restraint.

Although the enemy side also had people who could protect their comrades, their strength was either too weak to protect more than a few people, or their protection was too short-lived. Once the battle began, the Turks had no say in when they could retreat.

However, the Turks quickly responded.

They had already sensed the strength of this group coming from the young knight in silver chainmail, a helmet with a nose guard, and a white robe with an Arrassal cross on his head. Immediately, three Turkic nobles surrounded them. They were all people who had received revelations from the prophet, and the power the prophet had given them was the most powerful and dangerous.

They first rode around Cesare, looking for an opportunity, and when Cesare knocked a Turk off his horse, they found it—a spear was thrown at Cesare from three directions.

The first spear missed its mark, for Castor's eyes caught sight of the malice directed at his master. He leaped into the air, the spear slicing through the air, the horse's white mane flying, and the spear pierced the solid ground, embedding itself firmly in the soil.

The second spear aimed at César's shoulder. César sensed something was wrong as Castor leaped high into the air, and he parried the spear with his longsword, but the spear's momentum was too precise and powerful, instantly breaking the sword in two. The third spear was aimed directly at his face. César could almost see the deadly spear tip rapidly magnifying in his vision. Without hesitation, he leaned back and turned his body. He felt a buzzing sound, followed by excruciating pain. His helmet had been struck by a spear, the strap securing it snapping, and the helmet fell to the ground.

The knights following behind him cried out in alarm, thinking that Cesar had been hit.

But in the next instant, they saw the dark-haired young man swiftly rise to his feet. "Casto!" he shouted, and the pure white Arabi horse seemed to understand his meaning immediately. Without hesitation, it carried its master into the air, charging towards the nearest Turkic nobleman.

The Turkic nobleman was the one who threw the spear at Cesar's face. He hesitated for a moment, perhaps out of regret, or perhaps out of doubt—doubt about Cesar's impulsiveness. Cesar didn't even have a weapon in his hand. But he soon realized that a thousand-pound Arabie horse and its rider together were an invincible battering ram.

They suddenly crashed into the Turkic nobleman from the side. He barely managed to withstand the blow, but his horse couldn't withstand the test. It staggered a few steps and immediately fell down, crushing its master underneath.

Before the Turk could react, Castor's horse's hooves were already trampling him. The Turk cried out, seemingly seeking help, and indeed several men dressed as servants were rushing over. But it was too late; blood gushed from his ears, mouth, and nose.

Without pausing, Castor immediately turned to another Turkic nobleman. Cesar simply bent down and grabbed the first spear—the one that had served no purpose—and gently pulled it up from the ground.

By this time, they had closed in on the second Turkic nobleman, who drew his scimitar. He seemed not to think that Cesare could strike him with his spear at such a distance, as the distance was too short to be effective for a spear thrust. However, he should have realized that there were other ways to use a spear besides this.

Cesar held the spear in his hand and swung it like a whip. The spear first struck the Turk's scimitar and broke in two instantly. But breaking it did not mean it was useless, at least not the lower half. It struck the Turk's face directly. He screamed and fell off his horse, his face a bloody mess with large dents.

If his sultan fails to find him a powerful monk, even if he survives, he will spend the rest of his life eating porridge.

The third Turkic nobleman, seeing his companion's fate, immediately panicked and ran back to his group without hesitation.

Cesar touched his left hand, where a small shield was bound. He quickly untied it and, like King David throwing stones at the giant, hurled it with swiftness and power. The shield passed through the chaotic crowd without hindrance, striking the Turkic nobleman squarely on the back of the head, sending him staggering forward.

When people pulled him up, they discovered that his soul had already left his body. This man seemed to hold a very high position or a noble status in the Sultan's army. Those who gathered around, seeing that he was dead, immediately beat their chests and wailed loudly.

Cesar only had time to glance at it before immediately turning back to his army. Several knights rushed forward, eagerly offering their weapons. Cesar accepted one of them's offer, then turned and led them back to the battlefield.

Baldwin focused on the changes on the battlefield. Their numbers were roughly equal, and this Turkic army was not as disorganized and disorderly as they had encountered before. They were also adept at fighting in a grand and straightforward manner.

Although the phalanx led by Raymond and other nobles did not immediately achieve remarkable results, it was still a steady and methodical advance.

Looking at the Knights Templar on the right, the Knights Templar are known for their bravery and arrogance, and they are no exception in this war. Their progress is even faster than Cesar's – every knight is covered in blood, and their black or white robes have become one color.

At the forefront was Walter, who had fought against King Amalric I of Arrassal. Even after all these years, his two-handed sword showed no signs of dullness. Wherever he went, a blood-soaked void remained. His enemies trembled and could only turn and flee.

He even let out a hearty laugh. Perhaps for this Templar Knight, the wails and blood of these heretics were what he craved most, more than gold and silk.

Perhaps only Geoffrey could keep these Templar Knights in check. He kept shouting, urging the knights to gather around him to prevent them from overextending themselves and being cut off and surrounded by the enemy.

But amidst the muddy battlefield, the brightest light still belonged to César. Though he commanded the central army, he not only breached the enemy's strongest defenses but also continuously led his troops in repeated assaults, disrupting the rhythm of the flanks. Wherever there was organized resistance or an offensive posture, he would descend upon that place.

Under his protection, the knights not only did not feel tired, but were even more energetic. They relentlessly charged at the Turkic army like waves crashing against rocks, until the Turks were forced to retreat.

Although the Turkic sultan was still making every effort to mobilize his troops and even sent out reserve forces, it was clear that their defeat was only a matter of time.

Baldwin turned to the messenger beside him, "Go and order the Knights of Charity to be dispatched."

It's time to add weight to the tilted scales.

(End of this chapter)