I built a manor in the Middle Ages

Chapter 211 You're Luc?!
"cover me!"

At the same time, the Belgrade army formation.

The sound of horses' hooves suddenly echoed through the forest, and several Berg archers turned their heads at the sound, their eyes filled with horror.

The catapults were not as damaging as imagined, but their deterrent effect was undeniable. The untrained peasant soldiers were terrified by the rain of stones. Like Old Pons' army, some followed Berg to charge forward, while others sneaked into the woods and quietly fled.

However, a few of Berg's loyal supporters still pointed their spears at Luke and his two companions.

The eight-foot-long spears, gleaming coldly, were tilted at a forty-five-degree angle by the experienced soldiers, who intended to use them to halt the cavalry's advance.

Gazing at the spearhead so close at hand, Luke lightly turned his horse. He had never stopped training his horsemanship, and although he had only killed a few henchmen, he remained calm and furious when facing a spearman for the first time. His Andalusian horse was indeed one of the best warhorses. It seemed to sense its master's intention, and its massive body swayed slightly to the left. The spearman seized the opportunity to thrust forward, but missed.

Without giving the spearman a chance to retract his spear, and with the enemy looking on in fear, Luke pierced the man's abdomen with a single shot!

George, riding on horseback, was completely different from usual. He nimbly turned to the side, seemingly about to fall off the horse, and precisely slashed his dagger into the neck of an archer, but the dagger immediately chipped and broke open.

Byrne went even further, using his short, sturdy horse to ram a hapless peasant soldier. After the soldier flew away, spitting blood, Byrne thrust his longsword into the throat of another archer.

"Oh, God!"

The three men took three or four lives in a single charge. The remaining men, terrified, dropped their weapons and wished they had four legs to run for their lives.

Ignoring the fleeing peasant soldiers, Luke provoked his horse to turn in the opposite direction and flank Berg. He wanted to give Berg a good whack on the backside!

Unlike Luke and his men who successfully raided the army's formation, Grimbald, who had fired an arrow at the catapult, immediately dove to the side, while Hans and Miller used the catapult as cover to retreat and avoid the cavalry charge.

The knight named John had a fierce look in his eyes. The huge catapult was like a natural barrier that hindered his attack. He turned several corners, but Miller and the others always skillfully used the catapult to evade him. The knight, who was skilled in martial arts, simply dismounted, grabbed his sword and shield, and went straight for the catapult.

He's going to cut that damn rope!

Upon seeing John dismount, Miller was the first to leap out, spear in hand.

John remained unmoved by the weapon in the short man's hand until he saw Hans pull a fist-sized hammer from the base of the catapult, at which point John gasped.

……

"Damn Berg, do you have the guts to duel?!"

Old Pons passed Berg's cavalry, and one man fell from his horse on each side. As they turned their horses, Old Pons shouted, but was only met with Berg's cold laughter.

The sound of the catapults had stopped, proving that John had succeeded and Berg's army was pressing forward.

Just as he was about to break through Old Pons's army formation in one fell swoop, he suddenly heard the sound of catapults booming again.

"Damn, what's going on?!"

The imposing presence of the catapults completely shattered the remaining psychological defenses of the peasant soldiers. Upon hearing the sound of horses' hooves behind them, they could no longer hold on and began to kneel and beg for mercy in large numbers.

Berg was almost blinded by rage. He had never imagined it would end like this. He couldn't help but glance at the catapult out of the corner of his eye. He saw John lying on the grass, his nose helmet scattered to the side, face up, with two bloody streaks seeping from his eye sockets. He was dead beyond dead.

“Foolish John! Damn catapult! Despicable old Pons!!”

As Berg cursed angrily, he realized that defeat was inevitable; he was now surrounded.

"Charge out, get back to Bergburg! I don't want to be captured and have to pay that damn ransom!"

Given the hatred that old Pons harbored for him, the ransom would probably be more than enough to cover all the pennies he had captured from his territory over the years, including interest.

Several knights looked at each other, their expressions wavering. On the battlefield, swords have no eyes; one wrong move and they'd be meeting their maker. They preferred to surrender.
In the end, Berg could only kill a few peasant soldiers with his two most loyal squires and leave through the forest.

However, before leaving, the fat man fired another crossbow bolt, which hit one of the squires, making the two surrendered knights shudder with fear.

"God bless us, we won!"

Old Pons' wrinkled face relaxed as he finally avenged himself after three years and won the territorial war.

But when he looked around, he found that Luke was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did Knight Luke go?!"

……

"What the hell? Why is someone sticking to us like this?!"

Berg traversed the dense forest, but the horses were not moving very fast due to the abundance of bushes.

Realizing he was being pursued, he cursed under his breath, but had no choice but to urge his weary warhorse on.

"Master, you go first, I'll cover your retreat!"

"My loyal follower of Sol, God will remember your bravery!"

Berg's eyes lit up with delight, and he quickly praised her.

But the smile froze on his face the next second.

Suddenly, an iron arrow pierced through the neck of one of Saul's squires, and blood gushed from his mouth as he rolled his eyes back and fell off his horse with a thud.

Luke drew a second bolt from his quiver, placed it on the crossbow, and aimed again. This time, the bolt struck the tree trunk.

The two shots terrified Berg, who quickly shrank his body to minimize his target size and spurred his horse forward, hoping it would go faster.

Luke, who was holding tightly to Berg's tail, sneered when he saw this. He nocked his third arrow, deliberately raised his aim while riding the bumpy horse, and then shot the arrow, which landed directly in the horse's rump.

The neighing of warhorses echoed through the forest. A panicked Berg hurriedly tried to control his horse, but the aching horse continued to sway from side to side and finally crashed into a thick oak tree with a thud, throwing Berg off the horse as he cried out in alarm.

"Wait, I am Baron Berg. I surrender. Please maintain the manners befitting a nobleman and treat me with the respect due to me!"

Berg scrambled to his feet, looking at the approaching knight in his heraldic robes, and hurriedly spoke.

He was greeted only by the sound of hooves that showed no sign of slowing down.

Luke's mask on horseback had been torn by branches and the wind. Berg, who had fallen badly, was still shouting and hoping to be captured on ransom. But as the two got closer, Berg's eyes gradually became filled with doubt.

"Wait! Luke? You're Luke?!"

Berg stared wide-eyed at the people who had once served under him, incredulously.

No one answered him; the only response was from the cross sword that Luke held high.

Realizing what was happening, Berg couldn't help but shout, "You vile bastard, you betrayed me! You tried to kill your master!"

Berg's piercing screams ceased in the forest. Luke, having reined in his horse, slowly returned to the treetops, where Berg's lifeless body lay, eyes wide open. He delivered a final blow to Berg's throat, then stripped him of his chainmail and helmet.

(End of this chapter)