Chapter 367: Battle of Black Mountain (XI)

The warhorse pawed the ground angrily, the coldness of the ice penetrating through the horseshoes making him extremely uncomfortable.

Nidsal stroked the mane of this mixed-breed horse from the desert with pity. His father was Nidsal's first war horse.

Unfortunately, in a battle with the Frankish mercenaries, the bravest warhorse it had ever seen died under the giant sword of a local mercenary.

And now this warhorse will accompany him in one of the proudest charges of his life.

Even Nedsal had to admit that these rebels before him were quite capable.

Based on the current situation, he could accurately judge that if he continued to fight, it would be a draw if he was lucky, but he would be defeated if he was unlucky.

The high ground in the east is difficult to attack, and there are also the Kush Knights, a group of old-timers who are holding us back.

Although it looks like a weak point, it loses the effect of surprise because it is too weak.

The battlefield credo of Nedsal is to never do what your enemy wants you to do.

With his years of experience on the battlefield, Niedsal quickly realized that the enemy's right wing was the breakthrough point.

It only has a fortification in the front, while the sides and back are plains with puddles and swamps, so the Savior Army naturally won't take much precautions.

The only problem was how to get through the puddles and attack the right wing.

For an Imperial Count, this was a problem.

But for a tribal knight who grew up in the Flesh and Blood Court, this is not a problem.

Nedsal pulled out the wizard slaves who had been imprisoned for more than five years, threatened them with death, lured them with freedom, and successfully gained their help.

He had Zelakn attack continuously from the front to attract the Saviors' attention.

In the woods and swamps, these wizards went one after another, using mud to stone and frost magic to pave a smooth path for Nedsal.

A smooth path to victory.

At his side, the last batch of hundreds of squire knights were walking over the ice and hardened soil.

Beside their horses' hooves, more than a dozen wizards, drenched in sweat and with grim looks on their faces, had heavy chains around their necks, wrists and ankles.

These Black Snake Bay wizards, both old and young, were wearing thin robes, and each of them had a Nikossack holding a javelin to monitor them.

"Is everyone here?"

"The last twenty. The ice is a bit slippery." Just as Nani Cossack finished speaking, he saw the last twenty knights walking past quickly.

"Now everyone is here."

When the last knight's horse's hoof stepped on the solid ground, the warriors' legs and feet went weak and they fell to the ground.

"Line up, prepare to charge!"

"As you command, Your Excellency."

"Sir..." A wizard stood up with all his strength. His bean sprout-like body had to support such heavy shackles. "What did you promise?"

"Do you think I will break my promise?" Nidsal took out a key from his pocket, "It can unlock the shackles on your neck and make you feel better.

If we lose the battle, you will need to maintain these magic tricks to help us get back, and that will complete the contract."

Nedsal’s second battlefield creed is to always leave a way out for himself.

As for whether he would break his promise, of course he would not break it.

If this battle can be won, what's wrong with letting these wizards go?

If they lost this battle, the wizard slaves he brought would probably have to be packed up and left to the rebels, and then they would naturally be free.

It’s just that these wizards had helped him before. If they fell into the hands of the rebels, it would be difficult for Nedsal to predict what the outcome would be.

But that is not something Nidsal should consider.

He raised his head and saw a giant eagle with yellow feathers circling in the sky under the scorching sun of his hometown.

Although Nedsal had converted to Myrcella long ago, at this moment, he couldn't help but recite the Lord's Prayer to Immortality as he did in his childhood.

“There is no God outside of you!”

When he lowered his head, all his former cunning and treachery disappeared, leaving only ferocity and cruelty.

Niedsal pointed his battle flag at the front of Jeshka's infantry formation: "Charge!"

The whip was waving, and the desert mixed-breed horse let out a roaring neigh. The scorching sun shone on the dome helmet, as if returning to his hometown - the barren desert, the wasteland of the empire. "Woo woo woo -"

Nedsal heard the rebels' nervous trumpets, but what was the use?
He could see the commander with an eyepatch cursing as he quickly directed the troops to turn from facing away to facing the enemy head-on.

"One hundred yards!" the adjutant beside him shouted loudly.

"Raise the javelin, get ready!" Nedsal's pupils shrank sharply, as if he had established some kind of connection with the war eagle sculpture in the sky.

He could see that the rebels on the opposite side had only turned halfway at most and were currently facing him in a column formation.

The holy musketeers in the first row were half-kneeling, while those in the second row were bending over, with the black muzzles of their guns aimed at the Cossacks rushing towards them.

Good treatment, reducing the impact area of ​​the projection, but that's all.

Let's see who is faster.

"Seventy yards!"

"cast!"

Nedsal could feel the muscles stretching up his skin, pressing tightly against the hot arm armor.

As the war horses accelerated, three hundred javelins rose into the sky like inverted raindrops, cut through the air, and rushed straight towards the Savior Army.

Three hundred squire knights followed closely behind, still charging after the javelins in front.

But the javelins were much faster than their charge, and they fell into the Savior Army's array with a sharp whistling sound.

The high-speed flying javelins caught the Saviors off guard. The long spikes from the Flesh and Blood Court pierced through their chests and heads, nailing them to the ground.

Dozens of war-brothers fell on their backs, sticky, slippery blood flowing down their javelin poles from their chests or vests.

They desperately grasped the gun barrels to prevent their bodies from being torn apart again.

"Get out of the way, don't block my view." Pushing away the war monk who was blocking his way, Jeshka looked at these good guys whom he had trained bit by bit, his eyes full of anger.

But he did not show any anger at all: "Holy Guns fire back, Barnaby's column turns horizontal!"

Under the scolding and whipping of the division captains, the Holy Gunners of the Salvation Army reacted quickly.

After that familiar slogan, screams and thunders intertwined, and lead bullets whizzed away, heading towards the charging squire knights.

Amid the clanking sounds, at least twenty of the densely charged squire knights were hit, and thirty were tripped.

The warhorse neighed and fell to the ground, raising a cloud of dust, and screams rang out one after another.

As the squire knights fell, Barnaby's Black Hat Sixth Legion in the rear finally completed the turn.

They lined up again in an orderly manner and blocked the way of the squire knights. The second wave of lead bullets was fired, and dozens of squire knights were killed or injured.

As they expected, the more than 300 escort knights collapsed on the spot, and they scattered in both directions crying and shouting.

"Fortunately, nothing serious went wrong." Barnaby breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the squire knights leave. However, as soon as he breathed a sigh of relief, he felt a huge shadow blocking his sight.

A giant sand-yellow eagle, more than half a man's height, swooped down on his face. Barnaby screamed, and one of his eyeballs was picked up into the sky by the sand sculpture.

"Damn it! Someone come shoot it down." Jessica angrily shot an arrow at the giant eagle in the sky and cursed, "Go ahead and wait for our cavalry to arrive!"

The crowd was stirring, and under the angry shouts of the low-level monks and knights, the center army and the left and right wings simultaneously launched infantry attacks.

As long as a gap is opened on the right wing, Niedsal's most familiar oblique attack tactic can be used.

"Come on, come on." A crazy smile appeared on Nedsal's rough face, "Let's see who is the bravest person in the world!"

The distance between the two sides was only the last thirty yards.

"cast!"

Without the obstruction of the squire knights in front of him, Nedsal threw the javelin in his hand, which rushed forward at a mad speed with a buzzing sound.

"Barnaby, watch out!"

"Squat down!"

Barnaby, who was originally covering his face and screaming, had not yet uttered a word in response when the javelin pierced his throat.

The moment Barnaby died, the Black Hat Sixth Legion, which had just formed its formation, was immediately torn apart.

(End of this chapter)