Chapter 422 I Was Not Afraid in Pavia
As Horn had expected, the Hothams and the hired low-ranking knights charged on both flanks.

However, since the enemy knights only numbered about a hundred, the legion on the right wing chose to retreat and shoot normally.

The left wing army had slightly more knights. In order to prevent the Imperial Company from following up with an attack, the Holy Gunners had no time to retreat to the formation, so they chose to shoot while kneeling in front and standing in the back.

Although the guns were basically loaded, there was no chance to fire a second volley. They could only stand on both sides of the gun formation again, stuff smelling salts into their noses, and twist the spring with difficulty.

"Accelerate, accelerate!"

Hearing the horrible sound of gears, Arman had no sympathy for the warhorse and directly used the spurs on his boots to dig hard into the horse's belly.

With a cry of pain, the warhorse's four hooves swept across the ground, and the blood color in its eyes became even more intense.

The horse's hooves hit the ground, and black smoke and hot wind kept blowing across Arman's visor and pouring into the helmet through the slits of the bird-beak helmet.

Breathing deeply, Alman slightly bent his back, his buttocks colliding with the saddle, and the knight's long sword inlaid with rubies and sapphires slapped his thigh.

The bright golden mane danced in the hot wind and the horse's head nodded slightly constantly, as if even the earth was shaking up and down.

In front of them was a long, slowly moving steel line, with helmets and armor shining with a dull luster rubbing against their clothes.

The spears swung left and right in unison, and the uniform black uniforms and red belts made this army look more like a moving black wall of ribbons than a cowardly infantry phalanx.

As firm as iron, as if it could never be overcome.

Alman shook his head, threw away the doubts in his heart, and continued to charge forward with gritted teeth.

Standing in front of the wall with the lance in hand, Victor's palms were slightly sweaty.

Not far in front of them, a group of war horses arranged in a triangular wedge were surging, with the Command Company as the vanguard, and they were coming towards the Black Hat First Legion where Victor was like a tsunami.

The heavily-armored lancers marched across the vast plain, and to the sides of their horses' hooves were the knights lying on the ground, writhing and groaning.

Broken fragments of weapons and flags were crushed by horseshoes and bounced on the ground.

The knights charged like a tide, and even if the famous Frankish Marshal Dunjar were alive again, he would probably be shocked.

However, their infantry ranks were only six thin layers. Victor did not expect to keep all the 600 knights, but at least 200 of them had to be left behind to relieve the pressure on Le Fay and Jourdan in the rear.

"Stand firm, stay close!" Victor repeated his order again, "If anyone dares to take a step back, I will stab his ass with my quill!"

"Bang bang--" Victor's voice was half drowned out by the sound of gunfire, and what followed was the wailing of the warhorse.

The First Legion of the Guards next door once again opened fire on the flank of the charging knights. Hundreds of lead bullets flew and hit the side of the wedge formation.

Blood plasma spurted out, and war horses stood up. More than 20 knights fell down immediately, and more than a dozen war horses let out painful howls.

The overturned warhorse stirred up dust and blocked the center of the charge path. The elite knights behind jumped over it skillfully.

As for those who were not so skilled, they either reined in their horses to slow down and go around, or were tripped and flew off their horses, breaking their necks.

"Don't stop, don't wait, charge, charge!"

The sharp-eyed Alman saw two horizontal formations moving not far away, seemingly supporting the four legions on the left.

There is no time to wait, so we can only charge forward.

200 Hotam squire knights, 100 regular knights, and 300 knights of the Imperial Company who charged in the front, these were all the main knights that Alman could gather in a short period of time.

There were a total of 600 knights, and although seventy or eighty of them had fallen behind, they still had more than 500 left, and the most important thing was that not a single imperial decree was missing.

As long as they can rush out of the enemy formation at a certain speed before the enemy's Holy Gun Cavalry reacts, they will not be considered to have been defeated.

"Shoot!" Arman shouted loudly after putting the last bottle of potion into his mouth.

The sound of bowstrings being pulled came from behind, emitted by the lightly-armored squire knights. Hundreds of arrows fell from the sky, hitting the war monks who were standing on bows and holding spears like rain.

"Don't move, hold your spears up."

"Look ahead and remember your location!"

"Asshole, hold the gun steady, do you want to be a deserter?"

Eighty meters, fifty meters, thirty meters...

As the ferocious bird-beak helmets of the Order Knights came closer and closer, the War Monks became more and more silent. Without the protection of the Holy Wind of the Holy Gunners, are they afraid?
They had sophisticated armor, sharp spears, more advanced breathing techniques and more skilled martial arts.

Compared to when they were civilians, they already have a firm heart.

When they were in Pavia, they were just common people but they were never afraid, let alone now?
The whistling wind fell before the galloping horses' hooves, and the knights could see the group of farmers clearly. It was also the first time they saw the farmers raise their heads stubbornly under the horses' hooves.

"Leia! Leia! Leia!" After shouting the country's name three times, more than 500 imperial knights took the lead and charged into the horizontal formation of the Black Hat First Legion.

"God is above!" Three rows of spears were pointed at the Knights of the Imperial Order, "You pigs who got something for nothing!"

The armor rubbed against the spear, splashing countless sparks and twisting into curved or even spiral shapes.

The wooden shafts of the spears exploded one after another, and dozens of war monks in the front row were knocked off the ground with their feet, rolling several times in the air before landing.

Wielding halberds and chopping with axes and spears, these Knights of the Imperial Order once again encountered the same fate as they had faced the Dunjar Phalanx in the Battle of Windmill Field.

Looking down from mid-air, the long horizontal formation of Galar was instantly bent backwards by the knights.

But it's like a strip of cloth that is about to be punctured and is close to the critical point of breaking.

The ground was covered with crackling sawdust, and Arman seemed to be riding the waves in a sea of ​​spears, axes and halberds.

Spears, halberds, and axes that were pointed at him from all directions scratched his armor, and a random number of daggers, stones, and even sticky unknown objects hit him.

But this did not stop him from continuing to charge. He poured the fourth bottle of potion, which exceeded the limit, into his mouth, and Alman's face turned the same purple as the mercenary knights.

Similarly, his body expanded several times, and he waved his lance and sword back and forth, sending the war monks who rushed up flying backwards.

Roars and the sound of weapons scraping against armor continued to ring out, but Alman was a titled knight after all.

He skillfully and easily avoided all the weapons that were coming at him, trying his best to make the weapons fall on non-vital areas. The sword in his hand danced in circles, and when he raised his hand and struck down, heads fell one by one.

In ten seconds, Alman killed through the legion.

The six-row thin formation is simply a piece of cake for the Extraordinary Knight.

The Imperial Order was like the last straw that broke the camel's back, tearing apart the tough fabric of the Galar Array and breaking it in half.

The remaining knights squeezed out from this gap, and the wound became bigger and bigger, almost splitting the horizontal formation in two.

In the past, Alman would have launched another charge to completely defeat this squadron of 500 men, but he was unable to do so now.

"How many of us are there?"

"There are about 400 people left. Most of the squire knights have been killed, and our imperial knights have lost more than ten people."

Although Alman charged out, nearly a hundred knights were still blocked in the battle formation. Their charge distance was short, and they were hit hard on the flank by the holy guns.

Some of them who were not good at horse riding could not increase their speed at all, and were blocked by these armored extraordinary infantry, so they were trapped in the military formation.

And just as the spears and halberds were crossing each other, the holy musketeers penetrated into the horizontal formation.

When the holy gun was fired occasionally, one could see a knight holding his waist and abdomen with a look of pain on his face, or suddenly straightening his back, and then seven or eight spears and three or five axes and halberds would be thrust at him.

The knights were making war cries that sounded almost like wails, blood gurgling out of their wounds. They covered their wounds, wielded their swords with one hand, and staggered. There were stabbing weapons coming from all directions.

This reminded them of their favorite game - to surround a civilian, and then, according to the rule that they were not allowed to talk to the knight with their backs turned, they would stab him once they heard a civilian shout, until he bled to death.

But now, when they were trapped in this circle, they felt the hopelessness and helplessness.

The knights trapped in the formation stared at Alman eagerly, he was their only hope.

Looking back at the knights who were dragged off their horses and trapped on the ground, the adjutant couldn't help but ask, "Do we need to go back and rescue them?"

Alman hesitated. He looked at Mizam, who was trembling on his horse, and then at the moving line of troops in the distance. Finally, he shouted as if to vent his anger.

"what--"

Startled by the shouting, the adjutant whispered, "Sir?"

"Don't rescue them, speed up your horses and keep charging!" Alman said while gritting his teeth as he looked at the line of soldiers that was only one layer left in front of him.

(End of this chapter)