Chapter 381: United as One
The surging crimson storm was closing in.
One could vaguely make out the figure of an armored warrior riding a warhorse.
Was it cavalry? Or knights?
He didn’t know, but at this mont, he felt sowhat grateful for having prepared earlier.
He glanced at the chevaux-de-frise hastily piled directly in front.
The crimson storm surged rapidly, and they had only barely managed to stack those barriers.
The elite warriors qualified to wear iron armor had already gripped their spears tightly, ready for battle.
Those unqualified to wear iron armor were swiftly dismantling tents, throwing the tangled materials forward in hopes of slowing the knights’ charge.
The mightiest knights often erged from the charging warriors, whether mounted or on foot.
Sotis, a collective charge on foot proved even more formidable than mounted knights.
After all, their physical strength was imnse. At the level of a knight, they could even control the contraction of their muscles.
The impact of a warhorse alone was no match for the direct collision of a knight.
Moreover, knights constantly wore full suits of armor—from the outermost plate armor, to the chainmail beneath, and the padded cloth armor at the innermost layer—making them far less vulnerable to blades than horses.
When such heavy and powerful knights gathered their strength to charge, the result was terrifying.
Like an iron wall collapsing.
Unless their montum was slowed, this spear-wielding defensive line would be easily broken.
The knight leading these warriors could only be thankful that the enemy knights were mounted.
Even if that outer layer of crimson was bizarre, he understood that warhorses were living creatures. And living things could be startled by pain. If the front line of horses was startled, those behind would naturally slow down.
He had already stationed a group at the rear, readying sling-stones and throwing spears. If they could strike down just three or five horses, combined with the chevaux-de-frise, it would be enough to dismount so of those knights.
Although, it was in close combat after dismounting that knights were at their most ferocious.
Still, no matter how fearso, their kill rate wouldn’t match the speed of a charge. Even in this darkness, they could stall them briefly.
By now, he didn’t believe all those approaching were knights. Perhaps just a dozen or so knights leading cavalry.
That was already the utmost elite he could imagine.
He reasoned that they wouldn’t deploy nearly a hundred knights to clear out a scattered camp led by rely three knights at most.
Judging by the arc of light that had earlier flashed across the sky, their knightly main force should have already entered the city. As long as they seized the grand Doyle City, this allied noble army would naturally retreat.
He thought, with the chaos in the York Territory, they couldn’t possibly send out more than five thousand troops. After all, even discounting the city knights, the camps scattered outside already numbered close to eight or nine thousand.
They were all warriors—many of them veterans of the campaign against the Fishn, not just bloodless commoners.
Moreover, if the commotion outside drew the attention of the city’s knights, then with over two hundred knights in total, he couldn’t fathom how his side could lose.
He raised his voice to bolster morale, urging the trembling warriors to steady themselves.
He said, “Stay here in formation and resist—you may survive. But if you abandon the ranks, there is no hope before such an enemy.”
He said, “Think back. When have knights ever treated the lives of commoners as anything? Especially during suppressions of uprisings—they always slaughter all rebels. Even if we’re doing what is right, in their eyes, we are the rebels.”
He said, “Our allies are close by. Perhaps they’re already en route. The nobles are in the city. Our pride is there too—the Doyle Knight Order, and the knights of the lords. Over two hundred knights! They must have noticed the disturbance. They should be on their way.”
He said, “This is Doyle City, the stronghold of our allied forces. Their numbers won’t be large. Victory is surely ours!”
His words seed to restore so confidence in the warriors. At the very least, they trembled less.
He thought, This is the role of a knight. This is the strength of a knight.
Not the so-called nonsense about unwavering will from the Knight Guild, but true strength and loyalty to one's lord—the ability to bring victory.
Just having a steadfast will—how could that lead a legion?
And a knight who couldn’t lead a legion to win for their lord—could they even be called a knight? Could they claim to be loyal? Could they accept the fief bestowed by their lord with a clear conscience?
Wasn’t his loyalty enough proof of his steadfast will?
Like the Oath Knights?
Could such vows truly represent what a knight should uphold?
After all, a knight’s greatest role was to kill for their lord.
Be it enemies, civilians, slaves, or even the lord’s blood relatives, the reason for killing was simple: the lord's command.
That alone was justification enough.
Because they were knights sworn to their lord.
But just look at how the Oath Knights held to their vows—
Could such restraint prove their loyalty?
Never had he felt so certain that he was doing an unshakably right thing.
The crimson storm ca closer.
Then he noticed sothing was wrong.
The warhorses these cavalry rode seed… off.
They were at least a size larger than ordinary warhorses. As they ran, the muscles beneath their skin rippled with unnerving frequency. Saliva dripped from open mouths that seed to pant, and there were faint growls like beasts. Their eyes glowed crimson, like blood, exuding a murderous rage.
Moreover, in those gaping mouths, sharp teeth could be seen—he didn’t doubt for a mont that these beasts could bite. And with those jaws, they could easily pierce flesh. If the mouth opened wide enough, biting off a man’s head seed entirely possible.
He also realized that the rising crimson torches were sohow linked to both horse and knight.
His heart trembled.
He had only seen the foremost horses.
But if all the horses behind were the sa as these terrifying beasts, then perhaps the entire cavalry unit was composed of knights. He didn’t believe such savage mounts could be tad by re third-tier warriors. And if they were all knights, then what were these blazing torches?
Or rather, what purpose did the torches serve?
He was not given ti to ponder further.
The crimson storm charged directly into the chevaux-de-frise.
The blazing torches acted like armor for the horses, ignoring the sharp stakes and reducing the barriers to splinters.
If even the chevaux-de-frise couldn’t stop them, the scattered tent debris was even less effective.
Then ca the full-force charge of the knights, t by terrified screams from the warriors.
The knights within the flas swung their swords casually. They hardly needed to strike—the sheer force of their mounts crushed everything before them.
Just as the leading knight had feared, the savage warhorses opened their mouths and bit off the heads of unlucky warriors.
Their fanged jaws smashed even the crude iron helts.
Then, he—the fully armored knight wielding a greatsword—was honored by one of the torch-bearing knights.
He rembered clearly: the knight who ca to fight him was the last in the formation. This final knight’s mount did not attack him. It even stopped before him. The knight then raised his sword—its blade wrapped in a red, mbrane-like sheen.
Then the knight swung his sword down.
He raised his own to block.
He carried no shield, only a two-handed greatsword. And so, he blocked with the blade.
He wasn’t strong enough to wield it one-handed yet.
Then he watched as the descending sword sliced his weapon in two, continued downward, severed his arm along with the vambrace, split his pauldron, cut through half his body, and exited through his heart, cleaving the organ in two.
In his final mont, only one thought remained:
Why are these knights so powerful?
But these knights, still carrying out Julian’s mission, would not answer such thoughts.
After one charge had killed eighty percent of the enemy, enhanced by mana, they easily spotted those trying to flee in the dark. They gave chase, their mounts killing with a single impact.
Their orders were clear: leave no one alive.
Even after killing, the warhorses did not slow. Guided by mana, they regrouped swiftly and surged toward the next camp.
They had received the Red Dragon Flag after their warhorses had been fully trained. Only warhorses imbued with mana could allow the Red Dragon Flag to function.
Perhaps the mages, for political reasons, called mana a gift from the Lord, but in one regard, they were right:
Mana was pure.
And because it originated from the sa source, it could be shared. It did not matter if it ca from different people, or even different species.
Mana was simply mana, differing only by how it was used.
So when the warhorses gained mana, they could resonate with their knights.
And when both knight and steed possessed mana, they could connect with other knights of the sa kind.
Thus, when the Knight Order's commander raised the Red Dragon Flag, the symbol of their order, this unit of one hundred knights had the potential—
To beco one.
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