"Don't be afraid! Stay close to me! Column charge!" General Omsk seemed to know exactly what Lavien was thinking and shouted at once. The knight order instinctively shifted at speed into a vertical line with Omsk at the front, each rank only two or three knights wide, stretching out into a long formation.
"Charge! Glory! For the Empire!" Omsk raised his lance high, the edge of a sixth-tier warrior's power stabbing painfully at the eyes.
"Good grief! A tight wheeling cut-in! That's either skill or madness!" Marquis Al-Teglang-Franz murmured. Did others not know what the Crossed Bauhinia Knights were made of? He did. For a knight order like this to attempt a tight wheeling cut-in could only mean Omsk had absolute confidence.
"They won't cut into the dwarves, will they?" Roland said in some fear as he watched the "Great Luck" accelerate to a qualified speed. A knight order charging into the flank of infantry was practically slaughter, whether they were cutting down enemies or accidentally injuring their own side—especially when this thing couldn't stop once it got going...
"They probably won't..." Even Thranduil, who spent all day finding Thorin unpleasant, could not help breaking into a cold sweat for him now. The situation on the battlefield was already very obvious. Mogus's knight order had clearly left enough margin in its charge, with at least several dozen meters between it and the dwarves' Shield Wall, but Omsk and Lavien's unit looked suspiciously like they were heading a little toward the dwarves...
"Your Majesty, there's killing intent! Why does it feel like they're coming at us?" Dwalin said in some astonishment.
"No, haven't you seen the distance between them and us?" Thorin said disdainfully. His eyes were not rulers, but he could still judge an obvious sense of distance!