Cavalry, Charge

A week later.

Across the vast sea of sand, a troop of cavalry plodded beneath the blazing sun.

In just a few days, Lothar's skin had visibly darkened by a shade.

With a Turban and face veil on, he was almost indistinguishable from a native Arab or Kurdish person.

During this time, they had encountered quite a few dangers. The closest call had been running into Savotding, Saladin's trusted minister and nephew, who was currently serving as the governor of Syria, along with his cavalry troop.

Fortunately, Abdullah had been quick-witted enough to fool them successfully.

Lothar took out his waterskin, sipped lightly, and asked the Kurdish leader beside him, "Where are we now? Have we entered Sasanian territory?"

Abdullah was somewhat puzzled that this young foreigner could endure the desert's dryness and scorching heat so well. "What borders are there? Here, the lords and tribal states loyal to Saladin and the Sasanian King are like teeth in a dog's mouth, interlocking in a tangled mess—or like grass in the Gobi Desert, bending whichever way the wind blows."

"I understand."

Put another way, they were deeply interwoven and prone to switching sides.

"So if we target lords who have firmly sided with the Sasanian King, or even openly oppose and resist Saladin, the results would be best?"

Lothar calculated aloud.

If they were putting on an act, they had to see it through. He could not guarantee that the Sasanian King would follow his script.

"That's right. I know of an oasis not far from here. It is Kawkab's territory. He was once a vassal loyal to King Nur ad-Din, but after Saladin usurped the throne, he defected to the Sasanian King and has openly provoked Saladin here many times."

Lothar was somewhat puzzled. "Shouldn't they be in the same camp as you, from the sound of it?"

A trace of hostility surfaced on Abdullah's face. "When Saladin led his army into Syria, we asked him for aid, yet he did not send even half a soldier."

"And that treacherous scoundrel dares to provoke Saladin under the banner of the late king? It is an insult to us!"

Lothar nodded and settled on this lucky target. "Then it's them."

"Does this Kawkab live in the oasis you mentioned?"

Abdullah nodded. "Of course. That is his main base. All the tribal states and tribes under his rule must come here regularly to pay tribute and present cattle and sheep."

"How are its defenses?"

"There is a wooden fort. Although the garrison inside is not large, many cavalry troops are stationed throughout the smaller oases around this one. Once the fort's defenders call for help, the surrounding forces will rush to reinforce them."

Lothar fell into thought.

The population an oasis could support was limited. Once that limit was exceeded, the oasis would rapidly shrink.

That meant the garrison in Kawkab's wooden fort could not be too large.

"Looks like we'll have to finish this quickly. If Kawkab is well prepared, we can't waste too much more time. We'll need to change targets as soon as possible."

As Lothar and Abdullah discussed their plan, they urged the troop onward at a faster pace.

Before long, a scout came galloping over.

He shouted, "There's a group of around a hundred men ahead. They're Bedouin under Kawkab, transporting tribute to Kawkab. They don't appear to be on guard."

Lothar's eyes lit up. "Our chance has come. We need to deal with these Bedouin first! They're the key to getting us in."

Abdullah nodded. "I understand."

He immediately raised his voice and shouted, "Everyone, prepare for battle!"

A Kurdish cavalryman approached and handed Lothar a bag of horse feed. Besides fodder grass, it was mixed with cooked beans and wheat bran.

This Fine Feed was essential before a warhorse charged.

As Lothar fed his mount, he chatted with the cavalryman. "Haden, this is your first time in battle, isn't it? Are you nervous?"

Haden smiled gently. "My lord, I already ate today."

Lothar: "..."

Right. They were talking past each other again.

Haden was the youngest member of the Kurdish cavalry troop, only sixteen this year.

"I thought I could already speak Kurdish."

Lothar sighed helplessly and patted Haden on the head.

He handed the feed to Hans.

Then, gripping his riding crop, he quickly climbed a small hill ahead.

In the distance, he could already see a long procession slowly making its way toward them.

Dromedaries, warhorses, pack animals, livestock.

It was a sizable nomadic caravan.

Its leader, wearing a chainmail helmet lined with purple silk, walked at the very front of the procession.

He wore gleaming silver scale armor and occasionally laughed and chatted with his subordinates.

They truly did not seem to be on guard. They had not even sent out scouts, apparently never expecting to be attacked in the heart of Kawkab's territory.

Lothar turned back and waited for the cavalrymen to finish feeding their mounts the Fine Feed, then swung himself into the saddle.

He gave the order. "Prepare to move."

Lothar covered his mouth and nose with a scarf, letting his chainmail coif hang down over it.

He held the Winged Hussar's Swallowtail Banner in his hand and gave it a light shake. It transformed into a banner bearing three blazing flames surrounding a Saladin Eagle.

"Always remember who we are: loyal warriors under Saladin. I am your commander—Savotding."

Raising the lance bearing the swallowtail banner, he addressed the Kurdish cavalry behind him. "Kill every enemy who dares take up arms against us!"

"Yes."

The cavalry immediately sprang into action.

Their fighting style was extremely similar to that of European cavalry. They charged with lances as well, then switched to curved sabers for close combat.

Abdullah and Hans stayed close at Lothar's side.

Prajna and Fringilla kept farther away. For this battle, Lothar had ordered Prajna to prioritize protecting Fringilla, a spellcaster.

With his shared talent, he did not need to worry about falling into danger in the short term. He could easily hold out until reinforcements arrived.

For some reason, the Kurdish cavalrymen felt as though today's charge had been blessed by the gods.

Their mounts raced forward, far faster than usual.

Iron hooves kicked up vast clouds of yellow dust.

The thunderous noise shook the air.

Upon discovering the attack, the Bedouin were thrown into utter panic.

At the very front, the cavalrymen in loose white robes rushed toward the head of the column, hoping to hold back the ferocious enemy and buy time for the infantry to prepare their defenses.

The Bedouin leader shouted in both Arabic and Kurdish, "We serve Lord Kawkab! Who are you? Is there some misunderstanding?"

Abdullah shouted back, "Kawkab is exactly who we seek! For daring to insult My King Saladin, my master Savotding will throw Kawkab's head to the vultures of the desert!"

The tall Arabian horses churned up endless yellow dust.

Lothar felt the wind howl past his ears, his heartbeat gradually quickening, yet he no longer felt as tense as he had during his earlier charges.

He had become seasoned enough.

Rip—

His lance pierced through the neck of a cavalryman ahead.

The man was well equipped, but his scale-mail gorget did nothing to stop the sharp lance tip from tearing through his throat.

Lothar blocked the strike of a Bedouin cavalryman wielding a flail with his shield, and his shield arm immediately went numb with pain.

In that split second, he clearly saw the man's savage face.

Then they swept past one another.

Like fleeting sights glimpsed from a passing carriage.

The previous enemy's face still lingered before Lothar's eyes when his lance rammed into the shield of the next foe, sending the entire man flying.

The violent impact nearly threw Lothar from his horse, but Hans quickly reached out from beside him and steadied him.

Once he had settled back into the saddle, he realized that the man he had just killed was the leader of this Bedouin band.

More than forty riders had forcibly punched straight through the enemy formation.

The Bedouin cavalry unit immediately collapsed. The few survivors scattered in all directions, not daring to resist these demonic riders who seemed to have ridden out of hell.

Lothar rode to the rear of the column, looked over the chaotic caravan, raised his banner high, and said in Kurdish, "Regroup! No pursuit!"

"Abdullah, go persuade them to surrender. Anyone who lays down their weapons may leave freely."

With their cavalry dealt with, this Bedouin caravan was practically doomed already.

But a direct assault would not only take time, it could also cause further losses.

After pondering for a moment, Abdullah shouted the few Arabic phrases he knew, ordering them to surrender.

But the Bedouin answered with arrows.

Lothar raised the lance in his hand, made indestructible by the Winged Hussar's Swallowtail Banner attached to it. Fresh crimson blood still stained its tip.

"Since they have chosen to resist, then continue. Charge in groups and whittle them down bit by bit."

Lothar gave the order.

Half an hour later, the enemies who had stubbornly held out were wiped out.

"Abdullah, count the casualties."

"Six wounded, one dead. None seriously injured. The enemy was weak and unprepared. Many of them were not even wearing armor. It was a fine ambush."

"Not bad."

Lothar nodded in satisfaction. Unless they had been fighting a group of levied serfs, such a casualty ratio would have been a resounding victory anywhere.

The Kurdish cavalry were no less elite than the cavalry under Baron Godfrey.

Someone approached, his face full of grief, carrying a corpse in his arms. He spoke rapidly in Kurdish.

Lothar looked at the familiar features of the corpse in silence.

Haden was dead.

The sixteen-year-old boy who always grinned, revealing two rows of neat white teeth.

"Burn his body. Haden will return to the embrace of God Mithras."

Abdullah did not show much grief. "If this child had survived his first battle, he would have transformed into an eagle."

On the battlefield, recruits suffered the highest casualty rates.

Only by surviving their first war could recruits become veterans.

Unfortunately, Haden had not made it through.

Lothar removed his turban, clenched it in his hand, and silently offered a prayer.

"Let's go, before Kawkab learns of our arrival!"

He raised the Flaming Eagle Banner high. "Take this caravan, the camels, and the horses. We'll disguise ourselves as a tribute convoy headed for Kaokte. Move quickly!"

Vultures were already circling overhead. Sooner or later, they would draw the attention of Kaokte's soldiers.

They had to hurry.

After this battle, Lothar had successfully reached Level 3.

Lothar did not assign his attribute points for the moment.

He was waiting for his affinity with Fringilla to rise to Friendly, so he could try using her bond talent, Blood Magic Specialization.

If it proved useful, he would consider putting some attribute points into Spirit.