Demons

Shields emblazoned with colorful heraldry, robes of every hue, banners, and Crusaders from every corner of the world formed mottled ranks that advanced slowly, as immovable as mountains.

At the center stood Lothar's own troops. Their main strength consisted of the Teutonic Knights and the infantrymen of the Saint Lazarus Order, the Varangian Guard, the Veteran Retention Corps, some peasant soldiers assembled on the orders of the Imperial Knights, and the town militias of Semannud and Damietta.

These armored soldiers formed three squares. Filling the gaps between them were ranged infantry, including Woodland Archers, town militia archers, and mercenaries.

Richard the Lionheart stood with his back to a red banner bearing a golden lion. A group of brilliantly armored Imperial Guard cavalry surrounded him, while several hundred heavily armored knights, armed to the teeth, stood at his side.

Though he too had fought through countless battles, he had never seen a war on such a scale.

Including logistical personnel, the combined forces of both sides exceeded two hundred thousand. The last time Europe had seen a battle of this scale was probably the Battle of Poitiers between Charles Martel and the Saracen expeditionary army.

Not long ago, Emperor Henry had sent only twenty thousand troops to subdue the Lombard League, easily crushing the league's hastily assembled force of just over ten thousand.

"Look at His Majesty Philip. He's probably so frightened he can't even hold his reins."

Richard's breathing was a little hurried. Beneath his Golden Crown helmet, his eyes gleamed red.

He had always possessed a fearless heart. Though it was also his first time witnessing such a grand spectacle, he felt no fear at all. Instead, he felt as though he had always belonged in the East, on this very front line where men fought and killed heathens.