Woo-woo-woo—
A long, melodious horn call drifted down from the mountain.
Besieged from within and without, the Tatars finally chose to retreat.
But even after they had withdrawn, Ivan still felt lingering fear.
This battle had undoubtedly been a costly victory. It was plain to see that they had lost far more men than the corpses the enemy had left behind.
Even the Gongfen Army, the imperial guard, was clearly inferior to the enemy's Kheshig Army in equipment, individual fighting ability, and tactical coordination.
Had Ivan's unit not descended like divine soldiers at the critical moment and cut off the Tatars' retreat, and had the Tatars not been few in number and intent on preserving their strength rather than fighting to the death, it was still uncertain who would have won.
Watching the Tatars retreat one after another, Ivan, who had been forcing himself to stay upright, collapsed directly into a pool of blood.
Panting heavily, he cursed in Slavic slang before saying, "It seems Kutlug and those merchants from the east really weren't exaggerating. This tribal alliance called the Tatars is far stronger than the Cumans or the Turkic people."
Fulk nodded silently beside him. The pressure these Tatars had brought him was likewise unprecedented. Mamluks, Frankish knights—placed before them, none would likely have been a match.
Only after resting for quite a while did Ivan seize his waterskin and gulp down several mouthfuls. "Did you notice? In a situation like this, any other army would have fallen into chaos and collapsed. But even while retreating, those Tatar cavalry withdrew from the battlefield in order. It made it hard for the Khitan cavalry to expand their gains."
The discipline displayed by those Tatar cavalry made Ivan, who had seen both Cossack and Cuman horsemen, wonder whether they could truly