Ser Darren Grafson had already begun to regret it.
If he had not hesitated out of reluctance to abandon the goods, and had rationally ordered a retreat at once, leaving behind only three to five men would have been enough to cover the main force's withdrawal.
The terrible terrain here would not only restrict his own side, but also the pursuers from the fishing village.
But those few minutes of hesitation had cost him the power to choose. More than half of his men were now locked in combat; retreating now would mean abandoning them.
It was not that Darren was unwilling to abandon his companions. The key was that Ser Simon, their spy within the Veld Alliance, had mentioned something in his letter—Veld had recruited quite a few mercenary cavalry.
None of Veld's cavalry had appeared here, which meant they had to be stationed somewhere outside the fishing village, waiting for his forces to break and flee before emerging to strike them while they were down.
Rather than lead fewer than half his men out to face those elite cavalrymen, Darren would rather fight to the death here and face the rabble before him.
"Spread out to both sides! Go through the reeds and flank their rear!" Ser Darren ordered the men beside him who had not yet been drawn into the battle.
Length gave strength. Against enemies armed with spears, a frontal fight on the narrow path was highly unfavorable to Darren's side. Before Ser Ryan Shett's being single-handedly slain by the enemy leader dealt irreparable damage to their morale, he needed to shatter the enemy shield wall and drag them into a melee.
As long as the rabble across from them lost their formation, the situation would quickly turn into a one-sided slaughter.
Under Ser Darren's command,