Unwilling to Stand Idly By

Moreover, each of them harbored an even stronger thought.

If they don't break through these damned walls now, and the Sauron completely surround the city, turning the inner city into an isolated island, these cavalrymen will become utterly worthless. In the end, they will either fall with the city or die a humiliating death in a desperate siege.

Rather than die such a cowardly death, let's seize this moment, mount our warhorses, grip our sabers, breathe in this smoke-filled air of freedom one last time, and launch a charge against an enemy many times our size, knowing full well the outcome!

To die in battle on the back of one's beloved warhorse that has been with him for so many years! This is the destiny and glory that a knight, a cavalryman, should have!

"For Carnford! For the Lord! Kill!!!" Lyon roared again, raising his sword, his voice hoarse but full of determination.

"Kill!!!" The surrounding cavalrymen roared in response, their numbers dwindling but their morale undiminished.

Taking advantage of the alleyways, they moved in small groups, sometimes charging on horseback to break up small groups of enemies; sometimes dismounting and forming ranks, fighting fiercely with sabers and shields against the Sauron infantry; and sometimes using bows and arrows for precise sniping to rescue besieged allies.

Warhorses fell with mournful cries, and cavalrymen were constantly thrown from their horses by spears thrusting from all directions.

But their valiant fighting did effectively disrupt the Sauron ' offensive rhythm, igniting small but crucial glimmers of hope for the retreating defenders.

Lyon parried a thrusting spear, then swung his sword and sliced off half of the enemy's head.

He looked around and saw that he had fewer than twenty or thirty cavalrymen left to follow him, all of them wounded and their horses panting heavily.

Lyon's gaze swept across the battlefield to his right, an area where the surrendered troops led by Thorsten were responsible for holding off the enemy. The sight before him gave him a jolt.

Thorsten and his men, these former Sauron Defectors, displayed a ferocity that even surpassed that of some of the Carnford veterans.

He witnessed firsthand how a former Sauron Cavalry's horse was struck on the head by a Sauron infantryman wielding a heavy hammer. The horse neighed and fell to the ground, while the rider was violently thrown off.

But after landing and rolling, the man immediately struggled to his feet. Ignoring the excruciating pain of his broken bones, he drew his scimitar and engaged in a desperate fight with the hammer-wielding soldier. In the end, he traded his life for the man's, plunging the scimitar into the soldier's throat, while his own sternum was shattered by the hammer.

The eyes of these surrendered soldiers held no more hesitation, only a desperate and frenzied resolve.

Lyon instantly understood. They knew better than anyone else that once Carnford fell, Harald would not let any traitors go unpunished, and what awaited them would be torture and slaughter ten times worse than dying in battle.

This struggle is not for Carnford, but for their own slim chance of survival.

"It's all for survival..." Lyon murmured to himself, but this was not the time for sentimentality.

He suddenly looked up towards the inner city and saw that the flow of people leading to the side gate had become sparse. The heavy wooden door was being pushed by several guards, making a "creaking" sound as it slowly closed!

Time's up! No, time's almost up!

"Thorsten must be notified to retreat!" Lyon made the decision instantly.

Thorsten's troops are too deeply entrenched; if they are blocked by the gates, they will all die outside.

"You can still move! Follow me! Break through and reach Thorsten!" Lyon roared in a hoarse voice, raising his chipped saber and pointing it in the direction of Thorsten's troops, who were being held hostage by a Sauron infantry.

Fewer than twenty riders responded to him, all covered in blood, their horses foaming at the mouth and nose, but that was enough.

"Charge!" Lyon spurred his horse, and the exhausted warhorse let out a defiant neigh, unleashing its last bit of strength as it charged toward the enemy's flank.

The surviving cavalry followed closely behind, forming a sparse but sharp arrowhead formation.

"Those who stand in my way shall die!" Lyon roared, slashing left and right with his saber. Relying on the last momentum of his warhorse and his personal bravery, he managed to tear a gap in the chaotic enemy ranks.

A Sauron spearman attempted to stab his horse in the chest and abdomen, but Lyon bent down and sliced the spear shaft in half with his blade, then killed him with a second blow.

Another enemy swung an axe from the side. Lyon didn't even have time to block. He could only pull hard on the reins, and his warhorse reared up, its iron hooves slamming into the enemy's chest. The sound of bones cracking could be clearly heard.

This desperate charge drew the attention of the Sauron and briefly disrupted their formation.

Thorsten immediately noticed the commotion and saw Lyon's iconic black warhorse and blood-soaked figure.

"Lord Lyon, brothers! Move closer to him! Charge out!" Thorsten was greatly encouraged, brandishing his War Saber and commanding his remaining troops to launch a desperate attack in Lyon's direction.

The two remaining soldiers, like two blunt knives, struggled to move closer to each other amidst a bloody grinder, with someone falling with every step forward.

When Lyon finally saw Thorsten's blood-stained face, he had only a dozen or so riders left with him, while Thorsten had only a dozen or so men left, all of them wounded.

"The city gates are closing! Retreat!" Lyon shouted hoarsely without wasting any words.

Thorsten glanced back at the increasingly narrow crack in the door, his pupils shrinking. "Understood! You go first! We'll cover your retreat!"

"Let's go together!" Lyon declared without hesitation, turning his horse around. "Those who can still ride, take the wounded! Quickly!"

The last of the Carnford cavalrymen rallied together and launched a final, desperate charge toward the closing gate of life.

The Sauron realized their prey was about to escape and swarmed forward in an attempt to intercept it.

Arrows came from behind, and people kept falling from their horses.

Lyon felt a sharp pain in his back, as if he had been hit by something, but he couldn't care less, his eyes fixed on the light that was getting closer and narrower.

"Faster! Faster!" he frantically urged his nearly exhausted warhorse.

Just as the side gate was about to close completely, leaving only a gap for one person and one horse to pass through, the remaining cavalry charged in like a whirlwind!

"Close the door! Close the door now!" Lyon shouted as he rushed into the doorway, tumbling off his horse.

"Bang!" The heavy latch slammed down, completely shutting out the frantic pounding and desperate screams of the pursuers outside.

Lyon slumped onto the cold ground, leaning against his equally panting warhorse. He looked at the few dozen cavalrymen who remained beside him, supporting each other, and then at the faint sounds of the Sauron's angry curses coming from outside the door. He let out a long breath, which was mixed with the smell of blood.

They returned alive, but the Cavalry Company suffered nearly half its casualties.