Resuming the Fight
This time, the numerical disadvantage began to have a clear and cruel impact on the Broomflower Army.
The Sauron Cavalry had a numerical advantage of nearly three to one.
Although their front ranks suffered heavy losses in the first round of clashes, the subsequent saber cavalry, with their superior numbers, were often able to form a situation where two or three, or even more, men would surround and attack a single Goldfinch Cavalry.
The Broomflower soldiers would often just parry a scimitar slashing from the front when a spear or a spiked club would come stabbing from the side or rear.
One after another, the valiant Goldfinch Cavalry would cut down an enemy only to be immediately knocked off their horses by attacks from blind spots.
Their formation was constantly compressed, their room for maneuver became smaller and smaller, and the rate of casualties increased dramatically.
However, the astonishing courage and unwavering will to die displayed by the Broomflower Army largely compensated for their numerical inferiority.
They seemed to know no fear, showing no sign of retreat even when facing enemies many times their number.
Several bloodthirsty Goldfinch Cavalry, even when surrounded, roared madly, no longer focusing on parrying with their swords, but instead slamming their horses into the flanks, crashing them and their horses into the relatively densely packed areas of the Sauron like battering rams!
This suicidal tactic had a terrifying effect. The Sauron Cavalry's formation was violently breached by this sudden, suicidal charge, with men and horses falling and countless soldiers trampled to death by their own horses in the chaos.
The saber and the curved sword clashed fiercely, sparks flying.
The spiked club struck the shield or armor with a dull, terrifying thud.
This was a primitive and brutal hand-to-hand combat using cold weapons, with someone screaming and falling down every second.
When this frantic struggle ended again, the two sides once again managed to disengage.
The wasteland was left in a state of chaos.
Human and horse corpses were mixed together, and broken weapons and scattered pieces of armor were everywhere.
Crimson blood soaked the dry earth, and the air was filled with a nauseating smell of rust and the stench of ruptured entrails.
The remaining cavalry from both sides charged forward a distance using their momentum before struggling to rein in their frightened or injured horses, slowly turning them around to face each other again.
The number of Goldfinch Cavalry has been drastically reduced. The original force of more than one hundred men has now dwindled to less than sixty who can still ride on horseback, and almost all of them are wounded.
The Sauron also paid a heavy price, with dozens more corpses and stray warhorses added to the scene, bringing the total casualties to an estimated seventy or eighty, far exceeding their expectations.
However, the morale of the soldiers on both sides presented a stark contrast.
Although the Broomflower Army had lost nearly half its troops, their morale soared even higher. The surviving soldiers burned with the flames of revenge and the determination to die. They silently regrouped, their hands still gripping their swords steady even as their wounds bled.
The Sauron Cavalry, on the other hand, generally showed surprise and lingering fear, as they were accustomed to the Broomflower army's tendency to crumble at the first sign of trouble in open battle or to collapse quickly after getting bogged down in close combat.
They had never encountered such a tenacious enemy, one that was even willing to perish together with them; their initial arrogance had long been replaced by fear.
Some soldiers who were seriously wounded and fell from their horses but were not yet dead, as well as some cavalrymen who were knocked off their horses but were lucky enough to survive, struggled to crawl through the pile of corpses.
They picked up fallen daggers, broken gun barrels, and even stones, and as long as they could still move, they pounced on the nearest enemy and continued to tear at them.
An old soldier of the Broomflower, his intestines spilling out of his body, used his last strength to cling tightly to the leg of a fallen Sauron Cavalry, enduring the man's blows to his head with the hilt of his sword without letting go, until another Sauron soldier pierced his heart...
Thorsten looked at the hellish scene, especially the relentless old soldier from the Broomflower, and a chill ran down his spine.
His original plan was to immediately take advantage of the mobility of his Light Cavalry after the first clash and quickly disperse their formation.
They used their most effective mounted archery tactics to harass and wear down the Goldspur, eventually defeating them without incurring too much cost.
This tactic has almost always worked against other Broomflower units in the past.
But when he looked up in the direction of the remnants of the Broomflower Army, his pupils suddenly contracted, and a deeper sense of horror welled up in his heart.
He witnessed a scene that nearly suffocated him.
Just 150 meters away, those Goldspur did not scatter, nor did they give him any chance to use his archery skills!
They were regrouping at an astonishing speed! What alarmed him most was that more than ten of the lancers who should have been wiped out in the first charge had survived!
They regrouped at the front of the column, each holding a spare lance or spear they had picked up from who-knows-where, perhaps even from the corpses of their comrades, forming once again that awe-inspiring thicket of steel spears!
And the commander standing at the very front of that small gun formation was none other than the Broomflower officer whom he had failed to kill with his spiked club!
The man had lost his helmet, his hair was disheveled, and his face was covered in blood, but his eyes were like the coldest ice, fixed on him, and he gripped a broken lance tightly in his hand.
"They... they want to try again?" Thorsten felt his throat go dry.
Are these Goldspur insane?! Don't they know how to spell death?!
He turned sharply to look at his subordinates, and his heart sank to the bottom.
What he saw were pale, panicked, and even fearful faces.
The soldiers' morale had been completely shaken by the enemy's reckless fighting style.
They risked their lives for military merit and wealth, but the enemy was fighting desperately purely to kill them, to perish together with them!
This disparity in willpower created a fatal suppression on the battlefield.
Thorsten's mind raced, only to discover with despair that he had virtually no choice.
Turn and run? Exposing their backs to a charging lancer force at such close range would undoubtedly be suicidal.
If they spread out to the sides, their formation will inevitably fall into complete chaos, and if the opponent takes the opportunity to attack from the side, their fate will be equally tragic.
The only way out had become just one.
Summoning our remaining courage and gathering all our fighting strength, we charged forward one more time, facing the enemy's spearhead!
Hoping that this final gamble can completely crush the already crumbling lines and will of those Broomflower madmen!
"Form ranks!!" Thorsten's voice was hoarse and distorted with despair and screams. "Warriors of Sauron! Do not be intimidated by these dying enemies! They are at their last gasp! Follow me, one last charge! Crush them! For Lord Harald!!"
He roared hoarsely, trying to rekindle the long-cooled passion of his men.
The surviving Sauron Cavalry barely suppressed their fear, rallied together, raised their blood-stained weapons, and prepared for this final battle that would determine their survival.
On the wasteland, the two battered armies slowly began to accelerate again, like two wounded beasts still determined to tear each other apart, charging towards final destruction.