The Saurons Routed
The deafening roar of a musket that suddenly erupted from the flank was like a timpani, instantly piercing through all the noise and shouts on the battlefield.
The message was clearly transmitted to the ears of every cavalryman still fighting or preparing to charge again.
Almost everyone, whether they were Goldspur or Sauron, involuntarily turned to look in the direction of the sound.
The scene they witnessed instantly determined the ultimate outcome of this brutal encounter.
The remaining cavalrymen of the Broomflower saw the valiant female knight Charlotte Rochfort struggling to her feet.
Her long, golden hair fluttered wildly in the air, a declaration of victory.
Although she was swaying unsteadily, she was still alive!
Not far from her, Ragnar, the commander of the Sauron horse archers, lay in a pool of blood, his chest a bloody mess, clearly incapacitated.
After a brief silence, the ecstasy of surviving the ordeal and immense admiration instantly swept over the remaining Broomflower soldiers!
"Charlotte Knight has won!!"
"Long live Rochfort! Long live Carnford!!"
After a brief silence, the Goldfinch Cavalry, who had survived the ordeal, erupted in wild cheers and shouts, their morale, which had been somewhat low due to the heavy casualties, soaring to its peak!
Meanwhile, the Sauron, especially the horse archers still fighting the remaining musketeers, witnessed their commander's gruesome defeat and death.
The last bit of fighting spirit deflated instantly, like an air bladder punctured by a needle.
They lost all will to fight. They let out a panicked whistle, fired a few arrows haphazardly as cover, then turned their horses around, whipped them desperately, and fled in panic back the way they came.
The remaining few Broomflower musketeers attempted to give chase, but Roland quickly stopped them.
Don't pursue a cornered enemy; their mission is complete.
The complete rout of the flank horse archers was like the last straw that broke the camel's back, casting a heavy psychological shadow over the Sauron Cavalry in the main force who were preparing for a second charge.
They were already intimidated by the opponent's reckless fighting style, and now their morale was even more shaky.
However, the bugle call to charge had already sounded, the warhorses had begun to accelerate, and the arrow was on the bowstring, ready to be released!
The two battered cavalry units, like wounded beasts, roared and charged at each other once more! The tips of the Goldspur's spears were still sharp, and the blades of the Sauron's swords were still gleaming!
But this time, the situation is completely different.
The Sauron Cavalry at the forefront, with their last bit of ferocity and a sliver of despair, used their lives and bodies to forcefully break through the ranks of the Golden Fleur-de-lis Lancer, creating chaos and casualties once again.
However, the Sauron Cavalry following behind them completely lost the courage to continue fighting.
They witnessed their flank allies crumble and felt the enemy's morale rise even higher; their will to survive instantly overwhelmed their will to fight.
In the instant the formations clashed and the battle became chaotic, many Sauron Cavalry stopped trying to kill the enemies in front of them and instead desperately turned their horses around, charging out through the gaps in the flanks of the battlefield!
They just wanted to escape this vortex of death, to escape these indomitable and fearless madmen of the Broomflower!
"Don't run! Come back!!" Thorsten roared furiously, cutting down a deserter who tried to slip away from him, but he couldn't stop the avalanche of fleeing.
The Broomflower Cavalry, with their sabers, naturally seized the opportunity. They fiercely hacked at the enemies who exposed their backs, and more than a dozen Sauron Cavalry were cut down while fleeing.
But this minor loss was no match for the rout. The remaining Sauron Cavalry dared not linger or turn back to fight, but instead lashed their horses and fled for their lives toward Frosgard.
The battle ended abruptly within a few tens of minutes in a way that no one had anticipated.
Just a few dozen minutes ago, the Sauron were charging menacingly from that horizon.
Several tens of minutes later, they abandoned more than a hundred corpses and countless wounded soldiers wailing all over the mountains and fields, and fled into the distance like stray dogs.
The Broomflower cavalrymen slowly brought their warhorses to a stop, each one breathing heavily, sweat, blood, and mud mingling and streaming down their faces.
They turned around and looked in the direction the enemy had fled. After a brief silence, a variety of sounds suddenly erupted.
Someone raised their dull saber high, letting out a wild shout filled with the joy of surviving a calamity.
Some people stumbled and jumped off their horses, rushed to the bodies of their fallen comrades, and let out heart-wrenching cries.
Someone leaned wearily against the horse's neck, gazing at the setting sun, silently shedding tears.
More people began to help each other, check their injuries, and share the little water and medicine they had left...
The battlefield was filled with the ecstasy of victory and the grief of losing comrades, a mix of emotions intertwined.
Lyon, mounted on his horse, watched the dust settle as the Sauron fled, and a genuine, relieved smile finally appeared on his pale face.
We won... we actually won... we defeated a much larger force and routed the Sauron's elite Vanguard Camp!
"Father... can you see it?" he murmured to himself, as if he could see the family crest shining brightly once more in the future. "The glory of our Hawk Family will surely be restored in my hands..."
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt.
An irresistible sense of darkness and weakness suddenly swept over him. His vision went black, and before he could even utter a groan, he fell straight off the horse!
"Commander!"
"Lord Lyon!"
The surrounding cavalrymen exclaimed in surprise and quickly dismounted to gather around.
They carefully helped him remove his armor, only to be horrified to discover that his Chain Mail and shirt had been ripped open by a sharp weapon.
A very deep and long wound was exposed, with the skin and flesh rolled back and fresh blood seeping out continuously.
That mark was left during his life-or-death duel with that Sauron Army during the first charge!
His spear pierced the other man's body, but the other man's broadsword also wounded him.
With astonishing willpower and taut nerves, he managed to suppress such severe injuries and command the entire battle!
The moment he relaxed his guard, his injuries flared up and completely overwhelmed him.
Charlotte used the empty Flintlock Rifle to support herself as she slowly and laboriously walked toward Ragnar, who lay in a pool of blood.
The falls she just took were quite severe; she felt as if every bone in her body was protesting, and her shoulder was throbbing with dull pain.
Ragnar was still breathing weakly, but his eyes were already unfocused, and with each rise and fall of the terrible wound in his chest, more blood foam gushed out; he was clearly on his deathbed.
Charlotte silently drew her saber, crouched down, and gently pressed the cold blade against Ragnar's neck.
Ragnar seemed to sense something, and his unfocused gaze struggled to focus.
Upon recognizing Charlotte, he managed a barely perceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth, revealing a smile that was indescribable, a mixture of pain, mockery, and a hint of relief.
Charlotte didn't hesitate any longer and pressed her wrist down forcefully!
The blade flashed, delivering a swift and decisive blow.
Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats approached, and Roland and several Carnford musketeers rode up.
Roland immediately noticed the gruesome abrasion on Charlotte's forehead, which was still bleeding beneath her disheveled blonde hair, and her clearly uncomfortable shoulder.
"Charlotte Knight!" He practically leaped off his horse and rushed to her side, his voice filled with barely suppressed worry and a hint of lingering fear. "Your injury! What you just did... If Lord Karl finds out, he'll surely punish us."
He quickly tore a relatively clean Cloth Strip from his inner lining, intending to wipe the blood from her forehead and perform a simple bandage.
Charlotte raised her hand to gently shield herself, indicating that she was alright.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her trembling fingers and rapid breathing caused by the close-quarters execution of the enemy.
She was about to say something when she was interrupted by another, even more hurried and frantic set of footsteps.
A Lyon personal guard rushed over, his face filled with grief and panic, his voice trembling with sobs. "Charlotte Knight! Lord Roland! Something terrible has happened... Commander Lyon... he's dying! He's dying!"