Sawane. Botley raised his shield against the crossbow arrow, feeling that his lungs were about to explode.
It was not because of fatigue, but because of anger, a hot anger that could burn the internal organs to ashes.
It's aggrieved, so aggrieved, shameless, so shameless. He has traveled across the seas and plundered countless lands. He has also fought against those knights who pride themselves on their noble honor. They can form formations, blow horns, and even engage in one-on-one duels for so-called honor requirements.
And why are there so many crossbows? What about chivalry? Where about noble honor? Damn it! Could these people really be our lost Ironborn relatives!
Sawane. Botley's chest rose and fell violently. He stared at the blurry front line in the distance and read out a name through gritted teeth, "Suleiman, right! I will remember you!"
Retreat? This thought only flashed through his mind, and he killed it fiercely. The longship was gone, Iron Price was taken away, and his son was gone. If he runs away with his tail between his legs now, he Sawane. Botley will become the laughing stock of all Ironborn.
Sawane. Botley looked back and saw that his brothers, the proud Ironborn, were being weighed down by the crossbow arrows and could not lift their heads. Their formations were scattered and curses were heard one after another.
Unable to wait any longer, he suddenly raised his round shield filled with crossbow bolts and roared with all his strength, "Charge!"
"Let them see how the people of Drowned God fight!"
"Tear them apart!"
This was his last bet, his only hope, to use a ferocious charge regardless of casualties to completely smash the fragile defense line composed of non-professional soldiers on the opposite side, and use their blood and victory to wash away his shame.
More than two hundred Ironborn roared like beasts. Like a group of people forced into a desperate situation, they slammed into the spear phalanx of the Suleiman army. The collision of shields made a dull loud noise.
According to Sawane's many years of experience in combat, an impact of this magnitude is enough to cause any army composed of non-professional soldiers to collapse in an instant, and then turn it into a one-sided massacre.
However, what happened made his eyes widen. The opponent was not defeated. They did not even take half a step back. The spearman in the front row was knocked down. Before the body fell to the ground, the people in the back row stepped on the flesh and blood of their companions to fill the gap. The spear in their hands was held forward without hesitation.
The soldiers on both wings, those with axes and swords, even took the initiative to outflank them, like two open iron pincers, trying to gradually surround the group of wolves.
"Kill me!!!" Sawane split a wooden shield with one sword, and also cut off half of the head of the young soldier behind him, and warm blood splashed all over his face.
But before he had time to wipe it off, another spear had already stabbed him in the chest. He ducked sideways, cut off the spear shaft with a backhand sword, and drove the blade into the opponent's neck.
The more he fought, the more frightened he became, not because the opponent was too strong, but because of an incomprehensible strangeness. These people were too weak...
The fighting skills of these soldiers were ridiculously crude. The movements of their weapons were no different from those of farmers wielding hoes in the fields. They relied entirely on brute force. Any adult baptized Ironborn could easily kill them in a one-on-one fight.
Or are they clearly armed farmers?
But what was terrifying and strange about these armed farmers lay in their morale, their united and tight formation, their fearless madness, and their tenacity that never retreated in the face of huge casualties. This was something he had only seen in the most elite professional soldiers, and even some fanatical knights.
How much money does it cost to train a professional soldier? A lord family spends all its money, but it can only raise hundreds of family soldiers. For their own interests, these lords have no way to combine these professional soldiers into a united army. This is why they Ironborn can dominate Westeros.
And now, Sawane felt a chill coming from his bones. How did this guy named Suleiman do it? He could actually make ordinary farmers have the morale of professional soldiers. If there were tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of such farmers in his territory...
No, we can't waste it like this anymore!
If this continues, his people will be beaten to death by the opponent's numbers. He must kill the commander and plunge the opponent into chaos.
Sawane's eyes quickly scanned the chaotic battlefield and quickly locked onto an officer on horseback who was loudly commanding a square formation.
He roared, took off the throwing ax from his waist with his left hand, and then used his right hand to throw the ax in his hand at the man with all his strength.
Roslyn heard the soldiers shouting and finally saw the flying axe. He coughed and quickly raised his shield to block it, but he was still a step too late. The huge force knocked him off the horse. He fell heavily to the ground and was immediately dragged to the back of the formation by the soldiers around him.
Sawane was so excited that he raised his long sword and chopped down three soldiers who were rushing forward. With a dozen of his guards around him, like a sharp arrow, it penetrated directly into the commander of another phalanx, the bastard who called himself Lushen and was even more shameless than himself!
Striding forward, his long sword roared like tearing the air. Instead of slashing at Lushen, it struck hard at the war horse he was dismounting from. The war horse let out a shrill cry and fell to the ground. Lushen also fell to the mud like a wolf. Sawane strode forward and struck the head with a sword!
He had already seen that although these two so-called commanders looked menacing, their combat skills were pitiful. Lushen scrambled to get up and raised his sword to block. The sword was shaken by the huge force and flew out. His mouth was instantly torn and dripping with blood. He covered the wound and backed away.
Sawane's second sword came one after another. Lushen was unable to dodge. A wound deep enough to show the bone was opened on his chest, and blood gushed out like a fountain.
Good opportunity! Sawane looked at the commander in front of him who lost his weapon and was seriously injured, with a cruel smile in his eyes. As long as he is killed, the morale of this army will completely collapse!
Just when Sawane's long sword was about to cut off Lushen's head, several soldiers who were closest rushed forward desperately and blocked Lushen with their own flesh and blood. In front of, Sawane's long sword easily chopped them down, but just in this moment of delay, the seriously injured Lushen had been dragged back to the formation by others.
Sawane doesn't care about this, it's not important anymore! One of the opponent's two top commanders fell off his horse, the other was seriously injured, and both were separated from the command.
According to his lifelong experience in combat, whether it is Free Cities or Westeros, any army that loses its commander will inevitably fall into chaos and then collapse like an avalanche.
He stopped and waited to admire the expected rout. However, nothing happened. The chaos he expected did not appear, and the expected rout disappeared.
A brand new scene that he could not understand unfolded before his eyes.
The armed "peasants" who lost their commanders, instead of disintegrating, were like an enraged swarm, spontaneously and quickly reorganizing into smaller units. Countless small combat groups, consisting of teams of five and ten, scattered and fought among themselves.
When a man who looked like a junior officer was cut down, another older or braver soldier immediately stood up, took over the command, and roared at the soldiers to continue fighting.
What on earth is going on?!
Sawane. Botley is completely disgusted. What kind of monster is this Suleiman? What kind of black magic did he use to make these farmers so tough?
Only now did he understand the terrifying nature of this army, its high morale, and a frighteningly strict grassroots officer system. Where did Suleiman recruit so many officers...
When one commander fell, the next one immediately came to take over, as if they could be killed and killed endlessly!
What frightened him even more was that the rusticity of these spontaneously formed teams had not diminished at all!
They are still like a group of hungry wolves who never know when they are hungry, rushing towards them crazily and one after another!
Sawane. Botley began to search frantically on the battlefield, trying to find the real "center" of this army, the switch that could stop everything, but he desperately found that there was none.
This army is like a hydra with its head cut off.
Every small group is an independent "head" who can continue to fight!
At the moment when he was stunned by this unnatural sight, a figure, like a crazy bull, slammed into his arms from the side. There was no fighting spirit or skill in this man's eyes, only an almost crazy desire for death.
It's Tox. He completely gave up any defense and just wanted to die.
Sawane's long sword subconsciously struck out, knocking down Tox's sword, and cut deeply into Tox's shoulder.
At the same time, Tox used all his strength to pull out the dagger from his waist and stabbed it fiercely into the gap between the armor and stomach of Sawane's abdomen!
Severe pain came, and Sawane looked at Tox's face that was feverish and twisted in pain because his sword was embedded in his arm. Ironborn, who thought he had been licking blood from the edge of a knife all his life, was really scared at this moment.
Madman! The man in front of me is a complete, life-threatening madman! There is no fucking point in exchanging injuries for injuries and lives for lives with such a person!
The sword blade got stuck in the opponent's shoulder, but the opponent picked up the sword from the ground and pounced on it again. Sawane no longer had any thoughts of fighting, abandoned the sword and retreated, shouting loudly:
"Protect me!"
Several loyal crew members rushed forward desperately, knocked Tox away, protected him and began to retreat to the rear of the battle line. As soon as the captain retreated, the remaining Ironborn completely lost his will to fight.
The offensive and defensive momentum reversed in an instant. As if their backbone had been ripped out, the Ironborns began to desperately break through the encirclement, break away from the battle line, and run away in the direction they came from.
Then, a horrific scene appeared that they would never forget.
The man who was hit in the shoulder by their captain's sword and was stuck on it at the moment did not even look at the sword stuck on his shoulder. He rushed to the front alone and chased them crazily from behind.
As he chased, he used his hoarse, broken voice to let out a blood-curdling, longing cry:
"Come back and kill me!!!"
"Come back and kill me!!!"
These Ironborn, who thought they were proud of being brave and not afraid of death, completely lost all their courage after seeing this figure who was crazier and more eager to die than they were.
They didn't even dare to look back, they just tried their best to follow the captain and run forward.