"We've lost! We've lost!!!"
"The general's fled! He's already gone! Run..."
At the foot of Bolas Mountain, Dalek sat on a white horse, his face livid. Veins bulged on the backs of his hands as he gripped the reins, and his horse's iron-shod hooves scraped sparks from the gravel road.
Before him, routed soldiers poured over the slope like a tide, fleeing downhill in a chaotic rush.
I lost this gamble. The army's morale didn't hold out to the end... No, I won't admit defeat. This isn't over yet. The battle can still be salvaged!
"Form ranks!"
Dalek urged his horse forward. His thunderous roar made several nearby deserters stumble and fall. A bloodstained battle flag rose beside his saddle, its fabric still caked with powder residue and gore. Twenty personal guards leveled their halberds in unison, forming a steel barrier at the narrowest stretch of the winding mountain road.
The first deserter to run into a halberd point was lifted clean off his feet. His corpse hung swaying from a cliffside cypress thirty feet above. Dalek rode into the pool of blood and pressed his sword against a soldier's throat.
"Turn around, or die facing the rear forever."
The plate-armored guards beside Dalek swung their halberds, hacking mercilessly at the deserters.
After several deserters were executed in succession, the collapse finally began to slow. The routed soldiers trapped on the mountain road exchanged uncertain looks, hesitating. A few obedient souls actually turned back.
But then cannon fire rang out repeatedly from the mountain. Lead shot rained down, felling soldiers by the dozen. Screams and wails echoed through the valley, and the air filled with the thick stench of blood and gunpowder.
The deserters went mad again. They shoved and crushed against one another without restraint, even turning their weapons