"For the King and the sea!!!"
The Dragoons roared themselves hoarse, their Sabers tracing pale arcs in the sunlight. Their warhorses foamed at the mouth, iron hooves crushing weeds and scattered oats in the Abandoned Farmland and pounding the soil firm.
Colonel Sackley curved his back like a fully drawn bow, leaning forward forty-five degrees so that his torso followed the same arc as his horse's back. His right arm held his Saber out before him, its tip pointing forward, in the standard cavalry charge posture as he led the entire company.
"Charge, brothers! Charge with me!!!"
Sackley roared, rallying his men with words and deeds. Even when cannonballs swept over his head, he never wavered, his fighting spirit as hard as steel... but that applied only to his spirit. His flesh had not changed.
Three Dragoons on the right wing of the company's wall-like charging formation suddenly exploded into clouds of blood, horses and all... Those were heavy cannonballs fired by the damned Siege Heavy Cannons. Spinning and bouncing, they ground men and horses alike to pieces from end to end.
Sackley glanced back, his eyes blazing with rage. He instantly realized that the enemy's artillery was far more accurate than he had expected. Even a body of cavalry charging at full speed could be caught by precisely aimed cannon fire.
Should we spread out to reduce our losses?
No!
Sackley rejected the idea, and not merely because the enemy's artillery was only a kilometer and a half away. If they maintained their current tight formation, they could reach it in just two minutes.
More importantly, a kilometer away, a force of Heavy Cavalry half their number, with both riders and horses armored, had already begun trotting toward them.
The bombardment was terrifying, but the enemy could not rout