Medieval Gacha Lord
Chapter 59: A Motley Crew
CHAPTER 59: A MOTLEY CREW
Chapter 59: A Motley Crew
The thundering of hooves was like thunder. Though there were only five cavalrymen, they somehow created the terrifying illusion of facing thousands upon thousands of troops and horses.
Hans, wearing his winged helmet, silently raised his cavalry spear, forming the twin tails of a small arrowhead formation with the three Winged Hussars. They were drawing closer and closer to the enemy.
At this critical juncture, a thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.
’If my old instructor knew I was now the cavalry commander of Winged Hussars, the expression on that old diehard’s face would surely be priceless. No, what would be even more interesting is if Milord brought the instructor over too and have him personally train these Winged Hussars!’
Meanwhile, Castellan Leonard had only just reached the top of the hill. He hesitated for only a moment before hastily beginning to detach the cart from the packhorse’s harness.
’Poor old Leonard, you’ll definitely die here today. But I can’t just stand idly by and watch the Holy Son chosen by the Heavenly Father perish before my very eyes. That’s something only Judas could do! No, I have to be Milord’s Saint James (the first apostle to be martyred)!’
He muttered incessantly as he painstakingly retrieved a cavalry spear from the back of the wagon and shouldered it.
"Holy Son, Milord, wait a little bit, I’m coming!"
No one paid him any attention. On this chaotic battlefield, no one could hear his roar, which was laced with fear.
These iron-clad knights, wielding lances, were like sharp hot knives effortlessly slicing through the butter-like formation of the desert bandits cavalry.
At such a short distance, the cavalry bows could only manage one volley. And a single volley of arrows, with their limited accuracy, couldn’t possibly penetrate the cavalrymen’s armor.
Perhaps in desert guerrilla warfare, Crusader knights were indeed no longer a match for the elite slave cavalry of the Mamluks, who had undergone tactical innovations transforming from Ghilman.
But the Winged Hussars, evolved from hussars, were lighter and faster. Their opponents were also just a group of Bedouin nomad cavalry, not Mamluk cavalry who had undergone rigorous military training from childhood and were cultivated entirely as war machines.
The outcome had been decided from the very beginning.
Lothar’s powerful heart pounded fiercely at this moment. Blood surged through his veins. The enhancement spell called "Bloodfall" had, in a short time, increased Lothar’s strength by a full double.
His lance pierced a Bedouin cavalryman’s shield and snapped off within it. Lothar immediately drew his arming sword and slashed at the enemy beside him. Aided by the momentum of his warhorse, the enemy’s shield, along with the arm behind it, was easily severed by the arming sword.
Blood, accompanied by screams, splattered onto his surcoat, painting a hellish tableau.
Banu’s black shield spun rapidly in her hand like a sharp chainsaw. Any enemy who stood before her was instantly minced into a storm of flesh and blood. The demon-faced relief on her shield, which hadn’t been fed in a long time, revealed a grotesque smile of satiation as it devoured invisible souls of these unfortunate bandits.
Fringilla softly chanted a spell. The blood splattering on the battlefield transformed into sharp blades, slicing through the enemies’ bodies in swathes, piercing through their iron armor plates.
’This is evil magic! Terrifying evil magic from the Franks!’ Fear flickered in the eyes of the bandit chief Abd, who was supervising the battle. "No wonder I felt a sense of dread from them! No wonder he was so confident in his promise to grant us forgiveness! It was actually all true!"
As a falconer, he also possessed supernatural power. But precisely because he too had supernatural power, Abd knew even more clearly that the terrifying power the opponent possessed, compared to his own, was undoubtedly the difference between a python and an earthworm.
"Retreat! Retreat!" he shrieked desperately. However, on the chaotic battlefield, no one could hear what he was saying.
A man wearing a brown headscarf and dark scale armor let out a deafening roar: "Holy Fire Burns Forever, Supreme and Greatest! Children Favored by Flame, charge with me!"
Wave after wave, more and more men died under the enemy’s lances, broadswords, and bizarre spells. Corpse after corpse fell onto the sandy ground. Riderless pack animals milled about in confusion.
Fortunately, the bandit gang’s morale soon collapsed. The reason this band of desert robbers had been able to roam the Jordan River valley for so many years wasn’t because of how formidable they were, but rather due to their leader Abd’s falcon and the network of contacts they had cultivated here over a long time.
It was very difficult for any organized, large military force to track them down.
In terms of actual frontal combat strength, Raynald’s knights could annihilate this entire rabble in the desert with a single charge.
Lothar, drenched in blood, roared in the heat of battle. After cutting a swathe through the enemy, he led the Winged Hussars to charge them once more.
By now, the rout of this desert bandit gang had become unstoppable, like a prairie fire. All resistance was ended. The bandit chief, Abd, had withdrawn from the battlefield shortly after the fighting began.
Lothar reined in his mount. He looked at Fringilla and, seeing her nod slightly, shouted, "No need to pursue! Round up the enemy’s mounts! Rest where you are!" He approached Fringilla and asked, "Do you know the location of their lair?"
Fringilla nodded. "I placed tracking marks on several of the bandits. I won’t need to use my seduction spells."
Lothar, relieved, began to survey the battlefield. Broken shields and scale armor, snapped lances and arrows... various useful and useless scraps were all sold off by Lothar to the system. The final value was 165 Solidi.
He looked up and saw Castellan Leonard staring at the scene, dumbfounded. A slight smile appeared on Lothar’s face.
"It’s a miracle!" Leonard muttered. "Only a Holy Son could transform a group of raw recruits who have never seen a battlefield into elite, battle-hardened cavalry; only a Holy Son could summon messengers from Heaven overnight, out of thin air, to construct a magnificent palace; and only a Holy Son could make these killing instruments all vanish without a trace!"
Perhaps due to the influence of the Archangel’s statue, although Leonard still couldn’t change his timid nature, his loyalty to Lothar was now beyond question.
Lothar walked towards Leonard. This old fellow hadn’t been of much use in the recent battle. The small packhorse he rode hadn’t even had a chance to build up speed before this rampant desert bandit gang was easily wiped out by Lothar.
Leonard, startled by the overwhelming killing aura emanating from Lothar, subconsciously knelt on the ground. "Milord! Milord! I beg you to forgive my cowardice!"
Lothar barked, "Leonard, stand up!"
Leonard scrambled to his feet, trembling.
Lothar pointed at his nose and said, "You have passed my test, Leonard. Your transgression has been written off. But I hope that in the future, you will not make similar mistakes again. The Heavenly Father favors the brave, not cowards who shy away from battle."
Leonard nodded repeatedly. "I will definitely not make the same mistake again in the future."
"Rise. Return with me to Jorgklusburg. Gather all the sergeants under my command. Tonight, we will uproot this cancerous tumor in the Jordan River valley."
***
The Lord’s Hall of Kerak Castle was brightly lit.
A noble lady in a high-waisted long gown, wearing a jeweled golden coronet, sat upon her throne. She was far taller than ordinary women, one might even say robust. A sharp sword hung at her waist.
She was Count Raynald’s wife, who had for generations held sway over the lands of Oultrejordain.
She generously aided every knight and noble who sought her out, frequently hosting grand banquets and knightly tournaments, which had earned her the beautiful moniker "the Knight in a Skirt."
At this moment, she sat high on her throne, listening to her subordinate’s report.
"Oh? Our new neighbor wishes to pay me a visit?" She couldn’t help but sneer. "He finally couldn’t hold back any longer. It seems that sum of money is already an unbearable loss for this minor baron. However, a country squire truly doesn’t understand the rules. Doesn’t he even know to prepare a gift beforehand when visiting a person of esteemed status?"
The subordinate said with a fawning expression, "My Lady, the Count sent a letter saying we should teach him a lesson. Is this not the perfect opportunity to refuse this country baron entry and make him lose all face?"
Countess Stephanie snorted coldly. "Certainly not. Let him come. I will grant him the reception due a baron. I have heard some rumors about this Baron Lothar; he once personally killed a werewolf. I am very curious to see for myself what kind of valiant knight can fight such a demonic creature as a werewolf."