Chapter 326: Fleeing?

Rowe’s eyes were bloodshot, his ears filled with the screams of his dying men.

He had lost.

Utterly and completely defeated. At this moment, he finally understood the hopelessness the soldiers of the Eldorian Empire must have felt when they were surrounded by his own forces.

Yet beyond fear, what overwhelmed him was shock, shock at those fire-spewing, smoke-belching weapons, at those strange wagons. Why had their unstoppable charge, their hallmark of invincibility, been torn apart like paper before the Brambleford army?

But there was no time to ponder. The Brambleford cavalry, clad in shimmering silver cuirasses, was already sweeping in from both flanks, encircling them.

To die fighting or to flee?

In that moment, he fled.

When even a jackal faces death, fear overtakes courage. Just like the rest of his cavalry, Rowe turned and ran. Wielding his scimitar, he cut down any of his own men who got in his way.

Lancelot quickly spotted Rowe, who was wildly slashing through his own troops in an attempt to escape.

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

He remembered what he saw three years ago outside Brambleford: the corpses of civilians lining the road to Dunmere, the reaver cavalry who spared not even infants. He could still see those skewered babies, impaled on spears and displayed at intervals along the roadside.

That memory drove him to rage.

Wherever the reavers passed, they left behind a hell on earth. To them, the people of the Eldorian Empire were not even human, worse than livestock.

Slaughter came easily to them. Lancelot remembered one especially depraved unit of cavalry that, during a famine, boiled and ate the people of the Eldorian Empire.

To Lancelot, they weren’t human. They were beasts from the north, fox-like in cunning, venomous as serpents, devoid of virtue or conscience.

And then he remembered what Prince Simon had said:

"If the reavers conquer the Central Plains, the people will be enslaved for generations. Our grand civilisation will stagnate and perish, choked out by barbaric ignorance. It will be a catastrophic break in the lineage of culture."

Just like five hundred years ago, when the horsemen of the steppe overran the Cire kingdom and plunged civilisation into darkness.

"Kill them!" Lancelot raised his sabre and charged straight toward Rowe.

In his eyes burned the fury of a nation resisting foreign conquest, the fire of vengeance for countless innocent lives.

Once, he had felt despair. The corruption and weakness of the Eldorian Empire had failed its people. But now, hope had replaced despair.

"For Prince Simon!"

"For our homeland!"

"For our families!"

"Kill them all!"

His voice cracked from shouting. The Brambleford cavalry behind him roared in response, their battle cries shaking the field. To the fleeing reavers, these were demons on horseback, sabres raised and thundering toward them.

The Brambleford cavalry swarmed in, closing the trap on the panicked and packed reavers.

Blades swung. Screams tore through the chaos.

The reaver cavalry were crammed together, trampling each other in terror, unable to mount any coordinated defence.

From the moment their formation broke, the outcome was decided.

Lancelot led the charge, his sabre cleaving left and right. The air filled with shrieks as bodies fell.

Wherever he rode, the enemy fell before him like wheat before the scythe. The reaver cavalry broke into chaos.

And then, Rowe appeared.

"You reaver dog! Captain Lancelot is here!"

With a sharp pull on the reins, Lancelot charged straight at him.

Seeing himself surrounded, Rowe snapped. With a snarl, he urged his horse forward, raising his scimitar.

The two clashed in a blur of steel, their blades striking with a shower of sparks.

Rowe, a battle-hardened warrior of the Sunderland tribe, matched Lancelot blow for blow.

They wheeled their horses and clashed again.

Elsewhere, Benjamin was watching the battlefield from the main road.

The reavers had fallen into chaos. Most had already routed. The remainder were now encircled by Lancelot’s cavalry.

Benjamin raised his hand.

A trumpet blared. A new charge began.

The musket troops, now equipped with bayonets, charged forward in waves.

"Kill!"

Roars erupted from the Brambleford infantry as they surged across the field like a flood, overwhelming the scattered reaver riders.

What remained of the reaver cavalry shattered completely. More and more dropped their weapons and fled.

The musket troops reached them quickly, forming a new bayonet formation. With precise discipline, their blades pierced the unarmored riders.

Horse and man alike fell in heaps.

One hour of brutal slaughter later, the remaining reaver cavalry had been wiped out.

But Lancelot and Rowe were still locked in a vicious duel.

Suddenly, Rowe halted, surrounded by Brambleford soldiers. He laughed madly, his voice rising in hatred:

"You Eldorian dogs! Lord Fern will avenge me! He’ll slaughter every man in the Eldorian Empire and take all your women as slaves! The iron hooves of the Order will trample Brambleford to dust!"

As he ranted, a figure appeared on horseback, a general charging straight at him.

Rowe’s bloodshot eyes locked onto the rider. He gripped his scimitar and roared, charging forward.

Lancelot turned, recognising the man: General Benjamin.

He started forward, then stopped.

The two horses met and crossed paths.

A flash of steel.

A head flew.

With one stroke, Benjamin beheaded Rowe.

Lancelot felt a chill.

Benjamin’s strength was monstrous. His martial skill, undeniable.

The Brambleford soldiers who saw it roared in triumph:

"Glory to the Commander!"

"Glory to the Commander!"

"Glory to the Commander!"

Benjamin remained stoic. He lifted Rowe’s severed head with his sabre and shouted:

"Soldiers! We have won! The reavers are not invincible. They owe us a mountain of blood debt, and now, we begin to reclaim it!"

"Reclaim it! Reclaim it!"

The troops bellowed, their voices shaking the sky.

Benjamin nodded solemnly and threw the head to the ground.

For a moment, his eyes misted.

He had seen too many of the Eldorian Empire’s generals beheaded and paraded by the enemy, just like he had done to Rowe now.

Now it was their turn...

An eye for an eye.